To my husband...

This blog is for my husband, who lets me put headbands in his hair and then take pictures of it. I have spent the last couple of weeks contemplating what I should blog about. Should I reflect on 2008 and all that we learned? Should I make a New Year's Resolution that, in my heart, I know I will not ultimately keep? Should I share with the blogging world how fat I feel and how angry I am that I have to think about it? Maybe I should write about the hell of finishing the first semester at school when it feels as if so many students' graduations are riding on my shoulders. I have even contemplated sharing about the excitement we experienced for the first three weeks we found out we were pregnant, and the grieving that followed when we learned the pregnancy was simply not to be. The thing is, the more I thought and the more I reflected, the more that what I needed to say became clear...this man, the one  I call my husband, NEVER ceases to amaze me. When I call myself fat, he tells me to be nice to his wife. When I cry because I can't ever seem to catch up at school or because I just feel like I can't change anything, he actually listens. When I go on my cleaning rampages, he starts vacuuming. When all I want is a Dairy Queen Blizzard, he grabs the keys and off we go. When I ask him if fixing up my mom's kitchen is feasible, he says yes, even though we both know he's starting a new job in only a matter of days. When the doctors tell me that it's now time to let nature take it's course, he sits with me on the couch for hours, never once complaining that "The Real Housewives of Orange County" is my drug of choice. And when I ask him to let me put a headband in his hair, he offers me his head. As we get ready to celebrate the second anniversary of our first date, there is so much to be thankful for, but first and foremost, I am thankful for HIM - for his unwavering love and support, and for making me BETTER. I love you, Trevor Alan Smith, bigger, bigger than all the mountains.

It's done.

For Christmas this year, Trevor and I wanted to give my mom something we knew she would never give herself, which of course meant that anew pair of Birkenstocks was out of the running. After much contemplation, we decided we wanted to spruce up her kitchen, which has been stuck in the 1950s since she purchased the house almost seven years ago. Our dream became a real possibility when mom decided she was going to spend six days in Vegas with a longtime girlfriend of hers. So, after several trips to Home Depot we made a plan, and after we dropped mom off at the airport last Sunday, we began our grand Christmas surprise. Here are the before pictures...

After six days, four cans of paint, 17 new handles, a few rollers and paint brushes, a couple of sheets of MDF, one sheet of bead board, one sheet of laminate, unbelievable support and help from Tony, Melanie, Aidan and Nadia, and a partridge in a pear tree, here is the final product...

And the best part was when she walked into her new kitchen and switched on her light, I had to tell her to LOOK UP! She cried, I cried, we all cried. There is nothing like a good surprise pulled off! Merry Christmas, mom! We love you!

Two weeks later...

...and I am FINALLY able to post our pictures of our Christmas Tree expedition. Thank God for having a brother-in-law with an Internet connection that actually works! As you can see, we were up to our hips in snow and Powder - the English herding dog who loves snow more than life itself - could not have been happier. Besides getting stuck in the parking area and having to be towed out backwards by some guy in a Suburban while I steered and Trevor sprinted next to the truck yelling directions - not to forget the poor Suburban guy's who biffed it and almost was run over by me, the steering queen - it was quite a wonderful day. There's nothing like starting your own traditions...and surviving them.

I hate our Internet connection.

Pretty much I want to take our Internet service, tie it up with some Christmas lights, and dangle it over the Blue Bridge. I have been trying to upload our Christmas Tree adventure pictures since Saturday, and I have not been "allowed" to. I hate our Internet Connection. The end.

This is NOT a joke!

Out of nowhere last night, Olive the Wonder Cat did yet another wondrous thing...she started watching TV. When I say "watching," I really mean WATCHING. Ironically, what captured her interest was a rousing episode of "The Dog Whisperer." Initially, it was the paper-eating cocker spaniel that caught her fancy, but even good ol' Cesar Millan seemed to tickle her whiskers. Unbelievable! The proof is in the pictures...

I did it!!!

And $3,000 later I have this fantastic certificate (along with complimentary punch and cookies) to show for it! It was like the Science Fair I never got to participate in, and I couldn't have been more satisfied. The best part was when a very nice man was looking at my display board and quietly said, "Don't tell my wife, but yours is the best one!" Aaahhhh, sweet victory! You can keep the Professional Certificate! I got a free cookie, a free cup of punch, a quality paper certificate with my name spelled correctly, AND the all-time best compliment ever! Yeah for me!

Meet Michael...

This is Michael. Michael the frog. This is officially the second animal I have brought home from school, except this time the addition to our family is under entirely different circumstances. Those of you who have been in my classroom know that I have a HUGE frog collection on display - stuffed frogs, plastic frogs, glass frogs, wood frogs, pictures of frogs...frogs, frogs, frogs! I have been "threatened" for the last five years by students that they were going to bring me a real frog, to which I always responded, "That is the worst idea I have ever heard in my life." So today, Karina - a student I had for two years in a row but who is no longer in my class - walks into my rooms with her hands hidden behind her back. 

I say, "Karina, what is behind your back?" 

She says, "Nothing." 

I say, "Karina, you're scaring me. What's behind your back?" 

She places the baby formula can on my desk, lifts the hole-poked lid, and says, "Look what I got you!" 

What came out of my mouth next surprised me the most. 

I yell, "I LOVE HIM!!!" 

And now Michael - who is named after Michael Phelps the swimmer - is swimming in his new bowl in my dining room. 

Funny how the worst ideas actually end up being the best ideas...even funnier how sometimes it takes a teenager to make you realize this. :)