This or That.

I'm positive every person living in the state of Tennessee was at Opryland Mills Mall today.

Every last one of them.

My family, full of genius minds, decided to join 'em.

We shopped for so long my mother's lower back began to hurt.

My father, being a gentleman, began hunting for Advil.

We passed a restroom and he ran in.

Several minutes later he returned and handed my mother a square package.

"They had a machine in the bathroom - but it was confusing. It's either Advil or a condom."

I love my family. Love them.

Merry! Merry!

Apes and I are getting ready to hit the road again, this time to drive from Bristol, TN to Nashville where we'll spend the next four days with my family.

This leg of our trip will consist of:

lots of laughter
merciless teasing
sibling bruises
spit torture
granny hugs
Fox News (ugh)
Fantasy Football notes
boiled custard
talking over each other
Cool Springs Mall
baby Addison
adult beverages
gratitude.

We are so fortunate to be able to visit both families during the holidays and while it gets crazy trying to fit everyone in, we know how lucky we are to be able to pull it off.

That being said, I still believe a medal ought to be awarded for our efforts - at the very least, we should be able to letter in or receive a badge for Family Holiday Olympics.

Grin.

Merry Christmas, ya'll! For those celebrating a different holiday, enjoy and may it be filled with love, family, friends and well wishes for the upcoming year!

Blame it on WHAT?

I didn't think it possible, but apparently there is a young kid out there who puts April to shame when it comes to repeating a phrase incorrectly.

I learned of him through Lindsey, one of my new Texas friends.

She's a teacher and a male student of hers was really acting up.

When Lindsey asked if he always behaved so out of control, he replied:

"Yeah! I mean, I can't help it. It's in my genitals."

She replied, as evenly as she could, "I THINK you mean genes..."

God. Love. Him.

I do.

ps. I hope you are enjoying the holiday season, whatever you celebrate or honor. May you be in the company of those you love and those who love you.

Jimmy's Beautiful Day.

I've been watching him intently for the past ten minutes.

He sits on the third of five steps, outside the quaint white house.

His worker's hands grasp the bill of a bright orange Tennessee ball cap.

I can't see his face for the downward tilt.

But I think I know what's in his heart.

He's one of twenty some people who've been on constant watch at the house across the street from April's mom and Mamaw's.

They're there for Jimmy.

Jimmy is dying.

He's in his early 70's and has battled cancer for a handful of years.

I met Jimmy last Christmas when I was walking the dogs.

He was sitting on his porch, adjusting his oxygen tank.

Feeble, hard of breath and tired.

Know what he said?

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?!"

It got more beautiful for me in that moment, seeing it through Jimmy's eyes.

I smiled, "Yes it is!"

For the past few days, cars have been piled around Jimmy's house, people going in and out.

Jimmy is loved. So loved.

April's Mamaw said, "I need to go over there, but I just can't. Jimmy was the best neighbor I've ever had. I just don't think I can see him like that."

Mortality. Facing it herself, is hard.

The ambulance arrived earlier this morning.

Not sure if they were making an emergency call or the final call.

Back on the porch, the man's hands leave his baseball cap and quickly take a pass over his cheeks.

He tilts his head skyward and lets the sun hit his face.

I hold my breath.

I didn't know Jimmy, but I knew what kind of person he was.

He'd say, "Today is a beautiful day!"

He'd want us to remember that.

Jimmy's Beautiful Day.

Please keep Jimmy's family in your thoughts this holiday season. I know it's going to be a tough one for them as they mourn his life and recall their favorite memories. Thank you!

Think. Speak. In that Order.

April just got home from her trip to the flea market with her mom.

I'm sitting on the couch catching up on blogs and such.

She walks into the room, attempts to collect a Diet Coke can I'm still drinking from, and says:

"You need to take care of that hair."

"What do you mean, 'take care of my hair?'" I squinted my eyes, trying to figure out if this was the beginning of one of her jokes, or if I should be offended.

She laughed. "It's looking a little rough..."

