twelve. ten. twelve.

And another month rolls around with barely a word from these parts. I've been consumed with other things. Like not Christmas shopping. Not exercising. Not eating right. Oh, and not blogging. Good thing I'm committed to these Ten on Ten posts. Or there'd be nothing but crickets around here.

We all managed to survive Nutcracker season. The ballerinas much more so than me, I must say. I am down with some type of sickness. That just doesn't want to give up. I thought I was at the tail end of it, but I guess spending two weeks in a theater holding countless germy little hands just before they puke into the trash can is not the best ounce of prevention. But it's all good.

I also started an online film photography class last week. It is fantastic! And I can't wait for my film to arrive so I can dive in and try out my dad's old cameras. I hope to post more about that soon. I think I'm onto something. Something that I knew was missing. But am just starting to figure out what it was. I know that sounds totally vague. But it's exciting.

OK...onto my day. Ten photos. Over Ten hours. On the tenth day. A boring sick day. I barely left the house. And I can't wait to crawl into bed as soon as I hit "Submit."

sleepy heads...

BB, don't go...

living room chaos...

watching over us...

chocolate eggs...finally!

and they taste goooooood....

afternoon siesta...

after school snack...

dance pickup...

night, night...

To see what others were up to today, take a peek over here.

Happy New Year! Now let me go to bed.

Last year I was convinced I was allergic to cleaning. So this year I didn't even dare try cleaning up after our New Year's Eve festivities. Yet I still spent the entire first day of the new year in bed. Feeling lousy. After NOT drinking any alcohol on New Year's Eve. Maybe I'm just allergic to New Year's Day?

Or staying up past midnight?

Or hosting a party?

Still not quite sure which of these it is. So next year I think I'll change things up a bit.

And drink the night away like everyone else.

Because if I'm going to FEEL like I have a hangover the next day. I might as well live it up a little the night before. 

Three peas and their iPods...

Actually it's two iPods and an iPhone, if anyone cares to question the photo above. Yes. It was a very Apple Christmas around here. And while this is what it looked like when I tried to crawl into bed on Christmas night, there was a whole lot of unplugged time that went on as well.

And since I must have listened to Julie Andrew sing about her raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens at least 347 times since November 11, I thought I'd let her in on a few of our favorite things...

This massaging foot spa that Santa brought BB for her tired dancing feet has been a major hit. Once she finished soaking her own piggies, she opened up her own salon and offered pedicures to everyone who has walked through the front door. I think she's earned enough for college already. Must be from the tips she's getting from BSD. She dims the lights. Serves him wine and chocolates. Queues up his favorite songs on Pandora. And let's him soak for a good long while before massaging his feet. If this dancing thing doesn't pan out, the girl's got a future as an aesthetician. Either that or she's sure to woo any guy she chooses with all this pampering she's practicing.

And what could be better than playing with a three story Barbie Townhouse? With an elevator? And a rooftop jacuzzi? How about playing with a three story Barbie Townhouse. With an elevator. And a rooftop jacuzzi. While listening to your Mommy's new iPod Touch. That she let you bling out with your own bejewelled case. And load up with all the apps and music. That your  little heart desires. That your $10 gift card can buy.

And then there's the mug. Gotta love it when your hubby's favorite gift is a gawdy $13 coffee mug. Because it has a picture of Wonder Woman on it. Because he has a Wonder Woman fetish. Because he thinks his wife is Wonder Woman. I may not be the richest girl in Virginia Beach, but I am the luckiest.

It was a mellow Christmas at home. We spent the entire day in our pj's. We even ate dinner. In the dining room. With the special Christmas china. Wearing our pj's. aaahhhh.

And just like LB said, I got the things on my list...

"Daddy coming home. And peace and quiet."

Well, maybe not so much of the peace and quiet...

I hope you all had a very, Merry Christmas surrounded by those you love also. We're gearing up for New Year's Eve. We're ready for another great bash this year! How about you? Any rockin' New Year's Eve plans?

Homeward Bound....

Single digits, baby! We're down to single digits. BSD should be home in less than ten days. And Pandora, played the perfect song for me when I fired her up this afternoon. It's eerie how that station reads my mind.



And I'm half expecting BSD to look quite like Art Garfunkel when he arrives. As he has warned me that he has not had a hair cut. Since he left. Three months ago. I think I'll get him an orange turtleneck for Christmas. So he can really rock that retro 60's look. I never realized how much he resembles Mr. Garfunkel. They even stand alike.

Maybe I'll tease my hair big, snap-on my long fake ponytail, rock some go-go boots and join him. It'll be just like the good ole days.

Photo circa 1995 or so. Us in Hawaii. Just dating. Prekids. Prebrow waxes. Preflat Iron.

And just like NORAD can track Santa along his Christmas Eve joyride. We now have our own site to track BSD's voyage home. How cool is that!?

