The Allison Wonderland

day twelve: family dinners are my favorite.

2012-02-12T21:28:00.000-08:00

It's Sunday so it's family dinner day.
We don't do family dinner every Sunday, but if we do a family dinner we do it on a Sunday. I tried to make that sentence as complicated as possible and I think I did a great job. Win.

Things were going great and pretty normal.
Shelley brought her new long board skate board so there was some playing on that. I needed help with somethings from my Dad, and Lu pushed her new Build-A-Bear around in a stroller. All in all, pretty good. Pretty fun. We'd had a few laughs. Someone (not Lucy) had already wet their pants from the hilarity of the long board riding so yeah, good family dinner. Solid.

Dessert was where things started to go down hill and I'll be honest, I'm not entirely sure how this happened but I do know that there is still milk in my hair and dried ice cream on my cheek.

The play by play:

Tonight at dinner.
Fe was getting things set in the kitchen for dessert - we were in their dining room. Lucy came in with the brownies (she's big into helping these days), I took them and asked her to go back and grab plates and a spatula.

Fe hollered back "No plates! I don't want to do more dishes. I don't care what gets on the table cloth."

Oh, Fe. You angel. What on earth were you thinking when you said that? WHY would you ever say something like that? She basically opened a rabbit hole with her words and by the end of the night, well, I had to have my rings cleaned and Shelley needed two baby wipes to get her face clean.

The four of us (PK, Chuck, Shelley and Me) started in pretty good on Fe about the plates. Harassing Fe is one of our favorite past times, so this was a no brainer. We had to lay into her. Why couldn't we have plates? Why didn't she love us enough for us to have plates? Why was she cheapening our meal?

Fine whatever.
We set the brownies on the table cloth and started eating.

But then we had a kind of "give a mouse a cookie moment" and said we all wanted ice cream.

Well, then Fe came out with ice cream AND BOWLS and we all were a little perplexed at the blatant hypocrisy. What was her prejudice against plates and why were we suddenly being afforded a dishware? Could it be that she did actually care what got on the table cloth and what revoking her previous statement?

PK decided he'd had enough of her flip flopping.
He put the ice cream on the table and all but forbid spoons. The Father had spoken: we ate the ice cream like Randy from A Christmas Story.

Then, Shelley said she wanted milk.
Obviously, PK was not allowing cups after the stance he took with the brownies and the ice cream. And obviously, none of this was going too far at all. Shelley and I cupped our hands and Dad poured in the milk. Eventually we just sucked it right off the table.

By the end of this, the table was destroyed - I mean, really decimated - and Lucy was mooning us. I'm not sure how that last part fits in, but my the time you've eaten a scoop of chocolate ice cream off a dining room table - things get foggy.

I decided to put all the pictures at the end so you could really watch this escalate. Of course I didn't bring my camera so this is all iPhone but at least we have them. Good luck Fe: you said you didn't care what go on that table cloth. Fingers crossed it comes clean.

Day Twelve: I love my family because this actually felt completely normal.

Brownie sans plates. If she'd just given us plates...

My dessert: brownies and ice cream.

Having some milk. The milk in a glass already on the table was from dinner and therefore considered null and void for dessert.

Straws don't count has dishware or utensils so I think this is fine.

Milk and ice cream.

Dipping my brownies in my milk.

Yep, that is my Twilight Valentine's Day card from Fe and PK.

The aftermath.

day eleven: i think she's my cousin-in-law

2012-02-11T17:46:00.000-08:00

How dedicated am I to this self-imposed, "I must be masochistic" blog challenge? I'm upstairs at Chuck's aunt and uncle's house blogging. I never miss a deadline (that's a lie). Nothing says family time like tethering yourself to a computer and saying "I'd love to chat and catch up, but I have blogging to do. Sawreeeeaaa."

Anyways, I think I can make up for missing family time by making this a family post right? Can I correct my horrible misuse of time and complete disregard for social etiquette IF I make this post sentimental? Well, wez about to find out.

It's Cousin Ski Weekend. That's why we are here. This is year four of our now annual ski weekend where everyone skis and I sit inside with the lodge cat waiting for them (that's 100% true - I had a very good, probably rabies ridden best friend last year who kept me company and loved clam chowder.).

But, let's complain about the unseasonably warm weather we are having because guess what ruined Cousin Ski Weekend? Mr. Sun and Mrs. Fifty Degrees Fahrenheit. Win if we wanted to go on a picnic. Total buzz kill if we want to go skiing (again, I use the term "we" as if I'm speaking on behalf of them because I literally couldn't care less).

Obviously, I didn't come here to ski. I came to see my favorite cousins and not skiing actually works in my advantage because not skiing means I see them more (until I left to go blog and then that really negated um, ev-er-y-thing.).

Chuck ended up spending some quality time with his Uncle.
I got to spend some much needed one-on-one time with Janelle.
(The other cousin, Mark, is in high school so he dropped up like we were hot to go be a super cool high schooler - I loves him. He's home now, but I have zing him at least once because those are the rules he and I live by.).

Janelle and I walked to Fairhaven to shop.
All we bought was more candy. My post two days ago started Janelle thinking about when the last time she had a giant bag o' candy was and apparently it was forever ago so that needed to be fixed ASAP.

It was a nice walk. We had so much to talk about. She'll be 20 this summer and that pretty much makes me want to die.

When we came home we went nostalgic and found this.
It's the reason I decided to post real quick about her.

This is us at my wedding. She's 12, has braces, and is definitely wearing her first pair of heals. They are about two inches high and she says all she remembers is them killing her feet. I think this is the last time that I was ever taller than her.

This picture KILLS me.

Day Eleven: I love Janelle and I love that I got her as this ridiculous bonus when I married Chuck.

day ten: it's a valentine's day explosion.

2012-02-10T17:11:00.000-08:00

First of all, I want you to know that all I thought about today was getting home as fast as possible to my giant bag o' candy. I may have driven with a sort of bat out of somewhere warm attitude, but I had sour belts on the brain so I can't be blamed.

Ok, anyways. Whilst I was at school today day dreaming about my candy bag, I noticed that it a little bit looks like Valentine's Day throw up in that place. And I LOVE it. I love a ridiculously decorated classroom - I don't think you can go too far.

What I most love about Valentine's Day decorations is that they come out so "little kid" looking. The way they cut heart, the way they glue, the way they print, the way they so freely show their love. It's a recipe for adorable.

Sometimes when I do projects, they are challenging. They can be advanced. The kids really stretch their artistic wings and fly. But when you do Valentine's day, it just has to look crafty and homemade. I don't know what it is about that holiday, but I feel like if it isn't cut from construction paper, it doesn't ring true.

I took some pictures with Ye Olde iPhone today of their projects because they are so darn cute.

Day ten: I love child-made, super little kid looking Valentine art projects.

These are their Heart Animals. I gave them a few guidelines and just let it go: everything had to be hearts except for the use of accordion folded paper which makes this go from cute to so adorable you want to cry. I gave this little one a special exception and let him make the trunk on his elephant non-heart related. How could I not?

Same project. The heart pig was ridiculous. Amazing.

Dancing heart people are my favorite 5 minute project. Give them a heart and pipe cleaners. They think these men and women are hilarious.

This was a new project this year. We had them first trace their hands. Then they picked two construction paper hearts and decorated them with oil pastels.

Valentine mail boxes are the cornerstone of Valentine decor. The entire operation depends on them. These "boxes" are made out of cereal boxes. The boxes are cut on a diagonal and the corner becomes the point of the heart. Add two construction paper hearts on the outside and some ribbon and done. Mail boxes are complete.

Love mobiles: They cut a long curly cue out of construction paper and decorate it. Then they decorate hearts with people they love. I tie them to the mobile using yarn.

day nine: there are worse vices.

2012-02-09T20:32:00.000-08:00

I think once you have a Pavlovian response to something that might be the "here's your sign" moment that things have gone too far and you might need to go to rehab.

It happened to me today anyways and yikes.

Things got real this afternoon once I left school for a meeting at "the head shed" (you know - the district office, duh). The main office for my school district is near a shopping mall and it just so happens that one of my favorite stores in the whole entire world is in this mall. AND the entrance to the mall is just a hop, skip, and a stiletto healed jump to my store. It's right on the end.

It also should be noted that with rare exception, this mall has the only franchise I ever shop at of this particular store even though the store is found elsewhere. Are we all clear on that?

Ok, so literally, as soon as I pulled around the corner and saw the mall, my mouth started watering. LITERALLY started watering.

Why?

Because I have classically conditioned myself that every time I go to the district office (and pass this mall), I have to stop at Sweet Factory and get a giant bag of candy.

It's a mixture of sour strawberry belts, sour green apple belts, and tiny little jawbreakers that you don't suck on. They are just little poofs of pure sugar.

I can't say I don't know how this happened because I do. I started getting myself a treat before going to meetings and apparently I go to a lot of those things because this has gotten out of control. The second I saw the mall, my mouth got that watering feeling like right before you have a salt and vinegar chip. You know EXACTLY what I'm talking it.

Day nine: I love bags of over-priced candy that will take me a week (lie, two days tops) to eat.

day eight: it answers the "when will i ever use this?" question.

2012-02-08T20:33:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of things you want to hear when you come home.

"How was your day?"
"I did the dishes!"
"Let's go out for dinner."
"Let's watch a marathon of Switched at Birth, followed by several episodes of Teen Mom."
(Shockingly, I have never been greeted with the last, which I think must be an oversight.)

But here's what I have been greeted with:
"I used trigonometry today! It was awesome!"

(breathe). First of all, I didn't even know how to spell trigonometry - I let spell check handle it - so I can't even fathom what "I used trigonometry" could possibly mean, but it sounds like something needs to be cleaned up. Second, I haven't the foggiest idea what one would use trigonometry for or how it could be in any way helpful UNLESS you were looking for heart palpitations and a migraine.

I just stood there.
I didn't really know what to say.
I mean, how do you respond to that?

I did what anyone would do in this situation. I silently walked to the pantry. Got a Fruit Roll Up and went to sit on the couch. Obviously I needed the Fruit Roll Up to help guide me through whatever I was about to sit through (I had a feeling I was going to, among other things, get a brief lesson in trig - which was completely unwanted).

I found out that you use trig when need to find the missing side of a triangle and the missing angle. I, personally, cannot for see anytime in the near future OR EVER when I will be struggling to find the angle of a triangle and be desperate enough to use trig (not that I would even know how).

Chuck, apparently, does not feel the same.
It's kind of a tomato, tamato situation except the tomato is a branch of mathematics which I don't believe in. (FYI: When I don't understand something, my approach - fool proof approach - has always been to not allow Chuck to explain it to me OR to believe in it. I've applied this principle to compasses, manual transmissions, and basic theories of probability. It's working wonders.)

So back to the part where I'm sitting on the couch with my Fruit Roll Up kind of wondering how long this is going to take because my DVR is packed and will I be required to actually learn any sort of usable information about trigonometry.

Good news. I didn't need to learn anything except the part about trig finding the angle of a triangle. None of that sine or cosine crud. Thank God.

So what did Chuck use trigonometry for?
He used trigonometry for his little ladder project. The project involved finding a way to store the gimungous extension ladder without a) needing any one's help b)leaving the beast on the floor of the garage thus rendering that place useless.

His idea was to use a pulley system to hoist the ladder onto the ceiling of the garage. In order to do this, he needed to know angles. In order to find angles he used (drum roll please) trigonometry.

Ok, I understand this doesn't really make much sense without some sort of visual and a step by step explanation, so here is how the pulley system works (I want it noted upfront that most of what I will type from here on out I have little to ... no, zero understanding of and am basically taking dictation from Chuck. I've seen it work and I still don't get his measurings and what nots.).

Here's what happens:

This is how the ladder looks in it's final resting position. The pulley system means the ladder gets to rest on the top of the garage above Chuck's car. In this state, it's pretty ingenious. The process of getting there feels really obnoxious.

Up close and personal shot of the pulley about to be in question (this pulley later becomes responsible for the use of trigonometry). The white rope is attached to the ladder which runs through the pulley to the second pulley and down the pillar in the center of our garage.

See the two pulley's in the picture below?
Is anyone else still with me because I am almost not and I'm writing this.

This is actually the only part of this that I love and it's because Chuck has to use a rake to free the ladder from the hooks it's resting on. He holds the rope to keep the ladder steady as he unhooks it. I love that even his Go Go Gadget Arms can't do this one without help. Make him feel like one of us "t-rex arm" people.

This is just more of the lowering process. Yawn.

And now he has control of the ladder and can walk it down. If he was going all the way here and was actually going to use the ladder, he'd set the end in his hand on the ground, walk about half way down the ladder and lift the other side off the other hooks. Again, I mean, it is pretty ingenious. But again, the road to the genius is paved with obnoxious behavior and the use of a graphing calculator.

OK. Is everyone ready for some trig? (Susie: NO!; Chuck: Yes!).
During the early diagramming phase of Ladder Fest, Chuck was trying to determine how great the angle would be between the white rope and the imaginary vertical line (I made it pink so it'd be pretty) that is created when the ladder touches the ground (before it's all the way unhooked).

Chuck worried that perhaps the angle was in fact too great and would cause the rope to chafe on the pulley (uh huh - his word, not mine). If that was the case, it would have meant using a swivel pulley instead and that would have (Chuck's exact words, not mine) "made the entire thing complicated."

Anyone else think he left Simple-town about the time he was diagramming about a pulley system to lift an extension ladder onto the ceiling of his garage? Good. Me too.

Using trigonometry to calculate the EXACT degree of the angle, Chuck concluded that the rope would not chafe and that a standard pulley could indeed handle the white rope in this position.

Good thing, cause I was suuuuuper worried for a minute.

And there you go.
It was because of trigonometry that Chuck got to put a ladder on the ceiling and complete his life, mathematically, I'm sure.

How does this fit in with the month's theme? Here's how:
I kind of feel like the term "nerd" is the new hipster. It's hip to be a nerd, like it's cool to be a hipster but really only a few people can pull off skinny jeans and handle bar moustaches. Likewise, only so many people get to be real nerds and only so many of us get to marry them.

Day eight: I super love that I married a big fat (yeah right) nerd.

day seven: a post about cheating during my month of love.

2012-02-07T19:19:00.000-08:00

It was a cold, November evening the night I fell in love.

It's one of those moments that you remember forever. What you were wearing. How things smelled. Time felt like it stood still and everything was just for us.

Just to be sure we're all on the same page, I am definitely talking about reading Twilight for the first time and falling in love with Edward. DO NOT act so surprised. This "intro" was entirely within normal limits for me. And, for the record, so you don't go through this again, I also fell in love with Chuck in November (different year) but that was because he brought me chicken soup not because he sparkled.

Anyhooooo. So much of the past few years have been spent loving Edward and Twilight. I knew we couldn't last forever at this rate - even though that was my hopeful plan.