"What? What do you mean?! I just washed it thirty minutes ago - how can it look rough?"

April, doubled over. "Ohhh...Okay...I, I...."

I touched my hair, still a tad bit damp.

"YOU THOUGHT MY HAIR WAS THIS GREASY?! NICE, April! NICE!"

Her laughter and tears told me that's exactly what she thought.

Excuse me while I go sit on her and do the spit torture thing.

Mamaw's Musings.

I woke up this morning with absolutely nothing to blog about.

I knew 15 minutes in the kitchen with April's 86 year-old grandma, Mamaw Erma, would fix that right up.

She didn't disappoint.

Still in her pajamas and planted in her chair, she sat feverishly soaking up Fox News.

"Mornin' Mamaw," I said.

Nothing.

"MAMAW! MORNING!" I yelled loud enough to frighten myself.

"Oh! You up? Mornin'."

I plopped down in the chair next to her and mustered up the energy to turn my attention toward the television, wondering what Democrat-bashing I'd be in for this time.

Thankfully, the reporters were giving the Democrats a break. On the chopping block, PETA. (pun intended).

Their new campaign against KFC includes beautiful women in bikinis protesting in the snow outside several of the fast-food eateries.

"Chicks" exposing KFC practices.

I heard Mamaw snort.

She spoke.

"Gaaaa. I swear. Times ain't what they used to be. Look at them women showing their titties. I reckon they think they have something grand to show..."

Slowly, I turned to look at Mamaw.

My hysteria on a 10-second shock delay.

I didn't even know she knew the word titty.

"'Fore you know it," Mamaw continued, "they'll be showing down there!"

She pointed to her crotch.

I caught myself following the motion of her hand before I realized exactly where I was looking.

I quickly redirected my eyeballs.

And then I laughed so heartily that even Mamaw had to join my giggle fit.

Titties and crotches.

Thank you Mamaw. Thank you.

Story Time.

Only have time for a short post today as Apes and I are hitting the road for the holidays, but found this gem on my friend David's page and it made me laugh.

Apparently, David's wife was reading to their young son.

She asked him how he thought the story would end.

"With a period," he said.

I'm going to have a kid just so I can hear things like this EVERY day.

But, Butt!

Is it possible to bruise your butt as a result of sitting and addressing holiday newsletters for too long?

Seriously. I need to know.

I think I might need to buy and sit on a donut.

Which is entirely different from what I normally have planned for donuts.

But I really think I bruised something. No joke.

Already, there's been too much talk about my butt. I apologize.

Off to mail a hundred-plus holiday newsletters (culprits).

*gets up slowly and squeals in pain*

Sharing. Without Over Sharing. I think.

A Christmas survey has been making it's rounds in the blogging world. Who am I to shun it and not participate?

Here goes:

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Well, that depends. Can you find either one in sizes big enough to wrap the new car I've been wanting? If not, I'm comfortable with you forgoing both and stealing the big red bow idea. Feel free to come up with something more original if you have time - but no worries if you don't. I won't hold it against you. I'll be far too busy enjoying my new ride. Let's not loose sight of what's important, here....

2. Real tree or artificial?
Real tree, artificial insemination.

3. When do you put up the tree?
When it tells me it's ready to come out of the closet. You can't rush these things. Trust me, I know...

4. When do you take the tree down?
When it starts to make comments like, "Dude, if Sarah Palin had gotten elected, we could have fantasized about wrapping our limbs around her." No good. Gotta go.

5. Do you like eggnog?
Only more than life itself. I refuse to be cheeky with this answer. I can't disrespect the eggnog. There's a place for people who do so and it's not pretty.

6. Favorite gift received as a child?
A pony! No, wait. I never got one of those. A TV for my room! No, wait. I never got one of those. Expensive blue jeans like all the other girls in school wore! No, wait. I never got a pair of those. Suddenly, my memories of Christmas aren't as fond as they were five minutes ago. Thanks a lot, question-maker-up asshole.