Homeward bound
I wish I was
Homeward bound
Home, where my thoughts escaping
Home, where my music's playing
Home, where my love lies waiting
Silently for me

Ten on Ten: December 2011 - FAIL

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Can't pull it together to post my Ten on Ten tonight. Hate to miss my favorite day of the month. But my eyes are sinking fast.

Side Note: Finally got the nerve to sneak my camera on stage with me as I volunteered tonight. Pulled it out during intermission while they warmed up. Snapped about three shots. Turned around. And there sat the professional photographer. Staring right at me. Needless to say, I covered my name tag with my camera. And hightailed it out of there. Luckily, he had moved to the other side of the stage when I returned.

Pasta Angel Ornaments (aka...a crappy gift to give your friends)....

MERDE! That's what the ballerinas are supposed to say to each other for luck before a performance. Have you ever heard that word? I have. Plenty of times growing up. As the daughter of a French-speaking mother, that's what she always muttered under her breath when I'd walk back through the door telling her I just missed the bus.

So imagine the looks on our faces when my mom and I sat down in the theater for the Big Ballerina's first "real show" and saw the word printed in the Playbill. We were convinced these people were clueless. Why on earth would graceful ballerinas tell each other to take a crap?!?

Well...six years later, we have finally been told the story behind the strange expression. Here you go...

Never say “break a leg” for good luck to a dancer. It is always “merde”. For you French aficionados, it really does mean “poop.” The origin of “merde” has a colorful history. In the early days of ballet, companies would use live animals in their performances. When one of the animals would have an accident on stage, one would yell “merde” from the side stage to let the dancers know to watch out so they wouldn’t slip. No injury or slippage, good luck for the dancer! Additionally, those attending public ballets or theatre performances would arrive in horse coaches. When an event was successful, the carriages would have a traffic jam with horses waiting and, in turn, creating by-product. Obviously, the quantity of the by-product was proportional to the carriages that had visited the theatre, and was an indirect measure of the economic success of the evening. It was then related to “merde” meaning have a good theatre performance.

Along with the expression, the ballerinas exchange "Merde" gifts for luck. This year BB is dancing as a Big Angel and a China Ribbon dancer in the Nutcracker. To represent her part, BB made macaroni angels to give out as gifts.

I have been making these macaroni angels for over 15 years whenever I need a small gift for a large number of people. Or if we need a fundraiser around Christmas time. They are easy and cheap to make. And, um....adorable! And now that the ballerinas are both proficient with a glue gun, I was able to turn them loose with the supplies as I sat eating a box of candy cane Joe-Joe's. With milk. Yes, I've learned a little something about the benefits of child labor from reading Oliver Twist along with BB this semester. 

And after 15 years, I discovered an easier way of making these that I will share here with you in case you need a "crappy" gift of your own to pass along this holiday season. Instead of spray painting the pasta, get a couple of bottles of the small white acrylic paint at Michael's. Pour about 1/3 of the bottle into a cup. Add a little water to thin it out a bit.

Then just roll your pasta pieces around in the cup with a paint brush until they are covered. And stand them up to dry.

It's basically a paint and glue project. Easy peasy. Here's what you'll need:

bow tie pasta (wings)
rigatoni pasta (body)
elbow macaroni (arms...duh!)
wooden balls (heads) (they come in a pkg of about 30 at Michael's. I think they're about 3/4")
Spanish moss (hair)
small spool of very thin gauge wire (halos)
spools of thin ribbon (hangers)
white Folk Art type acrylic paint
black Sharpie (for drawing face)
blush (for giving them those glowing angelic cheeks)
hot glue gun
hot glue sticks

MERDE!

A few holiday tips and tricks...

I think I've finally recovered from the long weekend flurry of Christmas prep festivities. We were able to cross everything off our to-do list. All that training really paid off.


We even managed to squeeze in a little brow maintenance. Both mine and the Big Ballerina's. Yup. BB got her eyebrows waxed for the first time this weekend. She survived. And I'm happy to report. I did too.

What is not surviving is my waistline. Even without cooking the full-monty turkey dinner this year, I still managed to eat massive amounts of food. And I can't seem to stop.

At one point I asked BB to throw my jeans in the washing machine for me. She picked them up. Stared at them for a minute. And asked incredulously, "Are these Daddy's?!?" Oh dear Lord! I know they're called boyfriend jeans. But this is out of control.

My solution? Get rid of the two Thanksgiving pies. Pronto! Now throwing them away would be a sin. I couldn't do that. No. I had a better idea.

Let the ballerinas eat pie for breakfast. As a mid-day snack. And again for dessert. The pies were gone in two days. And the ballerinas now think I'm the coolest mom on the planet. Win-Win. They even ate pie while decorating their gingerbread houses. Who knew gumdrops went so well with pumpkin?

Last year was the first year I let the ballerinas make gingerbread houses. I learned the hard way that you can't just sit down and build these things in one sitting. That is. Unless you get smart.

