Assembling the marshmallow guns 

Toilet paper fashion show 

Three hours into the party and we've eaten 3 pizzas, exchanged gifts, made marshmallow guns and had one crying episode. Time for a marshmallow war.

Happy Birthday Matt!

"Walk this way." Q - Why are you doing an imitation of Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein? A - Because I need to go to the bathroom and my leg is asleep.

The infamous okra pod. There used to be several but this is the one that has survived the longest. 

Molly just wanted to sit on the couch and chew up her new toy. 

Three children opened their stockings while one child played in her new kitchen. 

"But Mom, I'm starving." Why must my children eat every 2 hours on school holidays?

Doug is finished working on my computer. I know he wants me to stop using IE but I have to adapt to a few of the other changes first. The software for my camera is not as easy as ACDSee and the new version of Outlook is cluttered with buttons that seem redundant, making the actual mail image tiny. On the bright side, he also got Tommy's MP3 player working. Today is going to be spent getting ready for the big sleepover party tomorrow night. While you are all nibbling yummy horsdeouvres, I'll be eating doritos and popcorn. While you are having witty conversations I'll be listening to debates about SpongeBob. While you are wearing the perfect black outfit, I'll be in my jammies getting wrapped like a mummy with toilet paper. Well, you get the idea. Now I'm off to Sam's to buy junk food.

I feel the need for a sing-a-long: Jeremiah was a bull frog Was a good friend of mine I never understood a single word he said But I helped him a-drink his wine And he always had some mighty fine wine

Bad - Dropping an entire plate of spaghetti. Worse - Dropping it right on top of the dog. Good - A husband who bathes the dog while I clean the mess. Best - Enough food for a fresh plate of spaghetti.

I try to limit my posts on political and social issues. I think the following quote from Wampum is worth pondering. "US Aid promised for tsunami disaster relief: $15,000,000.00 Cost of US war operations in Iraq, per day: $177,000,000.00"

I should do laundry and clean but I want to relax and do nothing. 

For New Year's Eve we are having half a dozen eight preteen and teenaged Girl Scouts over for a sleepover. Except for making marshmallow guns, I don't know what we are going to do to stay busy. The girls' maturity varies from that of a 16-y-o to a 6-y-o in the blink of an eye. I thought we'd shake up cans of soda at midnight and see how far the foam explodes. Doug is already begging to hide out at my parents' house with my other children.

I just dropped Sarah and her best friend at the theater to see Fat Albert. On the way there I said "Hey, hey, hey!" in my best Fat Albert voice. Sarah replied "Howdy, howdy, howdy." I felt like a dinosaur, but no older than I do every time she sings the words to "1985" and giggles. That song may mean one thing to its' target audience but it's something else to those of us who (1) lived through it and (2) know people who are still stuck in that era.

Regardless of how startling it is, I never get tired of a little toddler finger peeling my eyelid open. "Get up Mommy."

He's still working on my computer but I have been allowed to check my e-mail and jot a quick blog entry. Maybe he'll figure out why my sidebar is all snafu. The house is STILL a disaster area and the in-laws are coming tomorrow. I need a day of rest, Amy is sick and Tommy is a mess. Tommy and Molly both have doctor visits tomorrow. I am not having fun right now.

Our Christmas tree has gold painted okra pods on it. Does anyone have anything stranger on their tree?

I finished wrapping and stretched out on the couch at 3 am. That was when Doug started assembling Amy's play kitchen. At 5 am I heard him testing all the sound effects and for the next hour and a half he raced around the house getting things set-up. Noah was up first, then Sarah, then Tommy and finally Amy. Amy made a beeline for the play kitchen and although she played with her other toys, she would have been happy with just the kitchen. Noah was most interested in his new Yu-Gi-Oh card sleeves (cost about $2 a pack). Sarah literally squealed with delight over her new cell phone and carried it around for 5 hours before moving on to her art supplies. Tommy had never even heard of a Nintendo DS but he hasn't put it down since he opened it. Doug got a new digital camera for us to use and I am eager to see the pictures online. However, he also bought a new hard drive to put in my computer so I expect to have my machine disassembled for several days while he works on it and upgrades my old system. In the meantime I'll play with the microwave my parents gave us. Christmas has been wonderful for everyone! Now I have to find a place for all the new treasures.

