huh?

yeah, this is just an 'i'm not dead yet' kind of post. the camera took a vacay without me, and i have yet to locate the card reader on this here new computer, so it's not like i could show you pics or anything anyway. running on little sleep and fewer brain cells. planning a little mischief for a certain bookish pal...i don't think she's a blog follower over here, but until it all shakes out, i can't breathe a word.

yeah, that might kill me.

so, tomorrow is pajama-day. finally. i didn't think it would ever get here. this has been a shit-ass week for one of the sisterhood. we love you, t.w., and i know you're gonna rock the tank tops this summer, even without the ta-tas. prayers and belligerent rantings to all higher powers aside, i just know you're too damn stubborn to let cancer beat you. plus, you've got two beautiful babies and a good man who can't possibly let you go... not to mention the 'victoria's posse'. and we are all that and a bag of chips. use us as you need us. we bow to your will, and will you to get better!

i'll probably venture out with the becher babies later in the day, if the roads aren't too icy from the threatened snow what's supposed to fall and ruin our fun. need to get used to the unusual diatribes that have started coming out of youngest child's mouth... like this tidbit from last week...
(scene: the suburban, pulling into mcd's)
daddy: "who wants nuggets?"
peanut gallery: "me!", "Me", "ME, too!"
5th child: "not me. i need chicken with bones in it so i can build a yombie"

huh? who ever expects to hear their four year old plotting to build a zombie? and why does he not use Zs? oh, it's a tootsie-pop mystery... 'the world may never know'...

wonderland

So, the neighbors prolly think I'm insane (well, duh), but this morning's drive necessitated a few pull-over minutes... every vista was stunning. I took several shots, but this was especially nice, so I'm sharing it with y'all...

I did manage to get a 48 minute workout in this morning, and have the best intentions to get another one in this evening, since Herr Becher informed me via text (he just got a full keyboard. don't worry, he's catching up quick) that it's stuffed pork chop night. He's cooking.
He rocks.

Now I'm off to maybe sew some on the wonky log cabin quilt blocks, since sitting down isn't so wincy now. Today is the first day of the Knitting Olympics. My goal is to get the celtic knot tunic and two pairs of socks off needles... while listening to the Ting Tings. Makes keeping in pattern more of a challenge.

unfiltered

There are days, and there are days... like today, when even breathing seemed to put me in a pissy mood. It's those damnable newsletters that, oh, say, seven seconds after you hit 'publish', will reveal their dirty little secrets, like the wrong store hours, the lack of a date for a sale event, or just poor placement of written text...
and silently, you fume, cursing the gods of all that is unholy and electronic for not making you a better widget-mover/detail queen.

Then you stifle the urge to choke the next person who says you should send them out weekly.
As if I'm even allowed that much Xanax.

Other news of note: the new hoo-hoo seems to be healing up at the appropriate rate, and a launch date of mid-March has been approved by the surgeon. Not that I'm cracking a bottle of champagne over it, but as things go, some sort of fanfare will be expected. Someone kindly warn Herr Becher that there should at least be flowers...and steak. Mostly steak.

The weather since Saturday has wreaked vengeance on Clementine. She's discovered a new aptitude for tequila, and came home with a coffee mug from her favorite pub last night. I wasn't privy to the details, but she either charmed the bartender into the freebie, or we're looking at petty larceny here...

This week I made the mistake of committing to a 'fitness program'. *shudder*
Now I need to be off to sleep, if I'm to get up and ruin my day-full-of-promise with 45 minutes of cardio work in my scary basement. You go eat a cupcake. Then bring me one...