30 Days Hath November

Apparently, amongst Tobias's group of friends, the month we presently find ourselves in is "No Shave November".



They're all relatively new to this whole facial hair thing, so who's going to inform them that we are hastily spiraling toward--

--"No Date December"?

I've tried, but the crier of such news probably needs to be young, cute and not smelling of tonight's dinner in order for the message to be heeded.

My Night of Blondness

Ever heard of a midlife crisis?

The above photo is not evidence of one. (Or if I am having one, it's not manifesting itself on my head.)

How about a Maltese Manhunt? Ever heard of one of those?

Our junior high church group recently had one. It involved me (and three other sponsors with whom the kids are familiar) disguising ourselves and then attempting to blend in with the other shoppers at a local mall. Teams of jr. highers combed the crowds looking for us. When they thought they had found one of us, the bravest soul of their group would approach and ask for a code phrase. (Mine was 'tea and crumpets'.) Once the secret phrase was obtained, they would text it to Kym (the gal in charge). The team to text her all four phrases first won the game...

...thus my donning of a wig, prop glasses and scrubs. (Thanks for the loans, Linda and Veronica.) Voila!


Upon seeing my newly disguised self, Jeff commented, "It's amazing how unattractive you can look."

Ummm...thanks?

I wish I had photos of my partners in disguise, but we couldn't afford the $900 fine for taking pictures in the mall. (Isn't that absurd? Especially since most people have cameras on their phones anyway and can discreetly snap photos all over the place.) Alas, my mere descriptions will have to suffice.

Erik--bleached his black hair until he was as blond as a black-haired individual can get.

Jason--wore a long black, super shiny wig and looked like a has-been rock star. (Sorry, Jay, but you know it's true.)

Phil--dressed up like a cowboy, complete with hat and drawn-on sideburns. Yeah, he didn't look suspicious at all. At one point, one of the shop keepers approached Phil and asked why he kept walking around and around in circles. Ummm...because I'm hiding from a bunch of jr. highers...


This whole venture really was a stretch for me. As I roamed the mall for about two hours, I kept thinking someone was going to point and ask, "You're wearing a wig, huh?" or just snatch it off my head and run, waving it in the air.

At one point, I purchased something with my credit card and the salesperson asked to see my ID.

Uh oh, I thought.

"Ummm...I'm wearing a wig right now," I confessed as I held my driver's license out to her.

She didn't bat an eye or even look up at me as she said, "Don't worry about it. I just need to make sure the names match."

Oh, okay. So much for safety in purchasing.

So do blonds have more fun?

Hmmm...

Well, my night of blondness was fun splashed onto a backdrop of paranoia and embarrassment, so I guess this experiment was inconclusive.

Let's see that one shot again:


So explain to me how Sidney Bristow made every disguise look soooo good? I try it once and end up looking like Nurse Ratched's plain jane hench woman!

I see no career in espionage in my future.

Short But Stupid

Last night I had a bad dream.

No, it was not technically a night terror.

In this dream, my garage was on fire!

Naturally, my first instinct was to call 9-1-1.

Unfortunately, every phone I grabbed...


...turned out to be...


...a calculator:


Sorry. It was just too dumb to keep to myself.

Surprising, Annoying, Yet Slightly Amusing

Remember this post ?

Well, a couple of nights ago, I woke up screaming again.

Jeff's the one I really feel sorry for. I mean, would you rather wake up screaming or wake up 'cause the person next to you is screaming? As soon as I'm truly awake, I realize that everything is okay, but as soon as Jeff wakes up, he thinks he needs to morph into the Hulk and defend the entire household.

His first words to me were a frantic, "Are you okay?" followed shortly afterward by a pleading, "You've got to stop doing this."

For better or worse, Babe. :)

This time I couldn't recall the dream I was having just prior to the vocalized horror that lasered out of my throat, but I was inspired to hop on the Net and research "night terrors".

At the first site I visited I read, "In a typical episode, you will sit up in bed and pierce the night with a 'blood-curdling' scream or shout."

