2010 Retrospective

Here are some of the highlights of 2010 for The Duck and Wheel:

There's:

• Colin's graduation from high school and his move to the University of Illinois-Springfield
• Meeting up with blog pallies Lola, CardioGirl, and A. Marie
• Joe and his two left feet
• The mystery goose who showed up on my porch one chilly morning
• The Marching Astros
• The Chicago Youth Symphony Orchestra outings with Ted and his family
• Our Disney trip with the Marching Astros
• The trapping of the raccoons (and the opossum) and using coyote urine as a deterrent
• The frogs, of course

I didn't include Hobbes and Grace because, well....we see enough of them each day.

It was a good year, 2010, which brought a lot of major changes for our family. Lots of them were good, and honestly, I can't think of too many bad at the moment. It's hard to figure out the events and the photos that best represent the year because so many things happen in those 365 days, but I'd like to think that I chose lots of silly moments to remember it by.

By far, here is my favorite video and song of the year. I swear if my life had a theme song, it is this:




And no year-end retrospective would be complete without the Dead List. As morbid as it may be, the Duck and Wheel would like to take a moment to remember those we have lost this year:

I Love Hobbes Thursday - SNOW!

The snow was falling one night last week--right before Christmas. And it was that magical kind of snow--one that is huge flakes and quick accumulation.

Hobbes couldn't stand himself and demanded that I let him out in the dark, which is something I don't typically do. He just wanted to be out in that snow for some reason, so I opened the door tentatively. Out he shot to romp in the gloriously white world--like a child in the first snow of the winter.

He wasn't out for long, but he did manage to check the pond while wrastling some snowflakes for good measure. It's uncanny his ability to remind me how lovely this earth is sometimes.

Scenes from under the tree

I figured out this week that I am sorely in need of a micro lens for the camera to really capture the little stuff I want to shoot. I really did try to capture the little world under our tree for you all to see, but between needles dropping from the tree into my shot, wee folks falling over as I tried to move them, and me trying to fit my fat butt between the chairs and the tree--it was a tough photo shoot.

I don't ever want to hear how difficult models can be when I had to deal with people 1/2 inch tall who have a penchant for falling over. Ugh.

Here's a couple of the new hobos we got this year:

Mini greenhouses with uber-mini flowers growing inside:

I know, I know--this is what you are waiting for--
The Pope at the KFC meeting his friends for lunch:

And to get the perspective on the size of it all:

Then there is Emma and Caroline's version of it:

The Friend of Death

I took a few days off of work last week to just hang with my kids--something that I don't get the opportunity to do now that I work outside the home. I typically don't mind working, but summers and Christmas break get me, I just miss hanging out with them like I did when I was at home all those years.

The only one who loved me being home more than me was Grace. Dang, if girlfriend didn't follow me around everywhere. If I sat down, she was on me. If I laid down on my bed or on the couch, she was on my chest. When I baked gingerbread houses, she sat on the counter and watched me. If I took a shower, she sat waiting for me to get out. We were stuck like glue this week, she and I.

Hey, my fish both died Christmas Eve. Bummer, eh? Apparently getting a friend for my fish wasn't such a great idea--it ended up killing him. They were looking pretty sick early in the week, but then they rallied. I actually thought they were gonna make it, but alas, I cannot fix fish.

Friday was looking a little grim and I made the rule that anyone who went past the tank had to cheer them on to live. Em and I went through our litany of cheers from all those basketball and football games we've been to and even resorted to changing words to Christmas songs to keep them afloat (no pun intended). It was a tad more difficult to get the boys to cooperate, but Joe said a kind word or two to the dying fish as he went past.

So, sad as it may be, both fish went with Santa to live at the North Pole. But they did give us the gift that keeps on giving---counter space. As much as I miss those floaty guys in the laundry room, I do like having my counter back again.

We have now officially written fish off the list as things we do not want anymore. Minnows are great for the pond, but anyone who needs to come in for the winter is not on the "to buy" list anymore. Pond inhabitants have to stay IN the pond--no more coming in to die/look sick/cost me money/make me clean the tank/feel sad about. Done with that.

