Much like the rest of blog land, I’m calling it quits until the new year. Before I do that, however, I wanted to thank all of you for making this year an amazing one for me and my family. Not amazing in that I can live abroad for a year, support my family, or pay off my student loans from law school, but that large diet coke you spot me every month is aces.

Thank you for laughing–chuckling, whatever–at my dry humor that doesn’t always translate online. (Like maybe that whole first paragraph?) I’m thrilled most of you appreciate my rapier wit and impeccable comedic timing, or at least do a damn fine job pretending. It takes a special person to tolerate a blogger who writes about sculling mushroom brushes having an existential crisis, and your loyalty (and tolerance) is not lost on me. Of course, like a good narcissist, I’ve taken your acceptance and used it as license to do more of the same next year. 2011 will be my Year of the Blog. I want to grow it, yes, but I also want to push myself creatively and make my spot in your reader something more. More funny, more poignant, and more like something not usually seen in a parenting blog. How perfectly nebulous and unquantifiable! I also predict 2011 will be the Year of Next Time Create Measurable Goals.

Yes, it’s a tall order, and one that may not be possible to achieve in 365 short days. No, I don’t really know exactly what I will be doing in 2011 that I am not already doing now. Still, I feel like this is it, even though I don’t know why. This shouldn’t be surprising; how could I not feel like I can conquer the world (and blog land) with people like you in my corner?

I wish for all of you a wonderful holiday and Year of the Blog. Better yet, I wish for you a year worth blogging about.*

*The attorney in me feels compelled to clarify that while a “year worth blogging about” can include, but is not limited to, disease, disaster, heartache, and all manner of tragedy, I’m referring strictly to content that is warm, fuzzy, and packed with an embarrassment of Care Bears.

xoxo,
Jules

I think it’s funny that of all the things in the world I have to decide upon, it’s wrapping paper that comes easiest. An idea will come to me and and that is that. No flip-flopping, no weighing pros and cons, just this is what I want and now I need to go find it.

This year couldn’t have been any easier. I wanted simple kraft paper I could stamp, a thin velvet ribbon, and sprigs from the organic rosemary bush we brought back with us from our  last trip to the Tuscan countryside. Not really. Forgive me for poking fun; I get a chuckle from some of the things I read online. The rosemary has been here since we moved in and is completely overgrown. Lucky for me, it thrives under steady neglect.

I wanted a thin white velvet ribbon but everything was picked over and gone. I found this red one on clearance at Michael’s, and I actually like it better. The stamp was also on clearance at Michael’s, but I swear I had a different one  picked out. This is what I found in my bag, and I think it looks great. The ink is a really pretty Galaxy Gold by Tsukineko, which you also find at Michael’s. Are you sensing a theme? Clearance rack. Michael’s. Get yee there. The ink is discreet and shimmery, not at all the egg yolk you see here. I just fiddled with the color a bit so you could see the lettering.

I once read on a design blog that to keep your wrapping organized, you should create for yourself a “signature wrapping,” like a signature perfume or lipstick. Doesn’t that sound neat? I always wanted a “signature” something. The idea is to have one wrapping paper pattern or style and ribbon for all occasions. This allows you to buy in bulk and save money, but even what you buy takes very little storage as it is only one roll and a spool or two. I always thought that was a pretty slick idea. I think my signature wrapping will be kraft paper, simple ribbon, and a stamp. The stamp will allow me to mix things up a bit, as will the ribbon. Kraft paper you can buy for pennies in bulk, so it’s cost effective, but really I just love the look.

Nicholas’s teacher has a son, so I gave her a childhood classic in a snazzy cover. I hope she likes it as much as Nicholas loved giving it to her. You’ve never seen such excitement! He really got a kick out of it, even though in the picture above he was more focused balancing the book on his belly without dropping it.

A few people have wondered how the blog fast has been going.  In a word, great.  In another word, not so great. It’s been great because I have stuck to it, and easily.  What I thought was going to be a challenge has actually been rather painless, with the exception of missing out on the comings and goings of my friends.  What hasn’t been great is that I now have time for things like Twitter and responding to emails.  I had to quickly curb that last week because I was starting to replace one with the other.  It kind of defeats the point of the blog fast, wouldn’t you agree?

Even with the lure of social media, I’ve still been able to do a few things since Lent started besides make deodorant. On top of a few weekend adventures that included feeding the ducks and visiting one of the largest tackle supply stores in the United States (don’t ask), we celebrated two birthdays.

