A SNOW ANGEL

It is with a twinge of regret that I'm going to inform you of something I've recently become aware of.

The Princess is evolving into something brighter and sweeter and much more regal than a Princess.

She is becoming an angel.

She'd glow with glory if she read those words.

Luckily she doesn't check my blog so her humility will remain intact for the next six years (No - that's not when she'll start checking my blog. It's when she turns twelve.)

She is becoming less royal and commanding and more contemplative and thoughtful.

She plays dress-up a very little less and wants to help a very little more.

She'd rather "decorate" her room and play house than be a fairy in a fantasy land.

She still walks around with her parasol and crown, but, and my eyes water up at the thought of it, the bounce in her click-clack shoed step is not quite so high as it was before.

It's a subtle change only a mother would recognize but it's there nevertheless.

Thank heavens The Pixie has discovered purple tutu's, or what would become of our dress-up bin next year? For that is how long I anticipate this change will be drawn out to.

There we are though, an angel where a princess once stood. And lest I grow too weepy I will now tell you something less than angelic my Princess just told me.

"Mom, I need a stocking for tomorrow night."

We are very unorthodox Christmas Eve-ers. After eleven years of marriage and three children, we only own unassigned stockings which are designated owners the day before the big event.

"OK Princess, you can choose from any of these."

"Anyone? And Santa will know which is for me?"

"Yes, you can choose anyone of those for tomorrow night."

She walked away with the pile and shortly came back.

"What did you choose?"

"The angel one."

"Really? And why is that?"

"Because you call me your angel."

I smile...I'm no dumby. That stocking is the biggest one in the pile.

Apparently she's no dumby too, "And I also chose that one because it's the one I could almost fit my head into."

Well, princess or angel, at least she'll always be my daughter 'cause that's how I choose my stocking too.

A WINTER WONDERLAND

It started a week ago but I was too busy to let you know how we were faring the storm. Oh yes - we're living in a winter wonderland.

A winter land where nothing is open and the roads aren't cleared and you're left to wonder, "What will I do with these children all day?" For seven days in a row.

A winter land where hot cocoa is drunk like water and peanut brittle is for lunch and you're left to wonder, "Can I get away with English Toffee and short bread for dinner...again?"

A winter land where Daddies home from work sled and slide down the street with their little bugs and you're left to wonder, "Am I a bad mom for not wanting to go out there with them? Or a good mom because every time they come back in I re-clean the mudroom and re-dry all their wet things in the dryer?"

A winter land where your septic system brakes just when the roads are all closed and you're left to wonder, "How long can one go without flushing the toilet, or using the shower?" and "Exactly how long do I have before that tank in the backyard gets full?"

Yup...wonder me that 'cause it's been since last Saturday...and we're looking at a Friday repair.

*P.S. Well, actually a friend got me over to her house today with the lure of free movie tickets and then she wouldn't let me leave until I'd showered. So I'm good for at least another week and now I get to go to the movies. Yipee!

SIDE TWO: THE MATERNAL SIDE

You thought I forgot what I was up to: detailing my forebears.

I didn't...I just got delayed.

Here is what I got delayed with:


But that's for later, for now I have to finish my sentiments on my elders.

Squishies maiden name is Prince.

Squishy Prince.

It was very royal sounding until she got married and became something nice...lee.

But more to the point, while we were in Utah we visited Grandma and Grandpa Mr. Right's parents.

We visited Grandma Mary of the previous post.

And we visited Grandpa Prince.

And his Grandma Princess despite all my correcting.

Mr. Right says, "Grandpa Prince is love personified."

If love were a smell you'd be lifted off the floor and waft around by your nose following its fragrance.

If love were a light you'd be blinded.

If love were a taste you'd eat it up and beg for more.

If love were a person it would be Grandpa Prince.

When I was young..er I was wandering around the church during youth night. I thought no one noticed me. Even worse if they did notice me they didn't really care. Silly teenage girl.

Grandpa Prince noticed. I turned a corner and there he was. Love personified. With his arms around me he looked me square in the eyes and without having to guess he told me how I felt.

Then he said something which I've forgotten by now, but which must have been lovely and sweet because that's how I felt as I walked away.

Is that too mild of an example?

Hmm...you are right I need more witnesses to such a grand claim.

