The Outsiders

Springtime is right around the corner.  I can feel it!

Have I ever told you that I live near a lake?  Like 1 mile away?  No?

The lake is one of the best around for kite surfing.  See them there in the background?

Also, we really *do* have red dirt in Oklahoma.  See the shore? 

Oh, and lookie here at our new "tandem" bike.

Here's hoping Springtime is right around *your* corner too!

BragBragBragBragettyBrag

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Today I'm participating in a "Link-Up" with one of my favorite bloggers, Hollywood Housewife.  Laura is a family friend of my husband's.  Which means we're connected in a "6-ways-to-Kevin-Bacon" sort of way.  Laura grew up in the same rural part of Oklahoma as Dave, and now she's living in Los Angeles married to her husband-the-famous-movie-producer.  What a life!  You really should click on over and explore her site.  She's lovely.

Laura had specific instructions for our blog post, namely, we had to BRAG ABOUT OURSELVES *gulp*.

This Friday I'm hosting a link up with an assignment entitled Brag Book. I want you to toot your own horn. Shout your strengths.

It's not a lesson in boasting, the point is to take pride in something about yourself - small or large, it doesn't matter - and let us appreciate it about you. It's counter intuitive to what we're taught. For some reason we're supposed to pretend that everything we do well just "happens," and that it would be rude or presumptuous to act otherwise.
 But this wintery week, let's sit up straight, hold our heads high, and boldly brag.

I have ruminated about this for A WEEK.  I thought for a few days and could come up with NOTHING brag-worthy about myself.  It's not that I lack self confidence, or that I have the personality of dry Melba toast, it's just that, I do most things alright (housekeeping, mothering, blogging), and some things I even do well (budgeting, decorating), but none of those things are so outstanding that they stood out as a brag-worthy quality.

Other things seemed somehow off-limits when it comes to bragging.  For instance, I come from a long line of fast-learners.  I remember in college I could sit in class, take notes, and then review the notes an hour before a test and pass with flying colors.  I never studied hard.  I didn't have to.  But is this a quality one can really brag about?  Didn't I just "get lucky" genetically speaking?  It's as if God thought fat thighs were enough for me to deal with, so he gave me a quick brain.

I finally resorted to asking my husband what he thought I should write about.  Tragically, he stared at me for a full MINUTE before finally answering: "You are an EXCELLENT husband picker". 

Um, thanks honey.

Then I asked my mother.  My own MOTHER could only come up with "you are an excellent hostess".  And that weak answer came after several long minutes of waffling around. 

Finally, I asked my best friend.  She answered without the slightest hesitation "You are a phenomenal story-teller".

Yes! That's it! Jackpot!

I *am* indeed an excellent story teller.  I can take a mundane everyday incident and spin it into a dramatic tale full of flair and spice.  Sometimes, when my plans have gone tragically off course (sick child, traffic jam, hair catches on fire), I secretly imagine the story I'll be able to tell if I survive the day.

My dad's side of the family was known for their embellished tales.  I remember as a child listening at the door during holiday gatherings while my aunts and uncles competed (with voices growing louder and louder) for the spotlight to tell their best and funniest story.  I know for a fact my dad would SAVE UP a good story for such occasions.

I suppose I come by it honestly.  Now, when I'm out with my friends, if the conversation starts to lag, they'll turn to me and say "Do you have any good stories?".

And I always oblige. 



P.S. Here's one, and here's another, and another, and one more.

Rumble

We woke this morning to a thunderstorm.  Thunderstorms are probably the biggest reason I will never be able to live away from the plains.  I cannot go very long without the rumble of thunder waking me from my sleep.  There is something weirdly cathartic about it.  I visited London years ago during March (the stormy season here in Oklahoma) and I remember being caught off guard when it rained and poured there with nary a lightening strike.  On the day I arrived back on Oklahoma soil I remember letting out an audible WOOT! when I heard the familiar thunder in the distance.  Ahhhh.  The sound of home.

Since it was storming this morning, I encouraged Paige to have a tea party. 

It didn't take too much encouragement.  Paige loves any reason to party.

She invited friends (of the stuffed variety), and served them all teacakes (nutrigrain bars) and black tea (water) with cream (more water).  I was actually sort of impressed at her ability to pretend.  Having mock conversations with the bear about the quality of the food and with the pig about the temperature of his tea ("It's too hot! Blow Mr. Pig!").