I made crackers.

I’ve been eating very clean and enjoying my GNOWFGLINS ecourse. [Side note--every time I post what I eat I am reminded of the blogging book, No One Cares What You Had For Lunch.]

My life wouldn’t be complete without testing paint.

I’m still participating in Souvenir Photo, which has been good at forcing me to leave the house. I made the mistake of choosing a magnolia tree in my parent’s front yard as my 6-week subject. That means once a week I have to, like, leave the house. Get in the car. Time things so that lighting is good, but different from the week before.

And, finally, I have been enjoying God’s grace, as my niece is home safe and sound (with antibiotics) from the hospital.  On Thursday I received a call from my sister-in-law telling me that my five month old niece was on the way to the hospital via ambulance.  From what little we knew from her exceptionally negligent daycare, she was 70 degrees, blue, and non responsive.  They couldn’t tell us if she was alive, and the twenty-forty minutes (it’s a blur) that went by without any of us knowing were the worst moments of my life.  I always imagined that praying on my knees would hurt given my weight, but it turns out that the fear and pain of the unknown TOTALLY outweigh the pain of suddenly dropping to your knees in prayer (and tears) from a standing position.  Who knew?

I haven’t done anything terribly exciting, and sometimes I feel like I don’t have much interesting to say (I made crackers! Wh00t!) but it’s a nice feeling to know I have been so busy living my life that I don’t always have time to blog about my life, you know?

Valentine’s Day at school can be tough for a little boy. Nothing softens the blow of all that pink like paleontology Valentines. You know. Little red boxes (fossil holders) filled with chocolate rocks and topped with a gummy tarantula found during a high-risk excavation. It’s all very daring and sinister, but in a loving way.

By the way–how cool are these chocolate rocks? Fabulous. And–get this–they are actually darn tasty, like Nestle Crunch bits.  I made sure to buy enough for 35 Valentines, and not an ounce more.

Yesterday we had The Mister’s family over to celebrate Christmas. It was low key, casual, and a perfect reminder for me to focus on the one resolution I have planned for the year: celebrate more.

The Mister and I are born recluses. We would gladly and graciously decline every party invitation we receive with only a twinge of guilt.  We are no more hospitable at home, either.  As newlyweds, we at least had people over (very) occasionally. Now we can say–a bit shamefaced–we never have people over.

We can blame this transgression on our hermit personalities, but there is a good deal of perfectionism mixed in there, too.

The house isn’t decorated the way I want.

We need a new dining room table.

My cooking could be better.

Maybe people won’t have a good time.

It’s too expensive to entertain the way I would like.

We’re tired from soccer and baseball and homework and life.

We really aren’t that fun.

And many, many more reasons I can come up with to keep from entertaining.

This year I have decided to worry less about what people may or may not be thinking about me, my food, or my house.  At first I didn’t know what this meant or how I would measure my success, but I think I have come up with a game plan.  At least once a month, we will host a party (small or large, the size is irrelevant).  With people. And food.  Maybe invitations, although a simple phone call is okay, too.  Whether we celebrate the ordinary, the extraordinary, or the seasons, it doesn’t really matter.  The idea is to gather together friends and family without thought for the bathrooms in need of a remodel or the fact that the art of pie crust making continues to allude me.  (And for that, Pillsbury, I will always love you.)

January marks the first party.  I’m not sure who or what or when we will be celebrating, but with citrus season in full swing around these parts, I can tell you what the menu and theme will most likely revolve around. Unless, of course, you can think of something better. I’ve been looking online for books on entertaining, and I can’t seem to find any good ones that include children. I don’t want to exclude the boys and, since most of our friends have children the same age, it seems silly to do so. Alicia Paulson has been recommending the book Food for Friends for years now. My friend, Kara, recommends anything by Ina Garten.  Please do share your favorites.

So, that’s it.  My resolution for the year 2010 is to celebrate more.  I’m already a ball of nerves, antacid in hand.

I went to Anthropologie last week to buy Mikey’s teachers their Christmas presents. They made out like bandits thanks to a lovely sale table. On this same sale table I found two very sweet, miniature coffee cups perfect for hot cocoa and little hands. At $3.95 each, I couldn’t resist. Sold and sold.

Anthropologie makes it so easy to give gifts. Their packaging is almost always fantastic, and you know I can’t resist a thick Kraft box.The boys tore into the gifts with such excitement that I started to get a little nervous about how the gifts would go over. Can you blame me? We were giving them coffee cups, not hatching dinosaur eggs.

