Thanksgiving numbers...

- 5 day weekend

- 6 photo shoots

- 4,000 pictures taken

- 3 days spent with my brother and his family

- 30 enchiladas cooked

- 2 birthday parties with the in-laws

- 1 nasty cold

- 150 dollars saved on Black Friday

- 10 houseguests

- 2 boxes of wine

- 24 bottles of beer

- and only 25 days left until Christmas

WOW!

Sneak peek...

I have been so busy taking pictures for other people's Christmas cards...that I almost forgot about our Christmas cards.

We're still making final touches.

In honor of Awkward Family Photos everywhere...Merry Christmas, Dammit!!

Conversations in the car...

Jack and I were alone in the car. Christmas music was on the radio. I was dying a little inside...

Jack: Mom. I love Christmas songs. You 'member that one about the girl farting on Santa...then, Santa farts when he's leaving presents under the tree? That song is hilarious!

Me: Son, farts are funny, I don't care who ya are!

*We laugh. A sure fire way to bond with your boy, is to talk about farts together*

Jack: Hey, Mom. Is Santa real?

*Oh my dear sweet Jesus!! This is the moment I've been waiting for. Finally, I can put an end to these reindeer games!*

Me: Hmmmmm...I am really glad you asked that question. What do you think?

Jack: I think he's real.

*Fuck! I thought this was my moment...DAMMIT!*

Jack: No...wait.

*YES!! Hope!!*

Jack: He's not real. No way. He can't be real. A fat man can't fit down the chimney. It doesn't make sense.

*OMG...it's over. All the stress. All the sneaking. All the lies. It's over!!*

Me: You're a smart kid. So, if Santa isn't real, then, who do you think leaves those presents under the tree?

*Please say Mom and Dad...Please say Mom and Dad...PLEEEEEEASE SAY MOM AND DAD!!!*

Jack: Midgets. I don't believe in Santa...but, I do believe in midgets.

Me: What?! Midgets?! Seriously?!

Jack: Yeah, Mom, it's the only thing that makes sense.

*SHOOT ME NOW!!! Limited by the logical capabilities of THIS CHILD...he's never gonna figure it out, and I'm gonna have to pretend to be Santa FOREVER!!!*

Consolation...

Thanks to the guilt trip the encouragement of a few of you guys...we have a new rat in the house. A welcomed guest. One we did not greet with gunfire!

My mom couldn't stand it, and in the middle of dinner on Friday night, she brought over a new rat, identical to Marly. Just a newer model. I mean, like, literally, in the MIDDLE of dinner. Lily opened the box, and the new girl jumped into her nachos.

She was home!

Losing Marly was a bit traumatic for Lily. Trauma that was possibly compounded by her bonehead brother.

The other day, when I told Lily to come into our room. That we needed to talk to her. The little brother followed. He could tell I was a bit somber, and I could tell that he thought she was in trouble. He was humming, and skipping, and bouncing...elated that her ass was on the chopping block, and not his!

There wasn't an easy way to tell her. I just said it. "Lil. I'm sorry, sweetie, but, I went to check on Marly, and she died."

I'd never seen tears appear that fast. In a second, she was bawling, but, managed to mutter, "Awwwwwwww...mom...I miss MarMar," as she fell into my lap.

I held her, and rocked her. Jake talked to her in his voice that is reserved for his baby girl...and no one else.

Jack was watching the whole thing. Wide-eyed and worried. He has a tender heart, and didn't like seeing his sister so upset. He approached her, not knowing what to say, but, knowing he should say something.

Finally, in the softest, sweetest voice he could serve, he said, "Awwwww, Sister. It's okay. Dad's gonna die, too."

Note to self: WTF?!? Teach the boy that a simple 'I'm sorry' is all that is needed for the recently bereaved!

Lucky for Lily, she tunes her brothers out completely, and I don't think she even heard him.

Jake did however, and has a checkup scheduled with the doctor for tomorrow!

I heart faces...

Click the button to see the entries this week!
I took pictures of a childhood friend of mine, and her family this weekend. It was such a fun shoot...her boys are RIDICULOUSLY beautiful!