I super cheated on him in December.
I mean cheated big time. As in, I haven't even considered when to buy the Breaking Dawn DVD because I've been too busy youtubing videos of my current mister (I believe that's the male equivalent of a mistress - right?).

I love The Hunger Games.

We fell in love in December on a hot, dry beach in the Bahamas with a cruise ship anchored in the background (and Chuck capsizing a catamaran that thank god I decided not to go on - but that's a whole other story). It was completely different than how Twilight and I met.

I had kind of expected Twilight to be the only "young adult" tryst in my life. I had kind of assumed that Twilight was my only "foray" into the juvenile section of Barnes and Nobles. Obviously, I had never met myself and my reading level OR my love of jumping on a good Band Wagon. I would jump off a cliff as long as there was a seventh grade book series at the bottom.

I died for The Hunger Games and read it in one day at the beach, in line getting back on the ship, and ignoring Chuck before dinner.

But oh oh. That's not where this stops.
See, Twilight was all about me. I read it. I loved it. I pretty much didn't talk to Chuck for weeks. The Hunger Games was a little different.

Why?
Because Chuck became equally as obsessed. He picked up the first book as I was buying the second in the Miami airport on Christmas Eve. By the time we made it to LA, Chuck had finished one, I had finished two and we were buying book three on Amazon. We read each book in a day. We have very little going on in our lives.

Once Book Three arrived, we almost divorced over who got to read it first (I won since that's how things work) and I read it that day. Chuck read it all the next day, popping Excedrin Migraine to make the headache from eye fatigue go away.

Here is Chuck mid book three:

Unshowered. Wrapped in a pink blanket a first grader made for me and completely unaware that I was taking a picture of him. This is about 3 pm, about four days after Christmas. He's five hours in with three or four to go. My husband. Sigh.

Ok so I completely cheated on Edward and fell in love with a new book series. I still love Twilight, trust me - I'm about due for a re-read - but The Hunger Games has been completely different because Chuck is equally psycho-obsessed with them too. Do I see him running around Seattle with Peeta and Katniss cardboard cut outs taking pictures for the Oprah show (that happened here)? No. But that's just because Chuck has always handled his emotions better than I have.

Basically, cheating on one love gave me something to love with Chuck (and Fe and PK who subsequently read and loved the series) so I guess the infidelity was worth it. It's also kind of nice to have family understand and welcome the obsession, rather than "The Looks" I got with Twilight. That might have been because some people in that book sparkled, but I don't see how that's worse than a fight to the death between children.

But there you go. Day seven: I love The Hunger Games.
(read it!!)

day six: shelley and chuck

2012-02-06T19:35:00.000-08:00

Today's love: Shelley and Chuck.

Ok so yeah, this is obvious because I kind of like my sister (we have a few things like Fe in common) and I have had this thing for Chuck for the last ten years (even though he was a rebound relationship and I am super excited for "the next guy").

But I can't go that obvious as to write a post about how much I love my sister and adore my husband. That's a little too easy. What I love, love, love is the relationship between Shelley and Chuck (not in the Sister Wives way).

Family vacation to Hawaii - 2006

Maybe it's because they've been stuck together for so long in my life story. Maybe it's because Shelley was a whole 15 when they met (and sporting a dark brown hair color, learner's permit, and a cheer uniform). Whatever it is, I love it. I love their relationship.

Even way back in 2001 when Chuck and I were totally just "going out", Shelley and Chuck always got each other. They always understood each other and enjoyed each other's company. Things in the beginning of them were pleasant, normal, reasonable for a sister and her sister's boyfriend. It was all I could have hoped for: my guy and my gal got along enough to be in the same room together.

Then one summer, I stayed at college for summer school and Chuck came to Seattle for an internship. He lived with my parents (and thusly an 18 year old Shelley) for about two months and that was it for Shelley. Chuck became Charlie Baby and suddenly those two were buds.

I'm pretty sure that Shelley was acting like Chuck in this picture and being tall, and Chuck was acting like her lady friend. Wowmom is what you are looking for.

I love that they love each other pretty unconditionally.
I love that I have seen each of them drop everything to come help the other.
I love that one time they used $50 from my parents to buy a giant inflatable waving Santa Claus instead of Fe's Christmas tree (which is what they were sent to get).

But really, nothing explains "Shelley and Chuck" better than the Christmas gifts she gives him. She's kind of like Lenny from Mice and Men when it comes to giving Chuck gifts: she almost "over loves" him and what she buys is always amazing. (I think this post is kind of a two-for-one. I love Shelley and Chuck, and I love the things she buys him. It's a double day Monday.)

One year: $25 dollars to McDonald's.
Then it was the remote control Monster Truck.
The marshmallow gun was a huge hit.

This year. WowMom. Shelley hit it out of the ball park.

She got him a Duck Hunter.
Not like Mario Bros. But actually more awesome.

It's a "gun" and a flying "duck". The duck flies around the room until it is shot three times. It's an infrared sensor that does tells the duck when it's died. It's amazing. And it's such a Shelley to Chuck gift.

Please to watch for visual enjoyment:

As you can see, you literally hunt the duck. You do not however, need to be dressed like a hunter - that was just a special gift from Chuck to you.

Ok so I know Shelley wasn't in the demo pictures but the point is: They have a pretty special brother/sister-in-law relationship. As Chuck and I have grown up together, so have they and somehow have come out with this weird, twisted, odd little relationship that is totally normal for them.

And I love that.

day five: artichoke dip that i would sell my soul for.

2012-02-05T13:31:00.000-08:00

I want to say that this post is "classic Susie hyperbole" (insert snotty chuckle here). But it's not. If I had a soul to sell, I would sell it for this recipe.

So here we are on the second day of my LOVE challenge (to show you things I love and also to force myself at font point to blog more). The food love of my life is: Hot Artichoke Dip.

You might be shocked to know that it isn't McDonald's. Obviously, McDonald's has a super special place in my heart - literally in my heart where it has clogged all my arteries with McNuggets, fries, and dreams. I actually don't know if I could eat McDonald's everyday and I'm not about to play Morgan Spurlock with my life, but this recipe for Artichoke Dip, I might be able to go 365 and by just fine. I'll also be wearing elastic pants, but some things are just worth it.

I think what separates this recipe from all the other artichoke dip recipes out there is the shear ratio of cheeses and mayonnaise to actual artichoke. It's shocking. And fantastic.

My mother-in-law and I had a recipe for artichoke dip that we used to use religiously. We thought it was pretty good and it usually received a decent amount of praise and "can I get that recipe?" comments when we'd take it out. THEN, she found this recipe - I think in a magazine? - and our lives have never, ever, ever been the same. In comparison, that original recipe must have tasted like dog food compared to this one.

The first time we made it, people at the party ate it as a side dish during dinner (we'd set it out as an appetizer). Obviously, we could never go back to the dog food original (it didn't actually taste like dog food, but it was like "seeing the light" and never being able to go back).

Of all the recipes I have, I believe this is the best. It's idiot proof (I can say this because Chuck has made it so I have anecdotal evidence to back me up). It's always a hit - who doesn't like melted cheese dip with a hint of artichoke in it? The one problem is that it isn't the most cost effective recipe to make, but even when we couldn't afford a Christmas tree...somehow we afforded this at parties. Priorities people - I can haz them.

It is the appetizer love of my life.

I hope it becomes yours too.

Here's how to make it (lucky you I just happened to be whipping up a batch for Jessica's Super Bowl party so we have pictures):

The miracle workers:
12 ounces shredded mozzarella
1 cup mayo
1 cup shredded Parmesan
8 oz soft cream cheese
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, minced
2 small jars of artichoke hearts, drained, patted dry, and chopped.

Mix everything (except the artichoke) in a big bowl with a hand mixer until it looks well Incorporated and is playing nice together.

Add the artichokes. I'd like to point out with the help of this picture the ratio of artichokes to everything else. Like I said before, this really could be called Cheese and Mayo dip with the essence of artichoke sprinkled in like baby kisses.

Pour into a bowl - the mother in law uses a quiche plate, I use a bigger corning ware type. The use of different bake ware has so far not caused a rift.

You do not have to hug your bowl unless you feel compelled to like I did. But you should paint your nails - yikes. Look at those things.

Bake for 30 minutes and 350. Serve with sliced baguette or wheat thins or triscuits (if your husband likes triscuits. Mine doesn't and they are basically banned from the house. He oppresses me.)

That's it.

Artichoke dip. The culinary love of my life.

Four days behind on this, but who's counting?

2012-02-04T20:25:00.000-08:00

I've decided to have an intervention with myself. I did a self ambush. I wrote myself a letter. I gave myself the chance to get help. I was not, unfortunately, also being featured on Intervention, but I still think things went very well with this.

I'm having a February Blog Intervention with myself.
I have gotten out of the habit of blogging and I need to get back into the routine. I think they say you have to do something like 300 times for it to become a habit (I have zero idea if that 300 is even in the right ball park - I don't actually feel like looking it up ala wikipedia so take it or leave it.), So from here on out, I will blogging every day in February.

I know. Brace yourself.

I'm gonna give myself a theme to go with so that things have some fluidity to them. (Yikes. That's a word and I'm not even confident I've used it right. I feel like if I wasn't willing to fact check the "habit" stat, I can't fact check word usage either. I'm on a really good roll tonight.)

We will go with LOVE. It's February (obviously) and I'll post each day with someone, something, or some idea that I love. It'll be like my own personal pinterest, except with my witty commentary (yup) and blattant disregard for feelings, humility, and "normal". Also, speaking of pinterest, I've been on for about a week and I have lost most of my life to it.

So here goes. Day Four (see it's the fourth, I thought about calling this Day One, but that just seemed confusing and now this seems confusing and I don't really know why this paratheses has gone on as long as it has).

Day Four: The Blog.
(we'll make today's quick since I've already taken up enough of your time).

See? I actually do like this thing, despite how I treat it.
AND, it is The Blog's third birthday. I know. The five of you who read it have dealt with me for a long time. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

It's surprising that we've made it to three years (despite my best effort and despite any clear focus). Most blogs have a theme: Mom blog, family blog, cooking blog. I don't know that I've ever quite figured out what this thing is or why it exists, which seems about right since I haven't quite figured me out either (I do know why I exist and it has a little something to do with one Fe and PK).

I don't think I ever set out to make a blog that really showcased our lives the way this has - trust me that was not my intent - but we have become open. And I want you to know that I sincerely apologize for that things that go on in this house. It's called Stockholm syndrome. I've identified with my captor (Chuck).

Here's what I do love. Along with some pictures I love from blog posts of the past. They in no way go together with the text below them, so good luck. That should be fun for you.

I love when Chuck's Dad calls and you can tell he's been crying from laughing at the blog and the things Chuck puts me through.

I love that Fe's BFF reads the blog.

I love that my cousins read the blog and when I see them they know all about my life like crazy stalkers would (oh hey hey Oregon Cousins and Kyle - I loves you.).

I love that my best friends and my family have become characters on this thing. If I was teaching a lesson on story elements, I bet you could do a character web on Fe and Emy and Lucy.

I love that the blog is a nice little personal archive of my life from 2009 onward. It's like the facebook timeline, except way more appropriate since my senior year of college wasn't documented on the blog and now out there in the open (yikes).

I love that I have blog friends with fabulous blogs, who I've never met, but it feels like I have. Like Meg, and Brooke, and Louise. And then blog readers I've never met, who leave me comments that I die for, (like Shaina, and Kacy, and She'sALady).

Ok. That's enough. I think you get the point.

Tomorrow won't be so mushy or Susie-centric because Day Five with be all about my love affair with Hot Artichoke Dip. See, I said this was going to be a random collection of love, but the point is, I love this blog and I need to have it back in my life as a feature, not an after thought. We'll see how this works out.

it compliments the ship's wheel so nicely.

2012-01-26T21:51:00.000-08:00

We had a really nice little Monday evening.

We met up with Chuck's BFF/soul mate, Paul, and his wife Shiann for a very normal couple double date dinner. Paul and Shiann were in town from LA, we don't see them a ton (I mean, I don't see them a ton. Paul and Chuck see each other tons in their dreams.), and it was really nice to just get to be with them.

Like I'm sure other couples do. You go out to dinner. You have a nice time. Maybe afterward you decide to go back home and have some dessert and coffee, and call it a night.

I'm sure that's how this works elsewhere. Sure. Sure.

We got home a scoche before them and we had zero idea about what they were going to walk in with.

Paul and Shi waltzed into our house with....a giant helium filled shark. Totally normal. At first I thought it was just a funny balloon because, I mean, shark balloon, ship's wheel, I think it goes together. Ha ha. Super funny.

Isn't Shiann a delicate beauty?

Nope. The giant shark balloon was just one layer to this onion of an evening.

Said balloon is motorized. Uh huh.

See the box?

It clearly shows that this is a remote control shark that "swims" around your house. Paul calls are living room The Aquarium so this purchase made complete sense.

It was not the easiest thing, however, to assemble.

Well, it would've been easy, if Shiann (who watched the video tutorial multiple times AND read the directions AND had seen this assembled before) had been the only one putting the shark together. Add in Bango and Bongo, who appeared to be purposefully not listening to her and - well, I was loving shark assembly as a spectator sport.

Despite Chuck and Paul's best efforts, and their degrees in Flight Technology (which, though not directly related to shark assembly, feels like it should give them a leg up on everything), the shark was ready.

Step two was weighting it perfectly by stuffing puddy into a little hole near the motor. The shark needed to just "be" - to exist without moving up or down. It's kind of how I feel in my marriage. Stuck. Without movement. Trapped.

And then, it was ready.

It "flies" by the tail moving back and forth via a remote control giving it the illusion of swimming. Chuck would like to add an addendum here that it doesn't look like it's swimming, it IS swimming. Ok. Well, now that that's over, back to Susie only narrative.

Some flying pics:

Happier than our wedding day.

A flying video for full effect. Yes, that's my nasal voice ~~yelling~~ telling the other three to not talk lest they say something inappropriate and render my video unblogable.

It was 'round this time, that we realized two things:

1. The motor that made the shark's move up and down (separate from the tail), didn't work. 2. The shark was counterfeit and can't be returned or fixed because it was illegally made. Whoops.

Whatevs. It still swims and I love that Shiann bought an after market fake one on accident. Makes it such a better gift.

The boys did their best to fix the motor.

I did my best to cheer them on. But really I was disgusted at the level of dissecting that was happening and how tiny the screw drivers they were using were. Seemed super unnatural. Their efforts were for naught - after they hooked up a tiny volt meter to the iddy bitty circuit board they realized the circuit board was getting power, thus proving it was the motor that was bad and beyond repair. Ripley's believe it or not - everything in that last sentence is completely, swear on a Bible on the second floor of Nordstroms true.

So, that's the flying/swimming/shark. It's pretty rad. I highly recommend buying one. And yeah. I would say a very successful Monday double date.

this was a simpler time when the snow was "cute" and "fun"

2012-01-20T19:40:00.000-08:00

If my last post wasn't clear enough, it's been a week.

