My public apology.

I need to make a public apology. A very, tail between my legs, can we be friends, I'll invite you to my birthday party, kind of apology. The kind, where, no matter what, you know that you have caused damage and hurt, and you will never be able to make what you said go away.

Because it can't. I can't select-all and delete my words. They aren't the same as the text I type and constantly edit or rearrange. What I can hope is that those I've hurt love me enough to know that I am truly sorry and am trying to make amends for what I did.

Here we go.

I read Twilight and I loved it.
(biggest understatement of my life)

So, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I made fun of your Twilight birthday party here.
I'm sorry I made a few snide remarks there.
I'm sorry I ever doubted how amazing these books are even if they are written at the same reading level as Super Fudge.

I didn't know. I didn't know that Edward was the real love of my life and that Chuck was just a pawn (Twilight pun INTENDED). I didn't know that I would consider leaving my husband for a fictional 108 year old vampire, permanently frozen at age 17. I didn't know that I would seriously reconsider any friendships I have (or more appropriately had) with any Team Jacob supporters.

I may have read all four books in 10 days.
I may have purchased book four at 5 pm Friday and finished it Saturday at 11pm. 30 hours, 756 pages. Whatever. True love reads that fast.


Ok. There you have it. I'm a TwiHard and I've never been more fine with anything in my entire life. I figure, I didn't get wrapped up in Harry Potter or Dungeons and Dragons, so I was owed one roll in the fantasy genre hay.

Can you ever forgive me, love?
Susie Cullen.

If only you knew how close I am to changing my name....

ps. To really "own" my apology, I think I need to specifically apologize to:
Emy, Jessica, Dania, Cheryl, Libby, Laura, Catlyn, Shar, and Karen.
You win. You dazzle me.

My camera. My heart.

You may not be as excited about this as I am. Seriously. So excited. See:

I know. Pretty stinking excited.

Santa Fe gave me my xmas present early so I could properly photograph the holiday season. She's a gem. It's a new camera lens, it's the love of my life, and I'm pretty sure I can't remember life before it.

It's a Pentax 50 mm 1.4. It basically means I can take pictures in low light without having to use my god-awful flash. Which I hate using. I hate a built in flash. We are not besties and we get in lighting disagreements all the time. They get pretty darn heated, if you ask me.

Fe quickly regretted her gift giving decision. Oh yes, Mother. Me and My Camera are going to be a whole lot worse now. We're going to be AMAZING together and you have only added fuel to my annoying fire. Send all picture and obnoxious photographer complaints to Fe. She's expecting them.

I know you could care less, but I care, so humor me. I've only had an hour or so of play time. Here's what we've got (remember that NOTHING I took pictures of was even remotely interesting. What's interesting is the no flash and the colors and the crazy shallow depth of field -- meaning it gets blurry fast).

Basically, it's going to get a whole lot more photo-y around here. Like it or not.

Thanks for humoring me.

That dreaded picture.

Let's be honest. When it comes right down to it, one of the hardest parts of every year (blanket statement, total honesty) is finding/picking/taking a Christmas card picture. Put it right there on the list between unemployment, filing taxes, and deciding between medium and super sized at McDonalds. I'm just being real. We all know I'm right. It's that bad.

Nothing like my-side to leave it to the last minute to take a picture together. We've only had 11 months. Actually, we've done worse. Last year, we procrastinated so long, we never sent one out. We collectively blamed it on Shelley's never-ending pregnancy (we wanted Lu in the picture). Taking a picture before Dec. 1 is basically as good as we're going to get. Taking a picture together is a Christmas miracle, in and of itself.

Finding one that we all look good in. Difficult. To put it kindly.

I figured I'd post the evolution of this year's picture taking. All the "no that's not good", "ew I look bad" pictures because it tells a story about the family that Fe and PK raised.
Try #1. Apparently, I'm not sure how to AUTOFOCUS my automatic camera. Oh well. Dad wins MVP for this one. He was being a Chatty Cathy, as usual.
Try #2. Lucy wins MVP. I don't blame her. He is uncomfortably tall and it is unnatural to look him straight in the eyes. No one should be up that high.
Try #3. This one's all me. In my defense, I only had a giant blinking red light for 12 seconds that got progressively faster as it counted down. It totally caught me off guard.
Try #4. You'd think this would be the winner. You think wrong.
Try #5. We're going to give it to the "non originals" in this picture. Stacia and Chuck really brought it here. And brah-vo to Eric for bringing the soft glow of electric sex into the picture.
Try #6. This is the one we chose. Why? Because it's true. It's us. Eric has a lamp. Shelley is focused on Lucy, who is focused on being an airplane. Mom's giggling. And then there's Newman. She's a little smug ever since she found out that Lucy finally out weighs her. Only took 10 months there, Newm.