My kids are just hoping that I learned a lesson from all of this--that sometimes no friend is better than a bad friend. And no matter how loud you cheer "REBOUND!" to your fish, it doesn't make him better.

Bummer.

Act Like You are Sleeping

There was a day last week when Hobbes, Em, and I were all lying on my bed talking. (Well, Hobbes wasn't talking--he was more listening I think.) We heard Joe come in from work, take off his coat, and as he started walking towards the bedroom, I whispered to Em "Pretend like you are sleeping".

Remember doing that as a kid? We got the biggest kick out out of it if it worked, and the person walking in did so quietly, thinking you were asleep. And we'd all jump up and laugh because that was hilarious or something.

So, Joe snuck in quietly and he really did think we were asleep--partially because at that point Hobbes was asleep. He cheats. And then Em and I jumped up and screamed and Joe actually really DID think we were asleep. Score!

Anywho, that's how I'm feeling today--like I'm pretending to be asleep.

The office is closed today, but I'm still on deadline and stuff needs to be done--albeit from home, darn it.

But I'm still trying to pretend I'm relaxing by sleeping in late, making some coffee, and taking my time getting into the shower. I plan on doing my work in my pajama pants and maybe taking a break or two by whipping some butt on the new Wii games we got for Christmas. Lunch is all the munchy foods we have left over from the holiday, with a cookie chaser--of course.

So, while the rest of the world may be back to work this ugly cold Monday morning after the holiday, I'm still "sleeping".

Don't blow my cover, okay?

I Love Hobbes and ChristmasThursday

It's the season of snow angels and hanging with those you love. I'm taking a few days off to eat Christmas cookies and open presents--I hope you will do the same.

I wish all the pallies a very Merry Christmas and may the joy of the season blanket you with love.

The Most Excellent Christmas Present Ever!

Irene came into work smiling like the dickens yesterday morning. She typically walks past my cube to go to hers, but on this day, she stopped by me....and threw a present on my desk.

I did the "Oh, Irene, you shouldn't have..." thing and then I ripped that sucker open to find this:

The Most Excellent Christmas Present EVER!

And you know that I immediately threw it on over my work clothes and proceeded to act completely normal--well, for me, anyway. Doesn't everybody wear Bed Intruder shirts to work?

But I found out the hard way that maybe my snappy Bed Intruder shirt isn't proper attire for work when I was standing there consoling another co-worker who not only lost her aunt that morning, but she also slipped and fell on the ice leaving her house. Even Bed Intruder guy couldn't make things better for her.

Bummer. I took it off because it wasn't really the time to be silly.

But I did whip it back on later in the day to model it for some other co-workers who think the Bed Intruder song is hilarious too. And we all shared a major giggle over my new found snappy t-shirt.

Until I turned around to see the COO of our company standing next to me. Flew in from California for a visit. Ugh.

I immediately crossed my arms in front of the Greatest Present Ever and shook his hand. And while he stepped in front of me to shake Johnny's hand, I whipped that bad boy off and handed it off to Irene....who ran it back to my cubicle and put it away.

Whew!

Not only does Irene give the greatest presents EVER...she's also got my back. I love Irene.

And I love my new Bed Intruder shirt.

I'll bet Oprah doesn't have tube sock snowmen

I heard the song "My Favorite Things" the other day--since when did that become a Christmas song? I think those folks are scrambling to mix it up on that station that plays non-stop holiday music beginning the day after the 4th of July. Sheesh.

So, while I was trying to wrap my head around the significance of that for a Christmas song, I started thinking of some of my favorite things.

Now, don't be thinking "Oh, cool, Lin is gonna be like Oprah and start giving away crap" 'cuz the only thing I hate more than overplayed Christmas songs is Oprah. Hate. Her. And all her silly robotic, mindless followers. So, the answer is no, you're not getting anything more than my list of things that are my favorites.