7. Do you have a nativity scene?
Yep. Borrowed it from a church. It's hella cool set up in our front yard.

8. Hardest person to buy for?
Buy FOR? Whatchu talking about Willis? Am I to understand there are people I need to buy FOR? It all makes sense now....the sad eyes, the resentment...

9. Easiest person to buy for?
Letsee. This is a hard one. Thinking, thinking...oh. Right. Myself. What?!

10. Worst Christmas gift ever received?
Love. So over-rated. I mean, sure there were other amazing gifts, but then someone wants to love me too? Who needs that? P-shaw. That's what happens when Lifetime gets a hold of a holiday. People want to love each other and spread cheer. It's ruining EVERYTHING!

11. Mail or E-mail Christmas card?
I prefer you to hand deliver it. I mean, that way you can deliver my Christmas gift at the same time. I'm just thinking of you - saving you postage on the letter AND the gift. No need to thank me. I'm a giver by nature...

12. Favorite Christmas movie?
The one I'm sure I'll be watching in my new home theater - that I've asked for this Christmas. We all agreed to scale back our giving this year, so I had to think long and hard about what someone could give me without breaking the bank - but that would still be meaningful and age appropriate.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?
I buy for myself all year long...no need to categorize by seasons or holidays...too much work.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
Have you ever received licorice gum drops in a horrid container from your great Aunt whose name you can't remember? Then I think you know the answer. That being said, I'm sure my parents loved them. I think they like licorice.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
You shut your dirty mouth! I oughta quit this survey RIGHT now!

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree?
Is this a trick question to find out if I'm open to all kinds of lights or if I prefer to stick with my own kind? You should just ask instead of beat around the tree. I welcome all lights and believe there is room enough on my tree and in my house for all shapes, size and color of lights.

17. Favorite Christmas song?
This is common knowledge, so I can share it. The Chipmunks. Yeah. I said it. And it's true, too.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?
Until we have kids, apparently it's easier for us to travel all over creation. I gotta get me one of them kid things. And fast.

19. Can you name Santa’s reindeer?
I could, but I think their parents might get upset. I mean, a lot of time and effort goes into giving names and for me to just be all kinds of arrogant and re-name them seems selfish...and I think it's clear I'm a lot of things, but selfish isn't one of them...

20. Do you have an angel on top of the tree or a star?
No angel on top of the tree, but I do share my life with one.

21. Open presents Christmas Eve or Christmas morning?
Whenever I can convince my family it's PRESENT TIME! I swear, it gets harder and harder every year. Apparently "family time" should take precedence and as adults, we shouldn't be concerned with material gifts. P-shaw.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year?
That it only happens once. I love Christmas. For real, yo.

I hope you and yours have a very happy holiday season!

Dear Anita...

I get a lot of Spam.

In fact, just last week I complained about all the "Guys! Increase your penis size!" emails I've received.

If you're gonna send unsolicited advertising, at least do your homework.

Yesterday I received the following email. I haven't edited it for spelling/grammar nor have I altered it in any way.

hello
I am Anita by name a quiet and sincer girl. your profile at (gayfriendmatch.com) is committed to my ideals and my love. I love honesty and truth. I trust people very much. I love music especially classical. I love various cultures theri traditions , music and food: especially oriental cultures. I like nature quiet walks in the parks holding hands listening to the whispering breeze and the songs of the birds; admiring the smiling eyes of my lover. I hope to meet my true love: I will give him all myself completely,please conatct me dirrectly to my email. i am looking forward to hear from you then i will send my pictures to you.
Anita

Um...

Where to start?

Dear Anita,

While I appreciate the obvious amount of time and effort you put into writing such a reflective and telling email, I have to be honest with you - which I know you'll appreciate because you yourself noted the value of honesty. I can't recall ever setting up an account on gayfriendmatch.com. Sorry. I've been in a very committed, blissful relationship for three and a half years and I demand she be monogamous. I'm guessing she'd appreciate me living by the rules I set. Let's pretend I WAS single...here's where the honesty kicks in...

