Spastic Spandex Alert

Since Valentine's day is coming up, and since I know you all love men in spandex tights here's a little eye candy tip for you:  Wednesday, 10 a.m., my gym, man in full length purple spandex pants complete with pink thunderbolts and sweat band to match.  Enjoy.

All praises to the great and wonderful iphone...

I've been thinking about this for awhile:

Why an iphone is better than a man:

An iphone doesn't leave its dishes in the sink for three days.

An iphone doesn't steal the covers or snore for that matter.

An iphone entertains your children.  

An iphone is always willing to go shopping.

An iphone always wants to listen to your music.

An iphone is always willing to keep you occupied.  

An iphone doesn't care if you haven't washed its underwear.

An iphone can tell you the weather.

An iphone can teach you Spanish.

An iphone doesn't cough on you.

The end.

(When you spend so much time alone, you try and look on the bright side!)

Check in tomorrow for my ode to Macbook...

Argh!

Today has been a purple-nail-polish-all-over-my-cream-couch kind of a day. (!)

Funny Kids

Kate after opening a new shirt from Mom and Dad on Christmas morning:

Me:  Do you like it?

Kate (clearly uncomfortable):  Uh, I could wear it on Saturdays.  It would be a good Saturday shirt.

Me: You don't like it, huh?

Kate:  Uh, no. Sorry, Mom.

Kate, Ella and I planned all day to have a pedicure night.  Jackson was fairly excited to participate and I couldn't figure out why, until he arrived in the bathroom and exclaimed, "Where are the pets!?"

Long noses...

This morning at breakfast, Kate had a confession for me.  She told me she really did not write the poem.  Apparently, it is a song.  Kate loves to write songs down on paper for some reason. Anyway, we had a long talk about claiming something as your own when it's not.  There were tears, and apologies and so all is forgiven.  Kate, my sweet girl, does write beautiful things but that cute little poem cannot be claimed as her own.  Hopefully, she will learn this life lesson well. I will leave the poem on the blog but erase her name.   Why do I love her even more for her confession?  

'Tis the Season

...to not expect much blogging from me.  I'm back from my little trip-eroo to the tropics, jet-lagged and frantically avoiding the fact the Relief Society will be here tonight to sing carols around my out-of-tune piano.  While I'm cleaning food and finger prints off my windows, please enjoy this lovely poem by my new favorite poet:

I Built A Little Snowman

I built a little snowman.

He had a carrot nose.

Along came a bunny,

and what do you suppose?

That hungry little bunny

Looking for his lunch

Ate that snowman's nose

Nibble, nibble, crunch!

Confessions

Number 1:

Jackson:(quietly) Mom, you know what? I do really like girl toys sometimes.
Me: Oh, really? Like what?
Jackson: (Thoughtful) Like girl trucks and girl puppies.
Me: (trying not to laugh) I'm sure that's okay.

Number 2:

Maxwell is a racist. He does not like Asian people. Twice, some very nice Asians have tried to say "hi" and he has freaked out. Crying, hollering, generally making a scene, sending these poor nice people running for cover. I quickly try to mumble some excuse about how he is tired, etc. And then I run, too.

Number 3:

I spend too much time on the computer.


What do you have to confess?