Fuzz & Fluff

Beauty in Furr-Form

It occurred to me this evening that I haven't blogged since the new year began. I have lots of happy things to dwell on right now, which is an incredible contrast to some of last year's life changes (see most-recent blog post for details). The holidays were extremely tough, but I had work to keep me busy, and friends to keep me sane ;) Thank God for my babies! They reminded me to keep my spirits up, and I sailed into the new decade quite hopeful... and I haven't been let down. Persistence and patience *sigh* are wonderful qualities. While my persistence is nothing short of one of my finest qualities, patience does not come naturally to me. Quite honestly it doesn't come to me at all. But somehow I've managed to practice it over the past few months. Patience pays off. :0) *big happy smiles*



As I sit here with my new-ish-to-me Himalayan kitty cat, Sasha, I realize that if you have been reading my blog for a while (I've made it past the one year mark, by the way! *self pat on the back... or ass... or wherever*), you probably know that I'm an animal lover. Yes, I have degraded helpless pets in the past by writing mean stories about them, but deep down, I love them to pieces. Sitting here with my lovely Sasha, I can't deny it... I'm smitten with a cat ^^= ♥!

Sasha became part of the family on December 9th of last year. She's been with us for over a month now, and she is an absolute delight! She's good with the kids, although I have decided against getting her declawed, due to the fact that the poor little fluff needs to play defense now and then, and the fact that a kneading, loving cat is just, well... natural. While I have had pet cats declawed in the past, it strikes me as funny now, as we tend to not de-fingernail (or de-toenail, for that matter) humans, unless they have been incredulously naughty (in the bad type of way, not the rawrrrr type of way)... so why subject our poor kitty to the ripping out of the claws. I'd rather not.

As I tend to get off-track, let me get back to the subject at hand, Ms. Sasha. I first learned about the dear poof ball from my best friend Anne. She mentioned that there was a kitty hanging out way out in the country, in the cold and snow, and although Anne's friend and her neighbors were feeding Sasha, she didn't have a real home. This went on for a few weeks. One night Anne sent me a picture of her, and I instantly became giddy! It had been over 5 years since I had a kitty... and I happen to LOVE Himi's and Persians, so this was like a dream come true. I did have plans to get a kitty this year, and that is still the plan (yes, Sasha will soon have a brother or sister... unless they are fond of each other, and then that's just incestuous and gross)... I just didn't count on a beautiful purr baby falling in my lap like she did. I'm thankful for her.

The night Anne took the kids and I out to meet Sasha, I was excited. I had a bit of guilt, because I was intent on waiting for a pet... but as soon as I saw her, I fell in love. I had to have her! She had to come home with me! She was needy for attention, and just beautiful as could be. She looked like an angel, and she had to be mine.

I bought the bare necessities for our girl... litter box, liners, litter itself, a bowl and food. Sasha was a hair skiddish at first (she found comfort under the Christmas tree and hiding in some duct in the basement), but she soon came around! She is now miss sociable Sasha. Everyone that stops over loves her! And it melts my heart when she sits in the window seat in the early mornings, watching the kids and I scoot off for the day. Nearly every morning I hear "bye house, bye Sasha" as we're driving down the road. She's just as much part of this house as our house is now, if that makes any sense. Basically she's a fixture. She moves, but she's a fixture. Huh... moving on... fixing to move on... jeez, just move... :P

While I'm on the topic of pets, my lovely-as-he-could-possibly-be boyfriend sent me a link tonight to a video on youtube. I watched that video, and then I stumbled onto several more. If you are an animal lover, you will find pure enjoyment just from watching this 41 second video by Parry Gripp. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2F4EFYM_MA&NR=1

And this is the video that made me dig for more: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SMWi7CLoZ2Q&NR=1

And one more... if you are a cat lover, you will appreciate these very useful flushing felines... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hcuv9RuO0NE

Check out youtube for more. The bunny at the end of video number one made me giggle and cry at the same time.

So, in closing, as you've probably heard, people who have pets are happier people. Statistics suck, in my opinion, but this I happen to believe. I truly missed having pets in my life. I'm happy someone neglected their beautiful cat... I'm sorry she spent so many nights in the cold... but I'm happy she became OUR house cat :) She'll be spoiled rotten for the rest of her 9 lives.

