Questions.

image from pixabay

Part of our conversations.

Part of who we are.

Part of what we need.

For how else will we get to know one another?

If not for questions?

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Summertime and the Livin' Ain't Easy

It's officially summer.

Ask me how I know.

It's not because of the higher than high temps.

North Carolina has had those for months now.

And it's not that big ole bright ball in the sky.

That thing comes and goes as it pleases.

But it's time to pack.

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A Thanksgiving Ramble

It's a Thankful Thursdays post on a Wednesday night. But still. It's gonna be live all day tomorrow because I won't be posting right away, so - let's just go with it - shall we?

Now ... before I get thankful ... let me ramble a bit.

I fell off the NaBloPoMo wagon.

To be honest, I'm not sure how on it I ever actually was. But I tried.

I was slightly motivated, and regrouping w. my blogging friends DID help me remember to write more. But I fell off and haven't really written in a few days.

I started a few posts and did nothing w. them.

Sigh.

I donno what happened, exactly. I just dropped off.

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And so ... We start again.

Today is Grandparents' Day.

And tonight, right now, at sundown, starts the highest of holy days on the Jewish calendar.

Two stark reminders of how life is so different without you.

It's been a while since I've written with moments and memories of you.

But it doesn't make a difference, because I think of you every day.

I see you in my own reflection.

My smile.

My eyes.

*You look like Daddy,* I hear. My own voice. The words of others.

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I carry him always.

Chanukah and Christmas have both passed.

I'm unsure of how I feel about the holidays coming and going as quickly as they seem to have.

I didn't really write this year. I'm not sharing as much.

Last year was the first holiday season without my dad.

This year it sucks just as bad, I just haven't had the words to share.

Not enough of a thought process to say what I want to say.

It's rough. It's life.

It is what it is - the stupidest saying of ever - you know?

Loss is impossible to bear. It doesn't go away.

It doesn't really get easier.

MAYBE I feel it in less powerful bursts throughout the year. Maybe not.

You never stop grieving when you lose someone you love, and that's 100% okay.

You still live, and that, too, is 100% okay.

But man, living? It hurts. It hurts and stings right in the gut and the heart when the person you love is gone. Forever.

How to go on living and enjoying the many blessings there are out in the world?

How to just breathe and do?

How to remind others to do the same?

I have no effing clue.

I just try anyway.

I ache. I hurt. I cry. I miss him.

And then I keep on going.

Because I have to.

We have to.

I have to remind my mom and my brother and my daughter and my niece - I have to set a great example of how it's perfectly okay to cry and miss him AND live and laugh, too.

I have to because I should, ya know?

I need to.

He'd want me to.

I know he DOES want me to.

But it still hurts. Aches. Stings.

And I miss him.

Always.

So much for not really writing about my dad today.

I think he knew it was coming. I think he feels me, like I feel him and carry him in my heart.

Always.

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2014: Thanksgiving at our house

I'm thankful for so many things. Mostly today I'm thankful for Thanksgiving at my own home. With my daughter and my husband.

Thankful for Thanksgiving Eve. Long gone the nights of partying all over the place. Drinking til the late night/early morning hours. Thankful for snuggles on the couch with my 7-year-old.

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Free Write: Thanksgiving is coming and we're staying home

It's 11:06 PM and I have a few minutes to get in my NaBloPoMo post for today.

And the same few minutes to mesh with Jaime's Stream of Consciousness post for the weekend. Link-up, I mean. And I'm totally stealing her "button" but I think she'll be okay with it since I'm directing you guys to her place and encouraging you to go there next week and link up. Or this week, since we're still allowed.

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Wrestling with G-d.

The new year is coming.

A new year without you.

I find this to be unacceptable.

I find this to leave me wallowing in my head and heart in a place where grief lives.

I've been out and about these last few days.

Traveling.

Smiling.

Enjoying myself.

I had you with me. Always.

I wear your "name" on my neck.

Like I've been branded, perhaps?

