Unmatched

One of my many, many quirks (obsessive toothbrushing, near psychotic aversion to drinking out of plastic or styrofoam, etc.) is the fact the I despise folding socks. I'll fold towels, sheets, sweaters, shirts...even underwear, but I hate folding socks. Fortunately, I am married to a very sweet man. The Saint doesn't mind folding socks, so he almost always does it. Whenever he comes across an unmatched sock, I tell him to toss it in the basket because surely the other one will show up eventually.
Anyway, over the last two days I have managed the near impossible task of getting all of the laundry in the house done. This evening, because my sweet husband built a wonderful, cozy fire for us, I folded all of the laundry including....The Socks! But then (cue the Twilight Zone music) I came across the basket of unmatched socks. An entire basket full of unmatched socks!
Oh! My! Goodness! How do we have so many unmatched socks? We have 59 unmatched socks (yes, I counted them 'cause I am just that kind of girl) pining away, missing their mates, in this basket.
Some of these socks are too small for my kids. I found one of my grandfather's special socks for diabetics. He lives in Texas now and I haven't done his laundry in at least a year. Some of these socks I don't recognize and have no clue how they got into my laundry. Maybe little Sock Goblins live in the washer and steal my socks and return other people's socks in their place.
Anyway, just thought you should know...I live in the Kingdom of Unmatched Socks. And I am The Queen!

Annoyance

Let me just start by saying that I realize I don't have the world's most normal name. Most people couldn't care less about my name, some people think it is pretty and some people think it is horrid. I'm always a little bit surprised by the people who truly loathe my name. It's not like I'm named Beelzebub or Gonorrhea or something truly dreadful. Even so, love it or hate it, this is the name my parents gave me and I am rather fond of it.
I also understand when people occasionally get my name wrong by calling me Angie or Angela or something along those lines. It happens - no big deal. But! But, but, but.....I know a woman, quite well, who insists on calling me either Angie or Angela. (I must confess, in the interest of full disclosure, that I find this woman extremely annoying in general. And she is married to the sweetest man, bless his heart.) Now if this woman were someone I just met or someone I rarely see, I would understand. The thing is, I have known this woman for 8 or 9 years. She and her husband have been to my house many times. We have worked together on several projects. We see each other all the time. She knows my name, she just won't use it. This evening, after telling her for the third time in an hour that my name is not Angela, she said "Oh so what!? Who cares? You can call me whatever you want."
I'm considering Jocephus.

Just Wondering...

Why do people say "good grief"? Is there some good part and I just haven't found it yet?

Happy New Year!

I have to say that 2008 was not my favorite year. In fact, I can truly say that it was the worst year of my life to this point. I have hopes that this year will be much better and to start the year off, we had a wonderful evening with friends. Our friends Calendar Girl and the Friar had a Black Tie/Cheap Beer party. So, in the interest of new beginnings, I will attempt to do something new...add photos to this blog.

I think The Saint looks quite dashing in his tux! The tie is a special designer touch, don't you think? And aren't my fancy evening shoes gorgeous?

He Shoots! He Scores!

Prince Charming made his first basket of the season tonight!!! The game went into double overtime before our team finally won!!!

Long Song

An excerpt from Prince Charming's song in the car today, one in a lifelong series of car songs. The entire collection is only a small sample of the Prince Charming Comedy Network.
So, here it is......

My cousin has a chocolate mustache,
I bet it cost a lot of cash,
It looks pretty weird,
But not as weird as my beard,
Which is actually awesome,
Better than a possum,
Which are better than koala bears,
With all their crazy hairs.
Koala bears are cool,
Except for when they drool.
We'll never be apart,
Except for when they fart.

There was more, much more but I can't remember the rest. He also happened onto the one slang word he didn't know for his boy parts (rhymes with long, you can figure it out). My explanation of why he really didn't need to sing that particular word resulted in a very serious "Oh. Okay." Followed, of course, by the hysterical laughter I had been expecting.

Love

I love Christmas. Well, any year but this year. I love the decorating, the shopping, the Advent candles and services, the preparations, the special goodies, the carols, the lights, the excitement and especially singing Silent Night in a candlelit church (which may be a Lutheran thing...hmmmm). This year, of course, was tough. Months ago, I realized that none of us could face Christmas here without Mama. I called my uncle, my mother's favorite brother, and invited ourselves to Texas. I am so, so glad we went.
We left town earlier than originally planned because I just could not stand a second more of being here without my Mama. The world felt completely skewed and I was uncomfortable in my own skin. So we made the long drive from a home that didn't feel at all like Christmas to my uncle's house, were Christmas was quietly waiting. My aunt and uncle had beautiful Christmas lights. They had Christmas music playing. They had a crackling fire, beautiful nativity sets, three trees, my grandfather sitting in an easy chair and tons of cookies. Most of these things were available here, and yet it didn't feel the same. Quaint or cliche as it may sound, there is much to be said for being sheltered in the arms of your family. It is so good to be loved. And it is love that makes all the difference.