Only one child is sleeping, but they are all tucked in bed and their bedroom doors are booby-trapped so they can't escape undetected. Time to see how rapidly I go from carefully wrapping and making bows to tossing toys in gift bags.

Except for Tommy's anger today was a good day. Now I just have to stay up all night wrapping gifts and cleaning the house. Tomorrow will be the first time EVER that we have no company coming here and no place to go on Christmas Day. In celebration, I've declared it "All Day Pajama Day". Too bad we don't have blogger jammies to wear.

"Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house we go." No. that doesn't sound right. How about 'down winding back roads and past the purple bowling alley, to granny and grandaddy's we go.'

File under TMI - You know it's winter when you blow your nose and have a little contest between your nostrils to see which side makes more stuff. The left side is winning today.

The tree is finally lit! Last night was very relaxing and hopefully it gave Doug the energy boost to finish painting Noah's room so we can move Noah's stuff out of the kitchen and living room. I am close to be finished with gift shopping but the cupboards are bare so I'm heading out to buy food for the next few days while Doug paints. Life is good!

Yesterday I easily picked up the plane ticket I had purchased over the phone. I made it through security effortlessly and found a seat by a window thinking I'd watch planes, but ended up people watching instead. The flight to DC was quick and relatively smooth. Once there my brother rescued me from the confines of the airport and took me to World Market where I picked up stocking stuffers for 5 people (4 children & 1 spouse). He returned me to the airport and I anxiously stared out the window, watching for Tommy. In no time at all, Tommy bounced down the corridor from the plane with a grin from ear to ear. He looked self-confident and fully capable of traveling alone except for the fact that he was talking to himself. "It sure is cold out here." "I need a new coat." "These gloves are saving my fingers from falling off." He got to me and I tried to focus his chatter but he just kept talking a mile a minute. Whenever he paused for breath I would get a few words in but mostly I just listened to Tommy talk. We had a snack. Tommy talked. We walked through the Smithsonian shop. Tommy talked. They called for everyone to board the plane. Tommy talked. I don't want to give the misconception that Tommy quit talking at this point but I must elaborate on Tommy's other behaviors at this point. Tommy and his backpack smacked every other person already seated on the plane as we walked down the narrow space. Some semi-intoxicated college guy had claimed Tommy's window seat and Tommy became nearly hysterical. I went back to the front and told the stewardess and she told me to put Tommy in some other empty seat. I didn't fly all that way not to sit by Tommy but luckily the next to last row was empty so we made our way back again. "I'm sorry sir." "Tommy, try not to hit people with your backpack." Getting to the window seat meant that Tommy had to grab the two seats in front of ours and push the seat and occupant forward abruptly. Tommy settled into the seat which was too narrow for his needs and developed a pattern of elbowing me in the chest every few minutes. I quickly found a way to lean all the way toward the aisle with my body while guarding my chest with my left arm. Did I fail to mention that Tommy kept talking all this time? "I wonder if they have the same snacks on this flight?" "That lady has a dog on the plane." Once seated Tommy tried every light and air vent combination. He pointed out all the cool things in the airplane catalog and described the takeoff as though I wasn't there. "We're going up now." "We hit an air pocket." When it became apparent that we were near our destination he started bouncing so he could feel himself falling in his seat as he felt the plane dropping down. We arrived and entered the world's quietest, emptiest airport. It was only then that I became annoyed as we had to wait almost an hour and a half for Tommy's suitcase to make it to the luggage carousel. We made it home and I crawled in the bed to stare at the tv like a zombie. Tommy read in bed and slept until lunchtime today. I have no desire to repeat our adventure anytime soon.