1) I'm a writer, so I appreciate communicating with someone who can spell and who knows how to use punctuation correctly most of the time. If you happen to be bi-lingual, know I am very impressed and think your effort to communicate using a second language is noteworthy. Spell check is something you might want to familiarize yourself with. If you aren't bi-lingual, spell check should be the very first thing you get intimate with. Helpful hint...the RED SQUIGGLY lines under words mean "do it again."

2) You emphasized how much you trust people. Careful, tiger. There are a lot of great people out there, but also some quacks. Someone might be out to use you for nothing other than your ability to beautifully express yourself.

3) When referring to other cultures, you should probably write you love "the Asian culture," not the "oriental" one.

Oh, one last thing.

Your name is Anita. I'm assuming that means you're female. You claim to have found my profile on a gay dating site. I'm gay. So, one would assume, even if my profile DID exist, that you too are gay.

Yet, at the end of your ad, you write you are looking to find your true love so that you may give all of yourself to HIM.

Let's pretend for a second that I was single and interested. You would have lost me at the last line, Anita! Then where would we be? I'd be confused and you'd be left to move on to the next inbox.

I'm 99% sure you're a spammer hoping to get people to visit a website, but if there's 1% chance that you're real, I thought these were things you should know and consider.

Happy hunting!

Heather
---------------------------------------------------
In other, non internet-dating news, I'd like to share a photo with you.

I had to take it with my camera phone, so excuse the quality.

Whenever I sit in my office chair, Jean Paul the Poodle Pope insists on claiming his spot.

His spot is IN my chair, nestled behind the back of the chair and my butt.

If I refuse him, he whines and claws my leg until the only choice I have left is to either kill him or give in to him.

Sigh.

He's Real.

What started out as a frustrating errand earlier today turned out to be a heartwarming, teachable moment for me.

I needed to over-night a package to my parents and I dreaded the mosh pit I knew I'd find at any mail house.

The second I pulled into Parcel Plus, my fears were justified. The line snaked out of the building, twenty some people balancing packages and gripping fistfuls of holiday greeting cards.

"Wow, ya'll have a lot of packages!" I said to the couple in front of me, with more holiday cheer than I felt.

"Yeah," the woman said. "I know you don't want to hear this, but we have eight packages and they're all going to different places."

I pulled a smile from my toe nails and hid the fact I was Scrooge-for-a-day.

The wait was so painful I started to play mind games. Would I be inside the door before I could find every letter of the Alphabet? Could I guess where people were mailing their packages? What kind of holiday letter would the woman with the Christmas bulb earrings write?

Finally inside the door, I did what I always do.

Eavesdrop.

A baritone voice caught my attention. I turned to find its source.

A round man in his mid sixties, dressed in jeans and a bright red sweatshirt. I remembered thinking he actually looked a little bit like Santa Claus, just with a shorter beard.

He was helping a well dressed, twenty-something Hispanic man, who I later learned was name Jorge, and the language barrier was proving difficult.

I deduced the man was trying to help Jorge figure out a billing situation. He spent about 45 minutes on the phone with the electric company, pleading Jorge's case and explaining he was the victim of a slum landlord who turned off all the utilities and now refuses to return calls.

Intermittently, the man tried his best to explain to Jorge what he was hearing from the electric company, and Jorge would just nod and look hopeful.

Once he hung up, he told Jorge he'd have to pay $431 in order to get his electric turned back on, but that he'd finally been able to talk to someone about a payment plan, given the circumstances. The man helped Jorge write the check and then wrote down how the payments would work.

At that point, one of the employees walked by and said:

"John! Hi! Didn't you just get out of the hospital?"

"Yeah," he said in a gravely voice. "I did. They want me to go back and I probably will tomorrow. I've been helping Jorge for the past three days try to recover from the mess his landlord's made. No one was giving him the time of day."

"Well, that's nice of you. How do you know each other?"