Well, at least I now know what ails me, although I'm really surprised. I would think that only people under extreme stress or who have suffered severely traumatic experiences would experience this.

Really, does this look like the face of someone who would suffer from such a thing?


Acne? Obviously. Plantar Fasciitis? Sure. Occasional bouts of self-loathing? Why not? But something called "night terrors"? Now that's just weird...

The two screaming incidents have been by far the worst, but there have been multiple other occurrences. Too many to count, in fact. It all started about a year and a half ago.

I'll suddenly wake up from a dream (that isn't necessarily frightening, coincidentally) and think that a spider is dangling just inches from my face or that a person is standing by my bedside or some other startling variation of a similar scenario.

The crazy thing is that my eyes are wide open and I truly believe that I'm actually seeing something. On the less severe occasions, it takes me a couple of seconds to realize that it's just the nightstand or a shadow in the doorway and I calm immediately. At other times, I gasp in fright or even call out "Jesus!"

(One time when Jeff woke up, he was a little perturbed that I was calling out to Jesus when he was right there beside me. Ummm...let's see...Jesus is omnipotent, omnipresent God and you, darling? Yes, you're incredibly manly, but at 2:00 AM you're a (very studly), drooling, drowsy dude wearing nothing but a wedding ring and hair.)

The various websites I read made me thankful that I'm not suffering from a more severe case. Apparently, some people not only scream, but run around their house while doing so. (Wow. That would really suck. Jeff might accidentally clobber me in the unlit mayhem thinking that I'm the home invader.) In fact, the advice was given that the poor souls who sprint and scream keep their bedrooms clean to keep from tripping over things. Encouragement indeed.

There wasn't much advice given as to how to avoid having the terrors in the first place. They simply said to go see the doctor.

So I've decided to start keeping a sleep log, taking note of all the various factors that may be contributing, everything from what position I'm sleeping in to whether or not I ate too much sugar on the previous day. (Yes, I know. It'll make fascinating reading. I'll be sure to post it right here in it's entirety.) Hopefully it will help me establish what I can do to keep myself from "piercing the night with a blood curdling scream".

One website said that about 14% of children suffer from night terrors and most of them outgrow it in their teen years. It went on to say that only about 2% of adults experience them and it usually clears up by the time they're 65. Great news! Only 29 years to go!

Lurching Across an Empty Parking Lot Near You

What's more fun than teaching a teen to drive a car?

Why, teaching a teen to drive a car with a stick shift, of course!

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...


Tenacious T. Doesn't he look psyched?

9 o'clock and 3 o'clock:


Make sure you're in first:


(We've discovered that my poor car emits a particularly acrid smell when third gear is mistaken for first as one attempts to get going.)

Get ready...

get set...

and...

choke...

sputter...

...stall.

Hmmm...try again.

*key turns in ignition*

More gas...

No! No! More brake!

Imagine the above instructions interspersed with peals of (somewhat nervous) laughter.

I've learned to rate the frightfulness of his various navigations by how many chins they cause me to sprout. This photo was taken during a quadri-chin maneuver:


(Okay, so it's obviously a posed photo, but I have looked this overwrought a number of times during his times behind the wheel. It's not a good look for me, I know.)

In all fairness, he has improved a lot. I no longer threaten that he's going to have to pony-up for my chiropractic bills.

Ah, yes. That's my boy, leaving his mark in the world:

Personified Fruit and a Rascally 'Coon

There are definitely some benefits to kids growing up. They can brush their own teeth, clean between their own toes AND carve their own pumpkins as seen here by my not so little girl:


Oh, and did I mention they can make their own costume, too?

My simple, yet darling, raccoon. :)


Hey! Get out of that trash can!

What? Oh, I see...


...it's your trick or treat bag. Ambitious little member of the weasel family, aren't you?

After the festivities of October 31st had ended, Delaney still hadn't had enough of getting creative with fruit as exhibited by my fruit bowl:


She and her buddy Maria brought out the personality in each of these oranges.

The matronly looking one is named Suzette.