Am I the only person who is nowhere near ready for Saturday? 

I'm home but too tired to describe what it's like flying with Tommy. The baby liked the flight (flip, flip). Still no tree lights here. :( The entire contents of Noah's bedroom are still filling the dining room and living room. I plan to freak out tomorrow, but now I'm going to lie in bed and relax.

I fly almost never so I'm mentally overpreparing in an effort not to worry about the teensy-tiny plane that I'll board in the morning. I cleaned out my purse and removed the pocket knife, keys and hopefully anything that would make security cranky. I'll buy a book to read once I get past security. I'm taking nothing but a purse and my cell phone. I need to choose between sneakers and birks which will have less metal. I'll skip all jewelry except my wedding rings. It's too cold not to take a coat and I don't own a bra without a wire so I think I've done everything I can to make tomorrow's flight to DC go smoothly. It's a one-day, round-trip flight without luggage on an e-ticket so I'm sure I'll get picked for extra harrassment every time I get on the plane. I don't know what I'll do during the 4 hour wait for Tommy's flight. Is there a movie theater in the DC airport?

Random thoughts: Not only is the tree getting set-up next Halloween, next year we are decorating it with all the orphaned socks in this house. Amy is carrying around a dried glue stick and occasionally applying it to her underarms. Not even the promise of sex inspires Doug to work on the tree. Yesterday I woke up to a yucky nosebleed (mine, not Noah's). Today I woke up to Molly tossing her empty food bowl up in the air and letting it clatter on the floor over and over. I'm not sure which is a more annoying way to wake up. After I complained heavily about the bad smell in the kitchen Doug finally remembered a mousetrap under the cabinets. He put the trap and its' victim in the kitchen trashcan. Umm, how does this help?

Next year I'm getting the Christmas tree out at Halloween.

Once upon a time a crazy family decided to take on a home renovation project just before Christmas. The closer it got to Christmas, the messier the house got and the further behind they got on Christmas preparations. The wife had a breakdown and spent the holidays in a padded room. The children wore dirty clothes and ate breakfast cereal three times a day. The husband busied himself with his job so he wouldn't have to deal with any of the mess and chaos.

A very short story - When Sarah was two she called my father "snowman" instead of grandaddy. We never understood why she did it, but it stuck for several months and provided fodder for MANY jokes among family members.

Christmas of 2001 Sarah's third grade class performed their Christmas musical for a gym full of family and friends. Between songs the teachers had written little scripts for the students to tell about the meaning of Christmas and the holiday season. After one song, several children stepped forward and each had one line to say. "My name is ___ and my family celebrates ___." The entire program parents had been smiling, whispering to each other and taking pictures. One little boy quietly said "My name is ___ and my family celebrates Ramadan." You could hear the combined gasp of dozens of adults in the room. As the children started singing I was still looking around, embarrassed by the audience's reaction. Everyone sat motionless and you could physically see the gears in their brains turning out panic, fear and renewed anxiety. Videocameras, still running, were sitting in laps while the adults tried to regain their composure. Americans were moving forward, but things had changed. As I prepare to board a plane next week, I wonder how far we've come from it all and how much we've let it change us.

Uh-oh, ran out of money before I finished my list.

What music are YOU dancing to today? 

11:30 a.m. - knock on door Amy - "Mom, pizza ready." Do we eat that much pizza?

It's 10 p.m. and I haven't blogged yet today? I must have fallen off the edge of the Earth or something (Eric the Viking scene is now stuck in my head). The answer to the questions you are all asking are "No, the tree is not finished" and "Yes, I am considering spouse abuse."

I wonder if Genuine and The Zero Boss have Christmas light displays like this one?

Help! I've got a song stuck in my head. I must sing it out loud to get rid of it, so: Tie me kangaroo down, sport Tie me kangaroo down Tan me hide when I'm dead, Fred Tan me hide when I'm dead So we tanned his hide when he died, Clyde And that's it hanging on the shed.

