Are You Coming to the Conference?

I'm starting to see a lot of my blog friends mentioning that they're planning on the LDStorymakers Writers Conference coming up this March. I'm so excited to see all of you. Do me a favor and leave a comment on this blog and let me know which of you are planning to come, okay?

For those of you who don't know what the conference is, LDStorymakers is a writers guild for LDS authors, and every year for the last five years, we've held a conference to teach writing. Our conference has been called one of the best in the nation and has been endorsed by Lisa Mangum, acquisitions editor for Deseret Book. Check out the details here.

Furthermore, at lunch on Saturday at the conference, I'd like to have lunch with all of you. Let me know if that works for you!

Can't wait to see you all in March. The conference is literally the highlight of my year -- I look forward to it more than I do Christmas. This year Candace and I are running Boot Camp, and we're also teaching the blogging/Internet promotion classes. There will be writing contests, classes for every skill level, editors from national and LDS publishers -- this is really the place to be. Go check out the information page.

Last Chance to Nominate a Book for the Whitney Awards!

Hey, readers of LDS fiction -- you have until tomorrow night at midnight to nominate your favorite read of the year for the Whitney Award.

Rules:

1. The book must have been published in the year 2007. No books published before 2007 are eligible.

2. The book must be written by an LDS author. It doesn't matter if they write for the national or LDS market, but they need to be LDS themselves.

3. The book must be fiction.


The Whitney Awards are designed to commemorate quality writing amongst LDS authors and to give us all another bar to aim for. If you've read a really outstanding book this year, click here to vote.

Unfortunately, I don't have a book eligible this year. But you bet I'll be tooting my horn when I do.

James Dashner is Cool

I just finished the advanced reader copy of "The Journal of Curious Letters" by James Dashner. The book doesn't come out until March, but I'm one of the few, the lucky, the important people who got a sneak peek. It pays to have friends in high places.

The book is great. It's a fantasy/adventure set around the theory of quantum physics and the idea that we can control reality by the strength of our desire. Our main character is Tick Higginbottom, a young man who starts to receive strange letters, each with a clue he must solve.

I'll be doing a full review for Families.com at the beginning of March, but wanted to get the idea planted in all your heads. This is the first of a series, and I will definitely be reading and loving every one of them.

Ah, Motherhood!

I just spent half an hour stitching up a dress for a teddy bear.

Yeah, I know.

The son who owns said teddy bear has been pestering me ever since Christmas morning to make the bear some clothes. Forgive me, but I thought a teddy bear was fine, running around in just his fur. Apparently not. Every thirty seconds since Christmas morning -- "Mommy! Will you sew my bear some clothes?" Finally I gave in. I was informed that the bear is a girl and should also have a hat. Sheesh.

So, the bear now has a dress. I decided no to the hat and went with a matching ribbon around the head instead. And I have a little hole in my finger where the needle went.

My husband decided I was being domestic and pulled out a pair of his pants that needed to be stitched. I did that too.

I have a question. If my price is far above rubies and he only paid eight cows for me, shouldn't I be getting a kickback somewhere?

Professionalism, Prayer, and Persnicketism

I found myself in a situation the other day that I didn't want to be in. I'm not going to go into a lot of detail, but I will say that I didn't know what to do because I didn't want my career to override my beliefs, but at the same time, I'm a fair-minded person. It was a question of the ultimate right. Do I support a person's freedom to think for themselves, even when they may end up choosing to believe something different from what I believe? Free agency is one of our most priceless possessions. A war was fought in Heaven so that we might have the ability to choose. Christ died for us so that we might choose to repent and be forgiven. I mulled over the consequences for a while, prayed about it, and decided to proceed. I had to trust that God would make it all turn out okay, and He did. I'm breathing a sigh of relief right now. I was able to maintain my professionalism without sacrificing my beliefs.

And thanks for letting me share, even if I didn't share a whole lot. I feel better now.

T'was the Day After Christmas

Look at this poor tired Santa, asleep in his cocoa -- I feel about like this right now.

