And so it begins...

Dear Shirley,
Where is the remote?
I love you,
Mommy

Hard-boiled Cookies

Cream butter, sugar and vanilla together.
Add eggs one at a time...oh, crap.

Nada

I keep checking my blog to see if anyone has posted.
So far, nothing.

Paper or Plastic?

I'm going to design a t-shirt.

Here's the text:
WARNING: I'm about to say socially inappropriate things to you. I'm that lady who talks too much and makes you borderline uncomfortable. I just want you to know that I know. Cut me some slack. I haven't been out of the house in nine days. N.I.N.E. D.A.Y.S. My great-grandma says, "Spring will come," but to be honest, this year, I'm not so sure! Haha!! Speaking of which, can you believe this cold weather?? My skin is so dry, I'm afraid to shave my legs--I'm afraid I'd spark and cause a forest fire! Anyway, this is the first time in a very long time that I've come in contact with a grown-up with whom I haven't exchanged vows. I'm so serious right now. No. Seriously. And my blogfriends are great, but they don't count for face-to-face time, you know? I know you're only 19, and the check-out girl at Target and you can't get away from me, but please. Please. Do you like my hair? How about my outfit? What are you having for dinner tonight? I haven't decided what we're having yet. Shirley likes sweet potatoes. I call her my little Sweet Potato. Do you like Obama? Do you have plans for the SuperBowl? Do you live around here? Anyway... It was nice to meet you.

And on the back:
Paper please.

My two cents.

Cheap toilet paper lasts half as long, but takes twice as much to clog the toilet.

Friday night is (double) date night!

Dear Shirley Jean,

Sometimes Mommy and Daddy need to get away from you.

We love you,

Mommy and Daddy

I have only ever had one experience with valet parking. My opinion? Valet is freezing.

No Title Needed: This one speaks for itself.

An old friend of mine from Alabama posted this on her blog last week:
The Luck of the (apparently) Irish
At our faculty meeting, we got yelled at for a new thing. Mushed in between all of the old things, we got yelled at because our children misspell words. Also, apparently, some teacher misspelled something. All 43 of us should be ashamed because of this one person's mistake. After we were verbally beat down about grammar from the Queen of Grammar Mistakes ("let me reiterate that again" is her favorite phrase), she passed out the "O'bama Inauguration Packet."

O'BAMA? Like, O'Hurley or O'Donnell? This guy. Wow, he is like the United Nations all crammed into one person.

I know, right???
She's freaking hilarious. Check her out.

Now watch this:

Owwwwwwwwwwwwwie.

I can't even lay on my left side.

I think I broke my femur.

Honda for Sale.

It's not every day that you get to start your car and find this:

I got a kick out of it.

Dear Past Erin,

While Richard is out of town, you will forget to feed poor Pedro. Not only that, but you will scold him all day for begging.
You are a jerk.
On another note, you will not be able to find the Parmesan cheese to save your life. You will suspect that this has nothing to do with Richard's absence, but will wonder just the same.
Sincerely yours,
Future Erin

p.s. I told you Hillary wouldn't win.

Think on these things.

I've been thinking about training my mind lately. It occurred to me that I control my own thoughts. (Big realization, I know.)
Phillippians 4:8 reads,
"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think on these things."
In an effort to think on these things, I've decided to make a list.
And, lucky readers, I've decided to share my list with you. I write my list in an effort to encourage you all to do the same.
Here goes:
What do I know that is true?
God's love and God's word. That's all I know. I am not true. There is nothing good or true within me: "I am the moon with no light of my own. Still you have made me to shine. And as I glow in this cold, dark night, I know I can't be a light unless I turn my face to you."
What do I know that is noble?
My husband, my father, my spiritual gifts.
What is right?
My confidence in my spiritual gifts.
What is pure?
Feeding the child of my womb by my own breast.
What is lovely?
Freckles and reading a wonderfully crafted sentence.
What is admirable?
A woman who fears the Lord. And her friendships.
And what is excellent or praiseworthy?
Sometimes, it's hard to know, but one woman in particular comes to mind.

I understand that by openly admitting my quest to serve God and submitting my life to him automatically turns me into a fool in the eyes of many (or my few readers), BUT what else is there? Really. I've looked. How else can I escape the injustice of this fallen world that keeps me in bed but to turn everythong over to God and instead focus on the above list?

"Shine on me with your light--without you I'm a cold dark stone. Shine on me, I have no light of my own. You are the sun and I am the moon." --Sara Groves

Slice and Dice

I have a theory.
I think that Sesame Street records approximately FIVE new shows per calendar year. Then, they slice and dice them to make a year's worth of shows.
I've suspected this for a while, but this morning it was confirmed. I remember this from my childhood:

No giggling in church!!

This weekend at church, Porter made a reference to God's holy gaze...

Erin [whispering]: Did he just say "holy glaze?"
Rich: That's what Methodists put on their Sunday ham.

Re: My Last Post

CocaCola

I only have once vice (besides sitting around with no pants on reading celebrity gossip), and I've decided to share it with my daughter.

Dear Essie,

Apparently, I have your old phone number.
Essle, pay your bills.
I'm just saying.
Thanks!
Erin
p.s. You get a lot of texts in the middle of the night. What gives?

N.N.D.

What's the worst job of a SAHM's day?

Scratch that--

What's the most endless, painful, laborious task of your entire life?

That's right, Laundry. (With a capital L.)

I propose National Naked Day.

Think of it--one full 24 hour period where no dirty laundry is created.

Just the thought makes my mouth water.

Let me know if you're in.

Oh, the places you'll go.

Erin: Hey, let's snuggle up and watch a movie.
Rich: OK, but I smell like pickles, beer and doritos. [BELLLLLLLLCH--blow in my face.]
Erin: Gross! You're disgusting! I bet you wouldn't have done that four years ago.
Rich: [Satisfied grin.] Nope.


Five years ago (right before we got engaged), I was eating corn chips* on Richard's couch and I accidentally passed gas in front of him. I cried. Really.

*Corn chips, you ask? Yes. Corn chips. Round ones. Not tostitos. The cheap kind from the store on the corner of Cedar & 63 in Baldwin, WI. I was so traumatized by what happened that the memory is burned onto my brain. I will never forget what happened. (Not that Rich would let me if I tried.)

4

Today marks the first day of Richard and my fourth year of marriage.

I love you, my man.

p.s. The traditional Fourth Anniversary gift is flowers. I'm just saying.

A Fantastic Realization

I have worn make-up EVERY. DAY. THIS. YEAR.
Go me.

The firstest week of the newest year.

Our week in photos:

Ringing in the new year at the "Dancing Table."

Happy New Year! We know how to party.

(For real, we had so much fun we woke up THREE babies.)
Shouldn't you be sleeping, my little FeatherHead?
Mama, give somebody ELSE a turn!
SnuffleSnacks before wing night.
Moving Cousin Nick into his new home in Minneapolis. He's the newest and bestest student in the culinary program at the Minneapolis Art Institute. We are SO happy he is here!
How we feel now:

Jodi, Carrie or Sarah, did any of you happen to get more pics from NYE?

Dear Blogfriends and Family,

We are in a fight.

I can NOT believe you thought these were my legs.

I don't know whether to be offended that you thought my legs were really this hairy and manish, or pleased that I am clearly so clever and sneaky.

Sincerely yours,

Erin

p.s. For realsies, it worked OK. Stick with your trusty rusty razor.

p.p.s. I'm giving you the silent treatment.

p.p.p.s. Until Monday.