People are supposed to be depressed on the holidays, right?

There was always a big family gathering for the holidays while I was growing up. The fact that most of the family didn't exactly like each other (long story) made said holidays interesting. To say the least.

I remember escaping to my room a lot, not necessarily because I wasn't having fun, but because, at fourteen, that's what teenagers do. Especially teenagers who experience anxiety around large groups of people they're not familiar with. (I still don't like large groups of people I'm not familiar with.) And my bedroom was amazing. Seriously. I wish I had a picture to show you.

But I digress. Loud family gatherings were the norm for us. Then I turned eighteen. Alcoholism, my parent's divorce, a lot of anger and not talking to my parents for two years, and those family holidays kind of fell to the wayside.

I also moved up north with my then boyfriend and since we both worked in the hospitality industry, it wasn't easy to get away for the holidays. We stayed home for most of them and I tried to cook. ("Try" being the operative word. Thankfully, I've gotten much better with practice. My stuffing? Really good.)

Eventually, I started talking to my parents again. Jon and I moved back to the area, and, in the last two years, we were each given the opportunity to work normal people hours.

Suddenly we had holidays off. We were able to make plans. I didn't have to worry that I might be scheduled to work on Christmas morning and how would I survive if I didn't get to wake up and open presents and start eating chocolate at seven in the morning?! (Yes, I realize Christmas is more important than presents and chocolate.)

Our first order of business was Thanksgiving in Utah, where my older sister and her family had begun hosting Thanksgiving dinner years earlier. Last year was the first that the Husband and I were able to attend.

And let me just say this wasn't like the family holidays from my childhood. This was fun. Everyone got along and drank and ate to their heart's content. We played games and fought over scrabble. It was awesome.

Needless to say, I've been looking forward to going back since we drove away last year. And, in the past few days, my excitement has grown and grown and grown. I'm likely to burst by the time Wednesday rolls around.

But, of course, last night, the other shoe dropped. Turns out that my father-in-law and his brother have planned a last minute party for their mother's (Jon's Grandmother's) 85th birthday. In Minnesota. For the DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING.

I said, "You can't be serious." Oh, but they were, Internet, and now I don't know who to be mad at, which may be the most frustrating part. Maybe Jon? For considering going. Or his Dad for planning this at the last possible moment after everyone has already made plans. Or how about his Grandmother for turning eight-five on the wrong day? I know! It's all completely unreasonable. I get that.

Jon said, "I'll fly out of Las Vegas Friday morning, so at least I'll be there for Thanksgiving."

But it's not the same. It's not about Thanksgiving, it's about the two of us spending time with my family, celebrating, being together. It's a three-day event. Eating, eating, eating on Thursday, shopping and more eating on Friday, spending as much time together (eating) as we can on Saturday before we drive back home that night.

The thought of being there on my own while he flies off to Minnesota makes me want to cry. I don't want to be the "supportive wife" here. I want to stomp my foot and demand that he do as I say. It's too last minute. We can't afford it. WE ALREADY HAVE PLANS.

But I've encouraged him to go. Because I don't want him to resent me. And now I'm depressed.

Besides, this means I'll have to partner with my Grandmother for charades and I don't have nearly enough wine.

I realize this makes me insane.

On Wednesday, the Husband and I will lose our minds and decide to leave town along with thousands of other people who have also made that same decision.

Together, with our new found thousands of friends, we'll sit on the 91 freeway for eight hours to drive a total of six miles. Sometime Friday, we'll all reach our destination. Tired, crabby, and hungry.

Okay, I exaggerate. But not by much.

We're heading north-ish to my sister's for Thanksgiving and it will take us nearly double the normal amount of time.

My responsibilities this year include booze and desserts. My two favorite things.

The booze was easy. Say hello to our good friend Two Buck Chuck.

The desserts on the other hand... well, I think I went a little insane. Unless you think six pies and a chocolate mousse are not enough for fourteen people? If each pie cuts eight slices and everyone eats an equal amount, that's 3.42 slices per person. Hmm. Should I make it eight? I kid!

On the menu? Two pumpkin pies (necessary), two apple pies (a must), a pecan pie (does anyone even eat pecan?) and a caramel pecan pumpkin pie that sounded too interesting to pass up.

And I'm afraid this is the moment you'll realize how insane I actually am because I decided to prepare the dry ingredients ahead of time. See, I'm working today, on a Sunday of all days, and we're leaving from my office on Wednesday. I want to be prepared, damn it.