We had a great Christmas. Like I mentioned, we headed up to Logan on Sunday, and we spent Monday and Tuesday here at home. Monday, we cleaned the house and I made a cheesy Italian pie for dinner, which is a pie crust, then a layer of cottage cheese, Parmesan, and egg, then a layer of meat, spinach, and marinara sauce, then topped with another crust. We had a nice salad with that, and finished up with apple pie, pumpkin roll, and egg nog -- just a little for each; we don't like to feed the kids too much sugar right before telling them to go to bed early. It just doesn't work.

My mom came over and spent the night. We watched "White Christmas" while waiting for the kids to go to sleep, then we brought out the presents and stuffed the socks. The kids had a wonderful Christmas morning, and, thanks to the wish list on Amazon, I got pretty much what I wanted, too. I also got a really long nap -- thanks to my sweet hubby.

This morning we totally scored. Macey's, yeah, the grocery store, has nice digital cameras for $89.00. Hubby headed over before work and picked one up. We've been wanting one for years -- we really like the idea of only printing out the pictures we want and not having to develop a whole roll of film, only half of which is worth saving. But we didn't want to pay a lot of money. Presto -- good camera, good price.

The best part was the spirit of peace in the home. The kids were too busy playing to fight, and we had a nice, restful day.

I hope each of you had a Merry Christmas as well, full of love and joy.

Deep Thoughts on a Long Day

Yesterday I drove up to Logan with my husband, my kids and my mom to have a family Christmas dinner with my sisters and their families. There's nothing like a long drive with a car full of children to make one have weird thoughts, and add a long Sacrament meeting onto that, it's perfect blog fodder.

Thought During Sacrament Meeting:

The Prompt: A Christmas story in which a contented cow was mentioned.

My thoughts: What's up with all this "contented cow" business? Do you know how many times I've heard the word "contented" hooked to the word "cow?" How do we know those cows really are contented? How do we know they aren't just biding their time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike? They've lulled us into a sense of false security, making us think they're contented, when in reality, we're all going to wake up one morning and find ourselves in the middle of a cow uprising. Mark my words.

Thought While Driving, Listening to the Radio:

The Prompt: The song "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year."

My thoughts: What is with the line, "There'll be scary ghost stories and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago?" Who tells ghost stories on Christmas? Isn't that more of a Halloween thing? And if they're talking about "The Christmas Carol," that's not a scary ghost story. It's an introspective ghost story. But I guess that didn't fit in the line of the song. Hey, if you know anyone who actually tells ghost stories on Christmas, would you please tell them, on my behalf, that they are seriously whacked and need professional help?


Thought While Driving, Listening to the Radio:

The Prompt: The song, "The Christmas Song."

My thoughts: You know, I really like the line, "Everybody knows a turkey." Isn't it so true? We all do know a turkey. And, unfortunately, almost all of us are related to a turkey. Just a fact of life.


Thought on Public Restrooms:

The Prompt: The sign in the bathroom reminding employees to wash their hands before returning to work.

My thoughts: Are the employees that they've hired so dumb they can't figure out for themselves that they're supposed to wash their hands? If they're that dumb, can they even read the sign? All those signs do, at least, in my opinion, is make the customers wonder if the employees regularly forget to wash their hands, thereby making them more suspicious of purchasing food made by these employees. It raises a question that otherwise wouldn't be much of an issue. Why create suspicion and doubt? Does this create an atmosphere of trust? I think not.


Thought on Historical Accuracy, While Driving, Listening to the Radio:

The Prompt: The song "Joseph" sung by Gene Moreford.

My thoughts: This is a great song by an LDS artist that's really touching -- a woman comes to Joseph and asks him if he's the father of the man who was crucified. He replies, "I was not His father. He was mine." He then teaches the woman about Christ and His mission on earth. A great premise -- just one problem -- Joseph was dead by the time Christ was crucified. Remember how Christ turned to John while He was on the cross and told John to look after his mother as though he was her own son? She needed John's care and protection because Joseph had passed away. Therefore, he wasn't around to talk to after the crucifixion.

So, that's what my brain was doing yesterday. Pretty disturbing, huh? Well, I'd like to see you get locked up in a car for six hours with four children and see what kind of sanity you can produce at the end of the day.

Twelve T'ings about Christmas

Josi just tagged me -- here we go!