BUT, let's not complain. I have power. I'm not cold. And I have a beautiful cat baby to lay on the couch with. Win. Except that he is going to be suuuuper devastated when I go back to work on Monday. And by he, I mean Me. What? Some of us have grown accustomed to no alarm wake ups, warm non-sandwich lunches, going to the bathroom at times other than recess, and also Law and Order marathons. Stay at home Susie is fabulous.

Anyways, last weekend seems like a lifetime ago.
That was a point in time when snow was fun and exciting and welcomed.
Now. Well, it's the guest at the party that won't leave even as you start the dishwasher, pull out the vacuum, and put on your pajamas. Yikes. No one likes that person and no one likes the snow anymore.

Back to my point.
Back when the snow was fun, we had Lucy that day. She had a sleepover, woke up, saw the snow and we were dressed in under five minutes. We only got a dusting that morning, and looking back I think that's all I needed, and we had a great morning.

Two reasons to post these pics five days later: 1. A little try to get rid of my Bitter Snow Betsy. It was fun, it was beautiful, and hey - there won't be a drought this summer. Of course, I'll never see the summer because I'll be in school the whole time, but oh well, who's counting. And 2. Shelley has been trapped in Seattle the whole week sans Lucy (not because she can't drive in the snow, but because she's had business meetings). Anyways, I figured she could use a Lu pick-me-up and this is my blog, my platform, my agenda. Also she's my sister. Own it.

So here we go. Lucy seeing it snow and making a snow man. For me, this was our first snow date. It was everything I hoped it could be and more, except she didn't bring me flowers. I forgive her.

Getting Bubba with a snow ball. He never saw it coming.

The snow should be gone tomorrow.
The snow should be gone tomorrow.
The snow should be gone tomorrow.

I'm trying the Dorothy approach and saying it three times to make it come true.

all work and no play makes susie a dull girl.

2012-01-19T15:15:00.000-08:00

All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.
All work and no play makes Susie a dull girl.

the chunky cheese birthday.

2012-01-08T18:54:00.000-08:00

So, Lucy turned three yesterday.
More importantly, she now shares her birthday with Beyonce's baby, so she has that going in her life. Maybe Lucy will change her name to Yellow as a tribute to Blue (if you don't understand that sentence then you are obviously behind in your Perez Hilton-ing. No hard feelings if you want to leave my blog for his. Important things are going on in the world.)

AnyHOO.
Lucy decided to do her birthday dinner at Chuck E Cheese. She alternates in her mispronunciation of that saint of a mouse between Chunky Cheese and Sucky Cheese, both of which I wholly support.

And obviously, by Lucy decided, I mean she won a $75 gift card to Chuck E Cheese for winning that costume contest at Shelley's work (for being a bomb.com Hulk Hogan) back in October so yeah. She had two options for her birthday dinner: Chunky Cheese or Sucky Cheese.

Free dinners are the best dinners. She will learn this.

Things with the birthday, however, were a little touch and go the past few months. Lucy had learned the amazing childhood strategy of showing your feelings for a person by offering or reneging on an invitation to a birthday party. I, for example, had been invited and de-invited to her party about 20 times before the big day.

"Lu, you need to eat your dinner."
"Sister, you can't come to my birthday party."

She was pretty ruthless. For quite a while, Chuck wasn't invited until he "grew up and became a big girl". I think her ultimatum made an impression on him (see the photos in prior posts of Chuck in women's clothing for evidence).

Lucky for us, by the day of her party, she was throwing around invitations like a college freshman spends with a credit card. Shelley and I would've come IRregardless of a formal invitation because we were not about to lose out on Chunky Cheese time.

Shelley and I were big Chuck E Cheesers when we were little, and then even bigger fans when they opened one about 5 miles from Fe's house when we were in high school and I could drive a car. Those were some good weekends. Even just a few years ago, we met at Chuck E Cheese for a good ol' fashion "ticket off" (obviously that's where you have a set number of tokens and whoever comes back with the most tickets wins, duh).

What was great about Lucy's birthday was how instantly Shelley and I reverted back to 10 year olds, and Fe, well, she stayed in the Mom at Chuck E Cheese role that she had always done beautifully: sitting and waiting for us and arbitrating arguments over tickets, tokens, and whose soda is whose.

"Mom, where's Shelley?"
"She took some tokens and went that way."

"Susan, give me a token, I'm out."

"Move. It's my turn to play that game."

"Let's go back to Mom and get more tokens."

"I'm not sharing my tickets with her. I did all the work."

Lu had a great time but mostly she wanted to play in the play-area which is free and actually doesn't cost any tokens. Fine fine. More for Shelley and Me. Chuck E Cheese is the place where a Susie and Shelley can be a kid and a Lucy can play for free.

So that was it. Birthday dinner at Sucky Cheese with the family. Shelley and I are planning a real party for Lucy (it's so weird how she has real friends and actual little people she wants to invite), but not until February because that kid has a terrible birthday date: in order to have a party on her birthday we need to send out invites like on Christmas day. Yeah, that's not gonna happen.

Lucy's birthday in pictures.

Fe would like to take a quick poll: Based on size, which one is the Pinata?

We (I) got Lu a camera for her birthday. Seeing life from her point of view is going to be amazing.

First sighting of Chuck (not the Bubba kind, the other mouse kind). She talked such a big game about how they are BFFs until he walked in the room. Then, she had a heart attack and not the good Susie seeing Rob Pattinson kind.

PK was practically holding a clinic for Pop-a-Shot.

Chuck compared holding the Guitar Hero guitar to licking a subway seat.

Second sighting of Chuck. At least she was able to keep her food down.

The ride is supposed to involve sitting in the car and then a picture of you and your passenger is taken. Lucy decided to take a more Whitesnake approach to this game and sat on the hood.

At home opening gifts: this face says it all - she is officially too old to get underpants for her birthday AND be excited about it. End of an era.

Everyone is now super excited that they have both of us taking pictures of them.

Posing with her "kill". Note the weapon.

she's a three year old.

2012-01-07T21:01:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday, Lucy!

Three in the blink of an eye.

the miracle of the season just keeps coming.

2011-12-31T14:02:00.000-08:00

People.

Something amazing has happened to us today. Now, I understand that the word "amazing" is currently in the no-no list of over used words from 2011, but I have no choice. Because this is ah-maze-ing.

Brace yourself.

I found another ElFe. You know, the Elf that looks like my Mom?

Isn't she grand?
How can I describe this any other way than amazing?

And, what an absolute joy it is that this Elf is a real Christmas Elf, not a weirdo harvest variety the first one is. Still, I thought the delight in finding my Mother's doppelganger in Harvest stuffed elf was tops. But then this... and the good news just keeps on coming.

See, this Elf Fe had a tag on her rear end with the manufacturers name and web address on it. Hallelujah. These little miracles are the meaning of the seasons. They have to be.

The website is www.annalee.com.

Annalee, bless her soul, makes elves for all seasons. Now, unfortunately, not all of them look like Fe. But, don't panic, there are four pages of elves and I am sure there are more of the Susie's Mom variety.

I won't rest until I have a collection of my Mom.

Also, I'm at my Mother-in-Law's house right now and Thank God she was super fine with me adding Elf Fe to her Christmas Tree after we brought her home from TJ Maxx for a whole $4 purchase price.

I think it's exactly what every tree needs. An Elf Fe.
WOW MOM - literally.

it was my crying game moment on the cruise.

2011-12-30T16:02:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure how familiar you are with cruising so I'll give you a little briefing, then we'll dive right in to this story. I can tell you are super excited about this. I am too.

Cruising is a little bit of what I imagine assisted living homes must be like. They prepare your meals, they prepare little outings for you, and they create schedules of your day. I love it. If the cruise staff could also moisten our mouths with towelettes throughout the day, we'd be set.

So, on Day One at sea there was a little Scavenger Hunt on our daily agenda. Mr. Allison l-o-v-e-s the games they play on the ship (like Name that Tune and Team Trivia) and he drags me kicking and a little screaming from my pool side tanning time to play them. Ok, I retract a little. I do enjoy a good Name that Tune and Trivia challenge (as long as it's in the evening not during sunning time), but for some reason I was not at all interested in the Scavenger Hunt.

Again, 85 year old Chuck was all about playing it.

But we went anyways because deep down I love him and I kept saying this was more his vacation than mine (since I'd done Hawaii with Fe and Palm Springs with the Girls and he'd done nadda this year - he was due).

We get to the Scavenger Hunt and it turns out it was a Team Scavenger Hunt. Oh good, because if I barely wanted to do this thing with just Chuck, I am now super excited about doing it with 10 strangers. Of course, by super excited, I mean not at all.

Ok so this is when the story changes to more pro-Susie than pro-Chuck. See, they divided us into two teams of ten and then the cruise director chose a 20-something newlywed groom to be the "team captain" of Team 1 and made (guess who?) Chuck the team captain of Team 2.

THEN Cruise Director JT explained the rules:
Each team has a list of items to gather, and the items, naturally, were predominantly women's clothing. Those items, once collected, need to be dressed onto the team captain.

This was the first time that I was 100% sold on Team Scavenger Hunt. Call me a fan of fair, whatever. I was clapping. I was giddy. It was the best cruise day ever.

In about 20 minutes, between all the people on our team, we'd collected the various items from each of our staterooms and had "dressed" Chuck.

Again. I had never been happier. Also, it helped that this was taking place in the most populated place on the ship: the pool deck.

And here he is: My husband (PK must be super happy about my life choices in marrying this one).

Stay back ladies; he is alllllll mine.

As an added punishment, Cruise Director JT made Chuck and the other poor kid take a lap around the pool deck. Naturally, they did the beauty queen wave. And of course, our team won. The clip on earrings were what pushed us over the edge.

Oh yeah, that's my husband blotting off his lipstick. I am so lucky.

the photo dump / cruise post.

2011-12-29T21:12:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned before, in case you weren't listening or reading (two things I'm really good at doing poorly so no judgement), we went on a little pre-Christmas cruise. Several things led to this happening, and it was preceded, of course, by what Chuck later deemed to be the greatest Susie meltdown of all time over missing the week before Christmas (shopping with friends, baking with Fe, lunch dates with the Lucy, etc), and also dying in a plane crash and pirate terrorists taking over the ship.

I wove a tapestry of hysteria pre-trip.

We decided to go on the cruise with some of Chuck's extended family for a little Allison getaway. Then their work schedules didn't work out and instead of scratching the idea, we said "see ya" and went alone. It sounds harsh, but they understood. They are warm weather people too and would never fault someone for taking a way out of the cold.

Also, we had plane tickets to use up a-sap after I ruined Spring break in Hawaii last year with the never ending sickness. So, it worked out. Christmas cruise it was.

For those of you who need the specifics, say the same people that would take the Ship's Log booklet home with them so they can review the temperature, sea condition, and boat speed of each day after they return (I hope I'm making it pretty clear that I'm talking about one Charles Allison who is apparently 85 years old and has in fact reviewed said Ship's Log since returning. You think he can't get any nerdier...). So specifics:

Holland America: 7 days leaving from Ft Lauderdale. We had two days at sea and then a day each in Turks and Caicos, Puerto Rico, St. Thomas, and at an island the cruise line owns.

We had a blast and did a great job not getting divorced on the ship, despite our best efforts (kidding but not). However, I did point out that if we did get divorced, no big deal, because Captain Darren could just re-marry us during one of the evening shows.

And now it's picture time.
Good luck getting through this. I'll be as brief as possible.

Turks and Caicos
Day Two

I enjoyed the fact that my first song in Grand Turk was Welcome to Paradise. It worked for me.

Puerto Rico
Day Three

There wasn't a beach in Puerto Rico that we really wanted to hit or that was easy to get to, which was good since it poured that day. Like east coast rain, not the drizzle crap we have in Seattle. We walked along the wall of Fort del Morro built in the 1500s and up into the actual fort. Which was great for nerdy history people like us.

Chuck is one of those "read every sign" type people.
Shocker: I am not.

I took this picture and realized I accidentally caught this bird mid landing. Kind of foreshadowing for the end of the trip when we would neglect everything possible to read all three Hunger Games book. I'm pretending that's a Monkingjay. Obviously.

shhh.

Chuck explained to me that the antenna in this picture is a16th century model used to contact pirates.
I really hope people don't hear these conversations when we have them. What they must think...

This is a monument for the Dutch Attack of 1625 that was built in 1925. Chuck told me it was commemorating the 300th anniversary of Holland America's service to Puerto Rico.

This is the cathedral where they burried Ponce de Leon. Apparently that fountain of youth wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

St. Thomas
Day Four

It briefly sprinkled for about .5 seconds at Majen's Bay. There was Katrina like pandemonium on the beach as people hurried to pack up. We didn't even discuss it. Seattle taught us to know better. We did the beach version of blue tarp camping and waited the 3 minutes for the misting to pass.

Adonis.

Day Six
Half Moon Cay

This is the island that Holland America owns. It's pretty amazing. I read the whole time (that was Day one of the Hunger Games so I wasn't about to do much else). Chuck rented a catamaran for an hour and I said "no thank you." Then, when he capsized it, he thanked God that I hadn't come with or that could have ended the marriage.

You've seen this one before, but it helps support my case for the following picture so I'm reposting it.

Ok so. I had to rebuttal Chuck's picture and what better way than with a timeless art of seduction pose? Obviously, Tyra would critic my stump leg, but I can handle it. I feel like posting this picture of myself is knowing what it must be like to be Chuck on this thing: a source of "why?"

Harry Potter Chuck.

Us.

And the old man who spent an hour burring himself in the sand. How could I not take a picture of that?

And that's the cruise.
I think the big winners on the cruise are the people who had to eat with us every night and the people who willingly became our Trivia Team for the duration of the cruise (obviously, we would have a Trivia Team and let me tell you - we cleaned house).

Tomorrow, one last cruise post. And then that's it. Promise. But tomorrow's is so good. So good.

just a typical drive by xmas card-ing.

2011-12-29T14:18:00.000-08:00

Ok. So obviously I take Christmas Cards seriously. You know this or I wouldn't put so much time and effort making sure our picture is perfection each year. Duh.

And obviously the only reason you send out Christmas cards is to get them in return. Is that not the meaning of Christmas? Did I miss something? Whatever, you know that in addition to wishing people a Merry Christmas and actually wanting to send them an Xmas card, you are also secretly hoping for a little something in return to validate your existence. Call me selfish or Ishmael. Whatever.

With the whole "us being gone for 8 days right in the heart of Christmas time" (which, BTW, we will never do again - we both feel a little out of sorts and like Christmas never happened), we had the mail stopped, again duh. So, when the mail finally came on the 27th, it was like a windfall of cards. I got to open most of our cards in one sitting and it was a heavenly OD.

Maybe next year, we'll stay in town but still have out mail held so that I can have my windfall.

