Cereal, Snowpants, and Seniors.

(Doesn't she look ravenous?  Like she's eating 50 mph?)

It was a cereal-for-dinner kind of day.  I could've made something, I wasn't busy.  Instead of cooking dinner, I wasted time looking at a cookbook, dreaming of beautiful food.  I love looking at cookbooks . . . if they have pictures.  While we were getting ready for dinner--the arduous task of POURING the cereal--we had two massive spills.  I was knee deep in Rice Chex and Berry Colossal Crunch when Lincoln came up to me crying.  I was caught up in the cereal mess so I kind of ignored him.  Here's what I hear, full of desperation, "You don't care about your children!"  Bless his little heart!  I'm pretty sure I hugged him until he pushed me away.

Speaking of pushing away, I've realized something about myself.  When I want to do something, when I need a little time for myself and the kids are around, this is what I do: I grab them and start kissing them.  They protest because I'm totally overboard, and it drives them away.  They don't want THAT again, so they leave, and I'm happy because I got them to leave in a loving--however, totally annoying--sort of way.  I never thought I would be guilty of annoying my children.

(Hah!  What am I doing to my sweet, little girl?  Rather, what is she doing to HERSELF!?  In case you're wondering, this is another "play dead" moment.)

I spent the day in my snowpants.  You'd think I'd have spent the day in the snow, gleefully making snow angels and having snowball fights.  Umm, nope.  I was outside for 15 mintues, which was about how long it took me to get ready.  I'm a wimp.  Totally.  But the snowpants were so warm and cozy and I'm always cold, so I kept them on.  I even wore them to Cub Scouts tonight at the church.  Someone said to me, in a cool, nonchalant sort of way, "Been boarding today, eh?"  Ha!  I'm a nerd.  "I wish," I said.

(Guilty: caught eating Christmas candy in my snowpants.  Nice.)

Speaking of Cub Scouts, I really think they should change the name.  I don't know, something starting with WWF or UFC, something like that.  Just a thought.

My evening ended with a phone call to the sweetest 87 year-old woman.  Evva.  Sounds like "ever," with a little sass ("evah," for those who didn't get it, like my sweet husband).  Every month we chat for about 20 minutes.  And she IS sassy!  She was telling me about her birthday this year.  I said, "Evva, you are amazing!"  And she says, "Yes, I AM!"  I love it.  Before we hung up I said, "I sure love you."  And she says, "Well, I kinda like ya, just a little bit."  Sweet, sweet Evva.  I want to be like her when I'm 87.  I love people from her generation.  So different from ours.

Well, I'm off to finish my juicy romance novel.  Juicy in a PG sort of way.  Nighty-night.