(Can we just pause for a moment to appreciate the beauty of all these different spices?)

I was seriously debating whether or not to share the following photos. Please don't mock me.

After all the dry ingredients were mixed, I bagged them up into very specifically labeled Ziploc bags. Those above are for the two apple pies alone. Two small bags contain the cinnamon/sugar mixture that will do a dance with the apples, two more contain the flour and brown sugar for the crumb topping, and three bags contain the ingredients to make six pie crusts.

Then all the ingredients for each pie went into a larger Ziploc bag, minus the perishables which will remain in the fridge until we leave and pack them in a cooler. All I'll have to do when I get there is mix the dry with the wet and bake. Oh, and roll out pie crusts, which is something I detest, so I'll have to talk one of the many persons younger than me into doing it instead.

Maybe this level of organization would send some people running for the hills, but I just saved myself a good two hours that can be spent doing better things. Like, hello!! Eating? It's Thanksgiving for crying out loud!

I have migraines on the brain. Ha. Get it?

Yes, it's true. I suffer from migraines. And, before you ask, yes, I know the difference between headaches and migraines thank you very much.

Luckily I don't get them often, but when I do, I'm out for the count. Just after the Husband and I moved in together, I came down with a migraine and he wanted to rush me to the emergency room. I said "Shut the fuck up and turn off the fucking lights!" Ahh. Memories.

Now, he understands them better. Take last night for example. I went to bed with my dear, old friend (a migraine, in case you missed the sarcasm) and he went to sleep on the sofa to avoid disturbing me. I woke up as I always do, after a couple hours of sleeping it off, to go wake him up and bring him to bed.

The thing about migraines is... I fear them. Whenever a special event or occasion comes up, I can't stop thinking I hope I don't get a migraine, I hope I don't get a migraine, I hope I... well, you get it.

This happened during the weeks leading up to our anniversary. I made the Husband promise we'd stay in Vegas for two nights if I got one.

Now, Thanksgiving's coming up and I'm looking forward to visiting my sister and her family in Utah so much that I still can't stop obsessing.

I'm hoping that the one I had last night, which was pretty ugly, will be it for a while. So, maybe I'm in the clear and don't need to worry about it. Or maybe I need to bring plenty of booze and start drinking early. I know they say some alcohol can trigger migraines, but has anyone heard if being drunk can prevent them?

I mean, isn't alcohol supposed to dull the pain?

And now I have no readers.

Last week, I finally convinced the Husband that we could not go on living without a new bed. We need a new bed. It's crucial to our marriage that we have a new bed. Like yesterday.

Because if I have to wake up throughout the night to feel him moving all about, I'm going to kill one of us and it's not going to be me.

The Husband tosses and turns throughout the night. I feel every single toss and turn. If he so much as lifts his arm to increase the volume on the television, I feel it.

So, not only has he disturbed me by moving, the jerk, but now I can clearly hear Kelly and Brenda snapping at each other on reruns of Beverly Hills 90210.

Yes, my husband watches reruns on Beverly Hills 90210. I didn't know this when I married him, I swear.

Once I convinced him of our need for a new bed, then began the search for a new bed. And maybe it's the economy, but those sales people? They've become real vultures. Two nearly collided in their rush to be the first to greet us. One woman thought "we're not going to buy until after the holidays" meant "we'll take it" and had a bill ready in 30 seconds flat. As soon as she turned away to answer the phone, we bolted.

I dragged J to one store with me on Monday. The lady who helped us was very nice. She gave us some information and then left us alone to bounce around from one bed to the next. Since I'm looking for a rock bed that doesn't move AT ALL, there was a lot of lying down, closing my eyes, and telling her, "Okay, now get on and let me see if I can feel you."

I felt her 98% of the time, but a lot less than what I'd feel if we were on my old piece of shit at home, which is now how I refer to my bed. The bed that I loved once upon a time. Because it was so pretty. Piece of shit.

I've narrowed it down to two. Only one of which the Husband has tried. Both are out of our price range.

Despite my terrible spending habits (I can make small, meaningless purchases with my eyes closed) large purchases (such as this) take me a year. Which means that this is what I'll be talking about for the next year. Sounds like good fun, right?

Right??

I needed something pretty.

I just left a meeting so boring...