Dad.

People see it.

They smile.

Some know. Nod knowingly.

Hug me.

Others - surely unsure - say nothing.

That's okay.

I don't need everyone to ask.

I'm the only one who really needs to know.

I'm rambling now.

I'm trying not to get to the point of expressing how much I miss you.

Rosh Hashana starts tomorrow.

The first time without you.

I can't.

I just can't.

I suppose I will.

But I just can't.

I have so much to say. So much that I am thinking.

I know you wouldn't want me to think it or feel it.

But how can I celebrate a new year. The Jewish new year. Without you here?

I'm angry.

I'm mad.

I'm still Jewish.

But you're not here.

You're not on the other end of the phone to wish me a good year.

Happy and healthy.

We said it every.single.time.

Took it for granted.

Be careful, I told you.

Be careful.

You walked.

You returned.

So many words. So many prayers.

Recited days and nights before.

The days. The nights.

So many years of so many words.

So much love. Blessings.

Hands held.

Laughs stifled.

These days are you.

You are these days.

How am I supposed to even feel them without you?

I end here.

I could write forever.

But I end this here.

I love you, Daddy.

And I miss you beyond all the words in the world.

L'Shana Tova.

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Stuck.

I'm stuck.

Last week I was in sponsored post mode. This week and then some? Nada. Nothing.

I've got the emotions. I've got the anxieties. I've got the thoughts but I just don't have the words.

I've watched a few recent episodes of Glee lately and cried every.single.time. I'm about to catch up on the New York episode and then I have last night's episode and I'll be caught up.

Why is it that emotional for me to watch these damned episodes?

I can blame it on PMS. It would be easy to.

But I think it's a combination of real life emotions and "TV" related emotions all smushed up together. Do you know what that's like?

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She's figured it out.

If you're friends with me on Facebook then you may have seen the picture that I shared a week or so ago. My daughter came home from school with her library book, and it was a book about Easter.

Now, you'll remember that we're a mostly Jewish family in the south, and I spend some time working on finding my religion.

If you knew me a few years ago, or have skimmed back that far, you'd have seen our family discussion addressing the age old question of where does Santa live?

You may have even brushed up on how I was Cookie Swap Virgin many moons ago.

But I'm good now.

We're a beautifully blended holiday household, and despite the questions this sometimes brings, we usually coast through them.

Until this.

Now, don't jump to conclusions ... I don't mind books about Easter. I promise.

But the whole "He Has Risen" thing? Yeah. Not so sure that's the way to go. Not so sure that I want to be teaching that to my 6-year-old. Especially when this is not what her father and I believe. I know it's a huge part of many people's beliefs. Many people. And it means so much to them. I don't judge. I don't scorn. I respect. I acknowledge. But I don't believe. And that should be as okay as them believing, because we're different. And it's not that I don't plan to or want to expose my child to different beliefs. It's just that. *I* want to. I don't want someone ELSE to. Especially not at a public school.

Again - it's great for you, for any of you. It's just not how my family works.

But I moved forward. We read the book the other night. Kind of - sort of. I'll admit, I wasn't looking forward to bringing Jesus forth. Inviting him into our home, since I don't know much about him. I could  say he was Jewish (he was, right?). I could say people believe he was the son of G-d. But I've barely scratched the surface of Judaism. This is my fault, sure, but I've got my own timeline in mind. Why should I have to cross it for another religion because of a book she brought home from school?

You're right. I shouldn't.

Turns out I mostly didn't have to. She wanted to turn to the page where the kids were dressed up as animals for the parade. Awesome. She wanted to look at the pretty pictures. We skimmed through. I explained that Easter is a holiday. But it's not really a holiday that WE celebrate. Mommy is Jewish and she is Jewish, and Daddy is not religious, so we don't really do much to celebrate Easter. But we celebrate (sort of - again - I'm off target here, as well, I know. ANd have my own guilt, but that's a whole other part of the story,) Passover.