Happy Tears

As many of you know, we are moving. The garage is packed with bunches and bunches of yard sale items, which will be traveling with us to our new home (bigger town... bigger yard sale turnout). We also have a crazy amount of trash bags filled with items not even a 1 cent price sticker would make someone feel guilty enough to buy, and we have been adding these into our regular trash pile on Tuesdays when those hulk-armed trash truck guys, bless their hearts, come to visit our curb.

So we have a big section of yard sale items, a bigger section of black plastic & a medium-sized "keep pile" filled with trinkets and necessities and impulse purchases we have learned to love, and can't part with.

This "keep pile" gets me into trouble. I reminisce. I sit and look at old purchases and get weepy. The can is what REALLY gets me in trouble. No, I'm not talking about the commode, though that subject has ventured to the surface quiet frequently in my blog-life. I'm talking about the photo can. You know those popcorn tins you can buy at Christmas for people you a) really don't like or b) have no idea what to buy, and don't feel like spending any real amount of your hard-earned money on? Well, we have one of those tins, popcornless and full of old pictures.

I can't tell you how many times this week I have made excuses to go out to the garage. I go out there and pull up two of our extra-ugly old dining room chairs (yard sale pile, if you're interested). I use one chair to sit on, and one to pile photos on. They depress me.

I seriously used to be a bean pole... a tiny little thing with a nice rack (the rack remains), pretty blonde hair and a wardrobe I was proud of. Because face it, when you are a size small/medium, you can buy just about anything you dream of in the clearance section.

I felt truly depressed all day today. This should be one of the happiest times of my life. We are getting out of the renting cycle by buying our first real home, I'm going to Vegas in a couple of months with good friends, my babies are starting preschool and we survived a week of VBS, my husband is on day shift after many, many moons of thirds and on and on and on....

So why am I feeling so blue? I go through these phases. I suppose people who jump for joy at the mere glimpse of an oven mitt they haven't seen in ages, or an extra box of Christmas decorations they find in July, are gonna find a valley every now & then.

I decided to just let myself bask in my blues today... stay in my jammies, take a few naps, pack only when I wanted to pack and leave the mundane household crap to my husband. After all, every day isn't like this... but once in a while I think it's forgivable.

In all honesty, I would be happy to sit here & pinpoint my problems for the whole world (or at least my 35 loyal readers) to see, but I can't. I know the few problems I do have are nothing compared to the issues other folks are going through.

I'm going to post some of my pictures now... some of the photos that make me sad. It's my way of soaking it in, sucking it up and letting it go. Enjoy...

In Windsor, Canada... see Detroit?
This was my first real trip away from Joel after we got married.
I went with my friend Linda. We went to a strip club called "Danny's".
I'm still looking for the pic of me with my stripper.

This Santa was a perv, and I had bad hair... but I was happy...

What in the hell was I thinking?!?!?!



Teddy & I. I still miss Teddy... a lot.



This was me ready for my Junior Prom in my room at Mom & Dad's house.
My fascination with hot famous men started really young...
I loved this Prom dress.



Mom putting my veil on before the wedding.
CROCODILE TEARS..... Wahhhhhhhhhh!



Chris & I with our Cabbage Patch Kids.
I believe in the end, we probably all owned 25 Cabbage Patch Kids.



At my thinnest... a few years back.
Would ya believe I still thought I was fat?
Duh!



I thought I had a huge fat roll in this picture.
Double Duh!



On our honeymoon




Why didn't anyone tell me how terrible my hair was? :P




This was when I was running, doing the WW thing & in the best shape... oh, and orange from self-tanner :P



Joel with Teddy...
More sobs....... Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!




Fishing with Dad on vacation In PA.

I'm going to go burn the can now. Goodnight.

Moving Day: Trusted Tips to Get the Job Done

Below are moving tips for the open-minded mover. Since my husband, children & I will be moving in just a couple of weeks, I have researched and racked my brain as to how to pack & move most efficiently. Here is what I've come up with:


-Be optimistic. Every house has a closet, room, attic, basement or garage to hide those items you are too lazy to unpack. Utilize it!