I have to pull in Grandma Princess.

Grandma Princess is Grandpa's greatest enthusiast. She is everyone's greatest enthusiast.

If you sit with her even for a moment, you will notice that Grandma Princess is a cheerleader.

Sometimes her cheerleading sounds like other things, but if you really listen? Oh, she is cheering you, or whoever she's telling you about, on and up.

It's one of her greatest abilities: the ability to hoorah others.

So there we were, in Utah, listening to Grandma Princess champion all the people we haven't seen in months and months and hearing all the proud stories of her loved ones latest successes.

And that is when she related a motivating account of Grandpa's recent temple service.

Here is the sum of it: Apparently there are people out there in this world who rearrange their schedules and lives so they can attend the session he serves during and he can baptize them for the dead.

There are people who want him to remember them and are moved to tears when their lives move them forward and they can not attend his session.

There are people, young ones (I say this because sometimes young people get a bad rap) who are so aware of his ability to love that they send him cards and well-wishes and pictures of themselves smiling and living happy lives.

Maybe you don't get why this is a phenomenally big deal, so I'll tell you.

When you are serving in the temple, you don't really talk. You don't carry on a conversation. You don't ask someone how their pet is. You don't ask if they need some money. You don't hang a picture for someone. You don't drive long distances to help them if they're in trouble. You're not squishing them breathless with a hug. You're not tickling a child or singing "a bushel and a peck". Nope. Those things are all things Grandpa Prince does that show love, but they're not what he does in the temple.

Grandpa Prince radiates love.

Real love.

Incredible love.

Grandpa Prince can be in the same place at the same time as another child of God and he will humbly exude so much charity that the people near him are forever affected by that love and his example.

He is love. In person form.

What a very royal thing to be.

SIDE ONE OF TWO: THE PATERNAL SIDE

Before we say a final goodbye to Utah I should really mention a road I found myself on.

One Sunday, while in Utah, the little bugs and I tossed our belongings into the Bugmobile. We buckled up and began the short drive to attend church with Grandma Mary.

I quickly became very aware I had made a wrong turn. An oh-so-very wrong turn.

Short drive turned into loooong.

The twinners were oblivious to our religious tardiness as I kept them well supplied with pink gum. The Princess was more aware.

She suggested I ask the all-mighty Maggie for directions. Maggie who is attached to my windshield and often pleasantly chimes things like, “Turn left here” or “You have arrived”.

I sighed, “Well Princess, Maggie can only help us find the way if we know where we’re going.”

(And here begins the life lesson. Yes my friends, one of those.)

Who knows what I was doing at the moment my right turn flew by my preoccupied eyes, unnoticed. You might suggest I was driving, but I would venture other things. Definately distracted was I.

I was lost in a town smaller than Disneyland. I could only meander my way in the right direction based on a faulty remembrance.

Left, right, left, right…eventually I’d end up there wouldn't I? But what would I miss by being late? What would my bugs miss?

What about my loved one wondering about my delayed arrival? For delayed I most certainly was.

Belatedly we arrived, because I was determined to do so without giving up. There sat grandma in her pew, with her pretty white hair and her soft clothes and her gentle voice which makes you feel you’ve gone back in time to a simpler world full of order and manners.

Grandma was very understanding. She’s made mistakes too. Just this day she’d forgotten to bring her reading glasses to church. What a grandma-ish thing to do.

Her scriptures became useless to her. “Here” She deposited them in my lap. “I can’t read a thing without my glasses. You can use them.”

So I did, and as I sat next to my grandma, I read how the people of Jared waited four years before the Lord had to remind them of their true goal.

Four years? They must have gotten distracted too.

I glanced down at the heavy book in my lap, only instead of the tiny prophetic print I now noticed the red, penciled notes scrawled prettily in the margins.

I waxed sentimental. Those ponderings and markings were made by one who travelled before me so I could begin my journey where I did.

I thought of the others who’ve gone before me and never strayed far from their goal so I could be where I am and who I am.

Then I thought how I am going before others who will follow. Happy and blessed are my little bugs because of the path I have been able to set them on.