1. These wacky snowmen that Emma made out of tube socks back in the 3rd grade. They beat the heck out of that silly angel from yesterday.
2. My electric blanket
3. Anything that makes me laugh
4. The school bus that drives my kid to school everyday so I don't have to
5. People who hold the door for you
   
6. Seeing the feral cats in the parking lot at work
7. snow days
8. People who stand up for themselves or have an opinion
9. Coffee that someone else makes for you
   
10. Snow falling at night when you don't have to go anywhere in the morning

I'm a firm believer that it's the little things that make life fun and worth living. Okay, so I count the newspaper finding its way to my porch as a highlight in my day, at least my happiness standards are low. Which means I'm happy a lot.

Sometimes Angels have Screwy Wings

I love how my tree is dressed in lame-O ornaments that the kids have made through the years. Half of them I'd love to ditch, but they hold deep feelings for each and every one of them. Sure, there are some cute ones, but there are far too many pathetic creations that would be best left in the box....in the attic.

Every year, Em waits for this angel to come out and there is all kinds of fanfare and loud exclamations of delight when she appears. Made in preschool, it's supposed to be an angel with your kid's picture on it. Notice how Em's "angel" wings are slightly askew. Gees, if that isn't telling you something.....

You know she's gonna kill me for laughing at that thing.

Isn't it crazy these days? It's like the world is gearing up for Christmas at a frenzied pace. The streets are crowded, the stores--madness. Lines are horrible and the shelves are ransacked. I hunkered down on Sunday to just catch up on things and to catch my breath a bit.

And in the midst of chaos, the regular drones of everyday life continue in spite of the season. My fish from the pond is sick and I don't think it's gonna make it to see Santa. Shampoo and toilet paper have run out and we are all but drawing straws to see who has to run to Walmart. Bills need to be paid and laundry is forever calling now that we have an extra body back in the house.

The red-spotted fish stuck to the filter intake is a reminder that true life goes on, even if we all want to be merry and bright. And for some, getting through the holidays is like my sick fish--barely holding on. It's hard to remember that some are struggling while we are all having parties at work and nibbling on Christmas cookies.

LJ posted this the other day. It is a nice reminder of what it's all about, Charlie Brown. Take the 3 minutes and 53 seconds to enjoy. (I love the star)

Now DistrictLines.com Sucks

Criminy. Here we go again.

But this time it isn't Target.com, it's DistrictLines.com--a website where you can order merchandise that feature current bands. In this case, Col wanted an Owl City t-shirt, which may never, ever come if Districtlines. com has any say in it.

Ugh.

Calling to inquire about the order I placed back in November, I swear I got "Peggy" on the phone. Swear. It. And they were about as helpful.

When I spoke of my dismay of not having my order for Christmas, "Peggy" advised that I draw a picture of the items I ordered and wrap that up. And she was serious. Not even kidding. What is it with me and online ordering this year??!

I'm wondering if they have Chris Botti t-shirts that I can order? Sigh.

Squeaky Days

Have you noticed in the madness that is the stores these days that folks are either with you or they're not? What I mean is, people are either total a-holes about this whole shopping thing or they are cool and are chuckling with you amidst the insanity.

While I have been run over by carts and entire generations of Hispanic families, I have also experienced the fun of a faux angry mob standing at the line in a store demanding more cashiers. I'm telling you, there are no funnier comments than those in a line that is too slow for too long--especially if you are the one starting the silliness. It's getting them started on the silly route rather than the angry one that makes it bearable.

Recently, Joe and I went to the local fabric store to pick up some things. Joe wanted to get in and out of that place quickly and he was rushing me through the store. Notorious for ridiculously long lines, Joe hates going into the JoAnn's for anything, so he was setting the pace and it was fast, I tell you.

Me, knowing that he was getting crabby, I started squeaking my shoes. You know that sound your wet shoes make on the waxed floor? Well, I was intentionally sqeaking them down one aisle super loud just to make him laugh. But, he didn't laugh. Nope. He was crabby and started telling me to stop squeaking. Bummer.