-Enlist lots of help & then take an advanced pole-dancing/stripper class, throw out your back & you won't have to lift any heavy objects. This excuse should only be used once. Otherwise your family & friends will assume you're a sneaky whiner. You are, but they don't need to know that.

-Use your new stripper/pole-dancing skills to get free boxes, moving help & money for the big day. Don't be shy. It's the economy's fault, and no one should feel guilty for bettering themselves by making other people do their work.

-To help pay for moving expenses, have a 21 & older yard sale. Display photos of your posing with your new stripper pole. Remember, you can charge more if you're still crippled. So work it girl!

-When you are packing items you don't really want, but feel you should keep because they were gifts from your mother-in-law or great aunt Nola, pack them neatly, throw them across the room (accidentally of course), mark the box "stuffed animals" and laugh uncontrollably while hitting every pothole you possibly can driving to your lovely new home (if there are no potholes, just drive off the road a few times). You'll be minus a few ugly heirlooms, and you'll have a fabulous excuse when asked why the cock-shaped syrup dispenser is not being displayed in your new kitchen.

-If you are tired of snail mail, when filling out your change of address form, list the address of someone who can't stand you. They don't want to see you, so you'll never see a bill again. Send them a box of half-chewed candy every now & again with no return address to be found. It's the thought that counts... even if the thought is evil.

-Consider having a departure party & a housewarming party. Hold signs and a can stating you will lose your new home if you don't get donations. You're still crippled, so you won't be bothered by people offering you jobs, & this is an excellent way to decorate your new pad.

-If you are single, ask 10-25 hot guys over to your new house for a 'date' and ask them to bring their tool boxes. When they all show up simultaneously, serve Hors'Devours and explain that this date will be similar to an episode of the Bachelorette. Tell the men to decorate your house, but don't tell them how the game is won. In the end, throw out the best decorator... he's probably gay. The winner can be chosen by checking out asses while the men do their work. Pow! Decorated house!

-Invite your new neighbors over for tea. Spike it. You'll get the juiciest neighborhood gossip, and you'll be known for having the best tea parties.

-Hire a 5-year old to clean your old house (you know you don't wanna go back). Tell them you pay by the age per hour. If you're really poor, and your stripper skills are not paying off, a 2-year old may be more feasible. Tell them they only have 5 hours to complete the job. Ten bucks baby! Now, if you're REALLY, REALLY poor, offer to pay them with a ring pop and a can of Mt. Dew. Maybe even throw in a baby doll head. Tell them they can have the body if they agree to be your new gardener. Continue breaking toys in half until all of your odd jobs are complete.

That concludes this edition of Moving Day. Please check back for more money and time-saving tips. Happy Moving!

Tactical... When to Shoot, When to Smile & When to Shut Up... a user's guide to being less-evil

Thank You.

That is my baby's favorite word right now. Give him a piece of paper to color on. Thank You. Change his poopy butt. Thank You. Give him a kiss before bed. Thank You Mom. He'll even yell to me, I'll look over and he'll just say Thank You. It's amazingly adorable, and it makes me feel really, really good.

It doesn't make me happy just because it is so freakin' cute! It amuses me knowing that we, as his parents, have taught him that saying Thank You is not only the right thing to do... it often receives a reaction.

Manners. My 4 1/2 year old twins are lacking compared to Logan. Logan is just a thanker. I truly hope he knows what Thank You means, and he doesn't just love me ogling over him when he says it. Just now... "Mom... marker"... I give him the marker... "Thank You".... and although he will most-likely miss the paper and draw on our graffiti-inspired table, or possibly even the living room carpet (also creatively decorated), he can get away with a lot more... all because of manners.

That brings me to our Walmart greeters. I'm not going to stereotype by saying they are all evil, but let's face the facts, some of them... many of them... are. My husband has befriended a Meijer greeter. Meijer must require smiles during interviews, and they must make sure that the people applying are physically able to pull a single cart out of the herd of carts they are in charge of.