Please note the napkin in Mr. Pig's lap.  Such manners!

 The tea party came to an end just as the sun miraculously came out.  I let Paige put on her rain boots and head out toward the nearest puddle.  As you might imagine, in mere minutes she was not only soaked from head to toe, but also FILTHY. 

*Ahem* Waterlogged pants tend to sag.

After a quick lunch it was off to a bath, and then a nap.

Just minutes after I closed Paige's bedroom door, the sun disappeared again.  It's as if it just came out long enough to entertain my kid.

And me.

And now, YOU.

Eureka!

Join me for a sandwich epiphany, won't you?

I gave birth to the World's Pickiest Eater.  His name is William and OMG he's picky.  I could go on and on about the very few things this kid will eat.

Seriously, I could go on and ON.  And on.

So every single weekday I make William the same. exact. lunch.  Because I have NO other options.  Every day he gets a peanut butter and honey sandwich, Sunchips, and an apple juice box.  Every day.  The same.  Always.

And up until a few weeks ago, I was making his lunch during the busy hubbub of the morning.  I figured I couldn't make his sandwich the night before since the honey would ooze into the bread and make it all soggy.

And then someone on Facebook (Thanks Lyn!) suggested I simply put the peanut butter on BOTH halves of the bread, thus creating a protective layer between bread and the honey.

What we have here is SANDWICH SCIENCE, people.

Allow me to illustrate:

Start with bread (DUH!). Whole grain of course.

Spread peanut butter on BOTH halves. This is the barrier!

Next add your honey (or jelly, whatever).

See? The honey can't go anywhere!  SANDWICH SCIENCE!

And, um, here's the sandwich.  I don't really think you needed this picture.

Did the rest of you know this already?  Are you rolling your eyes at me? 

Or are you just astounded that I'm taking up valuable space on the Internet talking about sandwiches?

Ronald

Today my William was out of school for President's Day.  Strangely, Paige's Mother's Day Out program was open, so Will and I dropped her little hiney off and made big plans to to go to the zoo.  Just the two of us.

Except is was downright FRIGID today.  The wind! OMG the wind!

I decided to distract William from the zoo by taking him to the Target toy aisle and letting him spend his Valentines money ($10 from Gramma and Grandpa).

At lunchtime I asked William if he wanted to brave the temperatures and head out to the zoo.  His reply?
"I think I'd rather go to McDonald's and play on the playground." I'm serious.  The kid would rather play on the germ riddled playground of what is likely the most repugnant fast food chain than go the zoo.  The zoo!

But my choices were a) go to *gag* Mcdonald's or b) walk around in the freezing cold looking at freezing cold animals.

I picked option "a".  With one caveat, I made William wait while *I* ate lunch at home, because eeeew McDonald's.

Cheeseburgers have a strange power over this boy.

So I sat and watched while William devoured a cheeseburger (which took all of 13 seconds)  Then I took out my Kindle and read while he played on the icky, germy playground.  And as I sat there FOR AN HOUR, I saw my boy make friends with every single kid on that playground.  He'd greet them with 'hello' and give them his name.  Then he'd make suggestions. Perhaps they'd play hide and seek?  Or tag?  Follow the leader?

He was like a playground cruise director.  Shuffleboard on the forward deck, anyone?

The PCD himself.

Seeing him on that playground today made me love him even more.  Who knew that was even possible?

Henry's Girlfriend

Do you think Paige adores neighbor Henry? 

::swoon::

What was your first clue?

Here KittyKitty

I took the baby* to the zoo today.

When we arrived at the "small cats" exhibit, Paige was especially enamored with a pretty Egyptian cat with wispy ear hair. The cat paced back and forth back and forth next to the window where Paige was watching with rapt attention.

After several minutes Paige turned to me and said (in almost a whisper) "I want this cat. I will name her Rainbow Sparklepants."

To be fair, it really WAS a pretty cat.

I didn't have the heart to tell Paige that Rainbow Sparklepants would love nothing more than to eat her for dinner.

*At what point must I stop calling her "the baby"?  I assume the answer is NEVER since my mother-in-law still calls Dave's brother The Baby and he will be THIRTY this April.

Lost (in Thought)

Today I spent almost my entire day outside.  The weather this week in Oklahoma is just unbelievable - with temperatures in the high 70's.  Quite a departure from last week's snowstorm.