So, me being me, I didn't stop squeaking--I just made it louder. And then I turned the corner and walked out of his sight. And as the squeaking continued, Joe just said really loudly "QUIT SQUEAKING YOUR SHOES!".

And then I met my partner in crime--an older lady who continued squeaking her shoes when I had quit. We looked at each other and cracked up, but Joe had no idea it wasn't me making the racket. She smiled at me and squeaked even louder than before.

He finally got mad enough to come around the corner to snap at me some more, and that's when he saw who was squeaking up the JoAnn's. It was hilarious. Girlfriend was scuffing her shoes up and down the aisle just to make Joe and me crack up--and that she did. It made my day. And even Joe had to laugh at that one.

So, I guess my point is, that while we are all running a cabillion errands and rushing from this line to that one, we have choices here--we can be miserable or we can be smiling. And we don't have to be smiling that fake I-love-the-holidays smile, it can simply be the hey-this-is-nuts-let's-make-the-best-of-it smile.

In the days before Christmas, I wish you all squeaky days.

I Love Hobbes Thursday - Rated XXX

Why does Grace look like this?

Because of THIS....

Hobbes toasting his....uh....."self" by the fire can sometimes
be not so pretty.

I'm Never Wordless Wednesday

I decided that I wanted old-fashioned tinsel on the tree this year, which was a great idea until I tried to find it in the stores. Ugh. My friend Wendy tells me they had to ditch the old, cool tinsel from long ago because it contained lead. Oh. But then she said that there is a newer, not-so-great tinsel out on the market, but it is hard to find.

So, after walking aisles and aisles at numerous stores, I finally found faux tinsel! It's crinkly and shiny, but alas, it is not the tinsel of long ago. Either way, it's shiny and sparkly and looks fab on the tree. Hooray!

With me being me, I made Joe help me put it on the tree. I think you can see from the photo that this bad boy is pretty tall, so I needed Joe on a ladder to sprinkle tinsel on the top of the tree. And being that he was watching some show on the History Channel about Hitler when I asked him to help, he was a tad miffed that I made him get up. Whatever.

Yes, I do have shots of Joe watching Hitler footage as he throws tinsel on the tree haphazardly, but I'm too miffed to post it. Sheesh. At least he looks like he cares in this photo.

And who the hell watches shows on Hitler at Christmas anyway??!

They are just jealous of us

We are slowly getting there--the tree is up and decorated (which actually took like 3 days to do), and the boxes are finally out of the family room. Hooray! Everyone is happy with that except the kitties, because, you know, kitties love boxes and chaos. Me--I don't like either.

You'll be happy to know that I put up twinkly lights by the cubes at work for Jim. He played it off pretty cool-like, but I know he was secretly happy. Me, Jim, and Irene are the envy of the office now--we've got blinky lights and they don't. And if you work in an office, you already know that things like that sort of irk some folks.

Well, lots of things irk your coworkers actually. There was a bunch of us who got together last week to put up the tree and decorations around the office. It was all pretty low-key until Irene grabbed one tree skirt and I grabbed the other (yeah, we had two to chose from) and we proceeded to sing the "Sisters" number from White Christmas. It was great except we didn't really rehearse or anything and we didn't get the words right. And sure enough, some folks had to point that out. Sheesh. I'm telling you, jealousy is one ugly mutha.




Yeah, it was kinda like that.

Is it too much to ask?

As I type this, my wacky husband is doing a lame imitation of Bing Crosby in White Christmas. He just yelled over something about it being played on consecutive nights on TBS , and apparently we are on the second night because he actually remembers some of the words to the songs.

Right now, he's marching in his slippers around the kitchen to the song when General Waverly walks in to the surprise show in his honor--"I'll follow the old man wherever he wants to go..." he sings along. I guess I take back all the bad stuff I say about him after all--he's cracking me up.

