Elevator Etiquette. According to me.

(Which basically means; no one else gives a crap.)

It is my personal belief that when using an elevator there are certain guidelines of propriety that one should follow.

In terms of “right of way” I feel that current occupants of an elevator should exit before the new crowd enters. Otherwise one must step to the back, allowing room for the newbies, only to then have to wiggle and shuffle right back through them to exit. This makes PERFECT sense to me.

I would think it makes perfect sense to anyone with a 4th grade education as well; but it seems I overestimate the general public.


So there's that.

And since no one cares about a blog post unless it contains a photo - here's one of my recently-turned-five-year-old.

She's old enough to put away groceries. She asks for IPod's and laptops and listens to grown-up-thank-heaven-because-I'm-tired-as-hell-of-all-the-kiddie-music music.

She's teaching me quantum physics.

In short; my children are old and I am older. Ugh.

Cheers!

Maybe The Hubs should watch his back

My Dearest Bottle of Caprock Blush, (or whatever other wine product is in my possession)

The exploding POP and gentle fizzing noises you make are the soundtrack of my soul. I often shudder as I caress your smooth curves and spill your contents into my over-sized glass. Each night as I tuck my Darlings’ into dreamland I am filled with anticipation, for I know that soon you and I will be together. Alone. I fully trust that what you hold inside of you will bring me delight* with each and every rendezvous.

Our relationship is deep, and it is real. What we have is a beautiful co-dependency. The love of a lifetime.

I vow to you here and now (Does anyone else hear Luther Vandross in the background?) that my adoration for you will remain unchanged through the course of my existence.

I Remain Your Beloved Always,
Kayla

*and the slightest of buzzes

Also, a couch decoration.

Jacket: a garment for the upper body usually having a front opening, collar, lapels, sleeves, and pockets b : something worn or fastened around the body but not for use as clothing

Though I'm not certain; I believe Webster is trying to say "When it's bloody cold outside; put on your friggin' jacket." It's a basic concept; really it is, but I cannot seem to remember it from day to day.

Alas, I freeze my choochoos off every morning and curse the couch that, thanks to my lack of logic, is all warm and toasty. I wouldn't be surprised if I got home and the blasted piece of furniture is snuggling with my blanket, too. Jerk.

Cheers!

You know, that little holiday in December..

It’s like this, people. I have these kids. And this husband. And some whack-o’s who call themselves my friends. Then of course we have laundry (mounds and mounds and piles and piles of it). Along with dirty dishes. Crusty toothpaste on the sink. Bottles of wine that will not drink themselves.

What I’m trying to say is that finding the time to sit at the computer and conjure up articulate accounts of my life that, let’s face it, absolutely no one (except for my mom occasionally) gives a rip about is tough.

Today, however; I told all of the whack-o’s/friends to take a hike, locked my children in a shed (Waiting for the phone call from Hance), shoved the laundry under my bed, ignored the grime covering every surface of this house, slammed a bottle of wine and here I am. With pictures of Christmas.


On Christmas Eve the girls opened these beautiful little gown sets from Allen’s mom. They proceeded to twirl and swish and giggle and “MOMMY TAKE A PICTURE OF THIS IT’S SO PRETTY” for a solid hour. Gramma is in serious trouble though, because now any and all other pajamas are scoffed at by the darlings. Why eat jello when you have crème brulee?

Ah, there’s Hubs, aka Daddy, aka infinite toy putter together-er. He is just so scrumptious when he’s working though, isn’t he?

And Me? Moi? Yours Truly? What am I doing while sweet Hubs is assembling 455 dolls? Well I’m, uh, um – I’m directing traffic. Yup. That’s it. Just trying to keep the public safe from the ice. I am absolutely NOT skating on the ice, by myself, on Christmas Day, while my hubby is single-handedly warding off the restless demands of the darlings on a Santa-high. Why, no self-respecting and decent mother would do THAT.