So turn the television off and I will sing a song

So my public called after reading my last post (hi, Mom!) and said that not only is she clamoring for more, my posts aren't long enough.  Well, fine.  It's a snowy Saturday morning, and really, what else do I have to do besides drink my coffee?  And unload the dishwasher and pick up the living room and try to figure out where that smell is coming from?  If THAT isn't a solid case for blogging, I don't know what is.

View from the porch.  P.S. I tried to take a picture of Skilly
in the snow, but he was most uncooperative.  So you just get this.

Now then.

I'd like to report that our children have better social lives than Eric and I do.  Yesterday Abby called me at work, all excited, because her homeroom/science teacher had volunteered to take anyone interested to the theater to watch Breaking Dawn.  And she was all, can I go?  And I was all, do you have money?  And she was all, Mrs. A said we could pay her back on Monday.  And I was all, wow, your teacher is insane.  Sure, go for it!

Then I get home (having called Eric, of course, so he wouldn't feel the need to file a missing persons report upon coming home and not finding Abby there) and Johanna was flying.  Grandma and Grandpa W. had called to invite her to the high school musical (which we saw last weekend, and it was completely awesome).  Johanna loved the whole experience last week, so the thought of getting to go again was almost too much.  But she managed to get her dinner down and was ready to walk out the door when her grandparents came to pick her up.

So Eric and I are all like, wow, this is awesome.  The house was quiet.  Totally weird, and yet, somehow we managed.

The quiet didn't last too long, though, because then Abby called and said the movie was over and we could come pick her up.  We hopped in the car and drove to town, carefully, mind you, because it was starting to freeze and even though our county is great about sanding, still, you see, it was freezing.  So we got passed by some idiot in a no-passing zone, and I was all like, well, I'll try not to laugh when you end up in a ditch.  And I didn't, but probably that was because karma did not smote that car like I had hoped and I wasn't in the mood.

Mrs. A had, I kid you not, about 20 kids with her.  She had arranged transportation to get all the kids down there and now was hanging out with them to make sure they were all properly whisked away.  That's dedication.  Or, as I mentioned earlier, insanity.  (It's a fine line.)  Seeing all those kids, I was like, uh, how much do we owe you?  Because I'm pretty sure she had to max out her card to get them all in the theater, and that made me feel sort of bad.  So we forked over $7 (get it?  FORKED?), not realizing until later that she had gotten Abby and two of her friends a large popcorn to share.

Tangent: I bought two necklaces from Mrs. A during Harvest Fest weekend.  They are my favorites.

Abby's best friend was also in the group, so we volunteered to take her home, too.  The girls were high on Edward.  There was a lot of chattering and laughing in the backseat, along with demands from my oldest that I take her whenever I get around to seeing it (I never bother with opening day.  I've got stuff to do, and anyway, crowds tend to piss me off).

So we get home, and it's so cold outside, and Eric has built a fire, and we watch CHUCK because we love that show, and Eric ends up going to bed early, and Abby falls asleep on the couch, and I'm just sitting there by the fire adding to my Recipe Box iPad app and thinking, huh.  Friday nights rock.

Johanna finally got home around 10 p.m.  Her grandparents reported that she thoroughly enjoyed the show yet again, and did her wolf-whistle thing after ever scene.  (Note: It's a fake wolf-whistle, but it actually sounds pretty real.  Not sure how she manages that.)  So I got Johanna to bed, and then somehow managed to get Abby off the couch (the kid is almost as tall as I am, so it's not like I can just pick her up anymore), and then got myself to bed.  By this time, it was nearly 11 p.m., so I had high hopes of sleeping in.

Which never happens, of course, but the good news is that I fell asleep quickly and stayed asleep until 7 a.m., which never happens, either, the sleeping part, I mean.  Yet I was not ready to face the day, so I just grabbed my iPad and cruised around on Twitter, reading various articles until I finally had to pee so badly that I figured I may as well get up and confront my fate.

And my fate, in case you're wondering, was pretty much just to make coffee for me and toast for the girls.  And ignore my household chores.  Luckily, Eric hates to sit down and so he's picking up the slack.  You'd think I'd feel bad about that, and yet, not so much.

Here's another thing I've been meaning to blog about but keep forgetting: My glasses.  I really love my glasses.  I have sort of gotten used to the whole depth-perception ordeal, so even that potted plant at work doesn't look like it wants to reach out and kill me anymore.  I find myself putting them on first thing in the morning now, like when I'm trying to read about Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution on my iPad and the screen is all blurry.  I'm very grateful for Vision Coverage and my eye doctor.  And the receptionist for showing me these frames.  A plus: Telling people I'm both near- and far-sighted is FUN. Everyone's all like, whaaaat?  And I'm all, I know!  It's so awesome!

Well, now.  Eric is itching to do something today--and that something looks like shampooing the carpets.  SCORE.  Which means, however, that I must stop writing this very lengthy (lengthy enough?  I don't know, I sort of try to keep it down so it feels weird trying to purposely write a lot) and start getting ready.  Because we're also going grocery shopping for Thanksgiving, baby.  OH, that reminds me, has anyone else seen that Wal-Mart flier for Thanksgiving?  How you can get your canned green beans and potato flakes and your turkey?  Holy cow, people, that's a post begging to be written, and maybe I will, should Thanksgiving prep not overwhelm me.  Because COME ON.  Do you hate the people you've invited over for Thanksgiving or what, Wal-Mart?

P.S. Johanna and I are also headed to her school this afternoon for a PTO-sponsored movie.  I'm trying to be all involved this year, so I get to take money or make popcorn or something, and then babysit.  Should be fun.

Nickelback, "Leader of Men."  Look, I don't even like Nickelback, but I cannot stop listening to this song.  (Wow, that guy is ugly.  And also, does this remind anyone else of that Foo Fighters video?)  And I told Eric it was going to be my next post-song, and I am a girl of my word.  "I am not a leader of men since I prefer to follow."  Word.  Oh, I'm also attached to: "Whisper things into my brain, your voice sounds so hollow."  But really, the whole thing makes me very happy.  Anyway, I listened to this song 22 times in a row Thursday.  And yes, I am serious.  (iTunes keeps track.)