Anyways, we got so many beautiful cards.
(I like to decorate the chalk board with them.)

Aren't they fabulous?

Ok. Except there's one card that well....we don't know who sent it to us.

Like the blog title says, it was kind of a drive by Christmas card-ing.

So I got this card in the mail. It has no return address, it has no signature. The postmark says Seattle. That's all I got.

Who sent this to us?
(I love this card, side note, I just really need to know who send it to us.) The card is handmade. It's a 1970s picture glued to white card stock with holly berries drawn around it.

On the inside:

That's it.

Ok. Who sent this to us?
I have so many questions for them. Did they mean for it to be anonymous? Did they really just forget to sign it AND put a return address on it? Who is that man? Is this the Christmas Card equivalent to finding a horse head in your bed? Have we been put on notice?

IRregardless, I love this card. I would just really like to know who sent it.

hope you had a great christmas

2011-12-27T15:23:00.000-08:00

So I'm a little behind, yeah I know.
In my defense we were on a cruise to the Caribbean for the week before Christmas and while amazing, I'm a little behind in my life since we didn't get home until late night xmas eve. Don't you just love when people use their vacations as excuses and want you to feel bad for them because they took one? With the tan I have, I'm not expecting much pity.

Anywhoo, I'll figure out how to post xmas and the cruise and get things sorted out blog wise, but until then...

Yep.
He was just all posed and ready for me. It would make a great desktop background.

Yikes. That's who I was stuck on a boat with. Maybe you do have some pity in store for me.

we took elf fe to dinner. obviously.

2011-12-20T08:00:00.000-08:00

Ok so at that same pizza place, you know the one I wrote about with the baby in the kitchen, well, maybe we also we're exactly being "restaurant appropriate" either.

I mean, they had a baby in the kitchen.
We had an Elf Fe at the table.

I'm starting to bring Elf Fe (also known as ElFe - naming rights belong to Fe's BFF Christine) to family activities because why wouldn't I bring a plush version of my mother with us? I mean, if you had a stuffed your mother, wouldn't you carry her around?

So, I brought her on the outing we went to the ended with us at said Baby Kitchen Pizza Place.
And I brought her inside for dinner. Obviously, she had to eat.

Mom and her had a little chat.
Not sure what you talk about with your plush self but it seemed for existentionism-ish to me (that's a word. Existentionismish. I took three philosophy classes in college and this is the best I could do. I went to a public university. Sue me.).

She ate a salad which I said wasn't necessary since she looks great and why is she watching her figure, but she insisted. Also, Dad insisted on creating a nice Italian back drop for her and lemme tell you, getting that fork to stay up. Go Shelley. That was not an easy one to balance. See, this was a family game. We are very inclusive in our inappropriate behavior.

Then Dad also took some time to discuss somethings with Elf Fe that he had on his mind. He and Real Fe have been married for 36 years, so I'm assuming he and Plush Fe had a lot to discuss.

She washed down her salad with a Dr. Pepper.
I should know, because it was mine and she's always taking my things. That's a lie.

And then Shelley tried to eat her. Which I'm not sure how that fits in, but it happened so yeah. I don't really know how any of this made a post, but I know that I sure love Elf Fe and kind of love having her pop back onto the blog.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.
Once you find a plush version of your Mom as an Elf, your life is never really the same.

it's funny and a health violation.

2011-12-17T08:40:00.000-08:00

So this is kind of like our other "goldbug" posts except you aren't trying to find Jack - which means it can't be nearly as fun (or beautiful) because that cat is an angel face. I'm just trying to be honest; that cat is the love of my life.

IRregardless, let's play a little Goldbug (sans Jackie Cat). You remember Goldbug from Richard Scarry - you know what you need to do. If you don't, then I weep openly for your childhood. It must have sucked.

Ok, actually, this is more of a mash-up (GLEE shout out) of Goldbug and "one of these things just doesn't belong here." Go Big Bird, go.

What you are about to see is a picture I took at a pizza place in a small town (real small - like, roughly, 893 people according to their 2010 census - oh hey hey wikipedia) a few weekends ago. This picture is of the kitchen area/ordering area.

And go.

Did you find Goldbug?

Let me give you a hint:

She's in a Bumbo because there is a freaking baby on the counter of the kitchen.

I lost my mind when I saw this.

Not because of how unsanitary this is, but because of how awesome this is. This is when you know you are in a small town: when there's a BABY on the counter. And not just on the counter, actually behind the counter, on a bumbo, next to the pizza toppings and the oven. I mean maybe what I find most offensive is that the child is in a Bumbo, which are now supposably unsafe according to Yahoo! headlines.

But anywhoo, I heart small towns and this is exactly why.

This pizza place was packed (like population of the town inside the restaurant). It's an awesome place and it's super popular in Eastern Washington and NO ONE else in the place seemed to even notice that the kitchen staff was also running a day care. It was all Barney and Friends back there and apparently, I was the only one who cared.

Oh and also, this wasn't just like a quick little "oh gotta set my baby down next to the olives for like .5 seconds, then I'm out."

No.

We played with the baby.

We took dinner orders over the phone with the baby on our hip. This felt very barefoot in the kitchen pregnant to me.

I can't make this up people.

Literally, made my evening.

This was my "Sweet Home Alabama" moment. You have a baby in a bar? Well, we have a baby in a pizza kitchen.

Also, you'll notice I never said which restaurant this was. I thought this was awesome and I don't want them to get in trouble and frankly, I don't know some of you. Maybe you're a health inspector. Maybe you're a pizza place enforcer. I dunno. But my lips are sealed.

it's about dang time.

2011-12-16T18:09:00.000-08:00

Nineteen little stockings were hung by the chimney with care...

Ok so that chimney is a white board.
The bricks are butcher paper.
And I don't really think Santa visits schools, but that's mostly because those schools are CLOSED.

Hello Winter Vacation,

Where have you been all my life? Did you do something different? Change your hair? Lose weight? Because vacation, you look so good right now.

Sincerely yours,
Vacation Susie.
(that's the Susie that returns emails, phone calls, and texts. She's the best.) (Not that I'm biased.)

oh em gee, that nightmare is over.

2011-12-15T21:21:00.000-08:00

Check out that URL people.

Oh yeah. We iz back in business.

Good Lord. Getting that thing back was an ordeal. I would like it known, for the record, that I didn't cry once in the process of reclaiming my beloved Allison Wonderland URL AND, more impressively, I also didn't use any four letter words when speaking with Google (I saved those for after I hung up).

However, as per usual, whilst I was screaming last Friday night that my life was "ending", that this blog was "all I have", and not using any hyperbole while I was being a total peach, Chuck kept his cool with his "Oh this'll all work out. No big deal. Life is super and all I see are daisies and roses and blue birds" stance. (I may have taken few liberties with quoting Chuck, but you get the picture. That guy is so positive and calm and I am so not.)

It's a really long story and it's been a super long process to get to this point and I am so glad it's over.

All that matters is that we've been redeemed (little side note: When the blog went away, it went to blog purgatory and I had to take it through a redemption process. The only good from the whole nightmare was that I kept asking tech supporters for redemption. That joke didn't get old.)

Anywhoo, I couldn't be happier. Seriously. I love my URL. I love my blog. I feel really good about this.

Also, the blog will need to be renewed October 25th, 2012. Someone email me. Let's not do this again.

ok. so about that christmas card picture.

2011-12-12T20:47:00.000-08:00

I think the Christmas card picture this year really speaks volumes of Chuck and Me. I think it also begs a lot of questions to be answered.

Here's what I'm hearing:
1. Where was that taken?
2. Does Chuck actually have a widows peak?
3. Why can't you send out something normal?

So. Answers.

1. Our guest bedroom.
2. No, but it was his idea to fashion his hair into one. Love him.
3. Have you not been reading this thing long? I won't even dignify number 3 with an answer. Obviously this is what we would send out. You saw last year's. Did you think things would get "better"?

Ok. I feel like I'd like to show you how this magical picture was created, because the process was actually my favorite part.

It came time for the ol'xmas card. I felt like we needed something to top last year's perfection and I'll admit, it took a little bit to get Chuck on board. Which, I mean, rarely am I the one with the crazy ideas begging him to come on board. It was uncharted territory.

He just didn't see the need for a special Christmas card.

He thought this was fine:

He thought this was fine:

I said. "Chuck.
"This is what we sent out last year.

We cannot follow that up with a picture of us at Maggie's wedding. Sawrreeeaa." (dictionary definition - sawreeaa (adjective): to say sorry but not actually be sorry).

So it took some time. Mostly, the issue was that there was no vision. I didn't have a clear plan. Chuck didn't have a clear plan, so we went to the gods of Yahoo image search for answers.

We typed in "awkward Christmas card pictures" and looked for inspiration.

Take a good look at the Yahoo image results.
See anyone you know?

Oh yes, that's us.
Right there.

Someone submitted us to some web site and frankly, we're thrilled. Highlight of the month. No autographs please. And this was exactly what I needed for Chuck to "see the light" and concede that yes, we needed to put a hint of effort into our picture this year.

Also, Chuck saw this picture:

And that was the true inspiration for our picture.

So. Recap. Chuck doesn't see the point of picture. Chuck loses faith in picture. Chuck sees picture of guy with cat and now we're creepy cat people in our Christmas card picture. There was also a great Susie meltdown in the middle of it that might have had something to do with swaying Chuck, but we'll just say it was the guy and the cat and call it good.

Next thing I know, we've pulled the picture off the wall and we're tacking a sheet up in our guest bedroom. We started with the sheet and the white bedspread.

The boys hung the sheet together.

Then I tested the placement of the tripod and camera by forcing Chuck and Jack to take a senior picture together.

Then a few minutes later, I made Chuck do one more alone to "double check" my settings (that's a lie. I just wanted to force this picture and bam, got it.) Side note: I'm placing orders with snapfish for Chuck's senior pictures. Anyone else want a wallet of this? 5x7? Canvas? Ok. But seriously, he did the senior picture pose on his own so he was totally asking for this. I don't feel bad. You can't let someone take that picture of you and then go on with your life thinking it won't end up on the web. But more seriously, send me your picture orders.

And that's the end of it.
Took a few poses, but then, it just came to us.

My friend Ryan said it feels like we're looking through him.
Yeah, that actually sounds about right.

So there you go.
How Chuck and Susie make a Christmas card picture.

Happy Holidays.

2011-12-11T09:39:00.000-08:00

Obviously.

And obviously, this "Merry Christmas" is not extended to Google as they can rot in you-know-where. But definitely is extended to all of you who have been so supportive of our little blog issue. Thank you for finding us...again.

Might I suggest you "like" our site in the bottom right panel by clicking "join this site"? That way, we won't ever disappear on you again. Unless that's what you want. In which case, you can join Google. No I didn't mean that. I'm just a little "over" things right now. Sorry to take this out on you. I love you and I'll invite you to my birthday party.

um, what just happend?

2011-12-10T11:31:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I don't really know how to explain this.

The end result is, www.theallisonwonderland, is currently down (hopefully not for the count) and we are back at our original home with blogspot (http://theallisonfam.blogspot.com).

My yearly renewal with my domain host came, renewed, and went. I thought everything was fine. Then, my friend Libby put me on suicide watch after the blog went down and I hadn't responded to her texts. And Chuck's Dad called wondering why he couldn't find us.

Apparently, the credit card on file for my annual renewal was the one that expired.
And apparently, those don't work then to renew purchases like, oh I don't know, domain names. So, with these two email came to me that the card was declined and the emails went to my gmail account (which I don't use, like, um, ever - that's my SPAM account email. My "oh sure GAP you can have my email" account. Bam. Fakish email. It's my Internet equivalent to 867-5309.) I didn't see that the card had - weird - been denied.

So then they shut me down.

Fine. Fine.

Except now I am in an Internet black hole. GoDaddy (my domain hoster) has my address saved and ready to give me back, I just need to give them my Google App username and password (since blogspot is actually Google blogs). Ok.

So "Hey Google, I need my apps information."
"Great, we just need you to verify your website and identification, so GO TO theallisonwonderland, get this number from it, and we'll give that username and password."
"Um Google, the site is down and expired. So I can't get into it to get you that number."
"Huh."

That's where we are right now. At "huh". Google needs information that I can only get once I've rebought theallisonwonderland, and GoDaddy needs information from Google that Google will give me once GoDaddy lets me rebuy. Get it? Neither do I. It's getting old.

So. I'm in a holding pattern until someone can find a way for me to verify that yes, I am the admin for what was formerly known as theallisonwonderland, just don't ask me to log into it.

What's frustrating is the idea that I've disappeared. I've spent three years getting you people to read this thing and now you people can't find it and I'm terrified. Of losing the people I know, and losing the people I don't know who still for some reason read this thing and like my life.

So. For now. Save the blog as http://theallisonfam.blogspot.com.
And if you can - forward this to anyone you know who reads this so they can find me. Change the link that take your blog to my blog to "theallisonfam"? Help a sister out? We're still calling ourselves the wonderland, it's just not too wonderful at our house right now.

Hopefully, we'll get theallisonwonderland back OR worst case, we hold a contest to rename the blog. Yikes. I really want to keep theallisonwondland. I like my readers. I want you all back.

xoxo.

this post starts out one way and ends another. fair warning.

2011-11-28T20:45:00.000-08:00

Twins are fascinating. I could stare at a good set of twins for hours. Swear to Nordstrom.
But all things equal, I'm more of a fan of evil twins.

Please to let me explain: Isn't it amazing when you see a complete stranger walking down the street and they look exactly like your BFF (Claire's necklaces), except not. In our house, we call this an evil twin. We somehow find evil twins of everyone we know all the time. Sometimes halfers (that's half Jessica and half Emy), but they still count.

Confused? That's how I like you. Here's an example (aren't I the best teacher? So full of examples to better help your understanding of this difficult concept): Chuck and his friend found this poor girl in Montana and said it was Susie's Evil Twin (high school years, since I'm old - thanks guys, I'm a gunna poison your dinners).Then took cell phone pics of her to send back to me.

Now, I know it might be tough to look past Chuck here (wowmom, Chaz), but that's evil Susie (apparently, I don't really see it) over his shoulder. Poor thing.

[If we are getting real here, like reeeeaaalll, then the only evil twin I've ever seen where I was like, yup, that's me, was this:

Actually a blog reader - Rodger - sent this to me about a year ago. Now that's evil twin Susie - even though I think self evil twins are super hard to diagnose.]

Ok - so are we on the same page here? Do we understand what evil twins are?

Then, I submit for you, Jack's evil (fat) twin:

I know. He's amazing. His name is Koa and he is so Fat Jack.

Again: Jack. With a snaggle tooth.

Fat Jack. Also known as Koa.

I mean, it's uncanny and my new favorite thing. Fat Jack. Twice the Jack to love. I'm gonna start feeding Jack double.