Luckily, they were very well received, especially after we explained to them that inside those cups would go hot cocoa and as many marshmallows as they wanted. The cocoa they could sip in front of the TV while they watched the Christmas movie of their choice.

They started watching A Charlie Brown Christmas and I served the cocoa. Mikey pronounced it too hot, which means he inherited The Mister’s intolerance for food or drink hotter than room temperature. I am of the opinion that food isn’t edible if it doesn’t burn off the roof of your mouth. Nicholas must have inherited this same preferance because he drank his cocoa (the same one Mikey declared burning hot) through a straw in one pull. I tried to tell him to be careful, that the cocoa was very hot, but he just sat there drinking away, taking a breath only when his cup slurped empty. I see in his future a long and illustrious career as a fraternity brother. The only way I could have been more impressed is if he drank the cocoa while doing a handstand.

p.s.  Did you notice our open windows and short sleeved shirts?  It was 70 degrees on Saturday.  I planted flowers in the yard while Nicholas napped and Mikey helped The Mister with a leaking water meter.  I wore a sweater today to do Christmas shopping, but it was more on principle than necessity.  I thought I would get hot pushing my way through the crowds, but everything was empty.  The freeways, the parking lots, the stores…empty.  Was is empty for you, too?

When I told Mikey and Nicholas last week that I would be covering in glitter the cheap dinosaurs I bought at Michaels (the ones they were playing with as if they didn’t have 52 million other dinosaurs of the same variety but ten times more expensive) all game playing came to a halt. Imagine the sound of the largest record on earth screeching to a halt, with Mikey bringing Tyrannosaurus Rex up to his chest in a protective hug.

“You’re going to what?!”  Horror.  Four horror filled eyes looked up at me.  Even the dinosaurs looked scared.

“I’m going to cover them in glitter and put them on the tree table in the toy room.  It’s going to be Dinosaur Mountain!  I’m telling you, you’re going to love it!” Please. Now you’re opposed to glitter? You used to be quite the fan. A really big fan, in fact.

Crickets.  Many crickets chirping.

“But, Mama,”  Mikey explained to me in a tone one normally reserves for the feeble, “Mama, dinosaurs don’t glitter.”

This went on for several minutes, the dinosaurs suddenly children in a bad custody case.  Finally, I had no choice but to put my legal education to use.  My closing argument went something like this:

“WE ARE GLITTERING THE DINOSAURS AND BY GOD YOU TWO ARE GOING TO LOVE IT!”

Then I called my mother in law and told her she needed to head to Michaels pronto and buy some dinosaurs for her grandsons for Christmas.

Yesterday I glittered the dinosaurs. I put Nicholas to bed and laid out all the supplies on the dining room table.  Mikey, his head stuffed with a cold, sniffed both to alleviate sinus pressure and communicate his disdain.

“Do you want to work on the dinosaurs with me, Mikey?”

“No, because dinosaurs don’t glitter.  I’ll just work on my lego car.”

Suit yourself.

I just finished gluing and glittering Tyrannosaurus Rex when Mikey approached the table.

“Whoa.  What did you do to that Tyrannosaurus Rex?”

“I glittered him.  Now I’m going to do the rest.”  Holds breath.

“He looks really cool, mom!”

Releases breath.

“Aw, thanks, Mikey!”  But really I was thinking, Thankyouverymuch maybe now you will think twice before you argue with your mother because I think I know you just a little bit better than you give me credit for, little mister.

Also, AHA!  I KNEW IT!

Mikey kept checking on my progress until all four dinosaurs were covered in glitter and ready to perform alongside white tigers in Las Vegas.

Mikey likes the Stegosaurus best because he looks like “he’s on fire.”  I like the Brachiosaurus best because he comes closest to the vintage colored glass I wanted.  Overall, everyone was happy, including the dinosaurs.

At night is when they look the prettiest, coming close to how I envisioned them in my mind when I first saw Abbey’s post. This year I went with a cheap snow blanket since I didn’t know how the project would turn out. Next year I will probably use a piece of muslin and spread some of that cotton-candy fake snow if I am confident Nicholas won’t fiddle with it too much. I will also replace the tree lights underneath the blanket with a lit table garland. The lights get a bit hot for my comfort, and I think a garland would look better overall.  In the next day or so I will tape down the tree wires if I get the energy and position the dinos better.  We’ll see.  Right now I am pleased everyone likes Dinosaur Mountain–initial furious mutiny notwithstanding.

