The truth

So here it is, nothing held back, the honest to goodness truth...I like to write.  In fact, I've written a novel.  For some reason admitting that is very difficult for me.  I don't know why.  I've searched my brain for answers, wrote down some of my weirder dreams, (Freud would have a field day!) and tried hypnotism.  Quick note; it is very hard to hypnotize yourself.  For a second I thought I might have succeeded, but then realized I had dozed off.  Even with all of this extensive research, I am no closer to discovering why.  Although, I believe that is why my Christmas cards get sent out in July and my blogs aren't very regular.

The only reason I am actually blogging today is to get out of cleaning.  We started our Christmas decorating on Saturday.  (when I say we I really mean me.  I am married to Carl the scrooge.)  I forgot that decorating is WORK.  Cleaning up after all that decorating is even more WORK.  Urgh.  It was so much easier when I was a kid.  The only thing required of me was to put ornaments on the tree.  Later, when she thought we were sleeping, my mom would take all the ornaments off the tree so she could redecorate it.  It sounds tedious, and you may wonder why she went through the effort.  Actually it wasn't  much of an effort for her since we had a tendency to put all the ornaments on the same branch.  Not only was our mode of decorating efficient, it also made sneaking the candy canes that much easier. 

A star is born

Last week Bryant was in his Jr. High's production of 'The King and I'.  He played the Prince with the hard to pronounce name.  Not only was he the cutest actor on stage, but he was also the best!  I claim no motherly prejudice or impartiality when I say this.  He really was the best.  (and if you don't believe me just ask his dad)

Last year we were privileged to sit through all three performances of the "The Music Man.'   While it was enjoyable, I have to say one night of watching a Jr. High musical is very preferable to sitting through three nights of a Jr. High musical.  (esp. if your cute actor kid is the one adjusting his 'costume' onstage.  As a mother, how do you mention to your teen son that everyone, including said mother, saw him do this?  Simple answer...you don't.)  Rumor has it they are doing 'Oliver' this spring.  Pray for me.

I've got an excuse and, believe me, it's a good one...

and once I figure out just what it is, I'll let you know.  Hmmm.....what's a good excuse for a blogging hiatus?  (besides laziness)

Okay, okay, I know it has been a LONG time since I've updated.  Good heavens, Halloween has already come and gone, leaving me with nothing but tight jeans and inferior candy.  Why, I ask, do I buy the good candy knowing my kids will bring nothing in return but a bag full of bubble yum and smarties?  (Our Canadian family should know that American smarties taste like little disks of chalk sprinkled with pixie sticks.  Together this mix makes some killer teeth fuzz.  Orange juice and Doritos are also good at this.)  I think there should be a sliding scale for trick-or-treaters.  We'll ask what their parents are giving out, and if it's not one of the big chocolate five, raisins it is.

As for my arch nemesis, 'The cat who Poops in my yard,' his evil genius status is confirmed.  Long story short, Mr. Kitty made the mistake of doing his evil business in my sister's yard.  (she lives three houses away from me)  This infuriated her husband, Adam, into action.  It took him three days, and a variety of food, but finally Adam caught the cat! (as well as a skunk-but that's another story)  He took 'The cat who Poops in my yard' for a little drive.  (no black bag or shovel included)  A blissful week followed in which there was no cat fragrance to fill my nostrils.  All of Mr. Kitty's poo bombs were disabled leaving us free to frolic at will.  Yes, peace was restored to our land.  Then, frightfully, little signs began to appear.  Things like the occasional whiff of something nasty, or a suspicious looking pile on the lawn.  Also, there was a decidedly evil presence in the air.  Oh, I tried to deny the signs.  I looked for any possible or plausible explanation, (my family vehemently denied any culpability) but deep down I feared the worst.  Alas, my fears were confirmed.  'The cat who Poops in my yard' had undeniably  returned.  It was a black day for the Purnell house.  A black day indeed.  I fear the future may involve a paint-gun and Bryant's commando p.j.'s.