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Thank you for the Gingerbread House you sold this year.

First, it was a bargain ... maybe $10, and well worth every penny.
Especially considering it came with the following glorious words printed on the box: "Pre-Built".

That would be the second wonderful thing ... there was no constructing required, save for a small tree.
It was all about the frosting and decorations ... fun, fun, fun.
It even came with a snowman and a gingerbread man. So cute.

And, here's the third and most wonderful thing of all about your gingerbread house ... it's indestructible.

We can certify this.

As we moved into position to snap a quick picture of the finished product - our children beaming with pride at the creation they had labored over for an hour - my son, who was holding the glass cake platter that now displayed the gingerbread house, slipped right off his chair.

In a split second, he was flat on the floor.

Somehow, he saved the glass cake platter, his arm held high over his head with the platter firmly in his grip.

But, the gingerbread house had crashed to the floor.

Amazingly ... the side peak of the roof was the only spot that sustained damage.
Minor, considering the 'earthquake' that had just occurred.

So, thank you ... for selling a product that not only brought joy to the children who decorated it (and the parents who didn't have to construct it), but held together through a fall that could have destroyed an hour's worth of careful decorating within a matter of seconds!

Please, please ... sell it again next year!

Our little family adores a local pumpkin patch that resides on an island. Annually, we make our way to the opposite end of town to this quiet farming community, where we enjoy a hayride out to the pumpkin patch, picking pumpkins, visiting the livestock, climbing on hay bales, and shopping in their local store for fruits and veggies straight from the garden.

This year's first attempt was on a perfect fall day ... temps in the low 60s and a clear blue sky. As is par for the course in a region that rains a lot ... everyone had decided to make the same trip. As we sat in traffic, and watched the little cars off in the distance inching their way across the two-lane bridge and down the two-lane road leading to the pumpkin patch, we realized it was probably time to turn around. We had been in the car for nearly an hour, and estimated an additional two hours to inch our way there.

The following weekend, plans were made once again ... and, this time, it poured ... and poured! Sure, there would be no crowds ... but it wasn't really the experience we were going for.

Maybe we'll have a successful trip this coming weekend ... or maybe not! I'm learning to 'go with the flow' a bit more these days.

In the mean time, we've brought autumn inside the house.


My sweet friend, Kelli, owns a wonderful Real Deals on Home Decor store. She was having a sale; and, we, being small business owners ourselves, had to go support our fellow small business owner!

Look at the gorgeous pumpkins we found. And, those beautiful oak leaves. The turning colors of the leaves are my favorite part of autumn outdoors ... why not bring them inside (without the mess once they turn crispy and crumble all over the floor!).

And, how can you resist children's art ... doesn't it just make you smile?

Do you decorate your indoors for autumn or Halloween?

A really cool babe I know was interviewed for the wonderful Class of 2K8 group blog. I learned so much from this chick's interview. You can too. See here: http://classof2k8.blogspot.com/ (At this rate, I'll be the charter member of the class of 3K8. Do you think I will finally figure out how to burn CDs by then?)

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Some times we know when we've said too much, when we've complained beyond the pale, when we've told all the world we're miserable over a little scratch or a last-second Blooming Pimple.

And then there are days like today. When every whine and kvetch and tantrum is utterly justified.

It's Easy Bake Oven hot in here. The central air conditioner is either out of the juice it needs to do its thing or it's just that much hotter outside at this late hour than it should be.

I just killed an ugly swarm of baby ants marching in and around the dog's food bowl. Eureka. Book me on the Home Shopping Network. I just found a new use for a can of Arrid Extra Dry. (If it can kill odors....) ;> (Forgive me, you humane and lovely people.) It was all I had available at the moment. They had to go. I am talking about 100 ants. They walk fast. Who knew? At least they went out with fresh-smelling underarms. We should all be so lucky.

But the worst part of this horrific day was when I encountered, face-to-face, a 18-20 year old attempting to break into my house via the bathroom skylight in the ceiling. He was one step away from jumping down to the floor and doing G-d knows what to me and the house-- and my daughter, who was home with me.

Oh My G-d. A nightmare. My worst. A violation of my home and sanctity. He was yanking open the skylight when I saw his face looking down at me. His body was crouched, like a wiry, malevolent spider in still life.

I never knew I could scream this loud. I cannot believe I was only Co-Captain of the Boosters cheering squad with the sailor's mouth I apparently acquired somewhere on the road. ;>

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" I screamed in the shrillest, most piercing pitch of A triple sharp sharp.

Note to the mature readers out there: (Do I have any?! Raise your keyboards. All together now.) There may have been a few expletives tucked into the above-referenced sentence but I'm taking artistic license to omit the Naughty Bits here in this edit-free re-telling of the saga. Trust me. Those words do not add to the story.

Face to face with a home invader! Face to face with something I hate more than mice. (Note to self: post the "I Hate" meme soon.)

He fled. I freaked. I spent the rest of the afternoon entertaining police officers and detectives and sniffing dogs in my home. I apologized for the mess. I offered them food. (Can't shut off the Betty Crocker Good Hostess spigot, even in the middle of a crime scene.)

My dog, Charlie, is the true hero. If not for his incessant, mad as hell dog barks, I would not have known to follow the sounds of banging and tools to the 2nd floor bathroom.

He deserves a medal for his heroics. I deserve peace and quiet.

Does anyone have any to spare?

Please?

A special thanks to children's author Audrey Vernick for watching over me, today and always.