...I had to refrain myself from slitting my wrists with the wide-ruled notebook paper I wrote upon.

It wouldn't do to spill blood all over my notes.

Scone. Singular.

I made a scone last night.

That's right. Just one.

I knew if I made the whole batch, well... I'd eat the whole batch.

Unfortunately, in my attempt to divide the recipe, I ran into tough mathematical equations like five divided by eight. Which, by the way, equals .625 and that would be how many tablespoons of butter?!



And I was too lazy to reach for a measuring spoon, so I kind of guestimated how many Craisins were in a ½ tablespoon. I probably should have used more. I wish I would have used more. They were delicious little bursts of flavor.

This is my one scone, pre-425 degrees. It went into the oven as a lump...


And came out as a lump.

(But prettier, right?)

Did I ever tell you that my mother used to call me "Stephalump" as a kid? No? There was probably good reason for that.



I love scones. I used to get them often from Starbucks (despite always tasting of blueberry muffins and in the same semi-stale state) until all my jiggly parts got together and formed an intervention. It was for the best. I love Starbucks, but I will never understand why they can't figure out a better way to preserve freshness in their pastries.

After making and tasting my own, warm and fresh from the oven, I'm not sure I could eat another half-stale scone again. It was delicious and left me wanting to go back, do it right and make the entire batch.



The recipe (complete with much better photos) can be found here.

Hot

Taking a step outside my front door, you'd never think there was anything out of the ordinary happening. Another beautiful southern California sky.

That is, until you look to the right.

These fires are wreaking havoc all over my home town. In the past, I've felt detached from fires in the LA area. Although I'm just an hour or so away, it might as well have been a whole universe away for as much as I felt affected by them.

Now? They're a lot closer. We're not in any danger of being evacuated. We're not in any danger of our home going up in flames. The most the Husband and I might suffer is a little dust and smoke inhalation. The air quality right now? Not so good.

But it's scary. The fires have come as far south as Anaheim. I work in Anaheim. Several hundred homes have burned down, people all over Orange and LA county are being evacuated. I don't see how they could possibly have enough firemen to fight each one.

As the Husband and I watch and listen to the news, it's strange to think that people across the country may be watching these same reports, feeling as I do when I hear about hurricanes in Florida and tornadoes in the Midwest.

The most important only thing I've learned in five years.

The Husband is not a mind reader.

So, three weeks before The Anniversary, I said, "Honey, I'd like you to send me flowers. At work. On the Friday before our anniversary. Thank you."

Later, I made a slight change, which I hoped wouldn't confuse him. "Honey, I've changed my mind. I'd like you to send me a bouquet of chocolate-covered strawberries. On Friday. To my office. Thank you."

On Friday, I fretted. And so did my co-workers. They were very concerned for his safety.

But he came through for me. And, even though I had to ask, he actually TOOK ME SERIOUSLY. I married a man with the teeniest of romantic bones in his stick-thin body, but he knew it was important, made it happen and that meant the world to me.

Almost more than actually staying married to me for a whole five years.

When the Husband says it's him or the cats, I choose the cats.

And now NaBloPoMo is dead.

On Saturday, the Husband of Five Years and I drove to Las Vegas for the night. (And, yes, that's how I plan on referring to him from now on.)

(Just Kidding.)

(Sorta.)

I took a lot of lopsided pictures on the way because, well, desert pictures are boring otherwise.

If I were to move anywhere, my first choice would be somewhere mountainous. With a lake. Somewhere I could enjoy all the seasons. (Stupid year-round ninety degree Southern California.)

My second choice would be tropical.

The desert is pretty far down on the list, but... there's something about it.

Especially when the sky starts doing that. Then me and the desert? BFF's.

The Nevada Landing. No longer in business.

Unfortunately, it was just after we arrived in Las Vegas that my battery died. Why I didn't charge it before we left, I'll never understand. I was especially disappointed with myself when I saw the view from our hotel room. And the sunset on the way home? Don't get me started. I called myself a dozen colorful names and drowned my sorrows in a cookie dough Blizzard, which we really couldn't afford after the Blackjack Incident.

Who knew it was that easy?

I very much enjoy the theater, despite the fact that I don't go often. For the last year or so, Wicked has been performing at the Pantages Theater in LA. Every time I hear a commercial, I think about going, but hello? Economy these days? Yeah, not exactly within my budget. Especially when there are other things that I'd rather buy for myself. Like this mixer (Honey, are you reading this?!) or this lens.