********************
Ok. I feel bad. I feel like maybe I've made a little fun of my friend's beloved first born. So, I'll give you some pictures of her other perfect children. I went to their house to take some photos. They have a three week old, so we weren't going to step outside. But, I think we did just fine staying in.

XOXO - Steph! Love your family and your fat cat.

Last picture of Fat Jack. Promise.

something i really, really believe in.

2011-11-27T16:34:00.000-08:00

It's hard to watch all those "occupy" movements and not want to get swept up in the hub-bub of it all.

So, I occupied. I'm part of the 99%.
I did this about a week ago - don't blame me, blame Thanksgiving that this post is a week late. Anyways. I did it.

I occupied Breaking Dawn.

(If you didn't see that coming, then really? You honestly think I'm gonna stand outside, tents, tarps, hair dryer-less for anything other than Twilight? And even for Twilight I didn't sit outside OR for that long.)

But I still occupied. Oh and maybe we're the 1% in this situation; I'm not sure if it's 99% for or against twilight. Meh. Doesn't matter to me.

I went with The Girls.
Obviously.
The ride up the escalator was intense.

Expectations, hopes, dreams - so much was high. So much was on the line. I think these expressions really tell the tale nicely.

We got to the theater a tad early.
By a tab I mean 90 minutes.

The line up area looked like this when we arrived:

That's empty. As in we were the first people in line for our showing and (interestingly enough) the showing before ours. What? We are nothing if not efficient, plus we are aging slightly and cannot afford to sit in the front row. We aren't 15 anymore. We haven't been 15 for like.....6 years.... or something like that.

We had the ticket guy take our picture.
We said please don't judge us for being here this early.
He said he wasn't, or wouldn't judge us, but the girls that showed up for the midnight showing in wedding dresses. Them. Them he judged.

We laid out our coats. Our purses. And pulled out the iPhones.
This is life now.

Dania also pulled out her Renee Zellweger impression. I think this came about because we were talking about how, yeah, we're fine with Bradley Cooper being Sexiest Man of the Year but he lost points dating scrunch face all those years ago. These are the things we find important. Also, judgy wudgy was a bear.

Ok. So finally after 90 minutes of iPhoning, the doors open.
We were admittedly speed walking, but not outrageously, until the tweens and teens behind us in line started screaming and sprinting. Sorry, but we did not wait in line that long to be trampled by people who were dropped off and/or have a curfew. Sawwwwrrreeeaa.

Also, I've never done the running of the bulls in Pamplona, but I don't need to now. I've lived through 50 or so screaming teens bearing down on you with Taylor Lautner's abs as their only motivation in life. It was terrifying. The five of us girls sprinting and out of breath into the theater....

Don't worry. We found it like this.
Empty. (kind of like Kristen Stewart's emotions)
We sat in the high middle, middle seats, and the rest is history.

The movie was fabulous. As they all are. Fabulous. Horrible. Fabulous.
So there you go. Occupy Breaking Dawn. Now that's my kind of movement.

it's kind of like finding a potato chip with the pope's face on it.

2011-11-26T08:00:00.000-08:00

Story set up: I'm at Marshall's getting my shop on. I'm in line to check out (I totally scored, BTdub), I turn my head, and what to my wonderings eyes should appear....

But a Harvest elf (yep, HARVEST elf...not holiday, not Christmas, not Santa's) and that Harvest Elf looks exactly like my Mother.

You look at that face and you tell me that you do not see Fe.

Closer look? FE.

Still no?

Here. Ok, that's not actually a picture of the harvest elf; that photo may have been altered in photoshop. But still. Can you deny that that elf does not look like The Fe?

Yes I bought it. And I find it to be a Harvest Miracle (even though it's now officially Christmas time).

Harvest Fe Elf will be in a lot of our Holiday activities. She has to be. So now you have that to look forward to.

someone was topless at our thanksgiving.

2011-11-25T18:05:00.000-08:00

I honestly believe that if I don't start blogging again, I'm going to lose friends. And not peripheral friends or facebook friend friends, but like actual bridesmaids-in-weddings, godmother to children type friends. And I really can't afford to lose them.
So.

I hosted Thanksgiving yesterday.
Shelley was supposed to just like last year, but plans sort of changed and now Shelley is hosting Festivus on Saturday (apparently she's got a lot of problems with us...) so I did Thanksgiving. In my family, that train of thought and change of plans is super normal. Super.

I thought I did a great job with my table scape.

Mostly because that's our new dining room table and if I could marry it, I would. It already has brought me so much more happiness than Chuck ever has and I've only had it 10 days. I've had Chuck for 10 years. Yikes.

I really thought my table scape set the mood for a lovely Thanksgiving.

And then Lucy showed up.
Topless.
So that ended the "lovely" thinking about 5 seconds into the evening.

Last year, it was a tuxedo. This year, a Native American. The move to this place is obvious in the Shelley Parenting Handbook.

So that costume was great and all and it lasted about 10 minutes.

Then she took off everything (yelled "OH YEAH!!!") and started jumping from footstools to couches. Side note: how much do you want to be a kid again and jump from hotel bed to hotel bed? I mean, isn't that basically what she's doing? Sometimes, I am super jealous of her life.

Then she wanted to drive the house (she's really into driving our house lately) and we all had to buckle up. Or she'd leave us behind.

Evidently, the only part of the house that moves when she's driving is the staircase so we were instructed to pile on. And of course we did that because she was naked, driving a house, and (though not pictured) wearing a pilgrim hat.

Also, this is a picture of Shelley and Chuck (duh). Shelley likes to take "couples pictures" with Chuck, usually after Chuck and I take a picture. Again, this might sound weird, but what's weirder is when we call ourselves Chuck's sister wives. Which is true. I'm his wife and that's my sister. So, Sister Wives. Is that not how that works? Ok.

Basically from there Thanksgiving kind of took a normal route.

Chuck and I took a picture together.

Mom wore a head dress.

Lucy watched TV like this.

Then took a book in with her to the bathroom (which she's also calling her "office" when she has "business" to attend to).

She ate my place cards while waiting for us to dish ourselves up (Jack was supervising and doing a terrible job.).

Shelley and I did this. (I think it should be reminded every time there is a picture of the two of us that, yes, we do have the same parents.)

Chuck and Lucy snuggled.

Lucy and I wore matching PJs. (yep, that just happened). This was taken at about 8 o'clock. She hadn't worn a stitch of clothing since 4:30. Also note my wicked awesome Thanksgiving chalkboard turkey.

And that's about it.
Thanksgiving was, per usual, fabulous. My friend Elizabeth said, and she's right, there aren't many ages when you're allowed to go topless at Thanksgiving, so we've got that to be thankful for... that Lucy is still baby enough to get away with these kind of shenanigans.

Happy Thanksgiving!

someone won a major award yesterday.

2011-11-01T19:17:00.000-07:00

Guess who won a costume contest yesterday?

Thank you for thinking it was me, because yes, you're right, I was a fabulous (and humble) Snow White yesterday. I mean, my haircut lends itself to about, oh, ONE Halloween costume. And good thing I live in Seattle so my skin stays a lovely pasty white. I was made to be Snow White.

Anyhoo. I've digressed as per usual.

I didn't win a costume contest yesterday (in case that wasn't clear enough).

But she did.

Oh yeah. That's our little Hulk Hogan.

Congrats to Shelley for one heckuva Parenting Win coming up with this idea.

And just so ya know, when Lucy was given her first place gift certificate to "Chunky Cheese" (yep) she yelled "YEEAAAAH BROTHER" into the mic. She is so beyond amazing.

Happy Halloweenie.

2011-10-31T18:16:00.000-07:00

Halloween 1987.

Halloween 2011.

Things that have stayed the same:
1. My costume.
2. My haircut.
3. My mouth to body ratio.
(You know those wax lips people handout at Halloween? When I was a kid I legitimately thought they were modeled after my mouth/didn't get what was so funny about them, because on me they looked "normal".).

if this isn't what aunts are for, then i'm at a loss.

2011-10-23T14:55:00.000-07:00

I stopped by Burger King with Lu in the car.

FOR THE RECORD, I was getting myself an unhealthy dinner, not her. She'd already eaten. See, I only model bad eating habits. I don't promote them. But even if I did, well that's what Aunts are for. For example, when I was nine and my aunt was 24, she shoved 36 marshmallows in my mouth as an "experiment" for "science". By the time you get to about 20, the marshmallows start dissolving and a sugar coating forms/numbs the inside of your mouth. Incidentally, I threw up all over my grandparents kitchen. Now that is modeling and perpetuating bad eating habits.

Also, I see I've digressed from my original point.
Lu was in the car when I was at Burger King so obviously we got a BK crown for her to wear. I mean, obviously.

She was stunning in her crown.

OK I see by this picture that I may (may) have negated my whole eating habits paragraph. So what, maybe I did let her have a fry or two but who's counting? Off my back. She's in footy pajamas and a BK crown. You try saying no.

So she's wearing the crown and I say "Lu, you look like a princess".
She says "No Sister. Cuz if I was a princess, I'd haves a pretty dress. So I'z not a princess."

Oh. Well. I can change that.
One quick trip to Ross and a swing by target, and we can go ahead and cross that life problem off her list.

"Lucy. Don't you run into the street."
Response: That face.

i can't really ask for more.

2011-10-13T19:01:00.000-07:00

Ok so maybe sometimes I want to divorce him.
I mean, who wouldn't when he makes things like homemade maps? And he has so many other past offenses that really, it's not like I'm just jumping off the deep end here when I said I wanted out the other day.

The ships wheel. Which I'm sorry to say is still on our banister despite my best efforts. I've tried NUMEROUS times to take it down and I always end up yelled at. Not by Chuck. By everyone else. Namely, my girlfriends and Lucy - who even at 2 is already learning to side with Chuck.

The white pants incident of Ought-9. I don't need to go into much detail here.

And anytime he makes this face. I hate this face. It's so sappy and creepy. Plus he always does weird things like, oh I don't know, stand with a lighted candle and wait for me to walk by. He stands like this in the kitchen, for god knows how long and just waits for a reaction. I'm working sooooo hard on not giving him when.

But then sometimes he makes all the other things at least a little ok, tolerable and somewhat redeems himself.

We made calzones tonight - love of my life - and Chuck is in charge of folding the calzones and making the nice edges. Charles in Charge (of our baked Italians goods and our folding). Sing it with me.

Tonight, he went above and beyond and surprised me with a monogramed calzone - monograms made by carefully positioned pieces of grated cheese.

That is why we are perfect together.
He thinks of this crap.
And I think it's funny.

And that's our kind of love.
(Thank God we found each other when our ages still ended in teen because we never would've had a chance in the real world trying to date real people.)

pretty typical reason to hate your husband.

2011-10-10T19:45:00.000-07:00

This is the kind of thing Chuck does that just makes me want a divorce.
OK. That might be a slight hyperbole. OR not far enough. Tough. To. Tell.

I can't explain what exactly it is about this that makes me hate him, but I know I don't like it.

Lemme set this up.

I can barely read a map. Let's get that out there right away. I mean, really. I think compasses are witch craft, I don't understand basic direction or coordinates and, swear to Zach Morris, just a few hours ago I incorrectly identified north vs south bound traffic on Google Maps. That's my life. Whatever. Somehow I do just fine and I always cushion my drive time with a few "whoopsie daisy" minutes. My life.

Here's why I hate him.
I found this is his car:

First instinct: He was trying to draw a portrait of someone or something with his eyes closed like we've all done a time or two. Or 152 in LA/SS in 7th grade.

Second instinct: Lucy had drawn him a picture. In which case, it's amazing and beautiful and should be put in a museum.

Nope.

This is Chuck's hand drawn map to a hiking spot.
See, there's no road signs, just turn offs and seriously? His map reading skills are so far advanced from mine that he thinks it actually makes sense to just draw his own map.And then he has the audacity to use it.

I just hate when he does smart crap like this.
Like, again, I can't tell northbound on a map, but he can read, make, and use one successfully, no road signs necessary.

Actually, I think it's his compass on the bottom that I find most offensive.
Really, really offensive.

i didn't get to ride a pony today.

2011-10-09T20:35:00.000-07:00

Well, well, well, looks who's blogging? Maybe someone else should take this thing over since apparently I am not doing a very good job of it any more. If I was giving myself a report card for this blog, I'd probably comment on "focus issues" and "lack of effort".
Fall resolution: drink more apple cider/blog more. Keepin' it simple and real around here.

We went to the pumpkin patch today. Obviously. It's part of the October bi-laws. Yeah, it's a little early - we're more last minute pumpkin getters - but a) the month is super busy b) Lucy was super ready.

As in sprinting to the barn yelling "I gun' get me a pumpkin."
Well ok.
ps by the end of the day PK have bought us $50 in pumpkins. We're usually grocery store pumpkin-buyers where pumpkins are what? 17-cents a pound or $3.99 each? I didn't realize pumpkin patch pumpkins were basically off the runway couture. Lesson learned.

But even with all her pumpkin talk. "I want this" "I want that" when we actually got out to the pumpkin purgatory, someone was only interested in gourds, naturally referred to as "corn". Which is a big improvement over last year when the pumpkins were big "apples". Baby steps.

Super glad to know we trekked through the mud when we could have bought her a summer squash from the produce section and she'd have been just as happy. Second lesson learned.

ALSO, big disappointment. Lucy got to ride a pony at the Pumpkin Patch and they said I was too big. I asked and I was age-discriminated against. Calling the ACLU tomorrow. This is the most important part of the post, hence, the entire post is titled in reference to it and not in reference to the lovely family outing. Please. FYI they cost $125 to rent two ponies or horses for an hour. How to you spell "Susie's 29th Birthday party"? I spell it P-O-N-Y. Holla.

Oh, regarding the hat. Yeah, so I may have watched a few too many reruns of The Rachel Zoe project on Saturday and that's what will happen. Watch responsibly.

Shelley did not watch responsibly either. For the record, we didn't plan to both wear hats but we did both wear them as a direct result of Rachel Zoe overdose. So major. We love a good knit moment.

How killer is that hoodie that I got Lucy? How creepy is that picture?

Super excited happy face. Mouth = size of pumpkin. I think a pumpkin is like finding a husband, or maybe more so a wedding dress. You just know. It's an emotional moment for me every year.

Chuck said this was the Sir Mix Alot pumpkin.
"36-24-36 - only if she's 5'3"

Lucy's little pumpkin. "It's small like me."

Swinging take one.

Swinging take two and there goes the boot. Whoopsee daisies.

2003 was last year, right?

2011-09-26T19:44:00.000-07:00

Eight years ago (obviously, when we were 12), we decided to go to Palm Springs for college spring break. Those margaritas are for sure virgin because we were all minors. That picture is definitely taken on film. Most everything we're wearing is a combination of Abercrombie and American Eagle. We thought we were so fabulous in this picture, still do.