I am mere minutes from picking up Mikey from school.  In T-minus 30 minutes, Christmas vacation officially starts.  I can’t wait!  There will be much baking, crafting, and merry making.  There will also be present wrapping.  Every year I try to do something different.  Last year was about my love of tulle, and how nicely said fabric matched the homemade marshmallows I made everyone.  I could swear I wrote a post about wrapping presents with tulle, but I can’t find it anywhere.  Oh well.

This year I am all about the Kraft paper, which I use for almost everything all throughout the year.  I’m not the only one using Kraft paper this year.  It’s a popular choice for 2009, and perhaps that reflects a cultural shift in our society.  Following economic downturns, populations will, by consequence, simplify and turn inward, reflecting on their life and the artifices that no longer brings them pleasure.  Zzzzzzzz.  Personally, I just think it’s super cute.  Besides, it gave me an excuse to use my mom’s blue typewriter from the 70s, the very same one with which I typed away many an atrocious short story as an awkward 9 year old.  Me and old blue, we go back.

I was going to use plain Kraft paper, but I came across this postage themed Kraft paper at Staples and couldn’t resist how it matched the packing labels already in my cart.  I tied everything up with a giant ball of hemp twine I bought months ago to package items for a customer.  Then, my favorite part: ol’ blue.  A sweet Christmas message on one side for the recipient.  On the other side, a quote (I love quotes) I felt reflected their personality or passions in life.  Finding the quotes for all my friends and family has been my favorite part, hands down.  I have several books on quotes (thanks to my mom) and countless online resources I turn to often.  I may have found two or three or twenty quotes I like for myself in the process, causing quite a delay in the assembly line and one or two last minute, freak-out wrapping sessions so I could make it to the post office before the angry noon mob.

Eek!  Speaking of noon–I’m off to pick up Mikey.  Yahoo!

You would think someone who went to school for as long as I have would have thought of this idea sooner.  Degrees: three.  Commonsense: zero.  After ten years of looking at floppy, twisted stockings, I realized (with the same pride Lise Meitner must have felt when she discovered nuclear fission) I could stuff them with something innocuous until Christmas Eve, whereby toys and goodies would replace said stuffing and keep the stockings looking plump and pretty.

[pauses for applause]

I used plastic bags from the super market, of which I have many. Go ahead, judge me. I use them to dispose of Nichoals’s thrice daily diaper bombs. Uh huh. I knew you would understand. Anyway, four seems to be the magic number. The heel and toe each get one bag, stuffed firmly. The shaft needs only two loosely crumpled bags. I didn’t think the bags would add enough weight to keep the stockings straight, but it worked. Had the stockings continued to twist, I would have added dried beans or rice to the toes. (Now that I am coming up with brilliant ideas and all.)

For my next trick, I will attempt to finish decorating for Christmas before Christmas–or, at least before my inlaws show up on Sunday.

Today is my blog’s second birthday.  Happy birthday, blog!

I’m doing okay.  This is, easily, the sickest I have been in a long time, most likely ever.  I never had a true flu before.  I thought I did but, trust me, once you have actually had the flu, you realize those other times you just had a bad cold.  You also start to understand how it is people succumb from complications every year.  The pain was excruciating.  The only other time in my life I have experienced pain like that was when I was in full blown back labor with Mikey, and at least then I could order an epidural.

Craziness.  Long story short: flu.  Then, on Wednesday, I developed a bacterial bronchitis.  Yes, I developed a secondary bacterial infection subsequent to the flu.  How cliche!  Anyway, I am still recuperating.  Feeling better, but not 100%.  I think today is the first day since last Monday I didn’t wake up with a fever, so that says something.

You know what else is crazy?  On Wednesday we (me, the family, and my 103 fever) made the 8 hour drive to Lake Tahoe.  It had been on the books for a while, and I just didn’t have the heart to disappoint the boys.  I also didn’t know if I had the heart to survive the trip, but I did.  I spent the trip inside, nursed back to health by my parents, while The Mister fulfilled Mikey and Nicholas’s dreams of snow fights and sledding, outside.

The Mister also fulfilled my dreams of having hundreds of wonderful pictures to document the occasion. He’s a good dad and husband, that Mister.

{My brother, Paul, and Mikey working on the Thanksgiving salad.}

{Baby Gabby, aka THE TURKEY}

{Mikey, wearing my snow hat from the 70s and my gloves from the 80s}

The end.