This morning I played in the sandbox with Paige for 45 minutes.  And can I just stop right here and say how JOYFUL it is to act like a child (sometimes)?  Because, when you're a child, you can spend nearly an hour of your life tinkering with sand in a sandbox.  You can pour it and shovel it and dig it and rake it.  And all the time you're doing those things to sand your mind is JUST THINKING ABOUT SAND. 

Can you even imagine being THAT present in each moment?

*I* spent those 45 minutes looking at the sand and talking to Paige and wondering if I was doing enough to engage her developing mind.  Then I started thinking about all the laundry I *should* have been folding.  Then I spent some time worrying about what I'd cook for dinner.  THEN?  Then I thought about groceries which led me to the budget which sent me spiraling downward.

All the while Paige was thinking hard about SAND. 

I envy her.  I truly do.

When William arrived home from school this afternoon he smelled like a puppy dog - like little boys do when they've played outside in the sunshine.  And his freckles had popped out - a sure sign he'd had the sun glaring on his face during recess.

I am CRAZY about his freckles.  CRAZY!

And I'm willing to bet that, the entire time William was playing at recess, he did not think about the laundry or the budget ONCE.

For Safety

This story on Laura's blog recounting a recent travel debacle that left her blushing reminded me of my own red-faced security encounter.  Except this one took place years ago.  One month after the tragedy of 9-11.

My friend Julie and I had planned to take a trip to Chicago.  It was a work-related trip for me, but I talked Julie into coming along so that we could have a much-needed girl getaway.  She'd recently broken up with her boyfriend and I thought Michigan Avenue would provide the right sort of Retail Therapy.  However, when the terrorist attack happened, we thought seriously about not going.  In the end, we decided there was no safer time to travel with all the added security checkpoints.

The news was reporting about all the additional requirements at the airport.  At the time, no carry-on baggage was allowed.  None.  Which meant women could carry only a purse.  Men, only their wallets.  (They've since relaxed this rule and allow small carry-on items.)  Being the eternal worrier that I am, I fretted about a scenario wherein my checked bag would become lost leaving me stranded in a strange city with nothing but the clothes on my back.  I decided the best course of action would be to put my toothbrush and some clean panties in my purse.  I thought, after all, that I could live with any conditions as long as I had clean teeth and clean panties.    When I told Julie of my hair-brained Travel Panty Idea, she followed suit and showed up at the airport with panties stowed away in her handbag.

I worried about the baggage search, wondering if some dude from the TSA was going to put his grubby hands on my clean undies (thereby rendering them useless in the case of an emergency), but we got through security without incident and we arrived in Chicago ready for some girl fun. 

On the second day we were there, Julie suggested we go to the top of the John Hancock tower.  She'd heard it provides a beautiful view of the city, plus there's a bar up there (bonus!).  When we arrived in the lobby, there were security guards everywhere.  We'd forgotten (momentarily) about the 9-11 attack.  Large buildings in major cities all over the US were taking extra precautions in light of what had happened.  They demanded to search our handbags before we could gain access to the elevators.

And by this time we'd totally forgotten about our Travel Panties.

They searched Julie's bag first, and when they unzipped the side pocket she turned and looked at me with that OMG! look on her face.  And sure enough, the burly security man pulled out her panties.  And folks, even *I* was shocked.  Because there, in his big hands, lay the teensy-tiniest pair of black flossy thong underwear you've ever seen.  To say they were "sexy" was quite and understatement. 

She blushed.  I blushed.  And then it was time for *my* bag.

And that's when I started to sweat.  You see, *I* was a married woman at the time.  Not a cute single girl like Julie.  So when the security guard unzipped *my* side pocket, he pulled out a pair of gray COTTON full-bottomed bikini BRIEFS.  My God, the man practically had to unfurl them LIKE A BEDSHEET.

I was mortified.

I turned to Julie and told her that I USUALLY wear tiny black lacy thong underwear, but that I carried these for security reasons.  Because THESE panties could double as a PARACHUTE in case of an airplane emergency, and *I'm* all about safety.

Smooth Operator

Nana and Poppa bought the kids the game "Operation" for Valentine's Day.  You had this game as a kid, right?  Only now they make the game in special themes.

Like Toy Story.

See? So cute!

What could be better than removing body parts from Buzz Lightyear?

And it's GREAT for fine motor skills!

Not surprisingly, Paige opens her mouth when she opens the tweezers.