And that's my family.


No judging please. I stand behind my decision. November needed to hurry up and go. It's overstayed its welcome. I'm just doing my part to pick up the pace. Truth be told, I'm surprised I held out this long. Honestly, I deserve a bloody medal for almost making it to Thanksgiving. Almost.

Even though this is what our house looks like from the outside:
(tisk tisk. I said no judging. No judging. I can actually feel your disapproval over the Inter Web)

It looks like this on the inside:

And don't think this was done today, Thanksgiving Eve. No , no. I did this Sunday. I'd had enough, we have a fake tree, and I'm not hosting Thanksgiving so what do I care? What was I holding out for? What am I living for again?

Oh and those stockings hung with a few ounces of care?

Don't read too much into those. It's not 2053. That's Jack's stocking in the middle. We wanted to surround him with our love because he's an angel.

This last part pains me. In the spirit of Christmas, I made a snap Holiday decision and I think it's sending the wrong message to Chuck. Maybe a bit "leading him on".

Yes. I did this. On my own accord. No gun to my head. I'm so ashamed.

Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas.



I got a tongue-lashing from Emy yesterday. I know, I said. There hasn't been anything "blog worthy" around here lately. And, I might add, in my defense Chuck has been rather normal lately.

It's been a while hasn't it. Val said Blogger is going to revoke my membership.

My name is Susie.
Hi. Nice to meet you.
Thanks for stopping by.

After Emy left, I got a tongue-lashing from Chuck (apparently, it wasn't my day to feel the love). "Check your camera, Missy. I have NOT been normal lately. You just keep forgetting to post it."
I checked. I died. I'd forgotten. About Chuck's ridiculousness. About you. About the life we share together on this interweb.

On my camera, I found:

Toilet Chuck. Declaring it to be toilet fixing day. I caught him "mid-declaration".

Laundry Chuck. Yes, that's a loin-cloth made out of a pair of his underwear (which I'm hoping was thrown away, but at the time of press, frighteningly not sure). That's a spatula. It's his scepter. He's very into scepters these days. "Laundry Chuck Fold Laundry." Well ok.
Worker Chuck.

In our house, Chuck acts. Chuck waits. It's always a wonder: How did he think of this? Why did he think of this? How long has he been posed like this waiting for me to see?

I love my husband.
No tradesies.
I'm keeping.

I know you're jealous.

ps: Sorry about November.

A little bit of Halloween

Happy November!
Sick. I just vomited. When did it become November? Wasn't it just May? I swear I saw August yesterday. You know what I did see today was Christmas candy at QFC. Kill me. Please.

Now, let's get to the obligatory Halloween post. You know what Chuck was. There was no question. Once you find heavenly perfection you stop shopping. It's been four years of Waldo and guess what? STILL NOT OLD. My dearest Emy drug us to Seattle for Halloween -- I'm a sucker for those big brown eyes and a pretty, pretty please. I couldn't say No.

Chuck's a fun one to take to parties. He's not a social butterfly. He's not the "Center of Anything" guy. You wouldn't think parties were his thing, because Chuck is usually so quiet, but really people, quiet does not mean boring. Oh no. Chuck hangs back. Chuck does as Chuck does. Chuck just is. The important thing to do when taking him to a party is to be silent, listen, and keep the camera on.

And this is the reward for my Chuck-watching (which by the way, should be an Olympic recognized sports):

Here we have Waldo finding himself. He's been listening to those self-help, squash your inner-turmoil tapes. I think he's making real progress.

Sultry, pin-up Waldo. He's hard to take your eyes off of.

No comment.

Waldo decided to combine costumes with a Rabbi at the party. Mazel tov.

A bit of redirection.

Not that it changes anything or has any consequence, meaning, or place in your life, but I thought you may like to know that the blog address has changed. Unbunch your panties, it's just a little redirection.

After careful thought and purposeful consideration (something Chuck and I rarely do), we decided theallisonfam.blogspot just wasn't workin' for us. It also wasn't really a good description of the blog or our lives in general. Let's be honest, a two idiots with a cat-baby isn't really a "fam" and our friends are usually the (un)willing participants to our shenanigans (oh yes, I said shenanigans). "Fam" blogs are for people with adorable babies and cute little ones who need a place to post about family life. That ain't us.

So, we blew $10 from our yearly budget, purchased, and that's what your URL should read right now. Take a look. See it? You didn't even know it had changed, that's how insignificant this post and my life is to you.

No worries: whenever you make an "uh-oh" and type in our old address, you will be redirected with love (and mocking laughter) to

Please to enjoy our lives.
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