Please Pretend You Are Not as Disappointed as I Am

It's official. 2008? Will forever be known as the year full of fail. No matter how many things went right this year, one very significant thing went wrong: the Christmas lights were never all put up. Even worse, of those that were put up, half of them decided to stop working. I could blame Mother Nature and her damn 5 degree temps, 40 mph winds, and never-ending torrential downpours (because, you know, if it's not 5 degrees then it must be 70 degrees). I could, but I won't. It was just a bad year for the lights. Instead of looking like this:

Our house looked like this:

Try not to be jealous of the lake in our front yard. I fully expect to find that the pond fish have moved to the deeper water in the middle of the lawn any day now.

The good news is that in my quest to replace the defunct icicle lights, I called Mr. Husband to verify the quantity of strands that I should buy. He? ROCKS. He told me to buy twice what I thought I needed because next year at this time WE WILL NOT BE IN THE SAME HOUSE. It's good to know that I'm not the only one who can't wait to move to a bigger house with a better electrical box. I'm sure that is exactly why Mr. Husband wants to move--so we have the wiring to put up twice as many lights.

(Note to self: Last year the rain ruined your sparkly parade, too. PUT THE DAMN LIGHTS UP IN NOVEMBER. Ignore the whiners and just do it because Pittsburgh in December = RAIN.)

Sometimes it's Just Like Talking to Mr. Husband

For various reasons, Meg (the Bulldog) did not make the trip to Indiana with us. So this morning Alexis and I drove her out to our friends Mark and Estee's house for a couple of days of total and complete spoiling. Along the way we stopped to pay the turnpike toll. The woman in the booth astutely recognized that there were two pups in the vehicle, and handed out a couple of dog treats for them. Apparently the turnpike commission has managed to acquire the absolute only substance on Earth that Meg will not eat. She sniffed the treat in my hand then turned her nose up at it, so I handed it back to Alexis to see if Cody (the Havanese) would take it. (Cody did come to Indy with us; Yes, we totally play favorites and it's based on who is and is not housebroken.)

Alexis held the treat for a moment, tried to give it to Cody, and was also denied.

She said, "Mama, what's this?"

"A dog treat," I replied.

"No, it's an Alexis treat," she retorted.

"Alexis, don't put that in your mouth," I said.

"It's like cereal," the Toddler informed me.

"Alexis, don't put that in your mouth," I sternly repeated.

In classic Mr. Husband style, she retorted, "You don't mess with the Zohan."

When you're married to someone who can have entire conversations using only movie quotes, that retort actually makes sense. Sort of.

A Quick Drive-by of Oglebay in West Virginia

(I think Joseph may have lost it in this last photo.)

BTW, some of the not-really-late-because-I-still-haven't-posted-my-outdoor-light-photos entries to Christmas Crazy KICK ASS!