She's fine. She proceeds to tell me the book is "fiction" ... ah, yeah. Wait. Hold up on that. I work to explain that it isn't fiction to many people, it's just not what we believe.

She continues. Tells me that books with kids dressed up as animals? Fiction.

Animals that talk? Fiction.

She went on. It was pretty cool.

But I had to tackle the subject. Or so I thought.

She explained it to me perfectly.

"We don't celebrate Easter because we're Jewish and Maine-ish."

Honestly? I laughed so hard I pulled her into my arms and into the biggest hug ever. Of all time.

"Mommy, I don't know how to say Maine like Jewish."

It's okay, baby. It doesn't really work that way. But it's okay.

See - what's it matter? What does it really matter what we are or how we are or how it all works?

We're people. We believe what we believe. We're from wherever we're from. We love how we love and we feel what we feel. And so it goes.

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Wordless Wednesday: Morning glee

Christmas morning... 

Reading the response from Santa to her incredible letter TO him.

SO much joy and glee. 

And love. Lots and lots and lots of LOVE. 

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Our home for the holidays.

It's a struggle this year. 

To explain the differences between the holidays. 

Christmas is Christmas. It's everywhere. Where wouldn't it be - right? 

It's fun, it's beautiful, it's festive. It's everywhere. 

It's right over my shoulder. Both of them, actually. And in front of my face. 

The stuffed snowman who sits in a small flower-pot-like container atop my unread and unclipped magazines. The shiny one over my left shoulder, hanging next to the bright and shiny Star of David. 

And my other shoulder? Over to my right? Our tree. Our beautiful Christmas tree in all of its glory. 

It's gorgeous. 

I mean, it really is. A beautiful, breath-taking tree that my husband decorated in blue and white lights for me. 

We've actually avoided ... okay ... *I've* avoided many ornaments. I just kind of like it simple like this, with candy canes strewn about and 3 ornaments hanging. One - a snowman. I love snowmen. Always have. Likely because of the celebratory connotation they have without fully bringing out the Christmas for someone like me. The second? A Yankees hot air balloon (I'll refrain from snide remarks, tis the season to be gracious and all that) that my Jewish mother bought my not-Jewish-Yankee-fan husband many years ago. 

And the third ornament? 

Yep. That's an ornament. Truth. 

A handprint menorah hangs beneath a hand-crafted Santa Claus (it's just his head, but it's not creepy, I promise!). The tiniest of Christmas trees sits atop our Chanukah tablecloth at the kitchen table. It's decorated more intensely than anything you've ever seen. 

Our house couldn't be more balanced. 

My heart is trying. My husband doesn't mind either way. Supporting me. My methods. Goals. Whatever it is we plan for our little Jewish Southern girl. 

She learns slowly, what Chanukah represents. We read books, sing songs, dance around the living room with garland and tinsel flying everywhere. 

She knows, happily, that Santa comes on Christmas. And that maybe there's a "real" Santa, but not everyone sees him. Just last night she told me maybe she wouldn't see him this year. But we'll take the dogs to see their Santa. 

How beautiful, caring, sweet. 

She sings Christmas songs and seasonal songs she's learned at school. But she knows some words to the blessings we share nightly for eight nights. "Nine," she says, pointing to the ninth candle. I explain gently, with a reminder of what that tallest candle is for. 

The other night she put her Chanukah presents beneath the Christmas tree. Maybe it's actually easier when the holidays are together. maybe it's not? I'm not sure. Last year I thought it was better. This year I think - well, we've got it all out and she's still confused.

She's only five. Am I supposed to have taught her my religious beliefs yet? Or is it enough to explain that I am Jewish, her Daddy is not, and she is. And she's also "both" - - but we don't get into that. We celebrate. We observe. I talk about my memories. We Skype with my parents. My brother. The whole family is there. Blessings are out over telephone wires. Speaker phones and cell phones and three-way-calling and more. Technology brings us together and we laugh as our chorus of words jumble and overlap from 500 miles away. 