"We don't, really. I just overheard him trying to deal with his situation and figured he needed help. I think we just got it squared away."

Don't laugh, but I totally teared up.

He didn't know Jorge.

He didn't speak Jorge's language.

He just got out of the hospital.

He was going back into the hospital.

He didn't have to help.

But he did.

For THREE days.

Santa Claus is real.

He was in Parcel Plus today.

I saw him.

Truck Decor.

Apes and I were out for a walk when we stumbled across a truck I could have stared at for days.

I'm not a truck girl.

I mean, I like them. Even use one on occasion.

But I don't know trucks.

Well, that's not true. I do know a Ford F150 when I see one. But only because I drove my brother's car up under one and the airbag exploded and it was just a week after wrecking my own car. I'll never forget what the ass-end of that truck looked like.

It's other trucks I couldn't identify the make or model of.

Something tells me I'll remember this truck, though...



The front of the truck/animal kingdom:




If we hadn't had the dogs with us, I woulda waited outside to meet the truck's owner.

No question he or she would be someone I'd adore.

For real.

ps. I've been educated and now understand that's actually an antenna on the hood, not a boomerang. Learn something new every day...Thanks to Wankerbot for the lesson!

More Aponex.

Last night.

April explaining to some of our friends why drafting a team for a Fantasy Football league can be difficult.

Apes: "I mean, you can do all your homework, but you never know if a player is going to get hurt, get in trouble with the law, etc."

Friends nod in understanding.

Apes: "What I'm trying to say is...it's a shoot crap."

For more Aponex, click HERE and HERE.

Random Weekend Update.

I'm sitting in my living room, on a blow up air mattress, in my ragged sweats, in need of a shower, watching VH1's Maxim's Hot 100 Countdown. The irony of my picking apart the list and questioning the hotness of many of the women who made the cut is not lost on me.

Nor is it stopping me.

Our poodle, Jean Paul, has a dangling dried piece of poop caught in his hair and Apes and I are in a standoff as to whose turn it is to slap on the plastic yellow gloves and de-nastify him.

I'll keep you posted.

My parents attended the Little Big Town/Carrie Underwood concert in Tampa last night and sent phone photos of their view from the third row. I have yet to control the jealousy monkey hugging my back, so I've chosen not to respond. I probably won't unless I learn all the equipment malfunctioned and Carrie had to pantomime instead of sing her set list.

That would make me feel better.

I'm fairly certain I have a "filler-up" issue. No matter how much I eat, I'm still hungry. April may have to run to Home Depot and get bolts for the refrigerator door. If our circumstances were different, I might think I was pregnant, but that's silly.

We always use protection.

Daily Dose of Cynical

I love me some Christmas.

I love the lights, the smell of cinnamon sticks, trees that glow in living rooms, the blow up Santa riding a motorcycle in my neighbor's yard, I even Tivo Lifetime holiday movies without feeling shame.

I'm a sucker for it all and rarely Bah Humbug anything.

However, I'm not feeling the "buy a star for Christmas" idea.

I've heard about it for several years and again, on the radio, just this morning.

REALLY?

Buy a star in the sky?

Aside from several things that seem completely obvious to me (which I'll address in a second), I don't want a STAR for Christmas.

I can't drive a STAR.

Can't wear it.

Can't eat it. Drink it.

Can't re-gift it.

Hell, I probably couldn't even FIND it.

Which brings me to what I think is an obvious point.

The people selling stars are ripping off well-intentioned gifters.

The stars aren't recognized by any professional astronomical organization.

For something like $50, they send you a certificate and some coordinates.

Uh huh. They expect me to believe someone is HONESTLY tracking individual stars and can be SURE the coordinates on my certificate haven't been sold a million times over?

Think about it.

People wish on stars.

What if all the sudden I start growing a mustache because some pre-teen boy in Iowa is wishing on a star we were both given as a gift?

The possibilities are endless.

A Jeff Gordon blow up doll could arrive at my house.

Or Sarah Palin.

Shudder.