I was soooooo excited when I saw that this week's challenge was "Autumn Beauty"! I snapped this pic while Dad was keeping Creed entertained in between poses. Well, when I say 'poses,' I mean as much posing as you can do with little ones.

I loved this pic, and a few dry, brittle, beautifully colored leaves on the ground, is about as much "autumn beauty" as we get here in my neck of the woods!!

Have a good week, y'all!

Outlook...

If things are looking bleak and dreary...

Wait just a little while...things will change!


These two photos were taken about an hour apart, in my neighborhood!

Heartless...

This probably isn't the coldest story ever told, but it is graphic, and gross, and inhumane, in some cultures unethical, sad, bloody, and someone dies at the end. And it's about rats. Not our well loved and missed Marly *pour one for muh homie* but, wild rats. And you've seen how we treat rats around here. We're ruthless. RA-HU.THLESS!

You've been warned...

I prefer any rats that I encounter, to be without a pulse! It's the only thing that will stop the scurrying.

Truthfully, I'm even afraid of dead mice. Ya know...on the off chance that Jesus decides to perform that miracle I've been asking for, and he resurrects the damned thing, bringing the bugger's scurry back! Totally irrational fear. I know. I'm working on it. My therapist thinks we're close.

We have every intention of being humane...and do our best, but, for some reason, our methods of terminating the rats, usually end with it dying a slow, miserable, painful death.

This rat was GINORMOUS, and was sitting by our back sliding door, teasing the dog. Tucker was going insane. As was I. For the sake of our emotional and psychological stability, the rat had to die.

We knew from past experience, that the airsoft guns couldn't handle a job this big. It could barely handle a tiny little run of the mill mouse. This mofo was GINORMOUS!

I'm totally not exaggerating. From his head, to the tip of his tail, was probably about 10 inches! And I'm not talking about what Jake would call 10 inches. Uh-uh. I'm talking about a REAL. TEN. INCHES.

We decided on the BB gun, for a quick, painless kill, in order to be more humane to the furry little bastard who, in my book, the world could do without. I know. I know. The circle of life, and all that jazz...

My brave husband laid on the patio and saw the rat underneath the grill. He had the shot. He aimed. He fired. In an instant, the BB shot out of the gun, hit it's target, bounced off the patio, shot right back at us, in front of Jake's face, and hit our inflatable hot tub. Yes. We have an inflatable hot tub. And it's awesome!

I temporarily forgot about the rat, and was deeply concerned about my hot tub. I was yelling at Jake, "Holy Shit, we forgot about the tub. You better not have popped a hole in my tub!" Jake says, "Oh shit! Damn, we did not think about that."

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

The dog was going BATSHIT CRAZY, as was the writhing, flopping, profusely bleeding, rat, with a GSW to the head. Blood was flying, as the dog grabbed the rat. I freaked out, "DO RATS CARRY RABIES. TUCKER IS DUE FOR A RABIES SHOT. WHAT IF HE GETS RABIES? IF HE GETS RABIES WE HAVE TO KILL HIM." Jake was yelling at me, and with me, "NIKKI, WILL YOU CHILL!! TUCKER, DROP IT. DROP IT." Like a good dog, he relinquished the rat and ran for the back door. He was terrified, and shaking. As was I.

We watched the thing flop for a few more seconds, Tucker and I from inside the house, Jake and the rat on the outside. Then, like a whisper, he went to be with the lord. Alright, so, it was more like a blood curdling shriek of agony and despair...but, he's nowhere near my effing house at peace now, that's all that matters.

This is Jake, and his kill...

This is the evidence...


He was DOA, and forensics have shown that upon the bullet's entry, the rat's head went back, and to the left.

Published...

Remember this photo...

I entered it in the Blurb Book contest at I heart faces...and it was chosen, along with 71 other photos, to be featured in the book!

You can check out the book HERE, and see all the amazing faces!

YAY ME!

Happy Hump Day!

Post it Note Tuesday...

Go HERE to make your own Post It Notes. Create your own Post It Note Tuesday blog post, then, go HERE, to link up at Supah Mommy's and check out all the other Post Its.

Here's mines...