Someone please explain that it is winter time to the naked 2-year-old running through the house squealing. Please tell the squirrels fighting over the suet that they should be hibernating. Please tell Molly not to eat candy she finds hidden in the childrens' rooms.

I'm still annoyed about the Christmas card snafu. Shouldn't the cards have had a note on the box reminding me to get extra postage? I should clean while the little people are tucked in their beds, but I really want to inventory my Christmas shopping and see what I have left to shop for before this weekend. I already know I have a lot to do but I need to know just how bad it is. The good news is that everything I have ordered from Amazon is now in transit to its' destinations. The bad news is that it's too close to Christmas to do any more online shopping without doubling the cost with shipping fees. The good or bad depending on your perspective is that we are up to 4 preteen and teenaged girls spending New Year's night at our house. No, I won't be publishing pictures. Pervs. How are your holiday plans shaping up?

I dropped half my Christmas cards in the mail and took the remainder to the post office because I ran out of stamps. The postman informed us that my cards are extra bulky and will cost an extra 12 cents each to hand cancel. I can't do anything about all the cards that have already gone out. My sincere apologies to every victim of my stupidity. I am so embarrassed.

Ten days?!? Argh!

Click on the cartoon to see a larger version of what it's like being married to Doug. 

Amy loves her bandaids. 

My mother called Noah last night. "How do you think you're going to like your new room?" "I don't have any room at all right now."

The weekend was quite disappointing. We didn't get anything done I had hoped to get done. The house is a complete disaster and I am drowning in chores and anxiety. Company this coming weekend, Christmas the following weekend and a Girl Scout sleepover the next weekend.

Several years ago Tommy and Sarah were playing on my parents' back porch. Tommy wanted a toy that he knew was behind a wasp nest. He sent Sarah to retrieve the toy and being the eager-to-please child that she is (adolescence is curing some of that) she went to retrieve the toy. Three stings later Sarah was sobbing on the couch and I was trying to convince her to take a Benadryl. Tommy raced around the house frantically delivering pillows, ice packs, popsicles and anything else he could think of to make her feel better. I really don't think he was motivated by guilt. I think Tommy felt no responsibility for what happened. He wanted something and knew it wasn't safe to get it himself. He sent his sister out of practicality and not cruelty. Minutes later he knew someone he loved was hurting and he wanted to help. Cause and effect just don't connect in Tommy's mind.

A lifetime ago I was 20-years-old and married less than a week when someone at work gave me a recipe to try. "It's easy and cheap." I eagerly attempted the chicken and potatoe chip casserole that night. It took extra time to figure out how many cups are in 2 pounds of flour. The uncooked mess was clearly wrong so I called her on the phone and described my problem. She laughed so hard she couldn't talk. When she was finally able to gasp out words she explained my problem. "It says two t-b-s for tablespoons, not l-b-s for pounds." It looked like an "l" to me.

When I was a child my father worked for one of those rare companies that treated its' employees like family. The company owned several vacation properties that employees took turns using. Several times a year we would spend a weekend at the company cabin on Pickwick Lake. The cabin had a nickel slot machine and my parents gave every child a full roll of nickels to use in the machine or save for candy. We always spent the entire roll on the machine, playing until we had nothing left (I should never go to Vegas). Staying in the cabin meant you could use the speedboat and pontoon boat to your heart's content. My family was and is not athletic, but that never stopped us from trying. I still vividly remember my father awkwardly putting on skis in the water and motioning for my mother to start the boat. I don't know enough about skiing to know what went wrong first, but my father fell and the skis popped off. My grandparents started yelling at my father to "drop the rope" but if he heard anything it sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher since he was deep under the water and still holding that rope. When my mother realized what was happening she stopped the boat and my father popped to the surface. While my father described hitting something deep under the water (trees probably), the children and grandparents were sent back to the cabin for lunch and slot machine negotiations (you had it last, it's my turn now). Many hours later my father returned from the ER with his 2 cracked ribs bandaged tightly. It's not a vacation without something breaking.