Who knows, maybe someday I’ll be sitting in Sunday School next to my granddaughter and maybe I’ll “forget” my reading glasses. Heaven knows I’ll need them, so I’ll lend her my worn scriptures and there in the margarines near Ether 2:14 she’ll read, “Never forget your true goal” And maybe the reference to Moses 4:15.

She will think, “My Grandma has aged beautifully. She’s so very classy. What is more she was never distracted from her purpose in life.”

I will lean over and whisper with my spearmint breath, "Well dear, why leave a well-paved road if it leads where youre going?"

And she'll grin at the wisdom of her elder.

IT TOOK A WHILE BUT WE FINALLY LEFT

In no particular order, with no intended association between our relationship and the size of the name and with no implications of personality based on the color of a name...these are all the people who've housed us, tolerated us, fed us, and played with us and while we've been in Utah.

Oh, and cleaned up after us when we left.

HOME SWEET HOME

Well despite the blizzards and flurries and storms, Mr. Right, and angels, got us home safe.

True: through Dead Man's Pass I nervously munched my way through a bag of trail mix. But Mr. Right was calm and collected.

The little bugs had a hard time this trip. I think they felt the urgency to get home and begin celebrating Christmas.

Finally after hours and hours and hoooouuuurrrrs we arrived in our quiet, dark, beautiful harbor which only had a dusting of snow to show it too had survived the storm.

For me there is always that moment when I realize I am no longer here I am there.

Home is suddenly real and in that moment I can pretend I wasn't gone for long at all. That the time away was like a quick snap that is brimming over with full experiences.

I think that's what it will be like when I get back to heaven.

"Oh hi everyone! Fancy seeing you so soon again."

"Gee, that journey wasn't long at all. All that time on earth, occasionally thinking of home, was like the wink of a heavenly eye and now I'm back."

"But wow what a mindful of realities were crammed into that celestial nano-second."

"Oh? What sticks out for me about that life?"

"Well if you just sit down here and log on, you can read all about it...I had a Blog."

Yeah, home sweet and familiar home.

LET IT SNOW?

We were supposed to drive home today.

Home.

After two and a half weeks of being away from it I say those four letters with reverence and longing.

We knew there was a storm but oh how we hoped it wouldn't affect the roads to terribly.

Silly, silly us.

Mr. Right got us all up and on the road by 4am. By 7am we were turning back.

With few options left to us we called Mr. Right's brother in Ogden, "Would it inconvenience you terribly if we stayed with you for an indefinite amount of time?"

They were gracious, "No, no, we'd love to have you here."

So while the rest of the Utah world laughed and played in the snow, we groggily hunkered down on a very soft couch.

Our little bugs played with their cousins.

Our hosts fixed us lunch and let us watch cartoons.

Then Mr. Right and his brother took all the little bugs to the Hill Aerospace Museum. The twins spent hours running from simulator to simulator. An F16 cockpit and its fifty buttons is a three-year olds heaven.

And the Princess and I lazily browsed a crowded department store. We stuck to the budget and only bought ornament cookies, mascara and pink bubblegum.

Oh, and The Princess bought her daddy a present.

It's been nice.

Yup.

Nice.

Home?

I'll see you soon enough.

THANKSGIVING WAS NICE, BUT THIS WAS THE POINT

This morning, was it really only this morning?

we woke up early and drove to the Salt Lake Temple.

Mr. Right's sister was going to be married and sealed for eternity to her soul mate.

The night before was the glowing reception. With pink and yellow and candles everywhere it took the cake for wedding receptions. Though I personally prefered the eclairs.

You've never seen two peas in a pod until you've seen this bride and groom.

She looks at him with adoration.

He watches her with a joy.

It's as Philip Sydney's young maid sang,

My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange, one for the other given.
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven.
His heart in me keeps me and him in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;
He loves my heart, for once it was his own,
I cherish his, because in me it bides...
My true love hath my heart, and I have his.

THE PIXIE AND THE SHOEMAKER

Last night was the first of three particularly special events which are all connected with our grand purpose here in Utah. But more of that later. While we were out, we asked Uncle Trevor to watch the children while we went out.

When we arrived at our party bugless my mother and sister-in-laws asked if I wanted to visit the Deseret Book Outlet store right across the street.
Gospel books at discount prices? I was in heaven. Heaven I say.
Did I mention there were books?

When we got home we began the post-babysitting interview.