Marly and she...

The girl is such a responsible child. She is responsible with her chores, her homework, her belongings, her money. She is patient and focused...and couldn't be any less like me, or any more like her father!!

Early in the year, Lily decided that she wanted a hamster. She began saving her money. For weeks, and months, she resisted the temptation of instant gratification. While her brothers were blowing their money on candy, or trips to the dollar store, Lily added to her hamster fund, one dollar at a time.

After a few months, she had saved enough money to buy the necessities on craigslist, and adopt a rescued hamster at the pet store. She was so proud, and in spite of my serious disdain for all things that scurry, I welcomed Marly into our home.

Lily proved to be a responsible pet owner, too. She kept up with the feeding and the cage cleaning, without the need for constant nagging from me.

Yesterday morning, I discovered that the furball was dead. I had to sit my baby girl down, and carefully break the news, that would undoubtedly break her heart.


It sucked...

The girl cried and cried, and when she ran out of tears, she made a decision. She is saving her money, and one dollar at a time, she will add to her Marly II fund.

Not that there's anything wrong with that...

See that vest up there in the photo?

It's mine.

I was wearing it one night, when we were hanging out at a friends' house. After a couple of beers, the boys thought it would be so funny to try it on. S tried it on, and I snapped this pic.

*Huh...he was right! It is hilarious now that I see it plastered on the web!!*

*Speaking of...Crystal Balls, Victor...please don't tell on me!*

Jake tried it on, and we laughed a little bit more. We eventually ran out of jokes about the vest, changed the subject and we hurried out the door to fetch a lime before the imbibing got out of hand, and we were stranded.

Jake ran into the convenient store, leaving S and I chit-chatting in the car. We were watching through the windows of the 7-11, as Jake strolled the aisles, with his manly strut...IN A TIGHT ASS, PINK, CHICK VEST!

My first thought was, Huh...my husband is so cool. He can just walk right in there with that TIGHT ASS, PINK, CHICK VEST on...and not think a thing of it. Look how he is sportin' that vest without a care in the world about what other people think of him. He even looks cute in that little bitty vest. Damn, I love that man.

S was laughing and said, "Does he know he's wearing the vest?"

I said, "Holy shit! He's forgotten that he's wearing that fucking vest!"

At this point in the story, I wish I could say, that I felt sorry for the man, and waited until he was back in the car to tell him that he'd just worn the TIGHT ASS, PINK, CHICK VEST...IN PUBLIC!!

But that would be no fun...at all!

S and I were HYSTERICAL, and decided it was best for all parties involved, if we fucked with him a little bit.

When I could gather enough air to form actual words...I called Jake on his cell.

S and I watched through the windows, as Jake reached for his phone.

He answered, and I covered my mouth a bit with my hand, and loudly whispered, "Dude...don't look now..."

Jake says, "WHAT? Why what's up," and he nervously looked around.

Seeing his confusion, and muffling laughter, I said, "I SAID DON'T LOOK! Dude, I don't know if you're aware, or not...but...you're still wearing the TIGHT ASS, PINK, CHICK VEST!"

We watched as Jake looked down and saw the vest.

We could actually see the testosterone drain out of his body. His shoulders slumped, he hung his head, and like a bitch who'd just lost her bra in a game of strip poker, Jake furiously tried to cover the TIGHT ASS, PINK, CHICK VEST, with his arms.

As I watched my beloved, giggle, nervously shift his weight from one foot to the other...still desperately trying to hide the vest, I thought, Huh...look how gay my husband looks right now!

Post it Note Tuesday...

Another rendition. I love this carnival!! Click the button above to play along and read Supah Mommy and the rest of her posse's Post it Notes. Here's mine...

We got lasers...

They got candy...




We got lasers...







The boys threw a hissy fit, and didn't want to dress up. So, we opted out of the costume thing for the concert. That is, except for that wascally wabbit, Shelly, and my husband, who dressed as a 'creepy, sleazy, pedophile' with that damn mustache!

He thinks it's hilarious that it grosses me out. I think it's hilarious that until he either shaves that thing off, or grows some supplemental hair around it...he has chosen a life of celibacy!