Obligatory blog post.

I was in Utah last week for my younger brother's wedding.

It was lovely. Both the wedding, and the trip.

For the record, it also happened to involve more motorcycles than I am comfortable with.

Anyway.

My younger brother berated me for not blogging more. Apparently he's more bored at work than I'd like to think about. So, just for him.

Tonight, my son was sitting at the table, writing in his journal. Suddenly, he looked at me and said "Mama, Caleb is my fake name."

"Oh, yes? And what is your real name?"

"Satellite."

"Satellite?? Where did you get that name? From planet earth, or a different planet?"

"Planet earth. From China."

That's it. I am now supposed to call him Satellite, which is fine, but how am I supposed to do that without singing it, a la the Dave Matthews song???

"Truly Outrageous..."

Lately, Thing 1 has been distinctly reminding me of someone when she gets up in the morning, but I just haven't been able to put my finger on it. Some distant, cob-webby memory from my childhood

Until this morning, it hit me.

I asked her to make a "rocker" face:

And I knew...
For you 80's impaired...



And I don't know about you, but I get an awesome *spark* everytime The Spouse and I kiss.

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?