I'm just saying, this star business could have serious repercussions.

I mean, if it's not bogus.

Which it totally is.

TOTALLY.

Remembering Christmas.

Sometimes I can still feel, hear and smell my childhood Christmas memories.

The way my fuzzy pajamas wrapped tightly around my feet, snuggling me.

The soft steps of my parents as they crept downstairs, gifts teetering, threatening to crash and create a pile of Matchbox cars, Golden Books, bike tassels and ornaments picked out just for us.

The clinking of plate against counter top, Santa's cookies ready for pick up.

The hushed whispers and near-silent expletives as my parents assembled trikes, big wheels, furniture and anything else that came with directions written in seventeen languages.

The beating of my heart, fast-paced and relentless, refusing to let slumber replace excitement.

The soft forehead kiss I pretended to sleep through as my parents made their way back to their room, hoping for at least an hour's sleep before Brett and I sandwiched them in bed.

The race to the Christmas tree. My parents hollering for us to be careful and not kill each other.

The moment we turned the corner and saw gifts piled under a tree that the night before offered only a can of gourmet popcorn and gifts my parent's received from work or neighbors.

The Chipmunks singing, "Alvvvvvvvvvvvvvviiiiin!," as we tore through package after package while mom faithfully wrote down who gave us what so we could write thank you notes before the holidays were over.

The smell of apple pancakes wafting into the living room as we bagged up the wrapping paper littering the living room floor.

The hundred times my dad set the self-timer to take a family portrait because my brother made some stupid face. Again.

The feeling of comfort. Contentment. Happiness.

As an adult, I still wish every day was Christmas day.

Not because of the material gifts. But because being with family is a gift.

Have Heart, Will Build.

It's been several weeks since my return from Texas and Whirlpool Building Blocks.

I've rewritten this post a handful of times, worried my recollection won't do my memories justice.

How do you capture a week of life change?

How do you accurately portray tears big enough to reflect the nine Dallas Area Habitat for Humanity homes built by 250 volunteers from across the United States in just five days?

How do you convey the incredible, generous spirit of Whirlpool, a company donating a range and ENERGY STAR (r) qualified refrigerator to every Habitat home built in North America (90,000+)? A company so dedicated to Habitat for Humanity that for the third year, they selected an outstanding Habitat affiliate and sponsored a week-long build, partnering homeowners with volunteers, building a block of houses in less than a week.

I work in the field of public relations and marketing, I understand trying to build corporate brand loyalty. However, not until my work with Whirlpool have I truly bought into it myself. I'm sold on the company, the people and the products. No question. In fact, my new kitchen remodel - all Whirlpool brand appliances.

I remember standing, at the closing ceremonies in Dallas, watching the Mayor hug the homeowner families as he presented them with brand new key chains. I remember getting incredibly emotional as the homeowners pumped their fists into the air. I remember feeling so proud to be a very small part of the week and I remember thanking God for allowing me to work for Habitat for Humanity and for that work to include the Whirlpool Building Blocks event. I've worked the previous two builds, in Nashville and Phoenix, and each time, I'm blown away by the hearts of Habitat and Whirlpool employees.

The entire build week was packed with so many emotions, the energy was electric.

At the beginning of the week, volunteers were excited and apprehensive. Could they do it? Yes.

The homeowners were thrilled and shy. Five of the families were Ethiopian and spoke broken English. Could they bond with the volunteers working on their homes, understand instruction from the crew leaders, give media interviews AND take care of their families? Yes, yes, yes and yes.

My job was to interview the homeowner families and the volunteers every day. Get their stories. Capture them. Share them.

From the homeowners, there were endless tales of five kids crammed in one bedroom. Unresponsive landlords. Unsafe neighborhoods. But there was also hope. For themselves, their kids and their futures. There was a drive to conquer their living conditions and an awe about being days away from purchasing their own homes and holding the key to their dreams.

From the volunteers, there were memories from previous builds, handshakes that quickly turned into hugs, hard hats covered in signatures, an exhaustion that lost out to endurance and a commitment to the families they were building for.

