Super Sabado: Elf me, baby

Judy is an unrelenting source of good things: first, the snowflake maker that benefits the Salvation Army, and now Elf Yourself.

Yay, Judy! Talk about fun! I couldn’t wait to use it for my weekly procrastination post, so here I am, dancing at the North Pole. I can really move, can’t I?

(I couldn’t figure out how to link to it, until I used the “send to a friend” option and sent myself a link. Just in case you can’t figure it out, either.)

Today’s Super Sabado is about parenthood, and getting ready for the holidays, and who knows what all else!

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i don’t know how many times i’ve
imagined my airplane exploding in
mid-flight or being taken over
by terrorists. i’m not sure if this
is necessarily healthy, but it’s
what i do.

Cyn‘s kind of imagination is great to have if you’re a writer; not necessarily so if you’re a mom.

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Though I had had reservations at first about letting them go by themselves I reassured myself by saying, “Didn’t I do things like this when I was a kid? Heck, we used to play by the train tracks.” This afternoon I hardly gave it a second thought.

Half an hour later I got a phone call.

Michelle, whose imagination never imagined a snowboard to the face.

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Here is a picture of Keegan slaying our neighbor on their way to Medievil Day at the Library.

An then there’s Mimi‘s son, who sees nothing wrong with slaying a neighbor or two.

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Besides, we looked like dorks. I almost cancelled lunch to go home and change. Even the four year old was making fun of us.

Jaye, BEFORE she discovered she’d spent the day with her aqua undies hanging out of her brown corduroys.

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And this is where we come to the part where you learn the spectacular influence, discipline, and control I have over my own children.

Robin, who later blamed everything on Meg Cabot.

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I really need to lighten up. I’d probably enjoy movies more. And my kids more. And their farts too.

Mental Tesserae, wishing she shared her kids’ easily-triggered sense of humor, among other things.

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Yep, StuffMart at midnight is better than the Big Top, and without all the elephant poop. But if George and Hoss offer you a bottle of drinkable yogurt, DON’T TAKE IT.

An important safety tip from TC.

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It emits a very annoying high frequency noise, either at 2 or 12kHz (apparently 12 is the more annoying of the two). It emits said annoying noise every 2-8 minutes, making it unpredictable and all the more difficult to find.

…. What genius thing to do. You could literally drive someone out of their gourd with this! I know a few people who are deserving of such a device.

Heather, who is one woman you definitely do not want to mess with. Ever. (Oh, and be sure to check out her latest Borzoi pic. Classic!

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I now call again upon the heavens to relieve this repentant soul of his itchy, bleeding, butt hives, and may he have a pleasant holiday season not stealing anything else.

Somewhere, a plant thief is finally getting some relief. Ladies and gentlemen, this is why messing with Dana is just a little bit scarier than messing with Heather.

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That said, there’s nothing wrong with finding a lovely blue box tied with white satin under the tree…

A little base-covering is always prudent, especially after what Kathryn said earlier about engagement rings as Christmas presents.

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Example One – Creme de Menthe brownies. These things were simply incredible. super-gooey brownies topped with this green icing that had Creme de Menthe in it. The brownies may have, too. At 40 proof and 400 calories per square inch, these things were not helping my pants fit this morning.

Jamie, on how his wife’s excellent culinary skills are partly responsible for his expanding waistline. We have never tasted Molly’s cooking, and our waistline is expanding, too. What gives?

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Last night, he opened the lid, put the toilet ring on there and motioned for me to put him on top. He pointed his little pee pee down, and by God, he peed in the toilet!

What? You thought Erika was talking about her hubby?

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* Please note that “fabulous” for a grad student often means Cranium parties. Humdingers is my secret super-power.

The Gliterrati, whose REAL secret super-power is letting us in on the best Sephora has to offer.

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I would write something funny and entertaining, but unfortunately Pixies have stolen my brain or at least the funny and entertaining bit.

Birchsprite, putting into words what we’ve felt like all week.

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My wife asks if I can pop in 3 waffles as she hurriedly readies the girls for school. I have not written in days. I would like to tell her I’m busy staring into space waiting for a post.

Portnoy, wrestling with waffles as well as writer’s block.

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Often what some people call “writer’s block” is really a case of perfectionism, leading to procrastination, gone wild.

Georganna, with a little advice that might help Birchsprite, Portnoy, and Bonnie.

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DH said if Dodger stayed out there long enough, we’d not have to have him fixed because his little bits would freeze off.

April‘s account of her mini-dachshund’s first snowfall.

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My mom is nuts. Or maybe she is a squirrel and thinks that money and important papers are nuts. Either way, she’s making ME nuts!

Groovyoldlady‘s groovy old mom, who stores certificates of deposit in cookbooks and her money under facecloths.

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Dad, thank you for giving me so many memories and stories to pass on. I know you did not necessarily have the best example of what a Father should be, but some how that did not matter.

LaurelWreath, paying tribute to a dad who made Christmas much more exciting than the presents.