1. List 12 random things about yourself that have to do with Christmas

2. Please refer to it as a 'hoopla' and not the dreaded 'm'-word (Josi doesn't even know what the m-word is but she's trying really hard to think of all the dirty words that start with M that she's ever heard. Tristi thinks the "m" word is Meme.)

3. You have to specifically tag people when you're done. None of this "if you're reading this, consider yourself tagged" stuff is allowed...then nobody ends up actually doing it. The number of people who you tag is really up to you -- but the more, the merrier to get this 'hoopla' circulating through the blogosphere.

4. Please try and do it as quickly as possible. The Christmas season will be over before we know it and I'd like to get as many people involved as possible.


And we're off . . .

1. Unlike Josi, I can spot Bing Crosby from a million miles away. I can also identify Nat King Cole, Johnny Mathis, and the Andrews Sisters. I'm just good that way.

2. Christmas night, I like to go to Amazon.com and order myself just one small thing that I really, really like -- I just never seem to get quite what I want. However, this year, maybe things will be different. I told my husband to get my Christmas presents off my Amazon.com wishlist this year.

3. I want to strangle all the Salvation Army volunteers with their annoying bells. Honestly, I would know they were there even without the bell, and I'd be a lot more likely to donate if they hadn't given me a migraine first.

4. I have gift guilt every year. I go through and count my kids' presents and make sure they have "enough" and then I feel bad that I'm not giving them more, even though I know full well that they don't need more and that more would be bad for them.

5. I love turning off all the lights except for the tree and just staring at it. Sort of a nice trance it puts me into.

6. I'm not really feeling Christmasy yet -- I've been too busy with other things. But by Jove, as soon as I'm done with this hoopla, I'm going to put on some Christmas music and there will be joy and rejoicing at my house.

7. I love finding just the right gift for someone, and if they don't think it's the perfect gift for them, it's because they're dumb.

8. We don't have Santa at our house. We have some Santa decorations, etc, but my kids know he's just pretend.

9. Item #9 has garnered me much disapproval. I don't care.

10. I like having lots of different kinds of wrapping paper. I get it for .99 at the grocery store and won't pay $5 a roll for it -- and we have lots of great variety in our presents.

11. My presents are currently stacked in my bathtub. I don't have a lot of room to put them, and we can't put them under the tree -- prying eyes, you know. Plus the three-year-old thinks it's still his birthday and tries to open them. So we bring them all out after the kids are down on Christmas Eve.

12. Every Christmas Eve, we read the Christmas story out of the New Testament and Book of Mormon. It absolutely has to happen -- we don't do anything until that's done.

Okay, I'm now supposed to tag some people and encourage them to do it as fast as possible. Stephanie, Jen, Karlene -- have at it.

I Don't Believe in Yesterday

Yesterday . . . well, it was a day. That's about the best way to sum it up.

So, I have these four kids, see. And I don't often take them all out in public at the same time. But yesterday I decided I wanted to run some errands, and I didn't want to wait until my husband got home, and I couldn't anyway because half the places I needed to go would be closed if I waited. I got my itinerary all mapped out, had the kids go potty, put some candy in my purse, and out the door we went.

After first hearing the endless cries of, "Can I get in the van first?" we got buckled and were on our way. We're heading up the road when I hear, "Mom, I'm starving." I was about to launch into a diatribe about how we're not going to get something to eat every single time we leave the house when it suddenly occurred to me -- I'd forgotten to feed the children. Well, and myself too, but I tend to not notice things like that. So we pulled into Wendy's and got everyone something to eat.

Then we headed to the library. I had to pick up a book that was on hold and I needed more Christmas picture books. We headed in (me with Benjamin tucked under my arm because he would not hold my hand to cross the parking lot, and if he won't hold my hand, he doesn't get to walk) I grabbed the books, and we were on our way out when Benjamin decided he wanted to stay. Presto -- out came the candy. I'm so clever. I got the books checked out and we began our journey back out to the van -- and Benjamin didn't want to get in. Did I mention he's three? I finally had to remind him that he had a cheeseburger waiting for him in his sack and then he got in. Phew.