So Trevor, how bad were they?

“Oh, they were fine until about 7:00 when they sensed I was considering their forthcoming bedtime. Then they ran and hid. They collectively decided to hide under the bed in the purple room. But it’s hard with three of them. I’d reach under the bed and grab one leg and begin pulling it out when the arm of another I had just pulled out went back in.”

Yes Trevor, three is oh so hard.

What else?

When I told them they could each have three squares of my Cadbury chocolate bars The Princess ate two and then demanded three more. She said the first two were testers.

Did they brush their teeth?

“It depends on what you consider brushing teeth. I’m pretty sure they just sucked the toothpaste off the toothbrush and handed it back to me.”

Did they go to sleep when it was time?

“The Pirate wasn’t too bad. The Pixie declared she couldn’t sleep.”

Oh yes, her infamous declaration.

“Yeah. I said goodnight, turned off the light and that’s when she sat up and announced her insomnia.”

Ha, what did you do?

“I told her, ‘You just laid her head on her pillow for one second and then made your decision to not be able to sleep.’ Then I walked out of the room.”

Good man. What about the Princess.

“I wanted to sit up by the twins room while they were falling asleep so I sat in the hall reading.”

(Sweet guy.)

“And then the Princess came out and asked me who I voted for during the election. When I told her, she declared her disappointment in the presidential outcome. She was under the impression that the president has more than power than he really has. I had to explain to her congress and the supreme court and the legislative process.” Then he looked at me accusingly, “How come you haven’t explained to her the power of the constitution yet?”

Because I’m a bad mom…and she’s five.

Oh.

By the way – did you do that to the shoes?

He looked down. “I definitely did not to that to the shoes.”

After spending the evening with her, he too is sure it was the work of an insomniatic Pixie.

I GOT RYTHMN BUT NOT MUCH ELSE

The Pirate loves guitars. I recently took a sweet picture of The Pirate with his Dad. Mr. Right was playing the guitar. The picture had a warm orange-ish glow to it. The Pirate was in his soft jammies looking at the camera.

It was classic.

Maddeningly it got deleted.

By me.

Of course I didn’t mean to.

But still, The Pirate loves guitars. He loves his dad and therefore loves guitars.

The Pirate’s guitar is a purple, toy, Hannah Montana guitar a friend lent us. It still belongs to her 9 year old daughter.

Way back when Mr. Right took me to L.A., my friend watched The Pirate for the day. When it was time to bring him home he refused to relinquish the guitar. We’ve had it for six months now. The daughter is probably wondering what happened to it. Whenever we go over to her house I suspect my friend is secretly considering why we didn’t bring it back. She also hasn’t offered to watch The Pirate anymore…hmm.

Give it back?

Uh, let’s honestly consider that. If there is a toy out there that your child would play with every day instead of dragging into the middle of the living room and mindlessly depositing it with reckless abandon to not be thought of again until you went out of your way to put it away where it was promptly found again – forget your child, would you be willing to part with it?

Buy him one?

Ha!

If you just suggested that then you probably don’t know me.

The nice thing about my lack of morals is that it gives us bonding time. While The Pirate jams we girls jump and jive (because he would rather die than be seen dancing – unless it’s dancing naked in which case he gets his groove on with enthusiasm.)

We're staying at my sisters house. She too owns a small toy guitar. Hers is red.

This morning as The Pirate strummed and sang The Pixie and I jived. Since we’ve established the possibility that you don’t know me well, I’ll take this opportunity to inform you that jiving is a polite way of describing my dance moves. Or lack of. Technically speaking I shouldn’t even use the word “dance” to describe how I move.

So there I was not dancing – but somehow moving to the beat of The Pirates guitar and feeling like a fabulous mother when The Princess walked in, stopped in her tracks and stared at me.

“What are you doing?” She politely asked, “Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

That is an accurate description of my dancing.

FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT

Julie said, "I thought the house was possessed until we drove up and discovered you could tune your radio in and listen to the music."

Listen we did, and along with the Christmas music I also heard the following comments in my van full of cousins and little bugs:

"That house is dancing to the music."

"Wow, they must be rich."

"We've got to do that to our house." Yeah right.

"Uhm, someone pooped in their diaper!"

"Oh it stinks!"

