"It's a Great Day..."

A picture says 1,000 words.

This picture says everything (and I do mean everything) about my life right now.

Hmmph.

Holier Than Thou.

Yes--and by "thou" I mean "you."

Because look at me with my red Target cart and my HAPPY BABY ORGANIC PUFFS in GREENS flavor.

And you're all over there, with your Gerber. *snort* Puh-lease.

I have a friend. She's the loveliest woman on the planet. I'm pretty sure, because I took a poll, and she is so earth friendly. Buys local. Dresses like she's headed to a j-jill photoshoot. Drinks from a Sigg. Sigh. I want to be just like her. She's completely inspired me.

Which is why I've been trying to buy more local and organic stuff.

But I've discovered this great side benefit: self righteous egomania and pride.

Ha.

Detox.

Earlier this week, before 7:00 in the morning, Thing 2 demanded the following for breakfast:

1. Chocolate
2. Little Chocolate
3. Starbursts
4. Hot dogs

5. Cheese
6. Chocolate
7. Ramen Noodles

All attempts I made at "How about cereal? How about eggs? How about yogurt?" were quickly rebuffed in the strongest terms, using an unearthly, growling voice.

As I tried to convince the two year old of the delicious nature of peaches, I began to realize that we are in desperate need of a junk food "detox" before we enter the Halloween to Christmas Candy Marathon. And when I say "We" I mean "all of us"...or at least those of us that are too short to reach the M&Ms.

Day 1 was tolerable.

Day 2 was a nightmare.

Day 3 resembled a hutu uprising.

Day 4 isn't going so well:

Oh well. There's always tomorrow.

This May Be the Stupidest Blog Post Ever. Don't Miss It.

It may surprise you to know that I have a weakness. It's true.

I can be pretty good at the Air and Aspartame Diet. Also known as the "Shut your mouth and quit eating everything in sight" diet. It's all the rage.

But I have a downfall.

I can so "No" to so many things. So many good, yummy things. Pie. Homemade bread. Pumpkin and pecan ice cream in a chocolate dipped waffle cone.

But not cheese.

Oh help me, not cheap, American, cheddar cheese.

And I have, apparently, passed on the gene that carries this cheesy weakness to Thing 2.

Which is why, last night, when I was getting dinner on the table, the Spouse picked up the small block of cheese that only two days before had been a LARGE block of cheese and said "We ate this much in TWO DAYS???" I pointed, innocently, at the toddler.

I mean, really. It's possible. That he ate that much. On his own. And cut it. With a knife. By himself.

It's possible, right???

Tell me--do you have any weaknesses?

I'm just sayin'

Two letters for you: W.T.

Birthday Quilt

Thank you for the quilt, Grandma Denise.

It's really, really beautiful.

I love it.

Love, Wee One

My Unedited Life: Cake.

Photo from thepioneerwoman.com

Pioneer Woman's "Grandma Iny's Prune Cake" is in my fridge. Taunting me. Glistening in all it's spice cakey, gooey carmel covered goodness. "You mayn't have some." it taunts, sounding self righteous. The flour in the batter sticks it tongue out at me. The 1 cup of oil beckons with a "Come hither" glance and a reminder that there is buttermilk, nutmeg, and cinnamon in here. Tantalizing cinnamon..... mmmmm....

Considering that my baby will turn 1 in a month and I'm wearing a maternity shirt today, the oil should be a deterent. It isn't. But that darn flour. If it wasn't for that darn flour, I'd be diving in FACE FIRST into this cake. It's been that kind of day.

So I'm eating iceberg lettuce by the handful. Just plain old iceberg lettuce. Sometimes I glare over at the fridge, "See??? I don't need you, Cake. This lettuce is awesome. I love this lettuce, and it loves me back."

Cake rolls it's eyes. Cake knows I am lying.

Because Cake knows a universal truth: iceberg lettuce is NOT cake.

I hate Cake.

If you like Cake, and you really should, and you aren't Celiac or something, then please--follow Pioneer Woman's admonition and make this cake now.