Then it was time to go to the bank. There's a location on one of the busiest roads in town, yeah, the one where they're doing all the construction. So I plot the best way to get from the library to the bank and I'm on the road and I'm in the right lane and I'm feeling good about life and I can't see the bank anywhere and cars behind me are starting to get cranky that I'm slowing down. So I decide to forget it and continue on to my next destination.

Believe it or not, that one went off without a hitch. I pulled up right to the door, ran in, handed the stuff to the receptionist, had the kids in my line of sight the whole time, and dashed out.

Then I had the bright idea of going to the bank in Pleasant Grove. I was already half-way there, and I know where the bank is there already. So we headed down the road.

And it happened.

The thing that strikes fear into the hearts of mothers worldwide.

The reason why mothers of four children dread venturing into public.

"Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom."

This necessitates taking everyone inside. At this same point I noticed that I was almost out of gas. So, I pulled into a gas station and we got everyone out, trundled in to the bathroom, and got everyone back out into the car. Then I pulled to the pump, got gas, and we were on our way again.

We made it to the bank, we made it back home, dusk was falling, my husband pulled in, he let me lock myself in the bedroom for an hour, and I read myself into a state of numbness before venturing back out into the world.

You see why I rarely take all four of them with me. And I only take them to the grocery store if we are absolutely out of food and are in danger of developing scurvy and osteoporosis and polio and mange.

She's Got a Ticket to Ride

Well, okay, to be honest, I'm not sure she has the actual ticket yet. But she's very close to getting it, if it's not already in her posession.

My mom had her mission farewell today. To everyone's surprise, after getting called to the Italy Catania mission, she received a letter asking her to go to the England Leeds mission instead. She had already begun Italian lessons and was in the mama mia mindset, so it was a bit of a transition, but now she's looking forward to England.

I told her she did it just to make me jealous. When she got called to Italy, I was happy for her, but not really jealous. England, on the other hand -- I've wanted to go to England my whole entire life. There is definite jealousy taking place now.

Just for fun, here are a couple of historic sites in Leeds.
This one is called Harewood House. Doesn't it just scream "Pride and Prejudice?" It's an 18th century manor house with fabulous gardens, and is now a gift shop/museum.


This one is Leeds City Hall. Yeah, I can see going to a place like this to pay my utility bill!

Her farewell was really nice. She spoke in church and afterward we had a nice meal. A bunch of family was there, including all my uncles and aunts on my mom's side. That group doesn't often have the chance to be in the same place at the same time, so it was a real treat.

Mom goes into the Missionary Training Center midway through January, so she'll be here through the holidays. It's kind of weird to think -- when she gets back, my daughter will be thirteen, my first son will be ten and a half, my second son will be eight, and my third son will be four and a half. That's pretty funky.

I'm really looking forward to getting letters from my mom while she's gone. She's going to have so many great experiences to share. And I'll get jealous all over again.

The Twelve Days of Christmas

Yesterday I was wrapping presents and humming to myself, which I do often, the humming, not the wrapping, and it's usually slightly out of tune although I kid myself that it's not, when I started listening to the words I was humming, not that I was humming words because that's actually not really possible, but I was thinking about the words that I would have been singing had I been singing instead of humming, and I had some deep thoughts, believe it or not.

So it's the first day of Christmas and he brings her a partridge in a pear tree. Is the tree potted? Let's say that aloud, together. A partridge in a potted pear tree. Perhaps the pot is spotted. A partridge in a spotted potted pear tree. A nice gift, rather, assuming she had a place to put a tree, which not everyone does. I remind you I live in a trailer. No room for a tree here.

Then the second day he brings her two turtledoves, and then another partridge in a pear tree. Was the first one not enough? Did the first partridge die and so he felt the need to replace it?

Well, the song continues until the eighth day, which is when things get a little strange. He brings eight maids a milking. One must assume there were cows involved, otherwise -- how could they be milking -- they would have to be "eight maids who previously milked and are now standing decorously" -- but the song says milking. So we get eight girls and eight cows and they're all busy at their chore. What good girls! But how do you give a human being to someone else, and how do these girls feel about being a gift? I'm sure they had hopes and dreams and desires of their own, but they've been made a present and so all that pretty much flies out the window. I really think this falls under some human trafficking laws -- it can't be legal.