I neglected my story-telling duties last weekend but I'll try to get back on track tonight. Friday night until Sunday morning are my time to tell old and not-so-old stories before parenthood melts them from my brain. My youngest brother likes to tell stories about how horribly I abused him. If I wanted to abuse him I would tell the blogosphere that his nickname for his boy parts (because we grew up in a censored home) was "teeter". I keep meaning to teach his 2-year-old son that one. A popular legend is that I trapped my brother inside an appliance box. First of all, we are talking about a small boy and a HUGE box. Secondly, this assault took place in the kitchen of our home with our Mother 2 rooms away listening to everything with her super-human mom hearing. Finally, imagine the activity that went with this dialogue: "Hey Matt, want to get in this box?" "Yeah!" he climbs in with sibling assistance "Hey! Lemme out! Let me out!" shrieks of indignance "OK, you're free." he is lifted out but remains standing beside the box "Want to get back in the box?" "Yeah!" entire scene repeats a half dozen times before parent shouts for us all to go outside

"Amy are you trying to make Mommy crazy?" "Yep!"

Has everyone signed up to play Secret Santa?

Doug doesn't stay awake to watch Adult Swim with me lately. Last night I didn't have anyone to chat with so I painted Doug's thumbnail bright pink. A whole hand would have been too much, but just the thumb was the perfect amount of silly. I don't know why he didn't wake up while I did it because I was giggling so hard the whole bed shook. I had completely forgotten about it until he asked me "why" this morning.

It started raining last night. A rhythmic, calm rain that is perfect as long as I don't think about the fact that the creek is going to overflow and the erosion is going to create a small pond in our backyard (mom paranoia alarms are on alert). This kind of rain is relaxing and soothing. No, this kind of rain makes me want to sleep. Deeper than long car ride sleep, I am talking about puddle of drool on my pillow sleep. So, here I sit at my computer trying to inspire myself to get dressed and do some Christmas shopping while the couch tempts me with its' softness. Sleep or shop?

"So much time and so little to do. Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it."

The Tommy plan is for him to drive back from Knoxville to Boston with his father on Sunday. He'll stay there until the 21st (that's the last day for cheap flights and I insisted Tommy be home for Christmas) when his father is in charge of making sure he gets to his flight safely and on time. The flight stops in DC and has a 2 hour layover. The budget airline would only "tell him his gate number" and having been to the DC airport, I don't think he'd make it onto the second plane without getting distracted. So, I am flying to DC to meet him when he gets off his first plane. I am going to be spending 6 hours sitting around the DC airport. If I only had a wi-fi laptop to pass the time. Tommy hasn't spent more than 5 days with his father in the past 8 years so we are hopeful that his father will stop blaming us for all Tommy's problems and realize that Tommy is a very difficult child. The thing most in our favor is my ex's girlfriend is not going to be willing to ignore Tommy like his father will. She is always reminding my ex that they live in "her" house. At the very least, the other children are going to have a week and a half of calm, normal childhood. On the other hand, I'll be worried sick.

Cleaning with a 2-year-old in the room = Pointless exercise in futility.

I'm going to Target tonight for socks and lights! 

It is over 70 degrees here (gasp) and the sun is shining. Amy napped for an hour before Molly jumped on her looking for a playmate. The child support check came and when I put it in the bank, the teller gave us a lolly for Amy, a bone for Molly AND a peppermint for me. We have worked out a temporary arrangement for Tommy and although it terrifies me, I think it is in everyone's best interest. The woman we gave Noah's furniture to is so excited she's coming by to get it tonight. I got my second Christmas card of the season in the mail and the words inside just made me feel good all over. Nobody made me feel selfish for wanting to start over on the socks! All the little things have just made today a good day. From the card: "Santa Claus comes for each child at the start. The rest of their lives he lives in their heart. If you are a youngster or wrinkled old guy, You can still hear sleigh bells 'cross the sky'."