And then today, I heard the commercial again. You know, the show is ending soon and leaving LA forever. Now's the last chance. (They've been saying that for the last ten months, but I'm starting to think they're serious this time.)

I thought I'd just take a quick peek, see if there were any tickets still available (the cheap ones, of course). I kept thinking about how nice it would be to pick a day in December, fight the traffic take a nice drive up to LA, see the show, maybe have dinner. You know... the holidays, a little romance, all that crap.

Then I went to click on "buy tickets" and suddenly that little voice inside my head (who, I strongly believe, is on my husband's payroll) began to harp on me about the money. I wouldn't do that if I were you, he said, that husband of yours is going to be mighty disappointed.

And then I recalled the e-mail said Husband sent me yesterday regarding my slightly lower-than-normal paycheck and how can we save money if you don't make any?

Scrooge.

So, with one long, heavy sigh, I closed the internet and sat staring at my computer screen with disappointment. Stupid economy. Stupid need to save money. Stupid Husband for wanting to buy a house. Stupid fear of getting laid off. The whole world's against me.

As I began to get a nice, warm buzz of irritation, I opened my e-mail and wrote to my husband.

"Can I buy tickets to Wicked?" In my head I was thinking just say no, I dare you.

His response? "Sure. How much are they? Let's go on a Sunday and spend the night in Hollywood. Look for a hotel room."

I frowned at my computer, because surely it's playing a prank on me. Maybe someone had hacked into the Husband's e-mail. Because, not only was it surprising enough that he was going to let me spend THE MONEY, but he suggested we go on a SUNDAY. Um, hello? FOOTBALL? My husband does NOT MISS FOOTBALL.

But, Internet? Was I going to argue? I'm smarter than that.

I now have in my possession two tickets to Wicked and a hotel reservation. I haven't talked him into dinner yet, but I can wait till he's good and drunk before I do that.

That's what they're there for, right?

Because I feel this ridiculous need to keep NaBloPoMo alive! here's a picture of my cat.

That counts, right?

Me: the cute years.

I broke my arm when I was whatever age I am in that photo. Cracked my head open, too. The Husband would say that explains a lot. He's a jerk.

In five days I will have been married to a jerk for five years.



I have always been a good big sister. With a filthy mouth, apparently. Seriously, what is that? Did I vomit just a little bit or something?



I think someone must have slapped me while I had that look on my face. 'Cause it stuck. (God, I loved that dress.) (And my blond, older sister? She was the worst!! Don't let the sweet smile fool you!)



Okay, she was nice sometimes. Rarely. My mom probably doctored this photo.



(Note the baby bump. Mom was knocked up with my P.I.T.A. little brother who, just a couple months ago, turned twenty-one and OH MY GOD, WE'RE ALL GETTING OLD.)

(P.I.T.A. = Pain In The Ass)

(I have six P.I.T.A. siblings.)



P.I.T.A. little brother #2. He made his appearance when I was old enough to babysit. (Good planning mom and dad!) He was the cutest, fattest, drooliest baby ever.



Except, this one? Totally gives him a run for his money. (And thirty-two years later, I married him.) (My husband, not my brother.) (This is so not coming to a close the way I thought it would.)

Because now that it's here, I really just want to stay in bed.

In case you live under a rock, I feel it's my duty to tell you that there's this election tomorrow and it's kind of a big deal.

The Husband just e-mailed me to say "I don't know if you have any control over this, but there's a 'Yes on Prop 8' ad on your blog. Just thought I'd let you know."

So, Internet? Just to clear the air (because I feel this is necessary) (and, yes, I may be the only one), I am very much against Prop 8 and, despite my very passionate feelings for Barack, Proposition 8 may be the only thing forcing me to go stand in line for eighteen hours and vote like a good, upstanding citizen.

And I could sit here and rant and rave about EQUALITY FOR ALL and how it's ridiculous that people who have been given the right to believe in any religion they choose now think they can force others to live under those same beliefs, but let's face it. It's all been said before. And much more eloquently than I could ever hope to be.

So, I'll leave it at this: NO ON PROP 8 and now I'll move on.

By the way (and believe it or not), this fourteen-year-old is very much against Prop 8 as well.