The weather has taken a turn for the very cold and frozen, much to my dismay. While I don't mind the snow, this blustery crap's gotta end. I guess it's gonna be a balmy 5 degrees or something this week. Eeek!

The Nutcracker on Saturday was lovely. We had some decent seats on the mezzanine until I realized that there were some fancy box seats in front of us not being used. At intermission, I slowly slinked over and nabbed me some primo seats, while the rest of the family chickened out. I sat there, serenely looking like I belonged and settled in for the second half. Finally, Em couldn't stand it any longer and slinked over to join me. Apparently some other folks took my cue, and soon, all the luxury box seats were filled with Lin-wanna-bees.

Well, except for G'ma Phyl and Joe--they were still too chicken to budge. Too bad for them, those seats were comfy.

I sat there smiling like a darn fool, listening to the orchestra and watching pouf-laden snowflakes dance around the stage during the Snow Scene. Gees, that is lovely. And then there is a choir that la-la-la's in the background and it gives me goosebumps.

But then it's got me thinking--how come snow rarely comes to us in a fancy dance with lovely twirls and swirls? How come there are no pirouettes and silent jumps for those darn flakes that make my commute so difficult? Where are the poufs? Where are the toe shoes and crystal headpieces? Where are the girls tossing handfuls of light fluffy snow that makes the world look so pretty and musical? Sigh.

If I'm gonna have snow, that's the way I want it delivered. And I want that darn choir to softly sing the la-la-la's too. I don't think that is too much to ask, do you?

And while I'm all giddy about lovely dancing snowflakes, it reminds me of this:



Oh, if you don't get it--it's a Chicago thing. We grew up on this stuff every December. We would wait, as kids, for this to be shown on Ray Rayner (Channel 9) every single morning until Christmas came. Sigh. Good times.

And this is why I have high expectations of my snowflakes.

Just Keep Swimming

I'm on a roll. The house is clean, laundry and bedding washed, balanced the check-book (boo! hoo!), paid some bills, caught up on paperwork, and the tree is in the stand. All that is left is like another cabillion other things to do. Sigh.

I'm taking the weekend to try and catch up--oh, and to have some fun too! Make some time to breathe, pallies. I am.

Scrambled Me

There is so much conflict this time of year, it's full-blown yin and yang of the holidays. While I'm running like a nut trying to write Christmas cards, buy presents, wrap the darn things, and do everything to get ready for Christmas, I'm also packing the social calendar with moments to just chill as well. It's one extreme or the other at the Kautz house these days.

I'm feeling overwhelmed and stretched to the maximum. My blog habit is sorely neglected, with me scrambling to post and sneak a few visits in here and there. I haven't sat on the couch with the kitties in over a week, and I feel stressed with each Christmas carol that is singing reminders that the day is coming and quickly. Ugh.

I love that feeling when the tree is up, the cards are mailed, the cookies baked, and presents bought and wrapped. It is the moment of calm and whatever isn't done, just isn't going to get done. Ahhhhh. I wish I was there, but I'm not. Not yet anyway.

We are off to the see the Nutcracker this weekend with the Chicago Youth Symphony Orchestra. We went to it last year and it was incredibly wonderful. It's held at a small college nearby and we went mainly because our Ted was playing with the CYSO. I never imagined that while the music was extraordinaire, the local dance school kids fabulous, that the principal dancers were from the American Ballet Theater. Who knew?! We are making this an annual event now. So, off we go to the ballet with G'ma Phyl.

I'm purposely scheduling breakfasts with the band parents and hanging out with our friends because if I don't, I'm gonna go Christmas crazy. The madness of have-tos takes hold and I find that all I do is work. I'm making time to breathe in all of this, and I hope you are too.

Happy weekend, pallies. May you find a few hours of peace in the rush of holiday preparations. Enjoy the twinkly lights of the season.

I Love Hobbes Thursday

I'll have you know that while I'm running crazy with band fundraisers, working the concession stand for craft shows, going to work, and fighting evil no-gooders, Hobbes is wallowing in everything Christmas.