Greeters have several jobs... I realize this... they must un-herd carts (optional), smile (very optional with the likelihood of a smirk or a twitch being 28%), pretend like they care (only if they have time during their shift) and put little stickers of returned merchandise. Sticker-time is the perfect time to feel them out... not feel them up... unless they are hot... and see if they are even capable of engaging in conversation.

One of the pet peeves (near the top) of my increasingly long list of annoyances is people who are paid to greet. I can't tell you how many times I've greeter a Walmart greeter and they haven't greeted back. It pisses me off.

Side Note: Just now Logan asked for water. I gave it to him. Thank You.

So many people need employment right now. I realize Walmart greeters probably make minimum wage, if not only free fountain drinks and pretzel rods. This is no excuse. When you are hired in to greet, you should greet. And management should enforce a niceness policy. The problem is... often management is even pissier than the pissy greeters. Jerk faces!

I'm not only picking on Walmart employees. I also don't appreciate it when we walk into a nice restaurant and the bulimic bleach-blonde, tanned-to-the-hilt 'greeter' gives us the once over, and without speaking, leads us to a table, only to say in a whiny, bitchy voice, "your server will be right with you" ... my response? "I hope he/she is nicer than you... it's a good thing you don't get the tips, cause you'd be one broke bitc.... oh, never mind"...

I grew up on niceness. Mom was always very polite... too polite at times. She admits that now. She finally got sick of people walking all over her. Mom is very assertive today. She is a manager, as am I, and we are both likeably assertive. I've also learned not to let people walk on me, and I love the fact that it's okay to be firm and still be fun! Firmly fun. Hehe!

My whole point is... there is no point in being pissy with the world. Bad days happen. People suck on certain days and then they get better. Bad things happen... mostly to good people. A day of evilness now & then is allowed... but every freakin' day? Seriously! How do you make that okay in your mind? How do you wake up and say "I'm hateful. I will be evil and pissy with as many people as possible today"... that is what we call the reverse of affirmations... assirmations. Say these things in your mirror every morning, and they will make people think you are a complete ass. Feel free to print the following if you need added asspiration... inspiration for mean people:

1) I suck. My life sucks. My job sucks. If I am mean to people, maybe I can make them suck, too!

2) YAY ME! I woke up bitchy for the 120th day in a row! I think I'll shave my legs and cut myself on purpose so I can bitch about it all day.

3) Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I'm gonna go eat worms.

4) If life were a porno, I'd be the 'go get me a bagel' boy, sent to run errands during every good scene.

5) Bad hair day, my boobs are sagging, I have missing teeth, the teeth I do have are green with fungus. I should go to my greeter job with a scowl on my face and my pistol carefully concealed... and pray I get to use it.

These are only a few of my favorite assirmations. Please email me for more information on learning to be an ass.

In all seriousness, I pride myself on being nice. Yes, there are days when I don't want to smile. I have even been known to yell at people for making me laugh or smile, after promising myself I wouldn't. Some days just suck. All days don't.

People don't deserve what you mean people put them through. The ultimate evil? Talking about someone behind their back and then being polite to their face. Ooooh, you have your own set of assirmations.... you are the ultimate evil.

The good news is, if you are an ass, an evil greeter or just a loather of everyone, including yourself, there is hope. Follow these simple steps and you cannot go wrong:

1) I am a hateful person. I am paid to greet people. If I don't be kind, I'll get fired and stomped upon. (Scare tactic... use regularly for consistent friendliness)

2) I suck. People know that. So if I even smile a little bit, people will wonder what in the hell is wrong with me and talk to me. (The glass is half full tactic. In all honesty, people may be scared half to death if you smile, and run far, far away)

3) People love me. They really, really love me. (The lie tactic... people really don't love you, but it's healthy for you to be delusional)

4) Although I have bad hair, sagging boobs, "summer" teeth and green fungus teeth, there is someone out there for everyone. (The wishful thinking tactic... you are wrong, but bonus! You went from self-loathing to self-loving. Enjoy that, cause that's the only lovin' you're gonna get!)

5) I might never be liked, but at least I'll try. (The Feel-Sorry-For-Yourself Tactic... people still won't like you, but at least you gave it a shot little buddy)

I hope these tricks, tactics, truths and assirmations have helped you in some way. I hope that if you are paid to be nice to people, you will try that. It's a shame that the nice folks have to sit at home and job hunt like an Amish man who hasn't eaten in a week.