Someone is very serious during his turn.

We played three games of Operation after dinner.  William beat us.  Several times.

Bah Humbug

Of course they do!

I did not realize it until today, but upon self-reflection I have determined that I am a Valentine's Day SCROOGE.  I do not like this holiday.  Not at all.

Does this mean that I do not like my husband?  That he is not romantic? Or that he did not "do enough" to proclaim his love for me today?

Of course not! 

It's just that, I hate being told by Hallmark that I am REQUIRED to proclaim my love for, well, everyone in my life (in addition to my husband, like my kids, my mother, etc).  And?  AND?  Since *I'm* the momma, I am tasked with buying cards and gifts for everyone.  And then I am to supervise my children while they write out (with PAINFUL slowness) their class Valentines.  Oh!  And then we have to decorate a Valentines BOX for school.  And then there are the classroom parties.  

Kill me now.

After all that, I cooked a "special"dinner, did the "special" dishes and made a big stinkin' deal about Valentine's with my kids (cards and tiny gifts) and my husband (just a card).

Boy, that was really bitter, wasn't it? 

Could it be that, since I started my Hawaii diet today, that I'm just a TOUCH edgy and irritable? Or, that in my kitchen as we speak is a MOUNTAIN of Valentine's candy just BEGGING to be eaten.

Nah.  I think I just truly hate Valentine's Day.

Bah Humbug.

Be My (Adorable) Valentine

Susan sent me a link last week to a blog with the cutest valentines I've ever seen.  Ever.  So I decided to shamelessly plagiarize the idea for Paige's little friends (there are only 8 in her Mother's Day Out class).

See?  Just cut two slits in the photo and insert a sucker.  ADORABLE!

Except now I can't find the link Susan sent me.  So I can't give that genius blogger (who originally came up with this idea) proper credit.

I hate when that happens.

What are your plans for Valentines Day?  Do you celebrate as a couple?  As a family?  We're planning on having "Brinner" (breakfast for dinner) as a family.  That was the best idea I could come up with.  I'm always at a loss as to what to do for Valentines.  It seems like so much buildup.  So.  There you have it.  Breakfast for dinner.  Woo.

Oh, and I bought everyone a card.  That's it.  Does that make me pitiful?

Wait. Don't answer that.

Five-O

:::photo credit here:::

In exactly 7 weeks I will be laying on a beach in Hawaii.

OMG did you hear me?  HAWAII!

Instead of thinking about SNOW and SNOW and more SNOW, I can dream about waves and sandy beaches and cocktails with tiny umbrellas.

SQUEEEEEEE!

And as excited as I am, I am also a bit concerned that I have to wear a swimsuit in exactly 7 weeks.  And folks, there is ENTIRELY too much of me at the moment.  No one in the great state of Hawaii wants to see this much of me. 

But I've never had a better reason to diet.  Ever.

Special (Travel) Agents

My in-laws have offered to take our entire family (TWELVE of us!) on a vacation this summer.*  Our only job is to figure out where to go and book it.

So we've set up our own little travel agency here at their dining room table.

Don't we look serious?  Wouldn't YOU be serious?

Planning a trip that involves the schedules of 4 households and the interests of people between the ages of 2 and 65 is a little tricky.

Not that we're complaining.



*Yes, I'm aware that we're a bunch of spoiled brats.  SQUEEEEE!

On the Edge

Today was our 7th (SEVENTH!) snow day and all of this togetherness has made us a wee bit edgy.  For instance, my boy told me he hated me yesterday.  Why?  Because I asked him to put away his clean laundry.

I know.  I'm a monster.

I hate to admit how heartbroken I was to hear those words.  I mean, doesn't *every* kid say this at some point?  And yet, I might have cried just a teensy bit when no one was looking.

On a happier note, we left the house today.  I gathered the children up at lunchtime and headed out to eat.

The one on the left hates me, apparently.

Because pizza makes everything better.

Or perhaps I'm just trying to buy back William's love.

Insert Clever Title Here

This photo has nothing to do with this post.  I just thought it was funny.

I was feeling sorry for myself about school being canceled again tomorrow.  And about how this meant that we'll most likely have to make up the SIX days we've missed this semester by either 1) going to school LONGER each day (last year they made up the time by adding 45 minutes to the school day), or 2) going to school until June (we usually get out of school around Memorial Day).  Neither scenario makes me very happy. 