I could go on and on, but the photos truly tell this story best.

The building begins...



Me interviewing one of the inspiring new homeowners. He moved me to tears. Several times.








All of us ate breakfast and dinner under a HUGE tent. TomKats catered every meal and I swear, I'd choose their grub over a 5-star restaurant ANY day. We even had a meal-time surprise for our hard working volunteers!





Two very proud homeowners...














I can't believe I was expected to work when there were children this cute, begging to be held and loved on.


Nearly there!


The house dedications. You can't attend one of these and not bawl. I promise.


Think she's excited about having her OWN room?


The photos tell a great story, but they don't begin to TRULY capture what an amazing experience Whirlpool Building Blocks is - for the homeowners, the volunteers and those of us working behind the scenes.

If participating in something like this interests you at all, I highly suggest you "friend" the Facebook page - you can see time lapse video, read volunteer accounts AND be informed when Whirlpool begins accepting applications for the next event in a still TBD location.

You won't be sorry. I'm keeping my fingers I'll be there!

Family Fun Day

In addition to scavenger hunts and birthday bashes, April and I carted her Mom and Mamaw all over town, showing them the sites and stuffing ourselves silly. It appears I have an on-strike metabolism, so I'm well on my way to achieving Buddha belly status. I'm counting on there being some kind of perk associated with my rounder, fuller figure.

Mamaw loves her a restaurant where the cook prepares your food at the table, so we had to do it. When he started flipping shrimp into people's mouths, Mamaw was game. I think she liked the shrimp went down her shirt...I'm just sayin'....


April was no better at the game...


Ginny, April's mom, took a self portrait. I'm not gonna lie, I've taken worse. Most of my self portraits are nothing but nose...


Silly. Just plain silly.


I can't help it. I'm all about stealing some Mamaw love. She told me she was so cold, she reckoned an icicle was growing on her butt.


Apes and I had been dying to hit the Newseum, a museum in DC focusing on all things NEWS.

We pretty much loved the comic strip hallway...


How perfect is THIS?


Who knew the Newseum was so dangerous? Turn the corner into the FBI wing and a bunch of gangsters draw their weapons...


I played tough, but I might have peed my pants...


Mamaw wasn't skerred. Growing up on a farm makes you tough. She has mad coping skills.


Apes and I in front of sections of the Berlin wall:


Who were we to ignore the writing on the wall?


Of course April had to have her photo taken in front of this section. You know how she is about positive affirmations...


This might be my favorite photo EVER. Seriously. Wheelies with Mamaw...


In the 9/11 memorial wing. I could have stayed here for hours, watching video, listening to eye-witness accounts, remembering those we lost. Powerful.


On our way out the museum door, Apes saw Obama stuffed in a corner. She made the staff pull him out so she could have her photo taken with him. He was quite nice and didn't seem to mind the jostling...


Last on our list, taking them to see the White House Christmas tree. It was so cold I was certain I'd die. However, I realized what my Buddha belly perk was - INSULATION, kids. Insulation.

We bundled up Mamaw and called her Eskimo.


We couldn't get closer than 10 football fields from the tree, but we managed a few shots anyway.


This one woulda been a great pic if April had decided to open her eyes...


Better :)


After this photo, Mamaw decided she had seen enough of DC. It was time for another buffet.


Mamaw usually gets her way :)


Ginny and Mamaw, we loved every minute of your trip - We're looking forward to Christmas and doing it all over again!

Love, Heather and Apes

GOTCHA!

With everything we've had going on, planning a surprise 40th birthday party for April felt impossible at times - but with the help of her best friend Gabby and the generosity of a handful of other folks, WE DID IT.

This past Saturday.

She had NO idea.

The theme: Old school - candy, games and memories.

I never questioned if our friends would participate. I felt certain they were goofy enough to "get it" and they totally did.

