Costume Craze

We actually made it out the door on time this morning--a minor miracle, considering that I was shepherding two butterfly princesses, one kitty princess, and a junior missionary out the door. Yes, Eric is a missionary for Halloween. That's what happens when you have three older sisters who run your life for you.

I did not dress up for Halloween. I am a Grown Up. I am a Professional Woman. I have Very Important Things to do all day long, and I can't do them if I'm wearing a tiara or a pointed hat or glitter makeup. That, and I spent so much time on the kids' costumes that I ran out of time to scrounge anything up for myself.

No need to worry, though. I dressed myself in what I thought was a nice, conservative work outfit. When I walked out of the closet Grace's eyes lit up. "Oh, Mommy! You found a costume, too!" I looked down at my very dull black skirt and black shirt. "Uh, what am I dressed up as?" "A weird lady!"

I thought you'd enjoy the picture of me crying my guts out.

The Booby Post (yes, Betsy, the title is for you)

Today Mia tripped and fell. Reaching out, she caught herself on a part of my anatomy that, um, is not designed for such things.

I sat up and hollered, "Ouch! Mia, watch it! Don't grab the boobies!"

Mia apparently had never heard the term. Not wanting her to latch on to it and start using it indiscriminately, like in church for example, or with her teacher at daycare, I explained that it's a pretty silly word some people use for breasts, but in our family we don't say it. Yes, I am a complete hypocrite.

Mia looked down at her own chest thoughtfully. "I think I will call my breasts the 'Cinderellas.'"

Something for Sunday

I was going through pictures on my computer and found this. It's the daughter of a friend, in the Mesa Easter Pageant a couple of years ago. When I picture Christ this is exactly how I see Him. 3 Nephi 17:21.

Tummy Trouble

Over this past week--

Mia: "Mommy, your tummy is SOOO big, it is like a trampoline for jumping on."

Mia: "Mommy, you must have been eating a LOT of sugar because your tummy is VERY big."

Mia: "Are you SURE you don't have a baby in there?" [oh, if you could only understand all of the reasons I'm so certain that's not a possibility...].

She's still alive. For now. I can't say the same for my ego, which is smooshed thin and flat, very unlike my tummy, apparently.

A Good Reason to Fly United Airlines More Frequently

The last leg of my flight today was hands-down the coolest, most super fun flight EVER, and this is coming from someone who isn't much of a flying enthusiast.

One word: Paul.

Paul was the flight attendant assigned to this particular flight. Paul was very funny. Paul was stationed at the rear of the plane. I was sitting in the rear of the plane. The very rear of the plane. As in, I didn't even need to really stand up and go to the bathroom; I could just shift in my seat slightly and I'd be there. IN the bathroom, not actually going to the bathroom...is this too much information? For 3+ hours we were relatively stuck back there. It could have been just another monotonous flight. Did I mention Paul was very funny?

Anyway, Paul. You've gotta love someone who begins the opening scripted pre-flight announcements by thrusting the mic at me saying, "Here, she'll finish up for me." Or offers a glass of water and says with a straight face, "We're right next to the lavatory--I can pop in and get you as much more as you'd like." (Did you know the lavatory sinks have signs that tell you not to drink that water? I didn't know that...). Or grins at me and says, "Hey, let's lock this lady in the lavatory!" and then actually does it (Who knew there were external locks on lavatory doors? I'll think twice before using an on-flight bathroom again). When I accidentally signed to him at one point he jumped into the seat next to me and began enthusiastically signing back, which was probably something like two-year olds trying to speak pig latin. On the descent he entertained us with stories of the worst drunken messes he's seen in-flight, which led to stories of his own worst drunken messes, which was almost funnier.

The best part of all: I got to hold an honest-to-goodness, real Academy Award Oscar! The real little gold statuette, which in real life isn't so little, and is so freaking heavy it could seriously take someone out. Permanently.

Long story: someone up in first class had it and our lovely flight attendant brought it back so we could ooh and aah and take pictures and 'touch' fame. Yours truly was too lazy to get my camera out of my carry-on that was safely stowed overhead, so alas--no cool pics of me holding an Oscar, in what is surely the one and only time in my life that I will ever be that close to the Academy Awards.

For you sicko minds out there, Paul is young enough to be my child (granted, if I started REALLY, really early), and there seemed to be a pretty good chance he's gay. I'm not devoting this post to him because he was a hunkaburninglove.

Did I mention Paul was funny? 3+ hours giggling on an airplane: priceless.