With extra time added to each day, I feel it stretches my (already tired) little Kindergartner too far.  I mean, heck, I can't stand that my school district makes 5 and 6 year old kids go all day as it is.  Back in my day (wow, that makes me sound old), Kindergarten was only half a day.  Adding 45 MORE minutes seems extreme to me. 

But then I also hate to go six days into June.  June is when the weather is good.  The pool is open.  The lake is available.  Who wants to go to school when there diving boards to be, uh, dived?

As I was mentally grumbling about all of this today, I remembered this article.  And before you click that link, I'll warn you that it's about a child with a fatal disease.  Go at your own risk.  I only mention it because I read it on Monday and I haven't stopped thinking about it since.  It sort of puts things into perspective.

I suppose another snow day isn't so bad after all.  I think I'll spend the entire day holding them close.

Now go kiss your babies and then say a prayer for Madeleine and her family.

"School's Out for Winter"

Isn't that how the song goes?*

More snow is coming!  Gird your loins!

So, there is another snow storm predicted tonight.  If we are to believe the weatherman, this one promises to bring us a whopping 8-12 inches.  Excellent.

School has already been officially canceled for tomorrow (even though not a single flake has fallen out of the sky).  Which means, folks, we're having an exact repeat of last week. 

Except.

This week I shopped less for groceries (because I have enough food to feed a small country), and more for entertainment.  Specifically, I made sure I had enough craft supplies and workbooks to keep the children busy for the rest of the week.  I bought pink Valentines stickers and paper.  I bought beads and stretchy string for making bracelets.  I even bought (gulp) more finger paints.




Let the crafting begin (again).


I hate that Oklahoma City has not figured out how to handle snow (yet, strangely, it happens EVERY SINGLE WINTER... DUH!), but by God, I refuse to let this latest round of storms get me down!  I am Power Crafting Momma, hear me ROAR! 

Oh who am I kidding?  I'll probably take up drinking by tomorrow morning at 10am. 



*thanks to Susan McKinney Huey for the excellent quote.

Literally

Snowed-in and happy about it.

Hey, have I mentioned we were snowed in last week?  Yeah.  Sorry.  I swear I'm not going to rant about the weather AGAIN.  No I promise.  Really.

So while we were snowed in, I decided to encourage William to get ahead on his homework.  Specifically, I suggested he complete his "100th Day of School" poster.  His assignment was to glue 100 items to a poster board.  Oh!  AND he was supposed to glue his items in groups of 10.  So, we had to find 10 of 10 different items and glue them to a piece of paper.  Easy, right?

Um, yeah, not so much.

We struggled to find 10 items small enough and plentiful enough while we were cooped up last week.  We ended up wandering the house in a sort of pseudo scavenger hunt looking for things that might work.  In fact, we got so desperate, we glued flossing sticks to the paper.  Klassy, eh?

Yes, those are flossing sticks. 

When he'd finished his work, I laid William's poster on the floor to dry and then I wandered off to make the children's lunch.  And that's when it happened.

The dog ate my kid's homework.  Literally.

Cheerios dipped in glue are EXCELLENT (If you're a dog).

Oh don't worry, I fixed it before William saw the damage.  Stupid dog.

Snow is NOT for the Weak

And I am weak.

Snow is NOT an Angel.

And so is the entire South.  We (collectively) are just weak.  We don't do snow.  And not just in the ways you think - with our horrible efforts at road clearing, and our wimpy school closings.  No, I'm talking about other things.  Specifically, the clothes.  Oh my GOSH it's so HARD to dress for the snow!  So many extra clothes! So many layers!

Don't get me wrong - we Southerners own snow boots and warm coats, I mean, it *does* get cold(ish) in Oklahoma.  We even own hats and gloves (although we hardly ever need them).  So when we have to use them, well, it's a PAIN!

How in the WORLD do you Northerners DO this all winter long?  All this layering and bundling!  It takes SO MUCH LONGER to get out the door!  And I'm just talking about ME.  Add in small children and all of THEIR extra accouterments (and the inevitable need for a trip to the bathroom AFTER they're dressed) and, well, it's just easier to stay home.  Which is what I did during last week's snow storm.  For almost an entire week I just stayed inside.

By Friday though, I had a talk with myself and managed to summon the strength to dress the children and myself and head out into the elements.  Go me.

