Miss Dewey Decimal

Apparently, if you're looking for a book I'm the chick that can help you find it. Or so he says...

Friday night was M to the Izz-A's work Christmas party. Let me preface this story by saying that I rarely ask Matt what he thinks of my outfit, as we have slightly completely different taste as far as fashion and apparel are concerned. As I've stated before, it's totally okay with him to purchase clothing in establishments that may also happen to sell different types of animal 'feed'.

With that being said, after getting dressed and ready to go, I pranced myself downstairs and decided to ask him if what I was wearing was okay, since it was his work party. Let if be known that I was not loving the outfit I had chosen...something felt a little off. I had on a pink top with what I thought was a cute, khaki-colored fitted jacket with ruffles around the collar, and a pair of trouser jeans. He told me beforehand that it was a casual party. So, I proceed to get his opinion:

Me: Is this okay?

Him: Ummm, yea, it's fine. (Strike 1)

Me: Fine!?

Him: Yeah, it's good. It works.

Me: No...I'm not feeling it either. I think I'm gonna change.

Him: Yeah, try something else. (So quick to agree?! Strike 2)

So I run back to the bedroom and throw on something else (black top with a few sparkles on it, grey sweater, same jeans) and run back downstairs.

Him: That's better. Wear that.

Me: Yeah, the first outfit was kind of.......

Him: Librarian? (Strike 3, you're out buddy!)

Bip, Boom, Bam! There I was, tumbling my way right back down to Humble Town.

Nothing against librarians, but it definitely was NOT the look I was going for and I was in no way prepared for that comment.

Check him out....brushing Kate's hair before we left. One would think that he is possibly trying to make up for an earlier comment.

We ended up having a great time at the party even though Kate was scared of Santa. I had to hold her and sit in Santa's lap for the picture, which did not turn out so well. We're going to try the whole picture-with-Santa-thing one more time later this week.

On Saturday, we went to finish up our Christmas shopping. I always tell Matt that it will be a quick trip. It amazes me that he still falls for it every time. The trip ended up taking the entire day and we didn't get home until after dark.

Here we are chilling out after a long day.

Although you can't tell, the best part about this picture is that M to the Izz-A is wearing a pair of my pajama pants from when I was pregnant. Like I said, you can't tell in this pic......count your blessings people!

And here are a few other random pictures from the weekend in no particular order:

And before I go:

One day this week, I will be sharing a new Christmas tradition that I'm starting with my family. I got the idea from Granny T (Matt's grandmother) and am so excited about sharing it! Before her, I had never heard of doing it and can't wait to begin it this year. I think it's pretty unique, but if you've already heard of it, humor me anyway and tell me how cool it is, and that you've never, ever thought of doing something so amazing with your family on Christmas!

I'm officially hardcore...

...or maybe just old.......
or maybe neither of the two, but at least now I can fit in at my grandma's luncheons.

For the past two days I've drank my coffee black. No sugar, no cream, just plain ol' black. I got to thinking about the horrific amounts of sugar I pour into my coffee everyday and my friend at work dared me to give up the sweet goodness cold turkey. She laughs at me every morning as I stand at the coffee station pouring in my truckload of sugar and cream, and sometimes even a scoop of hot cocoa powder for good measure. I mean, what's the big deal? I only use two scoops of sugar.

Plus one.

Times two.

But who's counting?

So the challenge has begun. I never thought I'd enjoy drinking this cup o' tar, but I must say it's growing on me...very slowly. It doesn't feel quite as heavy and thick. I really can tell that I feel better in the mornings without adding all of the extras. If this continues, Domino Sugar sales will plummet dramatically, so I may need to send them a heads-up.

Now don't get me wrong, I still love my old version of sugared-up nectar, and will still break my neck to pull through my favorite coffee joints to order whatever the flavor of the month is (with extra whip) but as for my everyday-make-at-my-house coffee, I'm going to try to stay on my no sugar streak.

We'll see how it goes.

Just don't even think of asking me to give up the caffeine. Now that's not even funny.

Actually, it's just plain wrong.

I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that I don't think this is the image he was going for

Have you ever thought about the different 'grandparent names' out there? The possibilities are practically endless. You've got the traditional and the not so traditional.

I realize that I am no where near becoming a grandparent just yet. But after having Kate, and hearing my mother-in-law go through a list of the different grandparent names she liked (and finally deciding on 'Grammy', but not until after I wrote her original choice of 'Mami' in Kate's baby book), I've gotten a kick out of hearing the non-traditional, somewhat unique choices people have made. Granted, most of the time people try to get their children to refer to their grandparents by one name or another, but the truth of the matter is that whatever the first born calls them is the name that sticks.


Growing up we called my mother's parents Grandma and Grandaddy and my dad's parents Granny and Papa. Clearly we were risk-takers.....not afraid to step out of the box. Pshhh.

Now Kate and my sisters' children refer my parent's as Papa and Gaga (pronounced Gogga). The name Gaga sort of just happened. Actually now we simply refer to her as just "Gog". And our children lovingly refer to their great grandmother as just "Great". My family is all about coming up with nicknames and making nicknames out of nicknames....and making shortened versions of nicknames even shorter. For instance, Big Al's son's real name is James Patrick but we have called him J.P. since birth, until about a year or two ago when we just dropped the 'P' and started calling him J. Actually, to disclose the full truth, we originally dropped the 'J' and called him P for a short while until we realized that calling him P wasn't really workin' for him, especially since it got a little confusing during the whole potty-training stage.