Eight years, four weddings, one baby, and a Libby later (don't tell the husbands but Libby was a way better addition than any of them), we decided it was time to go back. Also, Emy's getting married and that was an acceptable excuse to use.

I really hope that you have best friends.
Because there's really nothing else like it.

That's about all I have to say about that.
I love them so much. They bring so much happiness to my life. It would have been a lonely decade without them.

why i get to have an iphone and he doesn't.

2011-09-18T13:57:00.000-07:00

I feel like you need a full visual of me right now.

Sweatpants. T-shirt. Glasses. No shower. No real food has been consumed today other than one confetti cupcake, a handful of peanut M&Ms and a deeeelicious mug of hot chocolate. BTDub, it's 1:55 p.m. I'm considering a move to shower-land, but I feel like I still have some laze left in me. I mean, let's not rush things.

Up until about an hour ago, Chuck was joining me in my cleanliness and productivity strike, but he's now defected to the golf course. I hate him.

Back in the good old days, like 11:30 am, when Chuck was being a part of my life, sitting on the couch beside me, and living up to his "to have and to hold" oath, he took my phone, asked for my App Store password and said "I need it because."

Things I know in my life:
1. I will never like pickles or tomatoes.
2. I don't look good, ever, in cropped, capri, or anything less than full length pants.
3. Chuck does nothing for "because". Chuck is calculating. There is no because.

He handed me back my phone, said "point it back toward me". Ok.
As I was grabbing the phone, turning it, and beginning to look through it, Chuck (in an incredibly well choreographed move - which begs the question "How long had you been planning this?") pressed play on a youtube video.

I saw this.

As "Take On Me" was playing in the background.
Really? I mean, seriously? Tell me you understand what's going on here. He downloaded a photo app that made him look like a sketch and tried to recreate the Aha video. He only spent like 5 minutes on this but still I feel like this is kind of ridiculous.

Chuck.
(naturally trying to pull me into the phone with him)

Video.

He's a winner.

[photo shoot] the d family.

2011-09-01T19:12:00.000-07:00

Somehow, it's September.I don't get it. I just had my birthday in March. Right? Just had it. I just don't get where summer went and I don't like it one bit.

But fall does mean more and more photo shoots as families get ready for the Holidays, and that, that I can't complain about. Since mid August I've been booked with photo shoots through mid October. I don't know how this happened but I feel so blessed to have so many supportive people in my life (and people willing to pass my name on).

This is The D Family.
It was a quick little session - under an hour. Why so short? Well, because two year old Brinnley went on a nap strike that day, so well, we were on borrowed time. Oh and it was after 7 pm. So, incredibly borrowed time.

Last summer, Brinnley was my second paid photo gig. It was her first birthday party, I was terrified to be there taking pictures, but she was a doll.

I thought she couldn't get any cuter.

When her Mom, Gina, emailed me about some photos, and added that their had been an addition to the family since last year, I jumped at the chance.

Here's The D Family.
Brinnley, 2; Luke, 6 week
Snoqualmie Ridge

the friendship mating ritual.

2011-08-31T17:07:00.000-07:00

In case you haven't had a big dose of stupidly cute today, allow me. And I'm talking about really cute. Almost offensively cute.

See, when we went up to my Aunt and Uncle's for grandpa's day, it gave Lucy and her third cousin Isabela yet another chance to play together. They've met twice before, but apparently, the third date is the one where you buy best friend necklaces at Clair's because these two. Holy, wow. They are like peas and carrots now.

As per the universal code of two kids meeting, we played shy girls at first, but both desperately wanted to swim in the lake.

No one was really going to make much of a move without solid backing from some sort of an adult figure. Isabela, naturally, chose her Dad. Lucy, of course, chose Bubba.

This meant both Chuck and Kyle had the pleasure of swimming with their families watching on the dock. I mean, lucky...

Once we had adequate moral support in the water, it was time for the first event in the friendship mating ritual: showing off.

Lucy showed her skills with an impressive jump off the deck that, given the choice, I wouldn't have done. She, well, she chose to demonstrate what an awesome friend she'd be with her diving skills. Obviously.

Isabela chose her "surfing" skills which were both impressive and adorable. Clearly, she was demonstrating to Lucy that she was trustworthy, steadfast, and wise beyond her years.

There was a transition from lake to hot tub and both girls anxiously awaited to see if their friendship would take flight.

Pins and needles, people. Pins and needles.

Each played the "adorable" card.
Each executed the move flawlessly.

And then we had BFF lift off.

It only snowballed from there. The shear adorable-ness of it all was hard to swallow.
I mean, how cute are they?

If you were in need of a reminder that things can be right with the world, well. Here it is. Because these faces make everything better. And their hair. To die for.

Oh and chew on this face for an extra dose of cute.

Cuteness level: Ridiculous.

we have a 2% success rate here.

2011-08-30T20:53:00.000-07:00

So, we had a little gathering in grandpa's honor on Sunday. Nothing much - just the whole family coming together. A miracle in and of itself.

I won't even try to remember when the last time was all six of us cousins were in the same room together. It used to be every holiday, birthday, and days in between, but when you grow up and move out of the "we travel in one car because we live in one house" phase, it get's hard.

Wait! No. I can answer this. I know when we were last together. Cousin Kyle's wedding in 2005. Bam. I am so good at this game. Well, I think that's right. I'm 70/30. If not, I can expect a lengthy comment from my brother with the correct answer.

Anyways.

Seeings how we hadn't been together as one big extended family in YEARS, Fe said this was the only time pictures at a "funeral" were acceptable. Because really, it wasn't a funeral so much as a celebratory gathering. Which is what we were going for and what we nailed.

Obviously with everyone together we decided to take a few family pictures. I mean it is once in a blue moon when my entire family is in a room together. It's an ever bluer moon when there's someone else there to take the picture.

Oh but don't worry. It went really well. So well, it deserved it's own blog post.
I hope you're picking up on my sarcasm, I'm laying it on pretty thick.

Here are the only "usable" pictures. Out of 308. 308 people. Our odds here are about as good as Kim Kardashian's marriage. Reeeeally.

Shell and Me with cousin Kyle's wife Andrea. The Girls.

The relatives: Billy (whose real name is apparently Tyler), Bryant, Uncle Randy, Aunt Shawn, Andrea, Kyle, Isabela and baby Leo. Uncle Randy is Mom's big brother.

See. Siblings.

My siblings. Minus Chuck, obviously.

If she doesn't have her fingers in her mouth, then it's not a family pic. Fingers certify authenticity.

See. It's a miracle. We can lock it up.
For about 5 minutes. I know this because how many pictures are there? 6. Again 6 out of 308. Ok. Compare that to the "unusable" pictures. The "really, this is who I'm related to" group. The "seriously people" pictures.

In case you're curious, that would be Chuck and Eric's prom picture.

uh huh.

And that's my family.

for my grandpa.

2011-08-29T22:20:00.000-07:00

I feel like this is going to come across a little awkward sounding, maybe a little abrupt at first, but oh well.

My grandpa died last week. We're doing OK. I promise. He was my Mom's Dad, he was my last remaining grandparent, and he was my favorite. I was his Susie-Love and that was that.

It wasn't a sudden thing, but it still was. You know how that is.

We decided that rushing a funeral or a service didn't make much sense. We'll do something simple in the fall at the graveside, but for now, instead, all the stars magically aligned to get the entire extended family together in one place. Everyone was free Sunday. This hasn't happened since 2005. Well played Grandpa. Well played.

I have about a bazillion pictures from yesterday (Susie hyperbole translation: I took 308, cut it to 130 and edited 43). I want to share them all because even though we came together because of something so sad, we celebrated him well and we had such a great day together as one big family.

I wanted to post everything tonight. Show every picture and tell every story from yesterday. But it doesn't work that way. You can't say "someone I loved died, look how funny Lucy was" in the same post. It just doesn't work. Trust me. I've been typing for about an hour now and I have no way to make this work.

So. Tomorrow and maybe Wednesday depending on how things come together tomorrow, I've got some great pictures and stories to share which I know Grandpa would've loved.

Tonight. It's the hard facts.
My grandpa died last Tuesday and I already miss him.

I'm decorating him with, I believe, raisins. I'd need a Fe confirmation on that, but it's too late to call.

He made me stilts. Actually, multiple pairs. This was our first prototype. They were bomb (.com).

only someone brave or exhausted would give their camera to a lucy.

2011-08-14T22:23:00.000-07:00

I'll admit that I'm pretty loosey goosey with the use of my camera - I mean, who uses my camera. I'm pretty trusting. I'll let just about anyone play around with it. I know it's solid and I don't know - I just trust the people in my life. And by people, I'm mostly talking about my students, my kids. Yes, I let first graders handle my big DSLR and take pictures.

What? I trust them. And they take some pretty bomb pictures (why yes, I did just use bomb in a sentence - would you like me to use hella next?). Some of my favorite pictures have been taken by some of my favorite people.

So, about the time that we had exhausted most of our "play" options with Lucy during vacation purgatory (the hours between check out and take off), I decided that if six year olds could take pictures with my big camera, who's to say Lucy can't?

Ok, so yeah, she's two. And yeah, the kids I've let handle the camera are at least of school age, but Lucy has literally spent her entire life watching me take pictures. She's a built in intern. And lately, she's been really interested in my picture taking.

"Lemme see it." "Oh that a good one." "Oooh, that one is cute!" "Look at little Lucy!"

So, after she'd finished with the etch-a-sketch and the Magna Doodle, I handed over the DSLR. That sounds like a natural progression, right?

I gave her a pretty quick lesson. Look through the viewfinder (interesting concept when using the DSLR), press the silver button. She's now more proficient with a DSLR than most adults I know. What? That's a true statement.

This little life lesson started in the taxi.
Life from Lucy's persepective.

The Taxi.

And then she went on rapid fire for about 10 shots, but I like this one because of the little blue toes peaking in the bottom of the frame.

Finally, we made it to the airport. "Sister's crama" (that's what she calls it) had held her attention for about 10 minutes - exactly what I was hoping to buy us - in the taxi, and then, low and behold, she asked to play with the crama again in the airport.

Her world must look so different than ours. And I have to share the pictures because they are pretty priceless.

Oh and FYI, the reason she didn't take any pictures of her Mommy is because Shelley was off with her iPhone trying sort through the phone calls Lucy had placed when she'd grabbed Shell's cell a few moments before. God love a two year old and the wake they leave behind them.

Our first airport picture where I could really sit across from her and explain how to look through the viewfinder. "Can you see Sister's big mouth? Ok. Take a picture."

Taking a picture of her taking a picture. Classic.

I think she's probably the next Annie Leibovitz, but that's just me.

Oh, and the next picture. I need to be honest that I took this picture because, well. You'll see why. Basically, Lucy had an "accident" during her plane ride long nap, refused to put on her Hawaiian dress as a change of outfit and insisted that she exit the plane dressed as you'll see below.

Diaper. Flip flops. Coat.

Win. Win. Win.
(note the look of pride and obvious strut.)

the end of vacation. big fat ugh.

2011-08-13T10:42:00.000-07:00

Today is our last morning here.

We're flying out this afternoon - I'm already a nervous wreck and trying to invent reasons to stay. I don't travel well (you know this) and, without Chuck to explain every bump, screech, and turn, I no like. But anyways, we've talked enough about my "issues".

Last night, we celebrated our girls trip by getting a little fancied up and heading to a real dinner. I say "real dinner" because with Lucy in tow, going to "real restaurants" isn't the easiest. So, usually you go to Hawaii to sample the local fair, we went to Hawaii and had Outback, McDonald's, and Round Table Pizza. Ya, so, we didn't really get the Hawaiian cuisine experience, but who cares? We had a Lu to think about.

But yesterday, we decided to give it a go.
It was our final night, we wanted to go a little crazy. So, we threw on our matching dresses (you read that right, read it again matching dresses) and went for sushi.

Matching dresses.
Aren't we pretty fabulous?
Yes, we planned that.

The sushi restaurant was actually a great find because they put all the real patrons downstairs and all the families with little kids upstairs. It was a little wild up there, but we loved it.

Especially Lu because she could be at dinner uncensored and without apology.
And about the time she got real comfortable, she started talking about babies and how they have "poop faces".

Say, what?
We're gonna need to see what you're talking about.

This.

This is what we got. And this is what we got for the rest of dinner. It was amazing. Poop faces. I didn't realize the two year old crowd could understand something as sophisticated as the poop face, but there you have it.

And that'll about wrap it up for our Hawaiian vacation. A few last minute pictures that, actually, Shelley requested to have posted. Sounds bueno to me.

Back to Pacific Standard Time and real life. Ugh.

this is all i got.

2011-08-12T12:15:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I really don't have like a big story to tell you today, but I have some epic pictures from our adventures yesterday. It's going to be pictures and captions today. I hope this works because it's a lot easier for me than to write it all out in story form (don't I just sound like Miss Author, right.) and it's pool time so you get what you get.

Here goes.

I think you need to see this picture to understand the full visual of me in Hawaii. I brought a visor to where in the sun, but Fe jacked it the first day because visors are easier for her to wear on her little Fe head. So, I ended up with Shelley's trucker hat. Combine that (which Ashton Kutcher called and said 2002 wants back) and the aviators, Shelley says I'm 'bout ready for Summer Jam 2012. Also, I stole Lucy's monkey floaty. That went over real well.

She is making Macaroni and Tees. Obviously.

Shelley's cat hasn't come home since Sunday. PK's been keeping vigil at her house waiting for Betty to come home, but no joy. Naturally, Shelley is pouring one out here for her home cat.

No caption necessary. This is just plain adorable.

Splashing. A favorite pastime.

Lucy pretty much adores Monkey.

Except, when he (her words) "hits me". This is him being put in timeout for allegedly hitting Lucy.

She then marched him (with complete conviction) to the water for his time out.

She then sat there and supervised his timeout until he'd served his time.

Fe is taking full advantage of Grandmotherhood and using Lucy as a motor to her air mattress.

Lucy was also a huge air mattress fan. Please to note the folded hands.

Then she begged to be tipped over into the water (told you, no respect. She wants to be dunked) and Shelley was only to happy to oblige.

And that is her coming out of the water. No crying. No tears. Shouldn't she be distraught? Nope. No respect for water.

In the afternoon, we moved to the pool. Apparently, we moved the entire hotel room to the pool with us. We do not travel lightly evidently.

Lucy had her first VIRGIN daiquiri. Which is still my favorite drink in Hawaii. Virgin, because I'm lame. She destroyed it in about 3 seconds.

Miss No Fear for Water kept begging to go higher and higher. There she go.

Then, a splashing war started and let me tell you something. She splashes with impressive force. Really impressive.

So we splashed back and she swam away from us say "I no play with you guys."

Shelley and I died laughing because it was an empty threat.

Empty threat. She ignored us, until she wanted to go higher again, then look who came crawling back to play.

the pool routine.