It's confusing. But I wouldn't change it for the world. 

Happy Chanukah from our home to yours!

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My Holiday Best!

I've been off the radar as far as the blogging world is concerned. I'm still around on Twitter and Facebook and you can find me there, certainly, but I just kind of hit a slump and haven't come up with words to share here.

So I'm scrapping it (I even started writing this afternoon about the importance of GIVING this holiday season and I just couldn't get myself motivated to dig up links and research things that I basically know off the top of my head and heart and so that post is shelved for a few more days, I suppose) all for the time being ...

And I'm going to be lazy and dig up my holiday-ish themed posts from years past. Including this picture from 2009!

And if you're so inclined, feel free to read 'em. And if not, I'm cool with that, too.

You gotta be you, after all.

I'll work my way backwards so I'll start off with last year's letter to Mr. C. And I totally don't mean the dad from Happy Days. Honk if you got that reference!

My letter to Mr. C aka Santa

I also talk about one of the most important aspects of the holidays. The COOKIES.

Cookie Swaps and all that jazz ...

I just write about my holiday home ...

Just write.

My Christmas Eve Day poem from 2010!

Merry Christmas Eve Day!

How we blend the holidays in our house.

Blended holiday celebration.

A Chanukah poem (also from 2010 - and guess what? They match!):

Twas the night before Chanukah?

Why I'm slightly screwed ...

Where does Santa live?


And so there you have it. Most of it, anyway. My holiday best here at Good Girl. Is that wrong that I nickname myself that way? Ha. I don't know, just kidding. All my handles are goodgirlgonered so I think people will end up even more confused if I'm not careful. And if you skipped all my links, it's all good. I'm sure I will write about the holidays as the week begins and we move through Chanukah and towards Christmas.

Like right now, I have a question for you. I noticed it in one of my really old but wayyy lame short posts. But now I can have proof if you actually read my post to the end or not! Ha! Gotcha!

What's your favorite holiday movie of all time?

And ... maybe MORE importantly ... what's your LEAST favorite holiday movie of all time?

Feel free to share in the comments! And have a great weekend!

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I sat down to write ...

Tonight Chanukah begins. It's the first night of the holiday. I sit here typing at the laptop, my daughter watching The Princess and the Frog for the umpteenth time. I have loads of presents for her, but haven't wrapped a single one.

Our Christmas tree is flashing her blue and white lights right beside me. Blocking my view of the television but that's alright. I know the music. I know the words. I'm good without actually SEEing the movie.

My kiddo munches on dried fruit as I sit here. I'm trying to think of what tonight's dinner will be. I'm lost. Lacking motivation and missing ideas. Perhaps I've used too many of them up lately? I'm not sure.

The poinsettia lights flicker behind me over the frame of our bathroom door. The only stable lights in this room are the glow of a lamp on a table behind me and the Chanukah strand up high above the mantle.

My candles will be glowing in a few hours. But first I need to get some. Why this happens I haven't a clue. I know Chanukah comes every year. Usually I cannot find my menorah, but this year I know where that is. I'm just low on candles. I'm sure there are at least two I can use before the night is over. I'm sure I'll figure this all out and we can celebrate and say the blessings.

Our tree has hanging dreidels and stars of David, along with Santa and Mrs. Claus. There are snowflakes and angels, and candy canes aplenty. We've got snowmen hanging on our walls, and scented candles flickering atop the stove. We don't put them together - they might melt!

I'm crazily baking cookies and when the cookie cutters come out tomorrow there will be Jewish stars and Christmas stars and sugar cookie mix. My daughter won't care as long as she gets to lick the bowl when we're done and push loads of sprinkles into both kinds.


Now, we haven't gone as far as to get this funky Santa menorah (see here) but who's to say we wouldn't consider it?

I am linking up with Just Write this week (see button below). And I have pictures to share but Picnik is sucking and not letting me mark them or edit in any way, so I have to skip. Here's hoping I can add them to the blog tomorrow for Wordless or Word-filled Wednesday!

