Book Club: Jane Eyre pt 1

So remember when we used to read and talk about books on this blog?  Me too.

The trouble is that 10 days ago Jane Eyre was walking toward the church with Mr. Rochester and I just couldn't go on.  I couldn't bear to think of the two people waiting for her inside and the terrible secret locked in the attic.

I let it sit for a few days and just this afternoon (cuddled in a chair with a heating pad and the smell of a Christmas tree wafting around me) I finished.  So can we talk about Jane next week?  Maybe on Friday?  Does that give you enough notice?

Good.  Friday it is.

The Newest Blockbuster

Remember when March of the Penguins came out?  I do.  I was in graduate school and one of my roommates and I went to go see it.  We sat near the front of the theater in the small town where we lived and cried our eyes out.  Remember when the egg cracks?  Dang.  That's powerful movie making.

I feel like we could make a similarly spectacular movie entitled The Great Ornament Migration.

Because really, where have all the ornaments (and even lights) on the lower half of the tree gone?

A warning to the hubbs

The hubbs is an incredibly good man.  He works hard, helps around the house, loves playing with Claire and is a stone fox to boot.  He however, isn't without his faults.  He is terrible at pretending like he is enjoying something when he is not.  You'll know straight off if he doesn't like something you cooked right away by the gagging noises and copious amounts of water he needs to get it down.  You'll also know if you've picked an activity he doesn't like by the unreal number of eye rolls coming your way.

One activity that inspires such eye rolling is reading together--especially if it's touching and inspiring holiday stories that I'm making him read out loud.  The good news is that I have put enough time in the last three years watching college sports that he owes me {big}--so I'm going to put on my blinders to the eye rolling and read on.

Dear hubbs, get ready.  In no particular order here are the stories that we will be reading {out loud} this holiday season (get your eyeballs ready):

• The Christmas chapter from A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (the one where Francie and Neely get the tree thrown at them.  It's 26 if you're looking for it.  Warning: there are curses in it)--Betty Smith
• A Christmas Memory--Truman Capote
• The Gift of the Magi--O Henry
• The Best Christmas Pageant Ever--Barbara Robinson

Okay literary people.  What am I missing?  What are your go-to Christmas stories.

I'm back

I just checked my phone to see what kind of awesome pictures I amassed while on a whirlwind trip to Utah for 48 hours (my mom and her painting friends were hosting a tea party/art showing/book review for their art work and Claire and I made the 1.5 hour plane ride to be part of the action) and there was not even a single picture there.

The newest pictures on my phone were from Saturday when we put up our Christmas tree (can Saturday really only have been 4 days ago?).  The good news is that the pictures are pretty awesome and show just how helpful of a girl Claire can be.

Reality Bites

What actually happens around here:
I empty the dishwasher.
Load the breakfast dishes
Wash the hand dishes that I left soaking from dinner last night
Put the table cloth and napkins in the laundry
Get in the shower

What Claire thinks happens:
Mom plays in my favorite machine for a while and she gets to turn on the sink whenever she wants.
She loads the sink with water and plays there for a while (she doesn't let me play even though I cling to her legs and cry).
Mom heads to that other room where the machine fills with water.  (She also refuses to let me play in the water even though I cry)
Mom then goes to bathroom where she gets to play with more water while I bang on the shower door and scream.

Oh, and guess who learned to do a summersault?

She's got personality!

This article has been making it's way around Facebook. I read it earlier this week and have been thinking about it ever since.  Then this morning on Cup of Jo there was this.

I am an introvert.
The hubbs is not.

Ignorance is Bliss

It's a good thing that the vast majority of my siblings refuse to read this blog because I just stumbled across the perfect Christmas gift for my sister and I am 90% sure that all of you are going to want to buy the exact same thing for your sister (unless you come from the kind of home that gives useful, appropriate gifts for Christmas in which case you will think this is crazy.  I come from a family where the greatest gift in memory is a pair of boxing nuns that our Uncle Dick sent from Chicago when I was 10.  This gift just might push Uncle Dick out of 1st place)

Behold The Sweater Boys Calendar

Men in hilariously awful sweaters striking sexy poses.

Sign. Me. Up.

You can order it here.
And all the proceeds go to help the people of Vietnam so you don't need to feel bad about ordering lots.

********

I am not the kind of blogger that posts every day and I don't feel the need to apologize or explain my absences but I just wanted to let you know that the reason I wasn't here yesterday is because these thighs were visiting.

Ahhhh how could I even tear myself away for one second to sit at the computer while those chunky things were kicking and cooing?  Not possible.