2011-08-10T16:43:00.000-07:00

Well, it's official. Our routine, that is. We've settled into a nice little schedule whilst on va-cay (side note: I really detest when people call it a va-cay. It's on my "list" right next to moist, supper, and anything ending in -licious. FYI.)

So, our rough, rough routine is McDonald's breakfast (I know, whatever, judgy wudgy was a bear), beach in the morning, lunch, nap time, and pool time. We loves us some pool time.

Shelley and I are power tanners. Always have been, always will be. We take the 1 - 3 pm time slot very seriously. Shelley's actually on a business call right now and I'm typing during our peak tanning hours. I could kill her for this, but it is what it is.

Yesterday, we went and got our power tan on during Lucy's nap knowing full good and well that once Lucy joined us at the pool, power tanning would be a thing of the past, something we discuss in memoriam ..."remember how great tanning was?" God love it.

And yeah, we were right. She wanted none stop attention in the pool. And the thing with Lucy is, well. On dry land, you might call a kid a "runner". They run away from you constantly. That's not Lucy. Except in a pool. Then she's a runner because "I can swim. I real good at it. I do it all da'time."

I'll poke a few holes in her argument:
1. You can shimmy in the water with a flotation device keeping you alive. Without, you sink to the bottom like a lead weight.
2. You are not real good at it. Michael Phelps is real good at it. I'll give you a point for being good at it for your age, but babe, you gotta add the qualifier to the end of that statement.
3. You do it enough. 60 minutes worth of lessons a week does not count as all da'time. With our Seattle summer, you've gone swimming a whole 3 other times outside of lessons.

She literally cannot be left alone anywhere near water. Not that other children should be, but at least most other children have a healthy fear of the water. Lucy cannon balled into the pool at her first swim lesson. That was our first clue.

So, Bubba bought her a floaty device to take with to Hawaii to help with her swim in the pool and keep things relatively safe.

We call it the monster.
You can decide if I'm talking about Lucy or the floaty.
I kid.

She's big at jumping in.

Swimming on her back.
(I think it looks like Fe is playing "light as a feather, stiff as a board" with her - just my opinion).

And loves general goofing around and "swimming" (term used loosely) to the three of us.

I'd had about enough and (win) it's not my kid, so I got to go back and lay down for another round of power tanning. It was glorious. I'm almost through with The Help (amazing) and was getting my chocolate covered raisin on when Lucy came out of the pool and said she needed me because she wanted to go in the deep end.

That might sound weird to you. I mean, why can't Shelley take her to the deep end? It sounded, mmm, 'bout right to me.

Shelley can swim. She can. But we'll use the term loosely as well with her. Apparently, like mother like daughter, except Shelley knows her limitations and abides by them. Lucy. Not so much.

Shelley is just not a fan of any part of the pool where she can't touch the bottom. Staying afloat is not one of her strong suits in life. And, add in the fact that she needs to be keeping Lucy afloat... Well, she needed reinforcements and she needed them from someone who can swim. And I can. I know. I'm like an onion. Layer by layer, you're getting to know me. I'm actually pretty solid at swimming.

So, Shelley held on to Lucy, and I held on to Shelley.

Then I shoved her under because she's vulnerable in the pool. On dry land, she dwarfs me. In a pool, I can take her. So I did. Hands. Tied.

Once we'd had enough, I found that I'd lost both my towel and my chair to this little nugget:

Digging for cheetos and trying to find the "right one". Like she only eats just one. You mean the right one for that moment in time.

Check out those prune feet?
That's when you know you've had a great day in Hawaii.

OR when you're so tired, holding Coat isn't enough.

You need to wear him if you're going to get by.

jealous? probably.

2011-08-09T20:48:00.000-07:00

Aloha.

Oh that's right. We'z in Hawaii.

Well, not a total "we'z" because this be a girl's vacation (and I have evidently thrown conventional grammar/English out the window).

Apparently, given the chance, I will drop Chuck in a hot second. Fe, Shelley, Lu and I flew the coop yesterday heading for Waikiki. Lucy was, at first, a little confused as to why Dad-Dad and Bubba were not allowed to join us. She gradually caught onto the concept and, right as we left, told Dad-Dad "Sorry yous can't come cuz yous not a big girl. When yous grow up and become a big girl, yous can come on girl's baycashun too." Dad-Dad's not holding his breath.

We took a late flight in last night and we're here for the week. Basically this is my warning that if our adventures on vacation without adult supervision (ie: Chuck and PK) isn't something you're into, well, then probably see you next Sunday.

So far, vacation with Lucy is about right and pretty darn typical.

And by about right, I mean we've been up since 6:15am ("I'm awake, and I'm not tired anymore!"), had ourselves a delicious McDonald's breakfast, and were at the beach by 8:45. Shockingly enough, we were the only patrons at the time. I don't know why, but we were.

Now, it's just after lunch, we've already been in the sun for 5 hours, and Lu is attempting to nap (emphasis on attempting). Shelley and I are also attempting to sneak to the pool while Fe pulls inside nap-supervision duty. Someones gotta do it. God bless her and her fair skin.

Anywho, I had a spare minute so here's some pics from today, and by today, I mean pre-lunch. I don't really like this "you being at least 3 hours ahead thing" because I can't finish my day and still write to you. Lunch time posts may be the calling card of this week.

Mahalo for your time. Wink.

Interesting life lesson today: if you have on a floaty device that does not mean you are automatically swimming. Actually finding water and not flailing on the shore like a beached whale is more challenge than you'd think...

FYI: swimming is exhausting. Also, FYI this was taken before she actually did any swimming.

Product placement. We are terrible.

Even more shameless product placement.

The goal was to take a twinsies pic, since we are in matching suits (naturally). Apparently, nuun is more important than "cheese".

And that's day one, pre-noon.

i actually did something somewhat outdoorsy.

2011-08-07T18:29:00.000-07:00

Well, I mean, don't get too excited. It's not like I willingly hiked or (God-forbid) camped. BUT this is pretty big for me.

I went inner tubing.

I know. Deep breath. OK, so it's not like it's that big a deal except that I managed to inner tube without a) whining or b) complaining. I threw on my big girl pants yesterday and simultaneously threw caution into the wind.

I would not normally inner tube. In fact, I haven't been on an inner tube for 11 years. Inner tubing involves a lot of things that I don't like. The presence of any of these items in an activity mean it's on my "non-negotiable, won't do" list. If these things are involved, odds are pretty good that it's a no-go for me. In no particular order:
1. Speed.
2. Water.
3. Cold.

Chuck says #4 on the list is "fun". He likes to say if it's fun, Susie won't try it. Whatever. I like what I like and what I like is usually safe, indoors, and involves the E! channel. My life, my body, my choices.

As you can see, innter tubing clearly falls into the "kicking and screaming" category of my life. Right next to snorkeling and skiing, which are basically death traps (right?). BUT, sadly, I completely and totally caved yesterday. And, like I said before, I went inner tubing AND (what's worse) I had a great time. Damn.

It wasn't like I had a choice.
I had to inner tube.
It was for cousin Janelle, and even though usually I can say "no" to 19 year olds (I mean, who can't?), when I look at her, I see the nine year old that I met 10 years ago and I cave. Big time.

How can I say no to that face?

We headed out on Lake Whatcom yesterday in Bellingham, and I have decided that I am a big fan of inner tubing pictures. I mean, the faces we made when tubing. HIGHlarious. Possible that it's only funny to us because we were there, it's our family, etc, etc, but I think they're fantastic.

We aren't moving yet. I'm just legitimately terrified.

You might not be sure what you're seeing in this picture, since it's not something you're probably familiar with, but that's me having fun outside. I know.

Chuck and his Uncle Jon. Could they look more alike? I mean aside from the fact that their faces are just about the same give or take a few years, but the body position, the head tilt? W.O.W. Allison genetics are not to be messed with. Good luck baby 2053.

Oh and just help us settle something, please.

I said I think the life jacket makes Chuck look skinny.

With the life jacket.

Without the life jacket.
Your thoughts.

andrea's wedding, briefly.

2011-08-05T14:47:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, I coordinated Andrea and Canyon's wedding. The wedding was fabulous - just like Andrea.

I don't have many pictures to offer as proof that I was there, but I wanted to throw some up on the blog since Andrea has been such a big blog supporter (since day one - she was like my 4th reader) and I want to show her a little blog love.

But truly, I don't have a lot. The venue is stunning and it's quite a machine - running two weddings a day with overlap. The overlap, and the fact that we were wedding number two, left me with about 90 minutes to set up Andrea's ceremony and reception. In comparison, Maggie's wedding, earlier this month, I had 4 hours for set up and I did it all before the bride was even on site. So, I had to hustle (not a bad thing - it's how it's done at that venue and it all got done), but it meant that I had just started my "chores" when pictures began. That's my excuse. Doing my job is apparently now an excuse...

Here's what I have. But I love what I have even if it's not much.

Andrea and Canyon
July 30, 2011
Newcastle Golf and Country Club

Her wedding shoes were Badgley Mischka. Her reception shoes were Vera Wang. Andrea has, what you might call, style.

i don't really know what to title this post so i've decided not to title it.

2011-08-04T15:43:00.000-07:00

My computer has died.

The horror. The horror.

My BFF Jessica texted me a few days ago and said, ever so lovingly, that I needed to blog more because she's bored. Would love to. But, it's not exactly the easiest thing since....

my screen detached from the base.

Yeah, apparently that can happen. Who knew? Really, I knew I was on borrowed time with this baby (we bought her summer 2007). This relationship, though immensely important to me and one of the loves of my life, was not long for the world.

So, basically, it's not the easiest thing to blog as of late because it's not the easiest thing to prop the screen up and work - consider yourselves blessed that I fired the old girl up today to say Hi. I'm sure you're feeling super blessed right now. Super. Blessed.

My new computer -- hip hip hooray -- comes tomorrow. Thank God (and Amazon).

So I'm all set and ready to wait for Santa in a UPS suit to bring my new love to me tomorrow (seriously, cleared my schedule, moved Jack's vet appointment - he's had a bit of the runs lately, he's fine, white couch is not - and I'm planning on garage sitting until I need to sign). It will be the highlight of my week. You can spell computer nerd/pathetic S-U-S-I-E.

But when I came home today, true story, a box was already waiting for me. Funny, because I didn't order anything prior to the new computer AND I actually know I didn't order anything (sometimes I forget and then the UPS guy really is like Santa because what he brings is - more often than not - a huge surprise). This time, I knew I hadn't ordered anything so this was a real mind bender.

This box. Well, I opened it, even though being raised during the unibomber era should've taught me better. Caution, wind. You get it.

And now, a brief intermission we'll call (back)story time: We need new knives. Badly. We didn't treat out wedding present ones with the respect they deserved and after six years of abuse, cutting a peach was a struggle. I was fine toughing it out until Christmas and putting it on "the list" but that's just me. Chuck "Worry Wart" Allison was apparently a little, um, terrified of me wielding those bad boys for even another day. Why? Great question. I don't know. I am a delight and very capable and always responsible.

I opened up my mystery box, pulled out a brand new set of knives, and on top was the packing slip with a message.

We'll file that note under "pretty typical".

Naturally, it's my Seafair present. Obviously most couples exchange gifts at Seafair. And isn't the note just lovely? What an angel. (I'll spit in his dinner tonight). (just kidding). (or not). (I haven't decided). (No, seriously, I won't because the card is HIGHlarious and super appreciated). (Also, I really like parentheses.) (FYI). (Done. Promise).

The knives are fabulous. I mean, from what I can tell in the picture on the box. Chuck researched the entire purchase on Consumer Reports, blah blah blah, not listening. I'll wait until Chuck gets home to open them because my Susie "if it can go wrong, it will go wrong" Allison radar says that I will cut myself trying to open the new knives' box with the old knives. My life is one long Murphy's Law. My job is trying to stay ahead of the game.

So there ya'go. That's your cousin (and that was a Seinfeld reference. Educate yourself if you missed it.)

[photo shoot] the c family

2011-07-21T18:41:00.000-07:00

I'll be brief.

Mainly because Lucy is over, it's getting dangerously close to bath time/nigh nigh, and hers and Bubba are playing a mean game of Hide n' Seek (he was told to count all the way to "one Mississippi" - seriously, where does she get this stuff? The streets, obviously, and by streets, I mean Child Prison.)

Anyhoo, I'm alone, I have five minutes, ergo, this is what you get.

I had a lovely little photo session a few nights ago with a lovely little family. The Mom, Sarah, is a friend from high school (we discussed the upcoming ten year reunion - RIP: my youth - for most of the session).

Her little Kaily is 17 months old and basically the bees knees. I loved her. And more, I loved that Lucy caught me editing a few pictures and would talk to Kaily during the edits. Not real Kaily, but Kaily's face in photoshop. Lucy thought she was, and I quote, a "total cutie pie." Again, where? Where is that from?

Photos from our family shoot.
Discover Park in Magnolia.

desk argument: Susie - 1, Chuck - 0

2011-07-18T21:21:00.000-07:00

I am a big fan of summer Susie projects.

Chuck tries to be a big fan of summer Susie's projects, but a lot of times these projects end up being more work for him than he'd care for - he sees summer as a sabbatical. Well, too bad because I have summers off, it's all about me, and yeah, those are my reasons, sticking too it.

Now, mind you, Chuck is a big fan of Susie projects if (if) they can be completed sans his involvement. Then, I'm free to go for it.

And I have gone for it this summer.
(with only a limited amount of Chuck help, mainly when dealing with his junk and his hoarders-like tendencies.)

We have three guest bedrooms upstairs and they were looking a little, er, sad. Well, two of them were looking sad, one of them straight up looked like a scene from Hoarders.

Hoarders.
It was the dumping ground of all things "where does this go?" when we moved in and it continued two and a half years later. I can feel you judging, but I'm fine with it. We never see this room, it's at the back of the house, out of sight, out of mind.

We also, in our defense, didn't really know what to do with this room, mainly because it was being help hostage by a massive IKEA desk that we bought in 2005 when our primary computer was the 2001 Dell Desktop that Chuck got for high school graduation from his aunt and uncle (shout out to Tom and Carol: woot woot!).

Chuck is firmly convinced that we need to keep said desk. He runs through a series of arguments everytime I bring up taking it down and craiglisting it.

Argument 1: Where are you going to do work at?
Rebuttal: We haven't done "work" at that desk since 2007. We sit with our fat butts on the couch, put a computer on our laps, and watch TV during said "work" times. Also, neither of us have jobs that require a home office. Ergo, totally invalid argument.

Argument 2: I like working at the desk.
Rebuttal: See rebuttal for Argument 1. You haven't worked there since 2007, and I'm being generous with that assessment. It's more like late 2006, but let's not get hung up on semantics. Let's get hung up on Chuck holding a freaking candle for an IKEA desk.

Argument 3: Where's the Dell Desktop supposed to live?
Rebuttal: I feel like this goes without saying, but guess what year was the last year that we used the Dell Desktop? I'll give you a hint. It rhymes with schmoothousandseven. It's 10 years old and the operating system is Windows ME (as in millennium edition). Where should it live? Not in this house.