Happy Holidays to all!

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A Simple Sunday

I sit here thinking about what I want to talk about today and the noise level in my house is so loud it's almost impossible to actually think. See - my in-laws are here, which is absolutely wonderful. It's been a great weekend so far. Yes, I mean it. I love my in-laws. But OMG. My FIL is deaf. As in really. He has a hearing aid, and I puffy heart this man so much, but the TV in our living room is at a volume level of like 50+. And that, my friends? Is freaking LOUD!

For me. Someone who is loud/noise sensitive and often asks my husband to lower it when the volume is up over 18. I mean it. LOUD. Effing LOUD!

Ah. Hubby and FIL are speaking right now so they have lowered it. And I will admit, I actually enjoy Chris Wallace's voice. I love my husband's Sunday AM schedule. Even though I miss Tim Russert. A lot. Still. But that's a whole 'nother story.

And right now, just so you know exactly what else I am dealing with. And to wrap up this post in ways that I wasn't planning ... my daughter is in the bathroom. Hubby just asked her if she's pooping. She says yes. He asks if she wants Papa to wipe her. She says no.

Papa says, "I've wiped many a child with broken arms and ..." I chuckle. It's funny. My husband answers...

"You never wiped me."

Is that perhaps TMI this holiday season? Especially when you haven't ever seen my husband's picture fully? I'll skip it for now (as I've gone over the 5 minutes for this brain dump and didn't even get to tell you about the child's FULL ON MELTDOWN in Target on Friday. Because that deserves it's own damned post. I mean, it's own post. For real. Abso-freakin-lutely).

Sigh. Happy Sunday, peeps. I hope I gave you a chuckle this crisp Sunday morning amidst the pre-holiday tensions and so forth. I bid you farewell as I have to go wipe my daughter's bottom.

And if you have something to say, go link up over at All Things Fadra for Stream of Consciousness Sunday. Just click the button here:

Small addition:

My father-in-law just turned to husband and said, "Speaking of wiping - do they have good nursing homes in this area? You have to know my FIL, but I was the one who got the joke. Somehow men and potty humor just never seems to end, does it?

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Pouring My Heart Out: Vacation Recap

I'll admit - - I had reservations about our Disney trip before it happened.

My ILs had planned it, and I had so many questions I wasn't sure what our plans would actually be like. Or be for. You know it's confusing when you don't plan your own events. And it's up in the air. And it's relaxing at the same time. But so as not to appear ungrateful, which I am not and was not, I held my concerns in quietly. And I figured we'd just see ...

But honestly, I worried a little bit how my daughter (4) would do spending so many days with her cousins (9, 7, 6).


And how hubby and I would do in such close quarters.

With his parents.

And his brother.

And would hubby be able to function after his recent appendectomy and would he be able to lift up our little one, who would be bound to ask for a hand or two. Or ten ... but he was able to do it. Even with my motherly hovering - despite his own mom being in sight.



And we survived.

The whole lot of us. The whole week. We survived it all, AND we had a blast!

And although it was a long week filled with long days, we had no complaints. No overly stressful moments. And no meltdowns (for the kids OR the adults). And while my Disney trip might have been planned differently, my daughter's first trip provided to her (and us) by her Memere and Papa was a beautiful one. Filled with loads of fun, laughter, love and incredible moments that created amazing memories.

And if you doubt that at all - - just look at this face:


And then look at this one. Ahhh. Pure and blissful exhaustion.

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Where am I?

I totally thought about this last night and said to myself ... Self, you must remind everyone where you are posting tomorrow.

And then I fell asleep.

Not really, then I putzed around on the iPad. And lest I keep rambling and TOTALLY forget the point of this post, you can find me over at my friend's house today ... so head on over to Single Mom in the South and give her a HUGE hello! And tell her I sent you, if you'd like. She's a sweetheart who is out of town for the holidays. And to ensure that her blog is hoppin' I volunteered to talk traditions. Go on over, you won't regret it!