At least they have company the ninth day, when not only the ladies dancing arrive, but more maids a-milking.

I really think the twelve drummers drumming have it the easiest. There are only twelve of them, but check it out:

By the time we're done, we have twelve partridges in pear trees.

Twenty-two turtle doves.

Thirty French hens.

Thirty-six calling birds.

Forty gold rings.

Forty-two geese a-laying.

Forty-two swans a-swimming.

Forty maids a-milking.

Thirty-six ladies dancing.

Thirty lords a-leaping.

Twenty-two pipers piping.

Twelve drummers drumming.

Now, doesn't it seem to you that if he really was her true love, he would have left it at some jewelry, a nice dinner out, and a dozen roses? Where is she supposed to put all this?

I'm Being Mocked

Internet Explorer is mocking me.

I've been working on the computer for about an hour now, and the little number up at the top of my screen, you know, the one that's supposed to tell me how many e-mails I have, is stuck on the number 7. I keep checking, only to be told that I have no mail. How can this be?

Doth not Internet Explorer realize that it can't dangle the idea of seven whole e-mails in front of me and expect me not to bite? Doesn't it understand that you can't promise me seven e-mails, and then not deliver? What kind of cruel, sadistic mind game is this, anyway? There should be laws against this kind of taunting!

There's Something about Amanda*

Right after my husband and I became engaged, a new girl moved into our stake and started attending our single young adult ward. She was beautiful. Picture a blonde, blue-eyed porcelain doll, dressed in a frilly blue dress, ringlets out the ying-yang -- she was just lovely. She was the kind of girl that all us moderately plain girls just instinctively hate because we know we'll never look like that. Sure, we'll get dressed up and we'll look nice, but we'll never look like that.

Turns out she had a relative working at the same store where my fiance worked, and so she had met him before. It also turns out that she had a little bit of a crush on him. Well, my sweetie was very naive and (thankfully) very much in love with me, so he didn't see what was going on. But it wasn't half an hour before Amanda* had him in the hall, standing up against the closet doors, while she cooed at him, laying her delicate little paw on his arm.

I see this. I also see red. I know full well what's going on here - and I take care of it. I walk up to his other side, tuck my arm through his, and say, "Amanda, have you met my fiance?"

Little hoods draw over her lovely blue eyes and she replies, "Oh, he's engaged? Congratulations!" She simpers. She fawns. She asks when the wedding will be and if she can come to the reception. She removes her hand from his arm. I don't remove my hand from his arm. Poor man probably felt like he was surrounded by she-tigers. Or, at least, he ought to -- he didn't realize what was going on.

Later I explained.

"She was flirting with me?" he asked, his own lovely eyes wide open.

"Heck yes!" I replied.

"I didn't notice," was his wonderful response, and I was a very happy girl.

Tonight my honey was telling me about the first girl that had ever openly pursued him in high school. She was cute, she was somewhat popular, and her name . . . was Amanda.*

Can I just say -- we will never have a daughter named Amanda. Or a cat. Or a dog. Or a goldfish.


*name has been changed to protect the flirtatious

T'is the Night After Party

T'is the night after party,
And I sit here dazed
At how eating some cake
Makes my child go crazed --
And now that he's sleeping
With drool on his chin,
I can sit back and marvel
At the mess I am in.

When down the short hall
Did arise such a yelling --
My daughter, my oldest
Is tattle-tell-telling.
Down the beige carpet I flew like a flash,
Spoke to them firmly and my teeth did gnash!

I could go on, but you get the picture. It was an interesting day. My second child and my first son had his birthday party today -- he's turning nine tomorrow. And oh, my, but what sugar will do to a child. I think birthday parties are evil. I think they were designed by people who have stock in the sugar industry. Picture this:

You're supposed to have cake and ice cream.
You're supposed to send the children home with sugary goodie bags.
You're supposed to eat large quantities of pizza, or popcorn, or some other party-theme related treat.
And then you have the leftovers in your house for days afterward.