"I tooted."

"The Pirate tooted!!!"

"Can you open the window?"

"Oh, it smells really bad back here!"

When we got home and I opened the back door to let them out, it did indeed smell bad back there. I thought maybe something was rotting - but I'm very aware of the rotting items in my car and none of them could possibly smell that offensive.

As I lifted The Pirate down and out of the van I thought I might pass out from the smell.

"Oh my gosh!" I gasped.

"I tooted" he confirmed.

FLUTTER FLUTTER

These might look like nameless children to you, but that's because it's not very clear.

Actually it's Cousin M., Cousin R., The Pixie, Friend B., and The Princess.

A butterfly somewhere fluttered its wings and made it so that one of my best friends from Pennsylvania moved into the church ward of one of my other best friends in Utah.

At first I was screaming mad at the irony. Yup - you can ask Mr. Right, I was screamin'.

Screamin' stuff to the heavens like, "Are you kidding me? Are you KIDDING me? They get to be in the same ward?" That and other really wise comments.

But then I went to bed and when I woke up I was chagrined to realize that now I get to visit them both during the same vacation. One butterfly. Two birds. It could be spring.

However its December and this night we went to my good friends ward's Christmas party.

Oh yeah.

A Utah ward Christmas party.

I've never been to one before and truthfully I was thrilled to see with my own eyes 14 different kinds of cottage cheese-Cool whip salads. I was hoping it would be something like that. In fact the whole (2 minute) drive to the church I was giggling so loudly with anticipation that the little bugs couldn't hear Nat King Cole sing Mrs. Claus...which by the way is a classic.

When I arrived and weaved my way amongst all the strange faces (because they're strangers to me) there they were. 14 pastel colored creamy lumpy salads in 14 pretty bowls. I put some of each on three different plates. One of the perks of having little bugs is you can be a pig and not look like one.

I also discovered that people in Utah wards have way more energy to invest in their parties than those of us further north. Maybe it's all the sun...

The after dinner activities were geared toward the families. At least I assume they were because in my mind listening to a recorded version of Polar Express and watching an Elf turn the pages; or coloring a picture of Santa aren't what I would expect to see at a single adult party. Then there were the cookies to frost, the cocoa to drink, the bubble-gum advent strings to wrap in plastic wrap and all those salads to eat.

I was very happy. I love my friends.

Thank you butterfly.

Here is The Princess with her PA friend.

This is The Princess, her PA friend and The Pixie. A little boy was sitting next to The Pixie. I had to lean the camera against his head to get The Pixie's face in the picture. He though this was weird of me.

This is the picture I tried to get of The Princess and her PA friend but instead a little boy got in the way to show me his picture.

Here is that same little boy getting me to open his candy cane.

Here is The Princess telling the little boy to not get so distracted because his candy cane is now open.

Here is The Pixie after she went on her own, unknown to the rest of us, and sat on Santa's lap.

Here is The Pirate avoiding Mrs. Claus - despite his love of the song.

Here is The Pirate with Mrs. Claus after she showed him the candy cane.

UNCLE TREVOR

We'll give you no mercy until you say, "Uncle".

How much fun is it to visit your bachelor uncle's college apartment?

How much fun is it to have mom whip out the camera and say, "Go get him."?

How much fun is it to be told to leave your shoes on when you go in the house, since mom doesn't know if the carpet is actually dirty or just stained, or both?

How much fun is it to be on mom's team and play Scene It since you're five and yet you know more answers than her?

How much fun is it to play with foam stickers and eat Gummi Bears off aforementioned floor while mom ignores you so she can play Scene It?

How much fun is it?

Lots.

I LOVE TO SEE THE TEMPLE

For the first time ever, I went to see the Christmas lights at Temple Square in Salt Lake City - I and the Little Bugs and Mr. Right and his parents and my in-laws and the fiance and the cousins.

Since I (just I) couldn't find Mr. Right right away (despite all his rightness), I wandered a little with The Princess and The Pixie.

A choir was singing Christmas songs in the old Tabernacle so I dragged the girls in where we shed our coats and listened.

Later we found Mr. Right and the rest of the posse and we wandered around the Square (is it really an exact square?) looking at all the lights.

We're ready for Christmas.