The rain has stopped. Amy is calmly resting (not sleeping) on the couch and the dogs are stretched out in the sunbeams on the floor. I gave up trying to sell Noah's furniture and found someone who really needs little boy furniture and they promise to pick it up this week. Tommy's school hasn't called complaining yet. I am going to take a bath and then start on the Christmas cards. Maybe this afternoon I'll do something special just for me. A real self-indulgent treat to destress. Something like tossing out the mountain basket of unsorted socks and buying everyone several new pairs.

Phillip made a comment at Tim's asking for a description of Asperger's. I gave technical descriptions of Asperger's and personal testimony during the Blogathon but here's a different way to describe it. Aspergers is Autism Light. Autistic people have the wrong kind of sensory input filters. Sights, sounds, touch, language and everything else are likely to be perceived differently than in non-auties. The trick is that no two people have the same set of filters, so everyone interprets and reacts to the world differently. A hot stove may be burning the skin while no pain is felt. People with Aspergers have symptoms of dozens of different diagnosis in the DSM, but they usually shouldn't be diagnosed ADHD, ODD, OCD, Bipolar or Schizophrenia. Those are all just symptoms of their Aspergers and result from the mixed-up input they receive from the world. Most people with Aspergers are very intelligent but unlike other people, Aspies focus their intelligence on subjects they choose rather what educators would like them to choose. It may be something useful like Astronomy or dinosaurs but it could also be something like memorizing the script to movies or racing through books as though they were desperately needed oxygen. Aspergers is extremely frustrating because there is so much potential to succeed as well as to fail. Aspies have their own set of rules and don't understand why others don't follow them. Does any of that make sense? I live it and I still get confused and overwhelmed.

"Amy, it's time to go get dressed." "OK." "Put these pants on." "No! Amy get dressed." "Yes, Amy's getting dressed in these pants." "No! Amy need dress. Amy get dressed." I wonder why all of my children are smart-mouths?

I can't decorate the tree because it has no lights. I can't start (yes, I am hopelessly behind) the Christmas shopping because the child support check isn't here. This afternoon we have an appointment with Tommy's therapist to hear what 'place' he recommends we send Tommy. This weekend my ex is in town for his bi-annual pretend you are a caring parent visit. I can't find a new home for Noah's old furniture so I can switch the kids' rooms while they are at the hotel this weekend. I don't have paint (the walls are pink) or any accessories to make the tiny room Noah is moving into with only a bed seem fun instead of like a demotion. Sigh. I'm going back to bed.

"I'd like to teach the world to sing, in perfect harmony. . " 

Today I was leaning over to get in the car and Tommy bulldozed by, knocking the door so that the corner of it slammed right into my face. Do you think I should tell everyone I see tomorrow that my cheek is purple because Doug punched me in the face when I wouldn't quit whining about the Christmas tree lights?

Q - "What can I do to make you less stressed Cathy?" A - "Put the lights on the tree." One week later the tree is unlit and Amy has spent part of each day raiding the box of decor to remove light bulbs and break ornaments. I am not less stressed.

I had to run into AC Moore for rubber stamps this morning (those things are sooo expensive) before Girl Scouts. There was a woman in her 70s walking around with a sweater-clad chihuahua. I can't walk by a dog without giving it a rub so, I petted the little thing and went on about my shopping. A few minutes later I watched a woman in her 50s have a small tantrum. "Let's go. Are you listening to me? We're never going to get anything done if you keep stopping like this. I'm just going to leave you here if you don't come now. MOTHER! Why does that stupid animal have to go everywhere you go?" The older woman finally glanced and innocently said "I couldn't hear you dear. Everyone wants to pet the dog." Put aside the fact that the daughter wasn't even showing her mother the patience that you would have for a small child despite the fact that she talked to her like one. This woman was jealous that her mother didn't give her as much attention as she gave her dog. The mother could have left the dog at home. The daughter could have been happy that her elderly mother has a beloved companion. Instead they will both end up being miserably unhappy and anxious for their shopping trip to be finished. The next time you hear me telling my children to hurry, pinch my arm and remind me to enjoy the moment for what it is. Oh, and thank you Barry. You left a pot of gold at the end of that rainbow of a blog entry.

