Merry Christmas!

Help yourself to a cookie

Leo wishes everyone a mellow and relaxing day!

Ally on the other hand sends the evil eye to the one who has brought forth such shame and humiliation.
Sorry kitty!

Favorite Toys of my Childhood; Fisher-Price Airport & Village

Seeing that its Christmas time and my kids are all clamoring for this toy or that game I figured I would reminisce about the toys I loved back in the late 60's and early 70"s (and maybe a little beyond).

The first toys that I can remember being head over heals about was the Fisher Price Little People sets.

I had the Airport




and the Village.






I spent hours and hours playing with them. Making up stories or just arranging the little people.
I look at the sets that are sold today and they just dont hold a candle to these old classics.

Me of Little Faith

Obsessive.

Horribly, deeply and beyond normal obsessive.

Thats me.

Once I get started down a path I cant seem to change direction.

I guess the problem is I dont do well with unknowns. I need to know exactly what the story is and how its going to end before I read the first page. I'm surprised I enjoy some of the TV reality shows as much as I do.

But I get around the small inconvenience of not knowing who is going to be the Biggest Loser, Last Survivor, First to get to the pit-stop for this leg of the race etc by watching the last 2 minutes of the weekly show before I start at the beginning.

You may wonder why on EARTH I would do that.... its because it gives me a certain sense relaxation while I watch the show knowing that when so-and-so is professing that he has the perfect plan and knows exactly who is going home this week, I can be laughing knowing the plan has no chance in hell of working. I dont get worked up worrying and wondering whats going to happen.

See I told you I was a little on the over the top side.

It started long ago. I have this memory of when I was about to turn 5 years old. My parents had brought the biggest box I had ever seen and put it up on top of the refrigerator. They told me it was for my birthday party the next day and they were not going to tell me what it was.

No matter what.

The gauntlet was thrown down and I was never one to pass up a challenge. I can remember laying on the floor, crying, sobbing, BEGGING for them to tell me. I flung myself on the sofa. I curled up in a corner. I pulled every trick in the book.

And as to be expected my mother reluctantly gave in and brought the box down and showed me the brand new, totally retro, extra cool sleeping bag they had bought for me at Orbachs. I slept well that night. My parents on the other hand probably tossed and turned all night wondering what kind of little monster they were raising.

I have a picture of me at my birthday party the next day, lifting the lid with the biggest look of happy surprise on my face... as if it the contents were totally unexpected. I deserve an Oscar for that performance (either that or a good slap upside the behind).

In truth though, it wasn't so much that I wanted to know what was in the box because I thought it was good, I wanted to know what was in the box because I was afraid it would be something bad. Then I would have spent the whole night being excited only to be let down the next day when I opened it up and found out it was a years supply of knee socks.

I also know how to fix the "life is like a box of chocolates" problem too.... I cut all the pieces in half before I get started so I dont accidentally bite into one with marzipan or hazelnuts.

BLECH!

There are just some things I'm not willing to leave up to chance.

Irony

It's the end of the November festivities and we take a bit of a breather and a huge sigh of relief as we drop grandma off at the airport this morning. We left her shouting at some old man who had committed some act of impertinence against her person while waiting at curb side check in. We pretended not to notice and burned rubber down the exit lane.

How is it that old people get so dang cantankerous and unhygienic? I swear if I ever start to act like that I give my children permission to zap me with a stun gun until my brain rewires itself. I never want my children to find the need to hide while I visit, roll their eyes behind my back when I talk, force me to take a shower because I don't think I need one or make up excuses not to come and visit me during their children's summer vacations.

As I strip the sheets from the futon and throw them into the wash on the sanitary setting, I also promise never to lie to my children about actually taking that shower, giving them a wet towel but leaving behind a bone dry bathtub because I didn't think anyone would check. I will not suck my teeth endlessly after every meal, stick my fingers in the pumpkin pie, knock the children off their chairs with my ample bosom while trying to get to the appetizers before they do and I definitely will not profess that I work out 5 days a week at the gym when I cannot walk up a short flight of stairs.

I promise never to criticize their home when I get pissed off at something they do and tell them they should check the cleanliness of their toilets more often. Nor will I ask them if they plan on getting back to their own gym soon, as I can tell they have put on a few pounds since my last visit.

I will also not get into an "I told you so fight" with the 8 year old, loudly suck food off my fingers in a restaurant or curse at the waitress under my breath when she does not bring my coffee as quickly as I want it. I will also not sit on their couch and sleep with the TV on and then insist I was not sleeping so NO they cannot change the channel and watch their show and I certainly will not move into my room where there is a perfectly good TV waiting for me because the TV in the den is bigger than that one in there. And I will not ever, no matter what or how much I want to, invite myself on every vacation they plan, saying I can share a bed with one of the little kids and it will be ever so much fun spending even more time together as a family.

OH geez!!! I lied in my last post. I did turn into the bitchy daughter-in-law! I tried and tried and tried to avoid it and I succumbed anyway.

And how does fate punish me for this?

In the most ironic way possible.

I get a phone call this afternoon letting us know that she has landed safely in Vegas and "guess who I sat next to on the plane? Orlando Bloom and we had a lovely conversation all the way there."

My eye is twitching again.

I am now searching for an e-mail for Mr Bloom so I can write a heartfelt apology note.

I will end this with one of Sarah's art pieces she did of Orlando a few years back in his Lord of the Rings days.....