Out with the hateful 'greeters' and in with the new.

It was a pleasure serving you today... visit us again soon. (The I don't really mean it but they pay me to say it so I will tactic)

Back Bumps... Cleavage From Behind...

I saw back cleavage today. I didn't realize it existed. It gave me an overwhelming urge to research the condition... was the woman I saw just carrying weight in her back, or was she blessed with two sets of funbags? I may never know...

This happened at the bank. I was in line... the window I was standing at closed, so I had to step behind people who had just walked up to the other line. It irritated me slightly, but me being me, and the fact that it was Friday made me realize that it was in fact, no big deal.

The woman I'm speaking about was facing me when I first changed lines. She was talking to her very thin friend, and they appeared to be annoyed with the bank worker. I found it slightly humorous. When the woman turned around with her back to me, my eyes grew. Those big huge puppy dog eyes I've always wished for appeared. Then they turned into saucers... I had to look away or there were going to be after-4th fireworks right there at the bank! I thought my eyes may explode. Back cleavage! Who knew?! I was amazed!

This poor lady was wearing a very tight, low-cut tank top and her back and front sides looked identical! I couldn't help but wonder if she had two butt cracks. I am not so rude as to take a picture of this... although I really wanted to! In all honesty, I was just afraid I would get caught. If there hadn't been people standing behind me, I so would've had a picture of that cleavage. I've never been into cleavage, or boobs for that matter, but back boobs are really quite amazing!

The front crack and back crack had no dissimilarities! I wondered if they made bras for this poor lady... bras that have front and back cups... and where would the bra fasten? On the sides maybe? Talk about an over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder! I soon realized that it didn't really make a difference... this woman obviously didn't believe in bras at all. No bra straps to be found. I looked on in wonder...

I couldn't help but ponder if this woman would be considered a God-send among men. So many guys love boobies! Did it matter that she had bulges protruding from other areas? Guys, tell me, if you knew a woman with four tits, would you really care how the rest of her body looked? It's exactly like the butter-face scenario... "everything's hot butter face".

I've never understood the boob fascination, whether they're front boobs or rear boobs. It's amazing to me how much men love these bags of fat. Seriously! If we were carting around fat bags like that on our arms, we would be considered hideous! Is it the nipples that make the difference? If women had big fat bags hanging from their ass cheeks and they had nipples, would men find that attractive? I'm not so sure they wouldn't... the male population is obsessed with titties.

I was once involved with a leg man. I understand the leg thing. Legs are hot! But the breast thing throws me for a loop... I guess the good thing about having a boob man... we don't have to shave em. Keeping up with my stems for the ex was quite a chore! The boobs are easy. Either hide em away or flop em out & you're good to go. Men don't care... they'll take em any way they can get em.

I'm a little disappointed right now. I just looked up the definition of back cleavage on Urban Dictionary (a funny site by the way if you haven't been to visit) and this is what it says:

Back Fat: When a fat lady (particularly old), wears a swimsuit or bra that is too tight in the back and it squishes the back fat together to give the illusion that there are boobs on their back.

I did some further investigating, as I was not satisfied by the definition above. I found a photo of the beautiful Alicia Keys, who believe it or not, had back cleavage at the Grammy Awards! So even hot chicks can have back breasts! How strange!

I also found a video on YouTube with a song dedicated to back cleavage. You must see it! If you enjoy stupid humor like I do, you'll giggle and maybe even snort a bit. I did.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9S0oqCk6sRI

I wonder if women with back cleavage enjoy their extra pair? I wonder if the men who love them look at their back breasts longingly when they are behind them, and their frontal breasts when they are facing them.

Men, please weigh-in here and let us ladies know if you enjoy a nice pair of back boobs.
Inquiring minds want to know...

Off to look at my back in the mirror...

Ladies, be thankful for your knockers, and gentleman, be thankful you have women who are ready & willing to share their pillows with you. Yes, we are all blessed.