And in the meantime I'll sit here, cozy and warm, trying to convince my daughter to watch the rest of Toy Story 2 instead of head outside, because -- well -- I DO want to play out there, I'm just so not ready to get all wet and cold. YET.

Ehem ... I see you, dilly-dallying ... GO NOW!

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Food ...

For some people food is a method of sustenance. For others it can be an enemy. For me, food is not my enemy. It's often TOO much of a friend.

I snack. Frequently. I use food to make me feel better. Comfort food. Ice cream. Chocolate. Potatoes. Avocados. Butter. Bread. Pasta. Cheese.

Food can be amazing. When you head to a restaurant for the exquisite cuisine, know you're going to have something fabulous to eat, and feel completely satisfied, because it's dinner time. Or time for breakfast. Time to eat.

Should there be a time to eat? Do you eat on a schedule? I don't really. I kind of eat my 3 meals, but when they happen totally varies. Unfortunately I'm setting a similar guide for my daughter. She eats her meals, but she also wants to snack. Fortunately (on a + note!) she eats and snacks when she's hungry, so she's still at that childhood stage of not eating emotionally. Thank goodness.

When do we learn to eat emotionally, I wonder? I was a chubby kid, but not a chubby toddler. Did it start in 6th grade? Or earlier? Wasn't I a little bit thin in Junior High School? I think I was. Ah, well, that reflecting won't get me anywhere. Somewhere along the way I established a not-so-healthy relationship with food.

I turned to Ben & Jerry after a break-up. They were all I had. And likely almost all I ate. So ironically, I lost weight. How did that work, anyway?

At various points in my life I traveled overseas, and enjoyed fish and chips (I don't eat fish, but I tried a bite in London), amazing chicken korma (Indian food in London), jacket potatoes (Ireland), cheese, cheese and more cheese (Spain, of all places), and chocolate croissants (wherever I could find them!) ... oh, let me not forget Marzipan (Spain, as well)!

For some places, more than food, I can talk about the drink. ;) Various kinds of alcoholic ciders from around the world. Ah, the thrill of it. The fun of it. The ... taste of it. The hangovers. Yes, I'm human. I've over-imbibed a bit. At home in the US, and overseas, as well.

Don't get me wrong, I never had to travel far for food or drink when I lived in NYC. So my vacations aren't the only amazing food memories I have. There's the pumpkin ravioli at my favorite Italian restaurant, none better. Cucina de Pesce. The pineapple fried rice at Sea Thai in Brooklyn. The nachos with cheese at the Big Enchilada. Bagels. Pizza. Bagels. Pizza. Have I mentioned bagels and pizza? Spumoni at L&B Spumoni Gardens. And so much more.

Anyway, I've always thought, how cool would it be to do a food blog? And you know what? I can't. My relationship with food is not yet healthy enough. Besides, I tend to buy processed frozen crap too often. Not all the time, but sometimes I do. And who the heck needs to see that?

So that's a small outpouring. I don't know if it makes sense. I just felt a ramble coming on and figured I'd share it. What does food mean to you? Care to share?

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Chinese food for dinner ...

Where do you think we are now?

It is interesting how the eating habits vary depending on where we are. First of all, my in-laws don't have any delivery or take-out in their area. Any type of outside food places are a decent twenty minutes away. At least. The picture shared here is from last Christmas at their house. That's the view that I refer to as their backyard, but hubby explains as the "front of the house," as it faces their pond. Said pond is frozen over in the image above, and was this past holiday, as well.
It's so beautiful and relaxing there. Except it's not quite as relaxing as it was before I became a mommy. 'Cause, man, the reading I used to get done was a lot more. It was also a lot quieter when I only had one young (read = baby) niece, and not two crazy nieces and a crazy nephew. I love these kids SO very much. They're too adorable, and even more so when they are with my daughter. Sadly we don't get to see them as often as we'd like. Having moved 500 miles farther South doesn't help us in our attempts, and being a family of 3 + dog makes it difficult. Dexter used to be the 2nd co-pilot, now he's got first rank as I sit in the back with our daughter. Amazing how he seems to do the rides better than I do. He even needs fewer pee breaks! Back to my nieces, my eldest was in tears when we were loading up the car. This, of course, broke me and I cried as we said our goodbyes. I mean this child was sobbing. It was terrible. I promised her we'd see her before NEXT Christmas. And this year we mean it!

