And here I thought I was all that and a bag of Fritos
I'm suffering a bit of a cold. It arrived Christmas Eve amidst the toilet catastrophe. But it's been almost a week now, and I think it's going away.

Apparently not.

Two people today have come to talk to me, stopped mid-sentence, and said, "Aw, you don't look too good!"

Nothing like a little blow to the self-confidence to start off the day. I have a cute outfit on and everything.

Separated at birth?
So, I was just trying out this cool face recognition software that I found on planetdan. It compares your face (or the face of any photo that you upload) to their celebrity database. It shows you whose faces are similar.

I uploaded this picture of myself:



And up came my closest celebrity match:



OK? Could be a lot worse.

Then I looked at who the other close matches were. Scarlett Johansson. Not bad! Julia Roberts. I don't see it, but allright.

But then it goes from bad:


To worse:


To... hunh?

Christmas Crisis 2005
It's becoming a bit of a tradition around my household for a major utility to wonk out and/or for someone to drink too much and make a spectacle, so this year, I was on the lookout for trouble early on.

While I'm happy to report that there were no drunken spectacles, we DID have the utility wonkage -- nice and early so we could enjoy it the whole weekend.

Friday afternoon, my mom came over and we were finished opening the presents, when suddenly, Dom got a wild look in his eyes and went running toward the bathroom. I heard the sound of running water and ran after him to see what the heck was going on.

The toilet was running and had completely overflowed. The bathroom floor was completely drenched. My mom and I went to work mopping up the water with every towel available in my linen closet and managed to stop the toilet from spilling more vile water. When I went down to the basement to put the towels in the washer, I found that the water was leaking down there, too. I set up some buckets and called my husband to warn him that he'd have some investigating to do when he got home.

He checked things out and figured that the toilet had just gotten blocked, but later that evening, it happened again. Once again we had to use a boatload of towels to mop up the flood, and threw it all in the washing machine. However, this time, as the washer was running, MORE water came through the toilet and it flooded for a third time!

Every plumber in town wanted double pay for the holiday weekend, and so we decided to tough it out the entire weekend. That meant we followed the "if it's yellow, let it mellow" philsophy in the bathroom, and if it was brown, one had better pinch one's buttcheeks together and high-tail it to my in-law's house. We couldn't do laundry, take a shower, run the dishwasher... the house has gone to hell. Luckily, Dave the plumber is at our house right now, hopefully snaking out the drain.

We're getting a bit superstitious about Christmas these days. When next year rolls around, I'm going to be bracing myself for the plague of the locusts. Or maybe, on even numbered years, Christmas will mean one too many PBR's or G & T's. Hell. I'll make it a self-fulfilling prophecy and make sure it's me.

My keyboard is covered in orange powder as I type this
Dear Vendor (or anyone really):

Want to know the way to my heart around the Christmas season? Bring me a tin of popcorn. Sure, the obligatory cookie tray is nice, but even I tire of sugar at some point. Popcorn, however, is always appealing to me. Especially when it has a cheese-ish substance on it. Caramel works, too. I am a fan of the three-way tin, myself. The menage-a-trois of popcorn: butter, cheeze, and caramel.

Mamacita.

Superbabies: Baby Geniuses 2
I don't know if I've mentioned it or not, but my son? Is a genius.

He just turned five months old over the weekend. And during the past few days, he:

• Attended a wedding. He was perfectly behaved through the church ceremony (although he burped and farted in the church, so I'm sure someone is going to hell as a result, be it him or me for allowing him to be in a house of God -- unbaptized and all). He was also an angel at the reception and was a great excuse to not join the conga line. Sorry! Holding a sleeping baby! Can't dance!
• Rolled onto his stomach all by himself. Once onto his stomach, however, he flailed around like a carp on a beach.
• Ate cereal like a big boy. He opened his mouth like a baby bird for the spoon and then cried hysterically when it was "all gone."
• Maneuvered himself across the classroom at his daycare in one of those baby walker/activity station things.

I'm telling you, it's a baby Einstein we have on our hands.

/end brag

More musical selections
I had to use my Gilligan's Island method for the past two nights while I was trying to go to sleep. Sometimes, having a song stuck in my head will keep me awake.

Early Tuesday morning, probably around 4 a.m., it was

I got my first real six string
Oh, at the five and dime
Played it til my fingers bled
Was the summer of '69

And early this morning I was treated to Def Leppard's "Photograph" -- which I don't even know the words to but I have heard twice on the radio in the past week after not hearing it since God knows when.

I must have an entire library of 80's music on shuffle in my brain somewhere, because I have no idea why these songs come to me in the middle of the night.

Tip of the day
I heard some morning show DJ's say that if you ever get a song stuck in your head, that one proven way to get it out of your head was to sing the song "Amazing Grace" set to the Gilligan's Island theme song. Strangely, it works. However, then you have "Amazing Grace" set to the Gilligan's Island theme song stuck in your head.

So earlier today I could choose between the two songs to play in the little boombox in my brain:

Rockin' around
The Christmas tree
At the Christmas party hop
...

Or:

Amazing grace how sweet the sound (just sit right back and you'll hear a tale)
That saved a wretch like me (a tale of a fateful ship)
I once was lost, but now am found (that started on this [lyrics forgotten])
Was blind but now I see (aboard this tiny ship)

*sigh*
Oh. By the way. This whole wanting to be with mom all the time thing? Not so endearing at 2 a.m. Or at 3, after being up for an hour. Or at 4, after being up for two hours. Or at 5... well, you get the point.

It did, however, enable me to watch the Survivor reunion, which I had turned off after the winner was revealed (Yay Danni! Yay anyone but Steph!) And also some other things which I had DVR'ed, including the bizarre movie "I heart Huckabee's".

If I make it through the day without drooling on my keyboard I will consider it to be a win for my team.

Wake me up at 5.

Good God, when does the pain go away?
My son is going through a phase where he luvs his mamma like no other. Oh my stars. It kills me. Takes my heart and squeezes it until I don't think I can take it anymore. When I come home from work, he smiles a huge, toothless, open mouth grin at me over and over again like he can't believe it's me.

Last night I picked him up from day care and once he realized I was there, he smiled his usual smile at me, but when I didn't pick him up right away, began to cry.

This morning, as I was getting ready, I made the mistake of coming to talk to him while he was in his swing. As long as I don't make eye contact with him, he is usually OK in his swing while I run around. Today it launched a bout of hysterics like I've never seen.

When I dropped him at day care, I think he realized that I was about to abandon him and conjured a fresh batch of tears, so much so that both teachers in the room had to come distract him while I slipped away. It took all I had within me not to run back, scoop him up and hole up at home for the day. People have asked me if it's hard to leave him at day care every day. Only today.

I am going to stockpile days like this in my heart for years from now, where my teenaged son squirms away from a hug or is embarrassed to share the same genetic makeup as me. Right now, I rock his world.

And, he's not so bad himself.

Grant's Tomb
This weekend was much more pleasant than last. The Doodle went to bed at his scheduled bedtime and was very cheery during the day both Saturday and Sunday. I *may have* even bought him a couple (ahem, six) outfits that he can wear during the holiday season. Oh, and two pairs of shoes for me. What? I'll do my Christmas shopping... some other time.

The great hilarity of the weekend was at my in-law's last night when my brother in law, who is 19, asked, "Who wrote Pachabel's Canon?" Ah. Kids these days.

This is a big four-day week for me, as I'm taking Friday off as a "Me Day." That means, baby to day care, sleeping til noon, watching soaps... I can't wait.

Look out below
I just realized that this is my last month in my 20's.
Be forewarned.