Well, my kids are allergic to ice cream, so we just serve cake. But we do the other stuff. Yeah, I know -- I can hear you now, and I realize how dumb I am. Just bear with me, would ya? How many times does your oldest son turn nine?

So we have a child who has just had birthday cake and we give him Bionicles, which are his favorite toy in the world, and you give him a couple of other things you know he wants, and he's all excited over that, and then you put in the Bionicle movie for the guests to watch, because that's what he wanted, and he gets all hyped up over that, and you end up with a boy who refuses to go to bed and has to be manhandled (or womanhandled, since it was me who did it) to his room.

Phew.

Good news is -- that's the last kid birthday in the Pinkston family for this year. We don't have another kid birthday until June.

I love June.

Pearl Harbor

I'm remembering you today.

The Bewildering Ketchup Incident

I've never hidden the fact that there are certain aspects of motherhood that I find overwhelming. I hate thinking about the future, when my children are going to get into cars and drive off to go on dates and get themselves into all kinds of situations I would never allow them to get into, what with drugs and drinking and unsafe driving, not to mention back to that whole dating thing (shudder). But that's all in the future -- albeit the near future -- and it's today that's got me shaking my head.

I was awakened to screaming. It's a pretty typical thing, and not pleasant.

"Mommy! Ammon put ketchup on me!"

It's early in the morning. Too early for breakfast -- ketchup? Why ketchup?

"Go wash yourself off. Ammon!"

Ammon comes sauntering in, unconcerned.

"Can you explain the ketchup to me?"

"Well, I wanted to do something that, to me, was funny, so I decided to wake Joseph up by squirting ketchup on him."

Oh, now, that makes total sense. Why didn't I think of that?

We Need a Little Christmas

I was just over reading Annette's blog and her list of favorite Christmas traditions, and it got me thinking about Christmases in my own life. I remember laying awake at night, trying so hard to make myself go to sleep so the morning would come quicker. We weren't allowed to get up at 4 a.m. -- my parents were very serious about that. They would come in and wake us up when they were good and ready for Christmas morning to begin, so we'd usually get up around 7, after most kids we knew had already ripped through their pile and broken half their toys.

It all really started on Christmas Eve. We'd read the Christmas story, both out of the Bible and the Book of Mormon, and then we'd each open up one present. In the morning we'd open the rest. Christmas for us was usually prefaced with a warning --"Christmas is going to be a little bit small this year" -- but I don't remember any Christmas that wasn't chock full of gifts. I know my parents worked hard to make the holidays nice for us, and while we didn't get scads of presents, we sure did have enough.

Now, as an adult, there are certain things I make sure to do every year. I have to watch my Christmas movies. These are, in no particular order:

"White Christmas"
"Mr. Krueger's Christmas"
"Elf"
"The Nutcracker" with Barishnikov
"The Santa Clause" series
"The Best Christmas Pageant Ever"

If I miss one of these, I feel like my whole holiday has just been ruined. I start on Thanksgiving night, usually with "The Santa Clause." In fact, I'm going to interrupt myself for a funny -- in 2004, we watched "The Santa Clause" on Thanksgiving, as always, and then put in "The Santa Clause 2" on the Saturday right after. We were watching it when my water broke with Benjamin. We didn't finish that movie for several days.

In addition to the movies, we have to go doorbell ditching with cookies at least once. I can't handle the thought of a Christmas season going by without taking cookies to someone anonymously. We've also started playing a game -- not only do the receivers not know who brought them cookies, but the givers don't know who they gave cookies to. That's right -- we like to make up several plates of cookies, drive to a neighborhood where we don't know anyone, and let the kids choose where the cookies will go. Then we park around the corner, our brave daddy goes crunching across the ice and snow, and the cookies are delivered. There's just something about imagining the looks on people's faces . . . "I can't figure out who brought these!" . . . that makes the holiday all the more magical.

My kids have five cousins near their ages who live nearby, and every year they draw names and give gifts to their cousins. They always look forward to who they're going to get and plan their shopping out very carefully.