Homeboy is camped out in his basket by the fire, Christmas lights aglow above his head. Periodically, he'll open his eyes to check on the stockings that hang above him, but for the most part, he's just snuggling with the holiday pillows and chilling.

And if he's not warming his belly by the fire, he's helping me "decorate" the house, which loosely translates to "Hey--what's in this box?".

Then he wants to go outside. In the snow--a lot. Except it is cold and if I let him out, then he doesn't want to come in. But I don't want him to freeze his paws off, so I have to ask him like a thousand times to please come in. He finally does and then he runs to his basket by the fire. And the circle begins again.

The circle of life--for Hobbes. It's a good life.

A Van By the River

Every morning at work, Jim, Irene, and I just sort of hang out, drink some coffee, talk about whatever, and wait for the rest of the office to come strolling in. Sometimes the conversation is about politics, sometimes it is about our home lives, and most times it is about Jim's old days as a trader on the stock exchange. Whatever the topic, we just sip our coffee and enjoy the company before delving into the work routine.

Jim is this close to retirement and he swears he's gonna ditch the life he now leads for a van by the river. He aches for the simple life--one away from money and have-tos. One away from a wife and family who tells him what to do and bosses who demand things from him. A life that he controls and decides how simple or complicated it will be.

There are days when Jim talks about traveling or moving someplace warmer. There are lots and lots of stories about the van by the river and once there was a story about turning gay. (It's about "companionship" and not the sex, he says.) But I think that story was just to make me crack up because I don't think that is something you take up, like golf or bridge, after you retire.

Yesterday's story was about lights--Christmas lights. What kind of lights he wants in his van (by the river) and how nobody is gonna tell him what he can or can not have.

"Twinkly lights" he says sipping his coffee. "I want twinkly lights and lots of 'em." he said quietly.

And I listen politely because I wanna hear what the deal is with twinkly lights.

"I like the twinkly lights. You know, the kind that flash?" and he's reading my face to see if I'm with him on twinkly lights. "We have lights at home, but my wife won't let them twinkle." And he sighs a big sigh.

"Why can't you have twinkly lights?" I ask sincerely.

"Because. Because she doesn't like twinkly lights. And I do." and he gives me that silly look like he's serious, but he wants to make me laugh at the same time. "I'm one freaking light bulb away from making that whole strand flash." he says.

And I wonder how, after being with someone for all those years, do you not have a say in the Christmas lights in your life. I mean, I would probably be the same way with Joe, but here I was sort of feeling sorry for Jim that he had absolutely no say in if his lights twinkle at home or not. And while he's worked his entire life to make a nice living and allow her to stay at home in comfort, he still has no say in the light department. That's what you get at 65 years old--lights that don't twinkle because someone else said so? That stinks.

I listened to his story and suggested that one day he just pop in that extra bulb they always give you with a set of lights just to stick it to her. He laughed and I laughed. It was our evil plot to win Jim some freedom and some control in his life.

Or to get him closer to that van by the river.

We're heading into Tingles season

I have this friend, Judy, who coined a holiday phrase I think most of us can connect with.

It was uttered in frustration years ago, over the antics of relatives and other such pains-in-the-butt who make holidays so darn crazy for us and our kids. You gotta be here on this day, there on another day, and don't you dare miss anything for fear of offending someone.

While we were both fried of holiday obligations and have-tos, Judy declared out loud what most of think at some point during the holidays: "Merry effing Christmas" But she didn't say "effing"--she said, you know.....the word.

That was years ago and there hasn't been a holiday since then that we haven't wished each other a "Merry effing Christmas" and we laugh. And laugh. Mostly because we just think we are so darn funny, but also that her saying just sort of sums it up sometimes. And I know we are not the only ones who think it.

I found this yesterday. And while I will apologize for yet another video--I think you'll crack up on this one. Meet Tingles, the Christmas Tension:

Hippos actually kill more humans than any other animal in Africa

I had a lovely surprise yesterday morning when our pally, Merry, posted this video on Facebook in my honor. Somehow she knew it would be something that I would love, and by golly, she was right! Thanks, Merry. Glad you are back to feeling better and blogging again!