And break out the ole glue gun. Works like a charm. Hot glue the structure together instead of using the icing. Save yourself a lot of time. And disappointed kids. Who will cry when they realize they have to wait 2-4 hours before they can get to the fun part.

 

So. How about you? Did you survive? Do any Black Friday shopping? Any Christmas prep? Any overeating? Got any suggestions for how to stop?!?

Happy Thanksgiving (or rather Happy Official Start of the Christmas Season)...

Whoohooo! Thanksgiving is finally here. I am so excited! Not because of our traditional Norman Rockwell sit-down-at-the-dining-room-table-with-the-fancy-china-turkey-dinner that I so fondly remember from my childhood. Nope. Because it's officially the start of the Christmas season! I can finally come out of the closet now.



Yes. I've been listening to the non-stop Christmas music station for almost two weeks now. If Christmas Carols was the Final Jeopardy category, I'd "Bet it all, Alex!" And I'd blow my winnings at the Black Friday sales.

The Little Ballerina talked me into hanging the stockings by the chimney with care about a week ago.

The nutcrackers have also found their posts above the fireplace.

Even the chickens have gotten into the holiday spirit.

The local grocery store has been selling trees for about a week now. I would have brought one home, but they didn't have the kind I like.

Don't get me wrong though. I do love Thanksgiving. The feast. The fun. The family. Uncle Jimmy will be coming over this afternoon for Thanksgiving "sushi." The ballerinas voted for sushi over turkey. Works for me. I am very grateful and thankful for all the blessings we have. But since our family can't all be together this year, I'm happy to take the easy way out. We will stop to reflect today. To give thanks. To remember those who can't be with us.

But not for too long. Our weekend plans our loaded.

I wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving! I am grateful that you have all come into my life...be it on this side of the keyboard or the virtual side. Your friendship and support have been such a blessing. Thank you for being there.

I'll be home for Christmas...

A local radio station started playing Christmas music last Friday. And not the happy, jolly, get-in-the-Christmas-spirit music like Jingle Bells. But rather the hard-core carols, the likes of O Holy Night and Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

At first I was disgusted. Really? Starting on November 11, we need to start proclaiming and rejoicing? Really? What happened to Veteran's Day? And Thanksgiving? I immediately switched stations.

Then on Sunday, as I was flipping through the presets on my car stereo, they were playing I'll Be Home for Christmas. And I stopped and listened. And then I smiled. My grinchly little heart began to swell.

You see, BSD will be home for Christmas. When he first left in September, that thought did little more than depress me. I didn't want to deal with all the planning and decorating and shopping by myself. I wanted to ignore all things holiday. Fast-forward to Christmas morning. Move on to New Year's Eve.

But inch by inch, I've started to let the holiday spirit creep in. I've started to plan. Just a little. I've started to shop. Just a little. And I've started listening to their Christmas carols. Just a little.

Yes. By the time Christmas rolls around. FORTY ONE days from now. I just may be staring into the mirror at one of THOSE people. An ugly Christmas sweater wearing, jingle bell earrings dangling, Santa hat donning, pitch pipe blowing, crazy Christmas caroler. Those bastards won me over. With I'll Be Home for Christmas.

I don't know if the ballerinas will survive. It's 77 degrees here today. And this is how I sent LB off to school this morning.  Christmas? Bring it.

Slide Show Sunday: New Year's Eve 2010

A few years ago we spent New Year's Eve in New York with my parents. We went into NYC to take the ballerinas to the American Girl doll store. It was heaven on earth for them. For the adults, it was an overcrowded nightmare. But BSD and the Big Ballerina probably had the most fun stopping at every hot dog vendor they happened upon. I think the final count was five "street dogs" before the day was done.

New York City is my parents' stomping grounds. It's where they both basically grew up, met and worked their entire lives. For many years, my dad worked for the Associated Press in Rockefeller Center so that day we stopped inside to warm up. My dad tried to take the Big Ballerina ice skating, but the line was way too long. I think back on that day often. I so wish he would have been able to take her. I know it would have been a lifelong memory for her. Unfortunately all the ballerinas remember of that moment was when Grandma spilled coffee on BSD.

This year I decided to make that memory for the ballerinas. Unfortunately, it was without Papa. Without Grandma. And without Rockefeller Plaza. But it was close.

There was snow.

There were crowds. 

There was ice skating.

And best of all. There was love.

Hopefully, we'll get back to New York City one year and do the real Rockefeller Plaza skating for Papa. But for now. This felt good.

Later that evening, at our house, we carried on with the festivities. I think the Big Ballerina had the most fun. She partied like a rock star.

The Little Ballerina did her share of partying too.

There may have even been some table dancing,

a teeny bit of champagne,

a bunch of kissing,

and some careful countdown monitoring.

And finally, the stroke of midnight arrived.

 And we were all awake. And together.

And hell bent on making sure the whole neighborhood knew it!