It sucks.

I think I'm in love.

Like, head-over-heels, no-doubt-about-it, shout-it-to-the-heavens in love.

With my vacuum cleaner.

While I was in Florida, I was lamenting the fact that my cheapo Wal-Mart vacuum cleaner doesn't actually suck anything up, (go figure... you get what you pay for, right?) and hooray, hooray, hooray! Mom and Dad just happened to have two extra vacuum cleaners, and offered me one of them. It's one of those teensy-weensy Eureka bagless jobbys, so not only can I easily vacuum the floor when it's covered in dirt that the kids drag in on their winter boots, but now I can get the little ones to clean up, too. My vacuum is THAT small and portable. Score!

And now that I'm rereading my post, I can't believe I thought that was exciting enough to blog about.

I apologize. Profusely. But it's staying up, because honestly, if it's even possible to be in love with an inanimate object... I totally am.

131.2

Yes, that’s how many inches of snow we’ve had this year. And that, my friends, is a record. Boo-yeah. We totally rock. Can I get a what-what?

And now I’m gonna change the subject so I don’t continue being such a lame-o.

Today at work, a man in his 70’s came to the desk to ask me where the tax forms were, and since I was heading in that direction anyway, I led him to them. As he was leaving, he said to me, "You’re a good girl." For some reason, it reminded me of my Grampie Siegel, and as I was driving home from work I got that chokey feeling that I STILL have once in awhile, even though he’s been gone for a year. And while that feeling totally sucks, it makes me smile just a little bit. Because I was lucky enough to have this amazing person in my life for almost 27 whole years. I have this completely awesome family, and some people just don’t. I have friends who don’t talk to/spend time with their immediate family, let alone the extended relatives.

(Sorry... sometimes when I get down about things, it helps to remind myself how very blessed I really am. And today, you people were the lucky recipients of my reminder. So, thanks for listening).

Duck, duck, goose.

Yesterday, a good-looking guy around my age, who I've never met before in my life, threw a stuffed duck at me. When it landed at my feet, it went, "quack, quack." Then he giggled. Like, actually giggled. For a while. (I should probably take a second to tell you that I was in a toy store at the time).

To be honest with you, I'm not sure what that whole exchange was about, but I thought it deserved mention for three reasons:

1. I don't get flirted with by strangers that often.
2. When I do, they don't generally throw stuff at me. At least, not since I was 16 or so.
3. Although cute, that guy was probably slightly insane, which just goes to show... it's REALLY hard to meet normal, non-crazy men.

And when I DO meet non-crazy men, they have the tendency to confuse the heck out of me. Maybe I should stick to the cuckoo ones...

Say it ain't snow

So my view out my living room window is now officially blocked by snow.

Yay.

I swear, if I didn't have sisters, friends and potential boyfriends tying me down here, I'd SO be buying my grandparents' old Florida home, and moving in IMMEDIATELY.

*Sigh*

Hurry up, vacation.

Hats off

You guys! I'm knitting a hat! My first one ever!

The thing is, I've been knitting scarves for about two years now, and to be honest, I'm getting a little tired of them. They're pretty much falling out of my coat closet whenever I open it. I've made scarves for everyone I can think of who might want one (except you, Brian, and once I finish this hat, I'm totally gonna start that).

Not only that, but my Grammie Bly, who used to knit these amazing things, (somehow, she even made three gorgeous, teensy little Barbie wedding dresses! How did she DO that? Seriously) recently gave me all her old knitting needles. There must be about 50 of the things, all wrapped up in a needle holder. How could I let those fun little sticks go to waste? So I found a project I thought I might possibly be able to do.

And, even though it's close to being done. and it looks really good, I'm pretty sure I've messed it up royally. Because, um, apparently you're supposed to use the size yarn that the book tells you to use, and since I don't like to read directions (my one guy-ish trait), I didn't exactly notice that part. So while I think my hat will be prefectly knit, I'm guessing that it's not going to actually fit me. Or Emilee. Or Gavin.

So here's what I'm thinking: I'm gonna have to get me a baby somewhere. Because I am SO not going to let me first hat just sit around doing nothing. No sirrrrrreee. That hat is being put to good use. And I think (after Brian's scarf, of course) I'm going to make a sweater. Maybe. Or maybe not. It depends on whether or not I feel like reading directions.

Anyway. If you just read this entire blog about knitting, and you don't care one little bit about needles and yarn, you are a really good sport. And I love you.

The end.

Open letter

Dear Members of the Male Gender,

Please, please, please stop being so darn confusing.

Thanks a bunch,
Me (and lots of other girls, I'm sure)

Great, just great.

On the way into work this morning, I was listening to one of the local classic rock stations (which, for the record, I tune into for the talk, not the music), and the jockeys made the assertation that 70-80% of people don't know any of their great-grandparents' first or last names.

This strikes me as a little bit sad. I actually grew up knowing two of my great-grandparents (my mom's maternal grandparents) fairly well. And I spent some time with both of my dad's grandmothers.

Mom's grandparents- Florris and Hagel Robinson Johnston. Nannie passed away in 1998, Grampa in 2004 (I think). Before she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, Nannie used to serve grilled cheese sandwiches and homemade applesauce whenever we came for a visit. Grampa went by "Rob" because, well, if YOUR name was Hagel, wouldn't you pick a different nickname too?

Dad's grandmothers- Rhoda Potter and Emily Siegel. I don't actually remember a lot about these two (Gram Siegel passed away when I was 8, Gram Potter when I was 12 or so) but Gram Potter gave me my first Annalee doll (an old granny mouse making a quilt).

I guess I hadn't realized how rare it is to have known one's great-grandparents... and the cool thing is that my kids are getting to know theirs too. (They have 5 great-grandmothers and 2 great-grandfathers).

See? I knew there was a good argument for having kids young. ;o)