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A local Bee Keeper said his bees are frantically sealing up their honeycombs. The last time they did that, we had floods. Ants have been busy moving up to the eaves of my house carting their eggs with them. I’m not sure what that means, but maybe the insects know more than the Weather Bureau does.

tl from Darwin, Australia, where the Flame Trees are blooming and the wet season has begun, no matter what the Weather Bureau says.

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First, the price of kiddie labor has gone up. Second, I won’t hire kids again unless I know their parents. And third, sometimes it’s easier to just pay the professional in the first place.

Honey, AKA, the Leaf Grinch. But hey! Her man knows how to make a mean egg nog!

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I had trouble with the suckers every time – all that picky punctuation. All that colonic irritation.

The Most Original Literary Blogger that is our Bernita on bibliographies in fiction. And since we always mixed up our ibids with our op cits, we say, “hear, hear!”

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“Things” are slowly getting back to normal, my house is much cleaner, just don’t look at the floors, and i only have 2 shirts left to iron :o). As for the garden…….my god, its the worst i’ve ever seen it…..green absolutely……tropical for sure………but OVERGROWN 🙁 it needs cutting back, weeding and tidying badly.

Justitia, looking around and reassessing after her last few months with the boss from hell, heavy university studies, a tight court schedule and Red River Fever.

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I gradually lost the will to live in the post office this morning as I waited 30 minutes to be able to post my Christmas cards and packets to non-Italian destinations.

Welshcakes Limoncello, reporting on the Sicilian postal system. Those Italians sure do eat better than San Diegans, but their post offices sound just as bad as ours.

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It’s not sixty degrees here today – it’s more like thirty-six degrees, and the wind is whipping, making a whirlybird vent on the top of my house go bam bam bam bam bam bam bam.

Lesia, who has a lot to do and the wind is NOT helping.

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“Is it leather?” he asked.

“Nope. Pleather – plastic leather.”

Faux concerned he asked, “How many toys did you kill in the making of that jacket?”

Corn Dog, she of the jacket from Ross that launched a comedy routine.

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She said it would have been less painful for both of us if the hair had been a bit shorter. I can only hope she’s right. Having her brace both feet on the arm of the chair and yank back with all her might was a bit disconcerting. Having to pry the stunned woman out of the wall across the room was a tad uncomfortable, too. One of the drawbacks of excellent reflexes, I guess.

Ms. Karen‘s first attempt at underarm epilation. Hey, Ms Karen! Check this out!

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What five TV hunks would you like to find under your holiday tree?

Kristen, making up her Christmas wishlist.

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Bob opened the gate as the miniature Peppy LaPue approached, figuring it would scurry off to tell momma how it had followed the light.

The only problem was…it continued to follow the light. Bob, now fearing that he would run into more of the brood, kept the light on. Peppy must have watched one of those Poltergeist movies, where the little scary lady said, “Go into the light.”

Bonnie Calhoun, whose husband’s flashlight brought some unwanted and very stinky attention.

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I adored the movie. I’m not as enamored of it now because it’s pretty heavy-handed and sugary but that kneeling cow gets to me every time. ha.

Dink, remembering her great-grandmother’s tales, and how they influenced her opinion of a certain Christmas movie.

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I am sure the day will come when my husband and I will have to hold our tongues on some serious matters with our boys. We may not care for their living arrangements, or lifestyle choices…or heaven forbid, whom they choose as a partner in life. If this day comes, I hope to remember the many times I received well-meaning, but unsolicited and erroneous advice.

Teri, who will probably be the best mother-in-law in the world.

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My sister can kiss my butt. I don’t know how to cross stitch and her table is 106″ long. I’m making her crochet pot holders, I know how to make those. My sister drew my name. She owns a daycare center. I’ll probably end up with a macaroni necklace.

Secret Squirrel, on the injustice that is the family Christmas party where you 1) draw names, and 2) have to make the gifts by hand.

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She wrinkled her nose and nodded but she didn’t believe me.
Needless to say, tamales are usually made by the women-folk in these parts. A single Anglo man making tamales just doesn’t seem natural. I know she was wondering if I was gay.

C. Atrox, thought to be the only tamale-making man in America.

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Andrew has started this bizarre thing (this was his 3rd year to cover Acker for his radio show) where he makes up a musical group and asks everyone if they’ve seen them. Ahem. For the record, The McGuffins exist in my husband’s mind only.

One reason you want to be honest with radio people in Angie‘s home town of Prescott, AZ.

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And for those of you who’ve stayed until the very end, here’s a tribute to Robert Altman called The Passenger, made by an indie filmmaker named Travis Betz.

Travis supplements his indie film income with a boring job as a receptionist. To pass the time, he makes movies following these four rules: 1) he can only use the built-in camera on his MacBook, 2) he can only use the props around him in his office, 3) all of his movies must be under 5 minutes, and 4) all his movies have to be shot and edited at his desk, during business hours. (More on Travis below the movie link.)

My favorites beside The Passenger are a horror movie called The Diet, a mini musical called Spaghetti Town, The Charmer and the Tourist, Adventures in the Womb, Bus Stop, The Very First Will & Testament of Spunkmeir Jones, and Air, O Plane!

I hope you have as much fun going through his archive as I did!