Hooray, Hooray...

...It's Taco Tuesday! Ay yay yaaaaaaay.

Spent a very busy past few days doing a whole lot of mommying wifeying occasional andrea-ying stuff. Bought Nick a train table for Xmas and an art table for his birthday (my New Years boy!) Did a little Sunday school teaching (more details later - it's shocking I do this, but it's fun, and the kids like me... it really is a miracle from God!) I food shopped, I went to a jewelry show, I did 10 loads of laundry, cleaned floors, started repainting my hallway in conjunction with painting my mom's bathroom. I ebayed and thrifed and punched my pilot and... well, I'm not doing a very good job defending why I never get one thing done well with a life so packed in odds and ends. If I could be a Super hero, I'd be Octamom - In one hand is a toilet brush, in one a diaper, in one a lap top, in one a paintbrush. That leaves four for cooking, cleaning, ebaying and phone calls. Everything else is going to shit. Then I call on Anal Man - my superhero husband - whose xray vision is more like tunnel vision, but he focuses. And always saves the Day!

James really has been great lately. He's been making his stews, thanks to a 1975 pressure cooker from Stella. He's been putting Sophie to bed each night. We've been dating again (including a Saturday night visit to the Marmalade Cafe' where we people watched, strolled by Xmas trees, and of course, talked about his favorite subject, cars and computers. And to be honest, as long as my mouth is being stuffed with sour dough bread and Diet Coke, he can talk about an RX 7's rotary engine for hours without piston-ing me off). With all this soul providing (okay, so I like that Michael Bolton song "Soul Provider"... I also like country music, Disneyland and Walmart - Get over it) I have no business complaning. At least not until my next period, and then he can go to hell again.

I am downright chipper these days. Between my time off, Nick's reinstalled nap (making him his happy go lucky self again) and much time spent with James and my family/friends, I'm a regular little Xmas Elf. Well, a 6'1 Xmas Elf. Okay, I'm a Xmas Giant. But I don't have a huge head. That would really bug me. Especially the inevitable insults as I walked down Plummer: "Hey, getting ahead in the world?" or "Hey, you want some more head?" Or "Hey, heading this way?" Then again, people are so politically correct, maybe I'd get a writing job on a show under some WGA clause: "In addition to all the sexist men that write for Hollywood, we also need one female, preferably with an oversized head to fill our special needs quotes. " Then again, everyone in Tinsel Town has huge heads, so maybe my idea isn't so brilliant.