Here they are begging to come inside 5 minutes after going outside. 

Then Saturday Dave was here to help with the bundling (Have I mentioned it's a pain?  Because OMG!).  We managed a trip across the street to the golf course.   We even managed a snowman. 

Notice Dave is pulling the sled.  What?  I *had* to take pictures.

"Mommy, I have to pee."

By today (Sunday) the high was 45 degrees and most of the snow had melted.  Which is a good thing because not only will the children go back to school tomorrow (praise Jesus!), but I will *only* have to zip up their coats.  No gloves or scarves or hats or mittens or boots or GASP.... WHEEZE... FAINT...

Apparently I am ONLY capable of zipping a coat without excessive whining and complaining.

What?  I *told* you, when it comes to snow I AM WEAK.

A Critical Case of Cabin Fever

Dave went back to work today leaving me home alone with the children.  As of this morning, I'd been inside my house for 72 hours straight.  I was starting to develop a twitch.  So, I made plans to take the children out to get some lunch.  Nothing fancy, just fast food.  Really it was just an excuse to leave the house, and it was something to look forward to.

Which meant all we had to do is while away the hours between breakfast and lunch.  Going outside was not an option - as it was 5 degrees.  And let me just ask - how do you people up North *do* this?  Do you send your children outside to play in the 5 degree weather?  Don't they get frostbite on their noses and other exposed areas?  And if you *don't* send them outside, how do you not go INSANE in the wintertime?  Aren't your children stir crazy? 

Because mine certainly are and it's only been 3 days.

We decided to spend the morning doing crafts.  Specifically, I brought down the easel and let the children paint. 

Yes she's still wearing her pajamas.  In fact, she's commando.  What's your point?

And now I have a question for you parents out there who let your children freely craft - how do you not go crazy about the mess?  I swear to you I got an ACTUAL CRAMP while watching my children finger paint.  I was squeezing my buttocks and clenching my jaw and just TRYING so hard not to throw my body in front of the curtains and the rugs and the furniture.
 

Someone get me a paper bag  - I think I'm hyperventilating.



That's beautiful son! (Now go wash your hands)

Do you Crafty Types just let your children make a huge mess, then clean it up later (with, I'm sure, a very Zen-like attitude), or do you have some sort of haz-mat approved area of your home (say the garage?) where you let them go to town with no fear of real damage?  Or do you just hide your eyes and take up drinking (which is what *I* considered today).

You need to lighten up, lady.

Just HOW?  How do you do it?  Because, I think I have a butt clenching injury.  Srsly.

School is out again tomorrow.  AND?  AND our out-of-town trip has been cancelled for this weekend.

As one of my Facebook friends said today "I may need to be put on suicide watch".

This Has Been Fun and All

School is cancelled again tomorrow.

Who's cold?  Certainly not ME.

We're running out of things to do.  We're running about of things to eat. 

Oh, who am I kidding?  We're mostly just running out of patience.

And Dave is scheduled to return to work tomorrow.  Lucky Dave.

Burrowed In

Wow.  Um.  We got a LOT of snow.  Like, eleven inches of snow.  Which is a LOT of snow for Oklahoma.  And my goodness, you should see these drifts.  THREE FEET in some places.  Like my front porch, for instance.  If my children ran out the front door right now, they would be completely consumed.

And this is where I would normally post a picture of my children standing next to the really big snow drift.  Except I was too busy enjoying my snow day to take any pictures.  Sorry about that.  It's just that, around here, snow days mean that the entire city shuts down.  Which means that my husband puts his phone and his laptop away and we all just enjoy each other.  Snow days are rare.  And fantastic.

For instance, we all stayed in our pajamas until dinnertime.  Even Dave.  He almost NEVER does this.  I cooked chili and cornbread FOR LUNCH.  And then?  THEN?  I took a nap.  An hour-long nap right in the middle of the day!  Then we watched movies.  Then I cooked AGAIN.  This time, a big 'ol pot of chicken tortilla soup (this particular recipe included cream cheese... yum-o). 

Neighbor Susan and her family came over for dinner.  She brought fantastic fajitas to go along with the tortilla soup and we all ate until we were sick.  And then we ate some more.  Including chocolate cupcakes with homemade butter cream icing (Susan's recipe - SO GOOD!). 

And then the children disappeared upstairs while (ahem) multiple bottles of wine disappeared downstairs. 

It was the best day ever.