I got a blank white card in the mail today with no return address and just a happy face stamp on it. Does my ob/gyn think I'd be embarrassed by the mailman knowing my yearly test results?

My father is working at a DUI checkpoint tonight. Let me be more specific. My 61-year-old father with high blood pressure and diabetes who is NOT a policeman is working at a DUI checkpoint tonight. You know, the kind of situation where physically fit and well-trained officers often get hurt by vehicles trying to get away from the scene. Is our police force really that short-handed?

It always gives me a warm fuzzy to see someone out and about wearing a silly holiday hat.  

I love Oswald, but his best friend Henry just has to have Asperger's. Lazy Town gave me the creeps at first but now I just think it's wierd. Likewise, Oobi seemed ridiculous at first but I like it now. The Backyardigans and Miffy should be erased from existence. Tiny Planets and Little Bill are wonderful fun. I need to get out more.

My Blogroll holiday wishlist (in no particular order): 1. A boyfriend for Mir. 2. Kristy appointed 'Queen for the Day'. 3. Healthy babies for Julie, Nikka, Gypsy Girl, Cam and Juliepatchouli. 4. Book deals for Angela, Phillip and Dooce. 5. A great football season for Michael. 6. Happiness for Lost and her family. 7. New Cds for David. 8. An allergy cure for Jae. 9. Good health for Autumn. 10. A wonderful new year for everyone to blog about.

I haven't done a meme in a long time but I like this one from Michael. He borrowed it from Megan over at Divine Reality who stole it from Gina who took from The Mommy Blog, who stole it from Broken Fairy, and from Janet. Step One Make a post to your weblog/journal. The post should contain your list of 10 holiday wishes. The wishes can be anything at all,big or small. The important thing is, make sure these wishes are things you really, truly want. If you wish for real life things, make sure you include some sort of contact info in your post, whether it's your address or just your email address where Santa (or one of his elves) could get in touch with you. Also, make sure you post some version of these guidelines, or link to this post (it'll be public) so that the holiday joy will spread. Step Two: Surf around your blogroll (or friend's blogrolls, or just random journals) to see who has posted their list. And now here's the important part: If you see a wish you can grant, and it's in your heart to do so, make someone's wish come true. Sometimes someone's trash is another's treasure, and if you have a leather jacket you don't want or a gift certificate you won't use--or even know where you could get someone's dream purebred Basset Hound for free--do it. You needn't spend money on these wishes unless you want to. The point isn't to put people out, it's to provide everyone a chance to be someone else's holiday elf--to spread the joy. Gifts can be made anonymously or not--it's your call. There are no rules with this project, no guarantees, and no strings attached. Just...wish, and it might come true. Give, and you might receive. And you'll have the joy of knowing you made someone's holiday special. 1. A new blog design. 2. More time doing things together as a family. 3. Happy and healthy children. 4. Doug to be happy and relaxed. 5. Figure out what Tommy needs to be happy. 6. A freezer and pantry stocked with food to get us through the winter. 7. One completed home improvement project instead of a a construction zone house. 8. Someone to help Doug with the house rebuilding. 9. Wi-Fi Laptop to blog and write at doctor appointments. 10. Anything on my family wishlist.

Yesterday I got the "you are old" lecture from the doctor. The kind of lecture that makes you want to curl up in bed with Lawrence Welk and spend your day giving your grocery budget to big-haired televangelists.

I wish someone would help me get the lights on the Christmas tree.

Oh, no! I've turned into my parents!