blue girl

The Christmas Moose

He steadfastly observed the families strolling through the barn at Heritage Farms. He smiled to himself as small children ran, spilling hot chocolate, while their mothers and fathers stood by the roaring fire beneath him -- talking about the weather, about football, and all the things they still needed to do over the next few weeks.

He observed while snarly teenagers sulked, spinning trees that were on display, hanging from the ceiling, while their mothers bit their tongues and took pictures of him over and over again.

And he felt needed.

Kill Joy

Late yesterday afternoon at the grocery store, the cashier rang up each of my items.

One bottle of 4 Emus. Beep.

Two boxes of pasta. Beep. Beep.

One large jar of marinara sauce made in Little Italy. Beep.

One loaf of fresh baked French Bread. Beep.

And one banana creme pie. Beep.

When she went to swipe the UPC code of my last item, she looked at me and said, "This is pretty, but how come you didn't choose the traditional red kind?"

I stuck my nose in the air and replied indignantly, "Don't you know who I am?!"

Pshaw! You know I would never think to say such a thing. I just smiled and said, "I'm more of a blue girl."

That I was a peace-loving, long-haired hippie freak Christmas hater seemed completely lost on her.

The boy had finished bagging my groceries when another cashier, one who I've become "grocery store friends" with, saw that he had put my poinsettia in the cart unwrapped. She came running over.

"We have to wrap that for you! If it hits the cold air, it'll die."

"Okay."

She ran off to find a large bag. She came back with three different sized bags and we wrestled with the poinsettia until we were able to stuff it into the largest one.

I said to her, "I don't know why we're going through all of this."

"Because you don't want it to die!"

"You don't know me well enough yet. It'll be dead soon anyway. I'll kill it."

It's true. I will. My enthusiasm to keep that thing alive will wane. As much as I hate to admit it, I think I have a little Republican in me after all.

Missing the Old Days

Over in the first official 2007 Bake-off thread, (which you should all go read, by the way. It's hilarious) we're trying to figure out what happened to Jedmunds, Res's sancho. My sancho, too, sometimes.

It's weird when someone just goes away. I'll always think of him when I hear this song though. And so will Pinko Punko, I'm sure.

And all the roads
we have to walk along are winding
And all the lights
that lead us there are blinding

And So It Begins

The Third Annual Holiday, Yeah, We Said Holiday, Bill O'Reilly, What Are You Gonna Do About It? Bake-off has commenced! Is commencing! Will commence shortly!

Sorry. Too much sugar. I've been eating Nestle morsels straight out of the bag.

New to blue girl this year? Don't know a lot about this bake-off extravanganza that took teh internets by storm a few years back?

Don't know how I whipped Res into a little whimpering creampuff in 2005?

Then, click over to The Republic of Dogs for the Official Rules, which could change and will change at any moment.

For instance, can we enter babka? Brittle? Borscht?

I say if you can make it lime green and use cinnamon hots, why not. But, I'm not a judge this year, so it's not up to me to decide. It's my job to harrass others relentlessly so that I can enter my award winning Christmas Borchst.

Or click over to the 2006 Cookie Queen's blog to read more. Jennifer's not only a babka, brittle and borscht lover, but also a custard fiend.

Mmmm. Lime green custard. I think I've got a winner.

Join in the sugary, sugary fun, won't you? All are welcome! You'll be so glad you did. And there's prizes. How can you not love that?

One more thing.

NO CHEATING!

That goes for you.

Not me.

A Big Queeny Mess

Read about Res and Miguel's Christmas tree which is shaping up to be a multicolored Festivus horror from beyond all time and out of the depths of chaos.

There Is Comfort In the Sound

A few minutes ago, I was walking down the hallway and heard classical music coming from blue kid's room.

I opened his door, "Whatchya listening to?"

"Come in here, Mom.  Listen to this."

He continued, "Look out the window.  See the gray sky?  See the clouds moving?  The limbs of the trees bending in the wind?  See how the leaves are floating on air?

"Yeah."

"This is the perfect music for a day just like today.  It's perfect for this time of year."

We both stared out the window and were silent as we listened to the song together.  And I thought how grateful I am for this kid of mine.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.