MARY HAD A LITTLE WALK

Meet (Tom) Mary (and Mr. Right) :

Mary took a little walk,

little walk,

little walk,

Mary took a little walk which led her miles away.

Where...

Mary found a little park

little park,

little park,

Mary found a little park where little bugs could play.

THE DAY AFTER

What do you do on the day after Thanksgiving?

Mr. Right sat at the war table and played Axis and Allies (again.)

THANK YOU

I have a headache and should be in bed.

I was in bed, listening to Route 66 on the radio and trying to sleep. But then my mind began narrating my day back to me. It was telling me things I was grateful for.

I am thankful the little bugs were troopers and didn’t complain once the whole drive here to Utah.

I am thankful I got to have Thanksgiving with in-laws who cooked the whole darn thing.

I am thankful those sisters-in-law were wise enough to invite me to bring canned cranberry sauce and store-bought rolls.

I am thankful for my beautifully named sister-in-law Melissa who is the best pie-maker in the world.

I am thankful I got to eat some of her pies today.

I am thankful nobody thought less of me when I went back for seconds of her pies today. (And thirds)

I am thankful for Mr. Right who is staying up late and playing Axis and Allies with his brothers, but promises to take care of the little bugs (who are having ever so much trouble sleeping here) so that I can get some sleep.

Which I’m now going to go do.

SHOW OFF

One year Mr. Right took me to see Sutton Foster perform her Tony Award winning role as Millie in Thoroughly Modern Millie on Broadway. (The Pirate has a mini crush on Millie- he asks to watch the on-line clip and he tells me "I luv her...dat girl.")

Say what you will about Awards, Broadway or Tony himself but it was an unforgettable performance.

Ms. Foster is now in Shrek the Musical as Fiona, but previous to that she was in the (five) Tony Award winning The Drowsy Chaperon.

The Princess is particularly fond of the song Show Off.

The leading lady sings about all the things she doesn't want to do anymore.

I don't wanna show off no more.
I don't wanna sing tunes no more.
I don't wanna ride moons no more.
I don't wanna show off.

She manages to go on and on and on and yes, show off.

This morning is the last day of our regular routine. Tomorrow we take our offspring and meager belongings and depart into the wilderness.

(We drive to Utah with a vanload of snacks and DVD's.)

So on this last day of chores and piano practice and making beds and going to school The Princess waltzed around the house gaily pointing at the dishwasher, the piano, her bed and other weeds in her mortal existence and sang,

"I'm not gonna do that no more." (Dishwasher)

"I'm not gonna touch that no more." (Piano)

"I'm not gonna make that no more." (Bed)

I just wanna be off.

One more day Princess. We leave tomorrow...

Tomorrow,

I love ya'

Tomorrow...

Actually, that's about my next post.

GOODNIGHT DOLLY

One night, while the little bugs were looking particularly cute (they were asleep) The Princess came plodding down the stairs.

With bright eyes she declared, "I can't sleep."

This didn't surprise me. It never surprises me. The child finds sleep as elusive as the Scarlet Pimpernel. She has from day one.

This particular night I was sewing some bathroom curtains and was just getting ready to watch Hello Dolly.

I was nine when my parents invited me to watch it for the first time. Before the VHS tape started whirring in the machine, my dad said, "Watch this beginning." I did and when that train came chugging through the city scene and spread color and movement and rhythmic action, it spread into me too.

So here I was telling The Princess, "You can't sleep? OK. Come here. Watch this beginning."

She did and that train spread its magic once again. It was so magical that while my sewing machine busily hummed away The Princess was carried away and didn't come back to earth until the intermission. She started crying, mostly because it was late at night but also because she thought the movie was anti-climatically over. I explained what an intermission was and she settled right back in for the rest of the movie.

This isn't her first experience with Striesand. For years we've been listening to the Funny Lady soundtrack. The Princess likes to say, with a slight Jewish accent, "What an idiot" and "That's impossible." If you're alone right now try it...it's fun.

I thought maybe she wasn't getting the deeper meanings of the story. I explained that Dolly wanted to marry Horace Vandergelder the "well-known unmarried half-a-millionaire", but she also wanted to make sure her first husband, who was living in heaven, wanted her to too.

Dolly wanted a sign.