I also love Christmas shopping when it's snowing outside. Sure, it doesn't do a lot for traffic, but I love the snow and I love being out in it. It's gorgeous. We had our first big snowfall yesterday and I had my errands all mapped out -- and even though my Christmas shopping is pretty close to done, I had the strongest desire to start all over again. The snow just put me right in the mood. And there's nothing like driving along in the snow while listening to Christmas carols.

For me, Christmas is the whole season, it's not just the day itself or the combination of Christmas and Christmas Eve. It's the whole month of December. It's everything that leads up to it and comes away from it. It's the anticipation, the joy of finding the perfect gift for someone, watching their faces when they open it. And it's seeing the lights reflected in my children's eyes. Christmas used to be all about me, but the minute I became a mother, the focus shifted to them. I want them to have wonderful Christmas memories, just like I do.

Just Look at This Painting!

For part of our homeschool, I've been helping my kids build and maintain their own Blogspot. I wanted a picture to go on it that encapsulated the atmosphere I'm trying to create, and I found this one. Isn't it gorgeous? Unfortunately, it wasn't accompanied by an artist or a title. If anyone knows the name of the artist, pop it on over, would you?

This, That, and The Other Thing

This:

Want to win a DVD player? Anne Bradshaw is having an outrageous contest on her blog, and you can enter it too. Here are the rules, and the specs on the machine:

Anyone want to win a brand new, still-in-box, RjTECH UNO-02DVD compact slim DVD player? And since it's the Christmas season when it's nice to give more, SHIPPING by Priority Mail is FREE in Continental USA.

Closing date--DECEMBER 18th 2007.

Full DVD function
DVD format compatibility: DVD/DVD-R/DVD-RW/VCD/SVCD/CD/CD-R/CD-RW/JPEG
Audio Outputs: 2.1 CH RCA/Coaxial
Video Outputs: Video/S-Video/YCbCr
Multi-TV System NTSC/PAL
Dimensions: 10 x 9 x 1.5 inches ; 4 pounds
Two simple rules:

1) Post information about the contest on your blog with a link back to Anne's.
2) Leave ONE comment back at Anne's post telling her you've completed #1.

Winner will be chosen by random number generator on Tuesday December 18th, and announced the same day.

Spread the word about this nifty give-away.

And a Merry Christmas to one and all!

Now, for That:

Thursday was my baby's birthday. Well, he's not so much a baby anymore -- he's three now, but he's still my baby. You know how that is. We had a fun evening and he seemed to like his presents a lot -- especially his Viewmaster. But what's not to love about a Viewmaster?

And the Other Thing:

My in-laws were here last week and brought Christmas gifts. They hadn't been able to find what they wanted for my daughter, so they took us shopping. We still couldn't find just the right thing, so they left me some money and the assignment to find her a pretty dress. I took my mom with us and off we went the other night, to the University Mall. After wandering into several stores and finding a broad selection of really hoochie dresses in her size, and I'm cringing to think of eleven-year-olds running around in some of those dresses, we found the Jo Lene store and a lovely red dress. It's cut in a sheath style, but with puffed sleeves and a modest neckline. She tried it on and looked like a princess. I also found her a red crystal necklace to go with it.

I'm so glad we found this particular dress. Everything at the mall either looked way too little girl, or way too woman of the world. I wanted something that showed, yes, she's eleven and so she should have something a little more grown-up, and this dress really fit the bill. The problem is, she's wearing the largest size this store carries, and so in the future, when she grows up a size, we're out of luck.

Then, on the way home from the mall, we stopped in at Toys R Us. My son had asked for a stuffed cat for Christmas, which just melted my heart because he's growing up so fast, and the thought that he still wanted a stuffed animal made me realize that he's still my little boy for five more minutes. Believe it or not, none of the toy stores I'd been to had one. So, anyway, we went into Toys R Us and my daughter discovered an Amazing Allyson Doll. Now, the thing to understand here is that she's been asking for one for years, but those things are over $100. Ah, but they had one marked down to $29.99. I became La Bandita de Navidad* and snatched that bad boy up. I told my daughter I already had her Christmas presents, and if she didn't mind if I put a couple of them up until her birthday, I'd get her the doll now. She thought that was a perfectly fine idea.

Oh, and yes, I did find the perfect cat at Toys R Us.

*The Christmas Bandit