We had the festivities at our house, which meant I had to keep April, her mom Ginny and her Mamaw occupied and out of the house all day. Not an easy feat if Mamaw isn't feeling getting out of her pajamas...but we got her moving and the afternoon started off with a scavenger hunt that began in our freezer.

Right. Our freezer.


Her gift...a handmade bracelet and a clue. Telling her to go look in the trunk of the car.




The clue in the trunk instructed her to have me drive the family to the place where she feels like a KING.


Yup. Ape's favorite place when she's on the verge of starving to death. Gotta give the critter some love before you fill your belly. It's a rule...


After lunch, she had to go digging under the passenger seat for her next gift and clue...




Her clue stated she probably felt full and in need of extra gym equipment, so...


I had so much fun watching Apes collect her clues. My parents used to do this with my brother and I and we loved it.


Our next stop: Rugged Warehouse, one of April's favorite stores to dig through the bargain racks. She was under order to purchase one thing. She HAD to.


When we came back outside, it was getting ready to SNOW! I can't tell you how perfect it was. The entire day. Perfect.


Her last clue pointed us to the theater to see Four Christmases before ordering us home so we could freshen up before heading out to dinner....


Only...there wasn't any freshening up. What there WAS, was a house full of people, waiting in the dark, ready to tackle April and wish her Happy 40th!

These pics are blurry, but they were taken seconds after she walked through the door and got a big bear hug from her best friend, Gabby:




The house was decorated so beautifully - candles lit, baby pictures of Apes everywhere, yo yos, 70s candy, confetti and other hand held games on all available surfaces.




Gabby had a great idea for April's cake (April's mom ate her face...):


Of course we bought a bunch of toy fireman and policeman badges. April was super proud of her role as head crossing guard when she was little. Clearly, Christy was more than a little impressed...


Nilou and I catching up - FINALLY!


Content, being surrounded by such great friends who love Apes so much.


SNOW SNOW SNOW! (PS: my friend Lisa gave me that pin, it reads: I'm so blogging this!)


The birthday girl (with Nilou and MJ lookin' over her shoulder):


So, this is what a gaggle of girls looks like...


Um, we had to wrestle the football pinata away from Apes so we could hang it...




Apes beating the crap out of the tree. Might have had something to do with the twenty times I spun her 'round...


Apes made Gabby pay for being spun silly...


Karolyn took a few good whacks...


And then there was Christy the Muscle. She thwacked the pinata so hard she ripped it off the limb. It didn't fully bust, but she did a number on it...


The busted pinata meant we had to get a little creative...MJ up to bat...


After the pinata burst, the vultures swarmed for the candy...


Karolyn and Lauren - we don't see 'em enough...


Apes blowing out her birthday candles. I spared her by not putting 40 individual candles on the cake (however, it wasn't because I doubted she'd have enough hot air to get the job done...)


Just a little couch time with our pal Dianne:


Zack and Nyla - our softball buddies. To say we love this couple would be like saying I "kinda" like Diet Coke. Doesn't begin to cover it...


Nilou and Ingrid strike a pose:


Me prepping for children...handing off gifts and writing down who gave what...


Only Apes would be this excited to get a Laser Nerf Gun. Her Aunt Lisa, who passed away some time ago, introduced April to her first laser gun, so this gift held particular meaning for her. I TOLD you she's a big kid. Told you.


Gabs n' April, Me n' MJ...




More girl gaggle:


Can't have an old school party and not play Twister!


MJ called for a hand check...smart girl...please note not everyone complied...


I was not at all surprised that April and Christy were the last two standing (or not standing, as it were). These two compete until someone is nearly dead...


Um...I got nothin'.....Um....


Christy won, but Apes was a good sport about it. She didn't cry until after everyone went home...


Next up, leg wrestlin'. On the count of three, you lock legs and see who can flip who over. Up first, Karolyn and Apes...


Going Going....


GONE!


Karolyn took Pat down too...


But she wasn't gonna get me...


Sigh...


I'll tell you this...I can't wait to plan her 80th. Seriously. I love her more than life.