Check out the musical interlude--the guy's faces crack me up.



I enjoyed this one so much, I think I'm gonna have to dig out "Suzy Snowflake", "Hard Rock, Coco, and Joe", and "Frosty the Snowman" too. Hang on, Grace, it's gonna be FUN!

It must be the snow on the ground that is making me feel more Christmassy.

Snow!

Hobbes stood at the door this morning in complete confusion and denial. But after a little encouragement, my orange stripey is now a big orange stripey snowball.

Mrs. Sasquatch???

I love when you find funny stuff in photos that you didn't notice when you were taking them--for example: Joe doing the Sasquatch walk in the background in too many of my photos. Sure it's funny for all of you, but now I have to watch what's going on behind the subject in my shots.

This one is from Thanksgiving. Note Joe's "I'm bored" look while Em and G'ma Phyl are all smiley and have "hey-we-are-having-some-fun" looks on their faces. And then we get to my cousin's kid, Blake, in the background.

Yeah, homeboy's got some boobies. What the hell is with that???!


Happy Friday, pallies.

I Love Hobbes Thursday --The Cat Signal

Criminy, my internet went out last night and therefore, I Love Hobbes Thursday almost was a goner. Now I can live without electricity, but don't mess with my internet! I went to sleep last night totally panicking about whether or not it would be up this morning, and sure enough--it wasn't.

Panic. Total panic.

No email! No blog! No posting Hobbes photos! No visiting the pallies! Yikes. It was a close one.

Anywho, so after hours on the phone with support, they did some mumbo-jumbo on the modem and wahlah! Internet. HOORAY! Add that to my resume now--House Internet Fixer. It's almost as impressive as Fish Tank Cleaner or Thermostat Programmer.

So, here is Hobbes sending his "Cat Signal" to remember to chill this holiday season. Don't fret, don't worry, and most of all--do not panic. It's not by chance that this thought comes with the internet downage at my place. I think it is a good message for this time of year. It's important to breathe a bit amongst the madness. I shall have to remember that myself.

On a side note--when I initially thought of posting this photo, Daisy did shadows too. I guess shadows must have been the theme or something last week. I didn't get the memo on that so I just happened on it by chance--only I'm a week late. That figures.

Happy I Love Hobbes Thursday!

Oh, and be sure to hug your internet today. We don't appreciate it until it's gone.

Don't Make Me Count to Four

I was going to post another hipster video and cool new song to hip ya'll up, but I was really, really busy last night watching a high school basketball game and Em performing with the dance team at half-time. So, I'm totally exhausted from all that bleacher-sitting and I didn't have time to research this week's lesson.

Sorry.

But I can show you Hobbes in the snow--even though this is from last year because we only got like a millimeter of flurries last night. Not quite enough to whiten the lawn, but certainly enough to make everyone drive like grannies in morning rush hour. Yea.

When I'm driving and dodging all the grannies, this is what I'm listening to. It's a snappy little tune that makes me dance no matter where I am, even in the car--which drives the family nuts. There is no video per se, but you can look at your toes tappin' along or the coffee stain on your PJs or something otherwise very entertaining if you need a visual.

Speaking of visual....look at my pally, Ginger, on her new muffin. I love Ginger, she is my dog pally. I think she is very expressive for someone who is furry. Maybe it is her mom, Tracy, that makes it seem that way with her photos of Ginger--either way, I love Ginger, so I made her a blankie for her muffin to make her dog face smile.

Oh--in case you were wondering, her "muffin" is her dog pillow that she sleeps on, even though it sounds kinda like something else. But it's not--it's a dog bed. See:

Isn't Ginger the cutest thing EVER??!

I'll do better next week on coolin' ya'll up, pallies. Sometimes being too cool isn't always a good thing, so taking a break is really a good thing.

Unless you are Ginger.