Wow. Not only did I chase that rabbit, I killed it.


Sal Gal jokingly says that instead of being called Grandma, she wants to be called Glamma (as in glamorous). I am leaving my options open, as I realize that I have a while to think on it. What unique grandparent names have you heard?


Names are one thing, but have you ever thought about what you might look like as a grandparent? Keep in mind, the way you see yourself may not be exactly what others see, as Kate pointed out to us last week.


The other morning as I was making Kate a bowl of grits, she kept saying, "Paw" (which is what we call M to the Izz-A's grandpa). I looked out the window several times thinking I would see him outside but never did. She kept saying "Paw, Paw" (in her country accent that makes one syllable words sound as if they have two) and pointing, but I couldn't figure out where she was looking, until her little finger touched the box of cheese grits.


She was pointing to this:

I had to tear it off the box because she kept wanting to hold it and carry it around the house. She carried this little picture of 'Paw' around for the majority of the morning. I laughed so hard, especially at the thought of sharing this story with the real Paw. I think he'll laugh at the fact that she sees him as the Quaker Man. I don't think he's gonna see the resemblance.

But to the Quaker Man's credit, he is sportin' some seriously long grey locks, which is rather admirable at his age.

Random Weekend Happenings

I'm still feeling a bit off, so forgive the randomness of this post. I am feeling better, but not quite 100% yet. S0 here goes...

When I got home from work on Friday, M to the Izz-A was itching to give me one of my Christmas gifts. He never wants to wait until the actual holiday to give me my present. He's such a kid in that way (many ways actually). I, on the other hand, do not like to get my gifts early because I am the queen of wanting to have something to look forward to.

He insisted that I open it, saying I would want to use it throughout the holiday season. I decided to go ahead and open it, and was thrilled to find
a new Nikon camera. I have been wanting one for quite a while now, but didn't even ask for one because I figured it was a hopeless cause.


Score one for the hubby. That does, however, mean that this blog may become quite picture heavy.


Today after church we had to make a trip to Lowe's and Wal-mart for a few necessities.



Here I am sitting in the Starbuck's drive-through waiting for another necessity of sorts (Peppermint mocha something or another) and trying to figure this thing out.

Note the object hanging out of the back passenger window. In lieu of buying a baby window shade, Matt prefers to just find a random piece of clothing (in this case, my gray fleece) and roll it up in the window. That's how we roll.

In other weekend news, we also attended our local Christmas parade (if you can even call it that) that lasted all of about a minute and a half, and that's only because it got stopped by a train midway through. It was incredibly lame and I promised to never do it again. It took us longer to drive to it and park than it did to watch it. Seriously, I sneezed and it was over. It definitely was not worth taking off my pajamas for.

Now, I realize I haven't posted in a few days, and as much as I love to post everyday, the holiday season is throwing me off a bit. I'm a girl of routine and as we all know, December brings nothing of the sort. So we'll have to see how it goes.

Before I go, I must congratulate my boys for their win yesterday. And I think the saying must be true, Superman does in fact where Tebow pajamas to bed.

GO GATORS!

Go Sal Gal, It's Ya Birthday!

I've been feeling a little under the weather lately (the past couple of days) and am not sure what I've got, but I couldn't let this day go by without wishing my older sis, Sal Gal, a very happy birthday!


Did I mention that she was older than me?

I love you Sal Gal!

Wordless Wednesday

You May Not Want the Gift Under Our Tree

We finally put our Christmas tree up and it's in the process of being decorated. I say 'in the process' because I have a problem with just relaxing and throwing up the decorations randomly. I strategically place each one, making sure that they are evenly spaced and that the colors are spread out, without having too much red or too much green on one side or the other. And honestly, it's not even that it looks awesome after I'm finished. I feel quite certain that no one would think twice about the even spaces between my ornaments because it doesn't really add to the beauty or anything. It's just something I like knowing in my head. (In case I wasn't weird enough for ya)

We also opted to go out and replace our glass ball ornaments with shatterproof ones this year, since Kate is like a bull in a china shop. She doesn't know what the word 'gentle' means and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't choose to be it if she did. The girl is rough and ready.

Her new favorite place for us to change her diaper is under the tree so that she can look up at the lights. And if it will keep her still while I change her diaper, I'll leave the tree up year round. Just the other day she gave me a swift kick to the jugular that had me questioning my ability to recover. So this Christmas, the gift you may find under our tree may not be the one you were hoping for.

In other Kate news, she been obsessed with bubbles lately. It doesn't matter what kind. It can be bubbles in the bath, bubbles made from soapy water and a wand (but not from Rite-Aid cause they are completely ghetto and I can almost promise that they're nothing but water), or bubbles from bubblegum. She even calls balloons 'bubbles' sometimes. Every time she spots me with gum in my mouth she insists that I blow bubbles for her. Sometimes she'll demand bubbles when I'm not even chewing gum. In that case, I've found that 5th grade-style spit bubbles do the trick. They also come in handy for getting weird stares in the checkout line of the grocery store from people who aren't quite as appreciative.

So, Kate will definititely have a few bottles of bubbles from Mommy waiting for her under our tree this year.

Her gift for me, on the other hand, will probably be wrapped up nicely in a Pampers Cruiser Size 3.