Quietly Confident

I have a pet peeve. I can't stand it when people talk about how they have the most beautiful face in the world, the cutest hair, the prettiest smile they've ever seen or the cutest toenails. I'm all about affirmations, but I'm more about common courtesy. When you say you have guys falling at your feet, and you look so damn hot, you are... quite honestly... losing respect every time you open your mouth.

I'm not one to complain about these things normally, but enough is enough. I've seen it more and more lately. To me, the most attractive people in the world are those who are quietly confident. They walk with their heads held high, radiate a fabulously beautiful glow and make you want to be part of THAT confident crowd... not the crowd that talks about how their ass looks so hot in their new jeans or their new thong is so sweet and adorable. UGH! Most of us quietly confident folks DO NOT WANT TO HEAR IT!

I am NOT a quiet person, but I am quite confident.

That brings me to one of my favorite quotes, written by... me!

Quote: Have you ever noticed that the most attractive people can open their mouths & ruin the whole damn thing?

There is a lot to be said for quiet confidence. You will NEVER hear me say how hot my girls look in a bikini top (though it is my dream to be toned enough to wear one!). I'm not judging the people who do build themselves up. I'm just telling ya sometimes your build up feels like a put-down to others.

Suck it in, stick em out, bat those eyes and sigh... I know... You Are It! Ugh!

Kissin' the Curb

I really don't remember ever blogging when I'm pissed off. I thought this could bring a new perspective to my oh-so-sweet image! HA! As I've mentioned in previous posts, I smile sweetly at people, say hello to everyone who crosses my angelic path, and think only good of others. Tonight this is not the case. I'm just irked. Mad, pissed, angry, evil... whatever ya wanna call it. I'm just AHHH! It's definitely NOT the night to mess with the Kelly. I may scream in your face or start laughing uncontrollably. You just never know when circumstances like these arise.

I'll start at the beginning...

I was visiting my best friend Sunday night. I took a trip down to the gas station to grab some Subway. We've both agreed in the past that deli meat sandwiches are not at all fun, nor a treat, but it was that or Taco Bell. The choice made itself.

So anyway, I get to the gas station & I'm feeling a bit woozy. This isn't too different from my usual state, so I don't think a lot of it. I stepped out of my car and immediately twisted my ankle. I then fell over a curb, fell onto my knees and then onto my nose. I had my glasses on, so the middle section decided to cut into my face. It was fabulous. And to top it all off, I then fell onto my forehead. Priceless!

To rewind this scene, I'm sure I would laugh hysterically, along with the rest of my friends & acquaintances, who all assume I had been drinking when this incident occurred. Just so you are all aware, I was not inebriated. I was, however, drinking grape sugar-free Kool-Aid, which I hear causes green bowl movements. How interesting! I'll get back to ya on that one!

So after falling in slow motion, I then sat on the pavement, unable to get up. A guy walked out of the gas station, looked at me, didn't say a word and got into his car. I smiled at him. How nice that he stopped to make sure I was okay. Asshole!

Then a lady ran to me and asked if I needed some napkins. I felt my face, and when I looked at my hand, I freaked out just a little more. I was bleeding! A lot! Sure lady... bring me some napkins. I stared at her blankly. What I thought had come out of my mouth hadn't. But she went to get my napkins anyway.

When she got back, she asked if I needed help up. I explained to her that getting up at that point wasn't gonna happen. I think she thought I was crazy. She was right :0) Hehe.. okay, so a little smile just emerged from my irritability. Dam it.

So, after I was holding some napkins, I put the contents of my purse back together, grabbed my evil glasses (I will soon be a full-time contact wearing diva) and stood up. Oh woozies.. it woulda felt good if it didn't feel oh, so bad!

I got in my car. A man ran up to me and asked me if I was okay to drive. "Probably not, but I'm gonna" I said. I then drove back to the nursing home. I called my mom, who works there, to ask her if there was any way to get to my friend's room without walking by the nurses station. No such luck. I had an older resident compliment my purse (thanks, by the way, lady!) on my way to my friend's room. Of course, there were several people sitting at the nurses station, and although I was trying to cover my oozing face, they noticed. LOL. Damn giggles.

