You know it's cold when...

Came to work this morning to find the door frozen shut and frost on the inside. I think hell must be cold and wet.

Good Times, mmm

Friday night was girls night.
Or shall I say Girlz Nite - 'cause it was off the hook and if something is really cool, you shouldn't spell it correctly.
5 hours.
One location.
Three sleeping children.
Two pizzas and one big fat order of Shweaty Balls.

Friday was one of those nights when I think to myself, "There is absolutely no reason for this to be so much fun."
Friday was evidence of the fact that my "care group friends" are really just my friends now. And that's fo' shizzle.
Friday was the night when I got to order pizza and "those doughy, greasy ball-things you guys have on the menu" and then giggle like I'm in 7th grade.
Friday reminded me just how important community is. And how easily a group of girls without a ton in common can make you feel right at home.
I can't help but picture us all in mumu's, eating cheesecake and double daring each other to order those Shweaty Balls.
And that makes me smile all the way into Monday.

Meet my friend Wassa

Not everyone my age owns their own business.
Or writes really well.
Or knits really fast.
Or fully embraces the Three C's of you-know-what.
Or has such a cool nickname.
But Wassa does.

Thanks for writing, Melis. And for including the bit about Jer. You're hilarious. And if you're not careful, you'll end up published.

I added a new blog

Beautiful Baby Abbie has her own blog!
Peer pressure works.
Wassa, I have a feeling you're secretly writing wonderful things... if a six week old can go live - so can you!!!! C'mon! Join the club!!!

People are captivating

This proves it.

My excuse

Haven't been blogging much lately. Mostly 'cause my journals have been the private type. Does everyone enter a bit of a funk post-Christmas, or is it just my overly-Christmas-enthused self? Not a sad funk, per se. I think it has more to do with the fact that I'm not very good with change, or closure, and a new year sort of means both.

That said, my boss has also decided that he's going to produce a feature length film, starting in three weeks. We should wrap just in time to leave for 25 days in Egypt. Lord help us. So if you want to hang out with me, or catch up, or whatever, I think I'm pretty free towards the end of April.

The evidence

I took these partly because few things happen in my life that don't make me think "I could blog this." And partly because at the time, I wasn't sure if we'd have to file some sort of claim or not. Adrenaline always makes me jump to the worst case scenario!

The smell is mostly gone now. Odoban ROCKS!

Reason #76 why I hate electric ovens

We skipped church today.
We intended to go - were even looking forward to it.
I love Communion Sunday.
It was supposed to be a normal Sunday - church, then lunch at the in-laws, then a whole lot of vegging.
I always pack three things on Sunday morning - my Bible, my slippers, and my novel.
This morning, I put my 560 page novel on top of the stove, with my phone on top - to make sure I didn't forget. I was getting a little bored of the book and really want to push through to the end.
Keith decided to make some breakfast, so he started the tea pot for some oatmeal. Or so he thought.
I hate electric ovens.
I could hear a little crackle and pop from the bathroom - it's usual with our nasty old electric stove top. Even smelled a little hot - nothing strange about that either. But then all the sudden it smelled real hot.
I came into the kitchen and saw at LEAST 8 inch flames from my fully engulfed novel.
"Hello, 911? I could have sworn I turned on the BACK burner..."
(I'm not proud of this next part).
I grabbed my phone and quickly started to save it, while I yelled for Keith to come deal with the book. What do you do? Do you throw water on it? It was seriously engulfed. Luckily, my husband has teflon hands and he just picked up the book and threw it in the sink and ran water on it. He doused the few pages stuck to the burner with water.
The whole thing was over in about 30 seconds. By thing I mean fire. Because 9 hours later, we're still airing the house out with open windows and fans on high and it still smells like the morning after a frat party.
Blech.

The moral of the story?
No books on the stove. Period.
AND... cell phone covers are worth it. A little melted plastic at the hinge, a horrendous smell, and a whole lot of luck later, I can still make calls with the little sucker!

And yes, I did actually snap a few pictures. I'll post those soon.