If I haven't made it clear enough, the computer desk situation has been a wedge in our marriage for at least the last year. I decided to tackle all three bedrooms this summer and that dang desk stood in the way of me completing my transformation trifecta. I finally had to call out the big guns for removal help: Chuck's Mom. I don't play the mother-in-law card too often, but I know she has my back in RTC (resistant to change) situations. I believe without her backing, the computer desk would still stand.

Instead: Victory.

Seriously, I took a victory lap around the house in celebration. This was such a big marital win for me. Such a good moment.

In other news, Chuck is selling an IKEA Mikael desk on craigslist if anyone is interested. Mention this blog post and receive a 100% discount. I want that thing gone. Yesterday.

Ok, so the desk came down: win. It opened up the whole hoarders room, thus allowing me to turn it into my craft/wrapping/Lucy's room (seriously, she says "it her room and it so beautiful" - really, Lu, for a while that room had an extra litter box in it and you think it's so beautiful. Wait til she sees the results of my work when she's here Wednesday. It's going to blow her little baby mind.)

Here's the before and after:

Mind you, the room still isn't much. I didn't want to buy art work or paint this room (lazy), so I just threw up all the pictures that used to live in my college apartment. It works.

And I have a craft/art/wrapping station now. Not that I do crafts or wrap many gifts, but this still feels right. It's the first step in my transformation into Candy Spelling.

The other bedrooms are done and much less sad now. Actually, I like them better than the master so a master redo might be next.

I forgot to take before pics so just trust me on this first one.

I took a can of spray paint and painted every nick-nack I wasn't already using in the house white. I would marry this room if legal.

The other room also had issues: the "purple" room (named after the bedspread Fe bought in 2001). This room included a bulky TV unit and a TV that wasn't even plugged in.

It was stunning.
(It looks a little sadder than normal. I'd already taken off the pillows and they really tied the whole room together.)

Now I love this room.

And I love that the dresser is a hand-me-down from Fe. It's the first piece of furniture her and PK bought when they got married. Such a win.

I did it. I did the rooms. I have literally no idea what to do for the second half of summer vacation. Those rooms went surprisingly fast and now I'm at a loss. We'll see what else I can destroy/change/redo whilst Chuck is at work.

it's really pretty sad (or SAD) at this point.

2011-07-17T14:27:00.000-07:00

I have seasonal depression.

Let's clarify: That's a self diagnosis (I decided) and I for sure have seasonal depression (WebMD NEVER lies). Seasonal depression during December? No. Right now. Mid summer. I am and I have SAD.

The weather around here, let's just say it, has finally gotten to me. I'm going to a wedding in about an hour and bringing a jacket, possibly an umbrella, maybe a blanket and a parka. I know, that couple, they were pretty risky planning an afternoon wedding in July. Or not, because it should be LOVELY today. Lovely, I tell you.

Instead, it's 60 degrees and raining. Mid July. We had to turn the heat on in the house because it was basically at an ice box/homeless level in here.

Seattle forecast for the week, looks AMAZING.

The 6-10 day is actually more depressing.

Ok, so beggars not choosers, yeah yeah yeah, I know, but two days of 70 degree weather is not really going to cure SAD. The vitamin D content on a partly cloudy 70 degree day in Seattle just isn't going to do much for me. I'm better off popping pills from Trader Joes to get my "D". I know I should be grateful for these two glimpses, but really, they kind of tick me off. 70 degrees is May weather. It is not July weather. Boo.

I took this picture today.
It's pretty typical of every stinking jeans and a t-shirt day this summer.

No, that isn't the sky over exposed behind the tree. That's a blanket of clouds that's been raining on us all day. I'm losing my mind.

I have lived in Seattle my whole life, but this, this is the worst it's ever been. Ever.
Excuse me, but I need to go bundle up for the wedding and I'm thinking I better pull out my winter clothing box.

I'm letting out my anxiety via my art (also known as the chalk board).

there's been a death in the family. no, not really.

2011-07-11T21:07:00.000-07:00

Ok, so that might be a tad dramatic, but still.

Big Brudder Eric called me yesterday with some horrific news. You may remember that a few months back Eric took me on an all twilight tour through his little town and it was the highlight of my 2011. Seriously. That was February. Nothing else has even come close. 2011 is not bringing it, fyi.

Well, it seems the bad vampires came back to Oregon over the weekend and burned down the Twilight prom location. Gasp. Shutter. The horror, the horror.

Ok, so maybe the vampires didn't do it so much as the electrical did, but IRregardless, it's gone and I feel a piece of Edward has died with it.

I am counting my lucky stars that at least Eddie and I got to share a dance on that hollowed Rob-touched ground before this tragedy.

I really don't feel like I'm being that dramatic.

maggie's wedding.

2011-07-10T20:36:00.000-07:00

Last night was epic.
Epic, I tell you. So epic, I have had 2 naps today, watched two Disney movies (own it), and am popping Extra Strength Tylenol like they're Skittles. Don't judge me. Or at least, don't just me for what you think I'm referring to.

I am literally hungover from exhaustion.
Yes, that's possible. If you've never experienced it, then maybe you should try coordinating a wedding and spend 16 hours making sure the plans someone's made since they were five come to life. It's a little bit of pressure.

Seriously though, I had 7 waters (on the rocks) last night. I live on the edge.

The wedding was for Maggie and Kris.
I'm coordinating three weddings in the coming weeks and this was the first in my summer trifecta. One down, baby. (Remember, weddings are my summer job - because teaching isn't quite exhausting enough....)

It was a fabulous day for Maggie and Kris.
It was a fabulous day for their family and friends.
It was a heckuva party.

Truth be told, I'm bouts to blow you up with pictures. Why? Because my friends want to see them and this is an easier platform than facebook. I'm so exhausted right now I don't even care if you are annoyed by this or irrited with me for this. It is what it is. And it's happening.

Happily Ever After.

the definition of hot mess.

2011-07-08T09:52:00.000-07:00

I feel like we need to define the term Hot Mess.

And that's the definition. Hot Mess.

Someone found my eye shadow palette, a make up bag, and went to town. On the plus side, this was the first time she's ever correctly (well, closely) placed the make up near, about, around it's intended spot. Usually, we get eye shadow on the lips and bronzer on the eyes.

Actually, there may have been a little eye shadow lips because that would explain the blue tint my pint lip gloss has taken. Come to think.

She's fabulous.

And she's a Hot Mess.
Love.

my husband and toddlers: both entertained by an empty box.

2011-07-07T11:18:00.000-07:00

Swear to whatever you want me to swear to, he did not know I was taking this picture when I snapped it. He was too busy "playing" with his "toys". I caught him literally in the act. This is not normal. NOT NORMAL.

Let me explain.

About a month ago Chuck and I were perusing a National Geographic. I feel like I need to give a reason why we were reading a National Geographic together, but I have none. I think it fits. I mean, obviously we would be reading a National Geographic together. Peas and Carrots.

In said National Geographic was an article on Aberlardo Morrell. In the hierarchy of things that drive me nuts about Chuck is his bottomless well of knowledge and trivia. He always knows something about everything. Naturally, he'd heard of Aberlardo Morrell and his camera obscura.

A camera what?

Again, Chuck knew all about this. Why? Why would you know about something like this? A) he's not even "into" photography B) WHY????

I then, of course, was blessed with a brief lesson on camera obscuras. (Please tell me know you don't know what this is, because if everyone else does, and just I didn't. Die. I'll just die.) A camera obscura uses some of the same principles as a pinhole camera. You take a box (OR an entire room), make it completely pitch black, and allow a tiny hole of light. On the opposite wall, the image from outside will be displayed, upside down, with color and perspective still in tact.

If we're being honest here, and I hope we are, I still don't really get it (I do get it, I just don't want to get it), and am putting it in my "I don't want to know" box along with compasses and wind socks. I'm not stubborn, I just like what I like and I want to know what I want to know. Anything else, meh.

That guy in the National Geographic article, he makes entire rooms into camera obscuras, then sets up a real camera inside the room to capture the image that is being projected on the wall. The shutter speed is measured in hours to capture these images.

See?

Camera obscura, all by Aberlardo Morrell.

I was fine to leave it at reading the article.
Chuck decided to make one.

This was great, because it's not like I was rushing around cleaning, doing laundry, and cooking all the while not knowing hat he was "playing" in the garage. Perfect timing for me and my life (which is what we're all about, FYI.)

He took a box.

Made a head hole.

Made a pinhole (the lens, if you will).

And wrapped a towel around his neck to block the light completely / make him Captain Obscura.

Then he tried to juggle the box on his head, dancing around the kitchen, to see outside upside down. I did not try out the camera obscura. I don't like it. I don't want to like it (more important). Pass. I am the stubbornest butt head you'll ever meet.

ps. This is not the first camera obscura he's made. I think that's important to note. His last one was in the middle school era of his life. Looks like he's done a lot of maturing since then.
Camera obscura. More like "look at the obscura things that happen at my house." That's about right.

a group parenting win/fail.

2011-07-05T11:57:00.000-07:00

Happy July 5th - hoping your house is still standing and your hand isn't charred. I think the American Dream is making it through the 4th with 10 fingers and 10 toes. But that's just my opinion.

We made it through the fourth safe and sound. We made it through the fourth with Lucy safe and sound. Hallelujah.

This was our first fourth with Lucy. We made the most of it.
Making the most of it for Chuck meant spending about one mortgage payment on fireworks. I kid. Or not. If you see us pan handling in Seattle with a box of Roman Candles, you'll know.

Lucy was too young last summer to remember fireworks. This was all brand new to her. We were going to make it magical.

Problem is, we may (may) not have quite instilled the proper amount of respect and fear for fireworks that's necessary in little ones. In our efforts to make it "fun" and hype our fireworks, we made fireworks seem cool and accessible and something all the kids are playing with.

Yeah, not quite the lesson we should have been going for.

By the end of the evening, Lu was calling them her "toys". Yes, that's exactly what you want a kid to think: that fireworks are toys. After they'd light off, she'd try to run into the street to get her toys - what smoldering ashes were left of them. She asked Bubba repeatedly for "more toys" and told him "Bubba, I gunna help you with my toys" (lucky him). Toys. We're going to have to work on our definition of "toys".

Basically, she had a great time.
As for the rest of us, group parenting win for her having a fun time.
Group parenting fail for not instilling any sort of "scare" of fireworks in her.

Next year, we'll go for the lecture on danger, and fire, and explosives, and all that stuff. It is what it is.

A little bit of a hot mess on the fourth. Overall without a shirt and a chocolate face.

Running through the sprinklers with Shelley naked. She could have done this all day.

After each sparkler ended, "I get another" until we were out. That face. Similar to the one that we'll get when we have the Santa talk.

She's a delicate beauty.
(Ps. This is what I get when I say "Look up and smile!!"

Have I mentioned that she loved the sparklers?

What was that I said about hot mess? Double it for this picture.

Happy Fourth of July!!!

it's been the blink of an eye.

2011-07-02T08:43:00.000-07:00

Everyone has those few favorite pictures.
And when you narrow it down, there's a few favorites with your favorite that stand out so high above the rest why bother taking new pictures?

This is Chuck and Me on our first date (Valentine's Day to McDonald's). We look like we're 12. All my make up is from Covergirl. It's fabulous.

Favorite wedding picture is up for debate.

His favorite is our first look. Something about still remembering how beautiful I looked that day, and yada yada yada I stopped paying attention.

Mine is this one at sunset. I was so truly happy when this picture was taken and feeling so loved by all our family and friends. Our wedding was perfect.

This one because no picture has ever summed up the two of us quite as well. Neither of us knew the face the other was making until Chuck's BFF (yep) Paul handed me back the camera.

And this one. Probably the all time favorite because this one "started it all". What you can't see in this picture is "secret hand holding". We were 18 and at a college volleyball game. We were secretly holding hands, hoping our friends wouldn't notice, and for the first time realizing we "like liked" each other. One friend noticed - Christie - and she snapped this picture while trying not to wet herself from laughing at the two of us. I love that she captured this first moment in our relationship.

I love pictures that mean more than you can tell by just looking at them.
But more important is the relationship in the picture that means more than you can tell just by looking at it.

Happy 6th Anniversary!

xoxo,

Missy.

(yes, that's what Chuck calls me. Own it.)

how that flight went.

2011-07-01T08:30:00.000-07:00

Don't worry, people. I made it home safe. I mean, we made it home safe. I mean really, you were mostly concerned about me having a heart attack on the plane - Chuck, we all know, can handle himself just fine.

It wasn't my favorite flight.
It also wasn't the worst flight.

Actually, this flight was a pretty good demonstration of what flying with Chuck is like.

We were delayed leaving Baltimore - thunderstorms in Denver (where we were taking a connecting flight to Seattle). Now, I have spent the last 10 years with pilots. I like to say I grew up around them. It was a treat. Or something. My understanding is that you don't really want to fly near those storm things. Apparently, what they meant was "through" them. Going around them was just fine. Oh good. Thanks for clearing that up.

The pilots came on and did my most hated thing ever. They talked about "issues" and "problems" and I didn't want to hear about that. I want to hear that butterflies are going to affix themselves to the wings and bring us down safely. Other than that, spare me.

Apparently, the thunderstorms had closed in.
Apparently, it was going to be a "bumpy" landing and the flight attendants needed to be seated a-sap. I do not like this. I like my flight attendants walking around normal and happy so I know everything is normal and happy.

And this is when having Chuck around actually comes in handy.
First, I had resigned myself to jumping from the plane and/or assuming crash position. I figured we were doomed. Evidently, I was slightly overreacting. I felt I was reacting appropriately. I don't really have a history of overreacting, so...

Chuck continued his "stance" that everything was fine. I said that he was a liar and didn't know what he was talking about.

Well, see, when Chuck was an airline pilot, he used to fly into Denver. Hence, he may, slightly, know what he is talking about. It pains me to admit this.

I may have been a little closed off.
I may have not wanted to buy what Chuck was selling.
I may have been a tad stubborn. Me? Never.

I told you I'm a treat to fly with.

Chuck had no choice. He started to draw. If I wouldn't listen, then he would force me to look at what the situation was, rather than continue revising my will.

And here is the diagram.

Chuck drew the terminals, the runways, the approaches, and our flight path. That's a little thunder cloud showing where we should have landed and the plane swinging around to another runway that is a-ok and storm free.

I was then told, "we will turn right twice and then we'll be landing."

I hate when he'd right.

Not only was that exactly the runway we used for landing, but it was two right turns and straight on 'til morning (or something like that).

And we didn't die. And it wasn't that bumpy.
We flew around the thunderstorms and apparently that is ok. Who knew?

Oh that would be Chuck.
Because he's always right. I hate that he's always right.
Oh and I still hate flying. FYI.