Nurse Jennifer took care of me. She asked me if I knew my name, where I was and what day it was. I felt so proud! I knew them all! I was secretly hoping for a sticker, but once again, no such luck.

So, to make a longer story a bit shorter, I went back to my friend's room, my husband & kids picked me up (I wasn't sure if I should drive, because although I wasn't drunk, I'm pretty darn sure I couldn't pass any cop tests.. you know, walk & turn, HGN, etc. I'm not even sure I could do those things on my best non-drunk day), and we came home. My mother, husband and best friend informed me I should go to the hospital. I refused. That's right. I refused treatment.

So I've had a killer headache for 2 days now. I know I should've went to the hospital, but it was Sunday night, and the thought of sitting at the Marion General ER just didn't sit well with me. I'd take my chances. If I went to the hospital, I'm sure they would've just told me I was dehydrated or I had an upper respiratory infection, and sent me on my way... I said a nice prayer just in case I didn't make it through the night. (Stifling more giggles as we speak.)

Well, I made it.. and still today (Tuesday) I have had a terrible headache all day. So I went to the doctor today, and they informed me they want to scan my cat. How fun! I've never had a cat scan before. I figure it's a couple minutes of quiet, right?! Who cares about the claustrophobia. I get peace! Bring on the machines!

Tonight when I got home, I explained to my babies that I needed quiet time. Mommy's head was pounding. Daddy had been up over 24 hours, and neither one of us had much energy. The kids decided to scream at me louder than usual (or maybe it just felt that way since I feel like my head is full of lead pipes) and Joel decided to play Rock Band. I tried to catch up on my Young & the Restless in the bedroom, but do you think that worked? Heck no! The kids follow me everywhere. I know I sound like a fantastic Mom right now. I love my kids dearly, and I don't know what I'd do without them (okay, so I do... I'd vacation... for a long, long time), but sheesh! Give me a break!

Well, Abbi now has to poop, Aiden is throwing an economy-size package of baby wipes around the living room and Logan is jumping on Aiden. I have to go. Please pray for me... and forgive my cursing. It's a bad habit... but I enjoy it.

Kisses to all. Hope you all are just swell.

Kelly ;)

Abbi Thorpe: Fashionista/Princess

All About Abbi...

Read Story Below

& visit

http://www.childrensplace.com/

The "Priss" Picture. See details below...

Abbi with her twin brother Aiden

Abbi in her favorite purple hat & her pretty sundress

Ready for a birthday night out on the town

(Abbi shares her birthday with her brothers Aiden (her twin) and Logan, 2)

Abbi attended a princess party... the highlight of her life so far :0)

Abbi must sleep and lounge in style

This picture sums up our Abbi... pretty, confident and royal!

Abbi loves to have her nails painted. I have promised her a pedicure this summer

So I must write this little story about our little princess. This post is not only to impress the judges at Children's Place (http://www.childrensplace.com/) so I may win a $200 gift certificate (although it's a definite perk), but also to showcase Miss Abbigail, our 4-year old fashionista!

Abbi was referred to as a priss yesterday. It bothered me a little at first, but then I realized it wasn't criticism... Abbi truly is a bit of a priss... a darling priss. I prefer to call her our diva.

Miss Abbi prefers to be in 'costume' at all times. She was a fairy princess for Halloween 2008. She has actually been a fairy princess ever since... the wings are showcased often in our house.

Abbi must be called a different princess name each day. Occasionally she enjoys 'just being Abbi', but normally asks to be called Cinderella, Snow White or Ariel. She has many fashion accessories, including high heels and several crowns, and part of my morning ritual includes dusting Abbi with blush and eye shadow before leaving for work. We sit on the bed together and get 'made-up' each day. It's my Abbi time.

My best friend Anne and I recently treated Abbi to a girls' day out. We enjoyed dinner together and a round of manicures. The next day I asked Abbi if she would like to go to the beauty shop to have her hair cut. She was quite sure of herself when she said "no, I do not need my hair cut. It's perfect."

Abbi wears princess gowns to bed, and loves to spin around for her daddy to show off her beautiful ensembles. I am thankful for my little fashion princess! In a house full of boys, us girls must stick together...

and liberty & makeup for all...