Anyway, I was talking about food. Go figure. Food in NY = bagels, pizza and Chinese food at ilke 7pm. Just to name a few. Food in ME = roast beef for Christmas dinner (at 2 in the afternoon) and and a few bites of what is yet to be determined as either chicken or turkey pot pie. It was pretty good, but I keep saying I think it's turkey, and hubby said that MIL said it was chicken. So who truly knows? Dinner in Maine is at around 2pm. My real dinner ends up being soup (corn chowder or chicken rice) later in the evening. When I suddenly realize I'm starving. The options are dessert-filled, like pumpkin whoopie pies and 5-minute-fudge (with butterscotch, let's just say one piece was enough for me) and yet healthy, like carrots and dip and cheese and crackers. Did I mention that our dog took off with a hunk of some sort of cheese? Amazing he hasn't had gastro-issues because of it. Not that we know of, anyway.

And so, we're back in NY at my parents' house. My brother/SIL/niece will be over later and we'll exchange germs, again, and enjoy some Chinese food. And hopefully I'll be able to pick up a dozen or so bagels in the morning to bring back to NC with me. FOR me. And it'll be great to be home again. And then we'll realize we truly do need a vacation.

'Tis the season and Tra La La La La.

What's on your plate for New Years?

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I love Sundays.

I mean, who doesn't? They're chock-full of lazy moments. Especially when the entire house is under the weather. Hubby and I are starting to think that we might have H1N1. Great fun. I'm thinking he got it from someone at work or something, and brought it home to the rest of us. Woo hoo! Could I BE any happier?

Anyway, back to loving Sundays. When I lived at home in NY, with my family, Sundays were days of bagels for a late breakfast, maybe even a potato knish, if we were lucky ... football and more bagels for lunch, and then Chinese food for dinner. Now that I live in NC I have no bagels (boo!) and little football (sometimes the Giants are on, but not often enough) and Chinese food has to be picked up if we want it. But we don't have that kind of a "traditional" weekend, yet. Maybe once my daughter gets older we'll have more of a routine on Sundays. Heck, Saturdays, too.

For now I'll settle for sitting on the couch with the laptop, while my daughter plays with Play-Doh, my husband is upstairs sleeping, and Laurie Berkner sings on our living room TV set. Not quite the NFL, but it entertains, just the same.

What are your Sunday routines? Anything you natives can suggest for a newly (okay, it's almost been 4 years, but still ...) Southern gal? I mean, we can only hit Bob Evans so many times. If I'm being honest here, I'm not really a fan. I do love me some Cracker Barrel, though, but if we don't get there early enough we wind up waiting for like an hour, and who can do that with a 2-1/2 year old in tow? So then we ride over to Dunkin' Donuts, but even those trips are few and far between of late. So I opt for frozen waffles/pancakes and say thanks to Aunt J, Eggos and any generic brand I can find. Which is fine. But I could use some Starbucks' chai tea right about now. Now there's a place I wish delivered.

Anyway, I do still love my Sundays. There's nothing quite like the Sunday paper, flipping through the fliers, clipping coupons, watching last night's SNL [only there wasn't a new one last night, boo!] and whatever trashy and old movies are on the boob tube. It just might be my favorite day of the week, despite the work week starting the next day. Maybe that's because I'm a stay-at-home-mom these days, and my "work week" never quite ends.

Happy Sunday, everyone. I hope you're enjoying yours!

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