One hundred and thirty-nine minutes later The Princess watched as Horace Vandergelder declared, "Money, pardon the expression, is like manure. It's not worth a thing unless it's spread around helping little things grow."

At that moment Dolly gets her sign.

The Princess gasped. She giggled with delight. We looked at each other and grinned, and I've got to say...this moment was even more magical than the first time I saw it.

Yup, magic. Because as the credits rolled The Princess went straight to bed and fell asleep.

Magic, pardon the expression, is like manure. . .

ON THE WAY TO THE FORUM, WHICH I WASN'T REALLY ON MY WAY TO

Something very funny happened to me today.

A friend who doesn't know about my blog actually said, "Oh you. You should have a blog."

Why did she say that?

I wish I could remember what we were talking about.

It probably would have made a good post topic.

My friend seemed shocked to discover I actually do have a blog.

Though considering her statement I'm not sure why.

HUM A LITTLE TUNE

Ah - Now that the contest is over let's get back to what's really important.

What do you think of this?

Since I don't watch TV I didn't see this until yesterday.

At first I thought, "Oh my, I'm embarrassed for him. "

Then I thought "Actually, this is rather diverting."

In the end I concluded "Oddly enough, I can identify a surprising number of those TV shows."

Surprising, I mean, for someone who doesn't watch TV.

I better be careful or everyone will start thinking I really do watch TV.

All right, all right, I used to watch TV.

Back when Mr. Right was never home and the twins were infants.

But on my honor I only watched ABC Family and the Food Network. Well, OK, sometimes I'd watch something frivolous like Beauty and the Geek but I'd change the channel real quick if Mr. Right walked in.

I was a closet TV watcher...except for the Foot Network, like I said. That seemed honorable enough and it made me look like a really good wife too.

Seriously I really did watch it a lot. I can sing the theme song to Rachel Ray's Thirty Minute meals.

Even so, I'll bet Josh could do it better.

MR. RIGHT'S NEW MOTTO

"It is our choices...that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."-Albus Dumbledore a.k.a. J.K. Rowling

And the winner is. . .

My Brother-in-law Kenny and my sister his wife.

I suppose I should have limited the contest to non-family members, except then I think it would have been a really lame contest.

I have the sneaking suspicion most of my readers are also members of my family.

SOOO that would have upped the odds for you three non-family readers out there.

Don't worry though, Mr. Right wasn't allowed to know who submitted the quotes. He just choose the words of wisdom he wasn't mortified to attach on every email he sends.

His second choice was one of Squishy's:

Even if you're on the right track, you will get run over if you just stand there. - Arthur Godrey

You guys are really funny too I might add. My favorite was the cheese quote. Ha!

Age doesn't matter unless you are a cheese. - Billie Burke

One of you even quoted Mr. Right:

"Joint compound covereth a multitude of sins." - Mr Right

That was very strategic by the way. I asked him, "Honey, did you really say that? You're so clever."

He said, "Yeah I said it" then he rolled his eyes, "but your dad said it first."

Clever? maybe not, but at least he's honest.

When life gives you lemons smile politely and when life isn't looking...throw them away.

Mr. Right said the lemon quote should be on my email's tag line. What does he mean by that? I'm not going to ask him - I don't want him to have to be honest.

And guess what? I'm glad it's over. You have no idea how hard it was to post something every day.

Well, based on how often some of you post (like every four weeks if we're lucky) you probably do know how hard it is.

And since this IS my blog - I'm now going to share my favorite quote...which none of you submitted or it probably would have won.

Luck is not chance, it's toil; fortune's expensive smile is earned. -Emily Dickinson

WASN'T IT WORTH IT?

Oh lucky winner. Look where you get to shop if Mr. Right chooses your submission.

One more day and the contest is closed.

One more day and Mr. Right makes his choice.

One more day and you might be the recipient of, yes you guessed it, a $25

Gift

Card

to

Borders

Books

TWO OF FIVE

Clue two of five for Mr. Right's prize.

You've been waiting with bated breath haven't you?

SAY WHAT?

"This is it - I'm being killed for my sins."

- The Princess, while being trapped by The Pirate underneath a big beanbag

FIVE OF FIVE

Clue five of five for Mr. Right's prize.

Bet you've figured it out haven't ya?