Rusty Bobby Pins

I have a five year old daughter of beautiful golden red hair which, unfortunately, she likes to wear straight down over her gorgeous face. Every morning before school I attempt to clip back her long bangs using a variety of hair products. Bobby pins are most effective because she tends to forget about them easily. I have noticed she comes home from school lacking pins more often than not. I have to buy a new package about once every two months and I figure they litter her playground, the school yard and our back yard. They turn up in the car, in her backpack and sometimes in the vacuum cleaner. Last night the fixer found almost a dozen, rusty and wet bobby pins in the pump of our washing machine. Lesson learned, check the pockets of my fiery little redhead BEFORE doing laundry.

The Fixer

Being so new to blogging, I've taken a cue from my best friend I should never use real names. So, last night I came up with the perfect name for my husband; a man who will undoubtedly be part of much storytelling. I've known my husband since seventh grade. He has known me since ninth. Apparently I noticed him before he noticed me. The summer of ninth grade we began seeing each other and just never stopped. We've been together 18 years and married 12. Truly we have been through everything together.
Last night our washing machine sprung a leak at 10:30pm, right before we settled down to watch a movie. Instead of the movie, we mopped up water and I had visions of repairmen and dollar signs swimming before my eyes. But no...my husband pulled the washer out, took off the back, drained the water and found a rusty bobby pin had poked a hole through the casing of the water pump. Quickly I did an Internet search and found the part was likely to cost us $118.00. Not bad, I thought. My husband had other ideas. After he shook out 10 rusty bobby pins and cleaned up the part, he took some type of epoxy he uses in his line of work and sealed the pin hole. He put the machine back together and I held my breath while he did a test drain cycle. No water, fixed washer and no repair bill. My husband is now "the fixer." Smart, sexy and extremely handy...I am one lucky woman.

How to Stuff a Turkey?

Thanksgiving is at my house this year. 11 people total and I'm doing a ridiculously easy menu of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, fruit salad, green salad and sweet potatoes. Other family members are bringing the rolls, green bean casserole (yes, with canned mushroom soup in case my culinary b/f was wondering) and pumpkin pies. Sounds so easy...yet I have one tiny problem that simply did not occur to me until just now...I have one arm encased in a stylish black cast for the next 6 weeks. One that can not get wet or touch raw poultry for obvious sanitary reasons. How in the world will I stuff the turkey?

Anticipation for Nerds

I dedicate this post to my bf in Colorado because I know she will understand what I'm talking about and because I'm sure she will be the only one reading me. I have a ticket in my hot little hand for the movie Twilight...viewing at4:05pm tomorrow evening. I've gathered the essentials for a pleasurable evening tonight to finish the last 50 pages before the movie. A nine serving size bag of Raisinettes which I will literally finish off - check. A promise from my husband to take care of our sick 3 year old no matter how many times he wakes up - check. A false fire in our glass encased highly suburban gas fireplace - toasty check! My fuzzy green blanket to wrap around me - check. And the best check of all, my husband's word that I will be the one sleeping in tomorrow morning. I must admit, it is not even close to Harry Potter, but the anticipation is still palatable. I adore a sleeping house in which I am the only one awake trapsing through the pages of another world.

Welcome

While in college studying to be a teacher, I was assigned into a group of 5 other Master's seekers. We were forced to spend the next 2 years together for whatever group project our professors thought up to occupy our time. During our first couple meetings to work on our first project, I was full of ideas, insight, excitement...you get the picture. There happened to be only one other female in our group of 5 and she usually sat silently and rolled her eyes a lot. Finally, toward the close of our group project she interrupted one of my ideas and yelled loudly, "Jesus, Little Miss Sunshine, are you ever in a bad mood?" So, if you follow me, you will know me as Little Miss Sunshine...only now it is my title with tongue in cheek! Believe me.