This feel good video is actually an old United Way ad. No matter how you feel about the United Way, the message is really nice. Happy Friday!

I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but I have become caught up in the Star Jones vs. the View saga. I'm not going to blog away about it, but suffice it to say that my walking buddies Tiffani, Patrice, Sue and I all agree that Star is the one who comes out ahead here. More power to her for taking charge of her own situation. It is clear to me that they let her go as part of their deal to get Rosie O'Donnell on the show. Rosie bad. And Barbara is just moded.
So I blogged away about it. I feel better now.

Here is Abby with her Granda, Thursday evening after her ballet performance. (I'm still not used to seeing pictures of him without the mustache.) She, of course, was the cutest and most talented. We are one of the few families in the country who get tax deductions for exceptionally beautiful children. (Never heard of such a deduction? Oh dear. I'm sorry.)
Anyway, it was a lovely performance of the fairy tale "Sleeping Beauty." The kids ranged in age between 3 and 18, and were mostly girls with a handful of little boys. Somehow the dance school got their hands on a very professional-looking ballet guy to play the part of the Prince. I must confess, I haven't been comfortable watching male ballet dancers since I was about 8 years old. Believe me, I have great respect for men who have studied classical dance and for the skill and strength that it requires, but I sensed that the majority of the audience had as immature an attitude about men in tights as I have. And it didn't help that at the pinnacle of the performance (Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming hook up) all I could think about was how this guy that Lesley went out with back in the day once asked:
"if a female ballet dancer is called a ballerina, does that make a male ballet dancer a ballerin-o?"
I really was trying to be mature about this. I didn't want to stoop to the level of the uncultured snickerers in the audience. But we were on the second row, and this ballerino in his tights was dancing practically on top of us, and my mom was laughing at the ballerino thing with me. (Yes, DeAnn was laughing. She will deny this.) I guess after 2 hours of fluffy little girls and teenage dancers taking themselves oh-so-seriously, I just couldn't take it. Inappropriate laughter comes very naturally to me. The "ballerino" debate continues...

Despite many opinions to the contrary, I am mostly normal. I took the test. You'll have to trust me on this one; I won't be publishing the results.

This is a picture of me with Ian when he was 1 month old, on my 10th wedding anniversary in Sept. 2004 at some B&B in Pleasant Grove. (Scott and I were supposed to take a cruise for our tenth, but instead I got a a trip to Pleasant Grove and a photo of myself with another man.) What a chunk! Annie has yet to achieve (at 3 months) the sumo-esque physique that her brother exhibited at birth. (Photo of Annie to be blogged soon.) Anyway, I love the expression on Ian's face in this picture. I think he is saying "girl! Get those roots done!"

By the way, I'd take Ian over some goofy cruise any day.

Could this be habit forming? Nevermind any clothes-cleaning ability, Surf is hands down the best smelling laundry detergent on the market. Actually, I think Surf is arguably the best smelling substance on earth. Whenever I do a load of laundry, I take a big, long whiff of the stuff. One day after several loads, I glanced at myself in the mirror to find the outside of my nostrils dusted with the white powder. You may be thinking, "what a pathetic domestic existence." On the contrary. I would assert that it is my domestic existence which brought me into contact with this intoxicating fragrance. I would ingest it, bathe in it or inject it if I weren't such a chicken.

I've had one supermom moment in this otherwise blah day: while on the phone and holding a baby, I lugged a small air compressor out of the house and inflated a bicycle tire. Yiha! I am woman. This triumph, however, does not compare to the heroics exhibited in this exciting news footage. (Woo-hoo Jim- I did it! Thanks for your help!)

Today, we are contemplating Halloween costumes. One must prepare oneself sufficiently in advance so as to assure a unique and emotionally satisfying costume experience. Two years ago, my husband dressed as the Greatest American Hero. Here we see Homestar Runner in a similar costume. The wig has come in handy since then, once for a 70's party, and again on Napoleon Dynamite Day at the elementary school. Which brings me to another point: never discard any article that may someday come in handy on Halloween. Wesley, dressed as a fly last year, wore wings made of window meshing and fly eyes and antennae made out of small wire mesh strainers. Abby, wanting to be included, wishes to point out that she makes use of her dance costumes yearly on Halloween. (Truth be told, the costumes are the only reason why I have kept her in dance as long as I have.)
Alas, we are currently at a loss for ideas so far this year. Suggestions would be appreciated.

One night when tucking Abby into bed, she sweetly chimed "good night! Sleep tight! Don't let the bed bites bug you!" Happily, I was not bitten by my bed that night.