And if that photo could talk, she'd blister your ears with everything that's wrong with the proposition. And she'd flip you off if she saw you standing on the corner promoting 'Yes on 8.' And then she'd tell you how "ohmygod, how hot is Barack Obama?!" And how, in four years, she will be able to vote and she is soooo going to vote for Barack for a second term.

I have to stop talking politics or I really will go to bed tonight and stay there until Wednesday.

Everything you never knew you wanted to know. About me.

So, that whole "about me" thing has really been weighing on my mind. Okay, not really, but I felt it was time to write something to explain myself a little better. Except, when I started to write my bio, everything that came out stunk to high Heaven. (Who can tell me where that saying came from?) So, I finally gave up trying and asked J to interview me. The following is the result of that.

By the way. J (or Justice) was named after a gold fish, just in case you were wondering. And I know what you're thinking. Who in their right mind names a goldfish "Justice?"

Justice: What is your name? Just kidding!

Stephanie: Geez.

Justice: Sorry, I had to. What do you like to do in your free time?

Stephanie: Take pictures, read, watch TV... Um, I can't think of anything else

Justice: Tell me about yourself. Just kidding. Just kidding.

Stephanie: I'm going to kill you.

Justice: Do you consider yourself successful?

Stephanie: Hm. That's deep.

Justice: I know. By the way, just say "skip" if you don't want to answer a question.

Stephanie: If "successful" means I'm happy and have a good, healthy marriage, and I'm able to spend time with people I love, doing things I love, then yes, I consider myself successful.

Justice: Good answer.

Stephanie: Dork

Justice: No, really.

Stephanie: Waiting...

Justice: What are your pet peeves?

Stephanie: People who leave their turn signals on. Stupid people in general.

Justice: Ok, ok. Have you ever had a life changing moment?

Stephanie: Yes, but it's kinda stupid. My life changing moment was the day T told me to read the Pioneer Woman's website and I was kicked in the face with this passion for photography.

Justice: That's not stupid.

Stephanie: Thanks.

Justice: What is the weirdest thing about you?

Stephanie: Um, I check out the shoes of the person in the stall next to me whenever I'm in a public restroom.

Justice: HA. If you could do anything what would it be?

Stephanie: Quit my job and travel around the country in a pimped-out RV. What do you think is the weirdest thing about me?

Justice: Hmm... Maybe your pet peeves. They make you really mad. REALLY MAD.

Stephanie: Do you think I have anger issues?

Justice: Only when you get irritated. Otherwise no. What is your most annoying habit?

Stephanie: This is hard. I just looked over at Jon and asked him what he thought my most annoying habit was. He paused and started thinking about it and I said, "Be careful, this could cause a fight." He said my sniffles. I sniffle a lot 'cause I think I have a chronic runny nose. What do YOU think my most annoying habit is?

Justice: Umm... Let me think.

Stephanie: This should be good.

Justice: I don't know. Honestly. Ohhhh. No. This could start a fight.

Stephanie: Tell me!

Justice: Ok. CLEAN FREAK!!!! *hides in corner*

Stephanie: You're just mad 'cause I don't let you drip water all over the floor when you take a shower.

Justice: What do you think is the single best decision you've made in your life so far? By the way, I'm getting some of these from websites. Questioning is harder than it seems.

Stephanie: Jon said it was marrying him. What a turd. Actually, that was the first thing that popped into my head, too. I haven't had to make too many major, life-altering decisions in my life yet... except marriage.

Justice: Interesting. I don't know if I should ask this one, so say "skip" if you want to. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?

Ohhh, I got a more pleasant one. What is your most treasured memory?

Stephanie: That's tough. I don't think I can pinpoint one specific memory. I treasure all my holiday memories. Like Thanksgiving at T's and Christmas at Mom's and the two of us driving up to Utah to surprise T for her birthday... things like that.

Justice: I'm getting the vibe that family is very important to you. Is family very important to you? Do you treasure family moments? Are you sentimental? (I came up with that one!) (Woo!)

Stephanie: Yes, yes, and yes... very much.

Justice: Ok. Now, Stephanie, earlier in the interview you told me that your youngest sister was your favorite. Why is this?

Stephanie: Um, I don't think I said that

Justice: Oh. Um, must be a technical error. Or something. Who are you voting for in the election?

Stephanie: Obama, of course.

Justice: Who is the most influential person in your life?

Stephanie: Ooh, that's a good one. Actually, I don't think anyone has a very strong influence on me. Jon would tell you I don't listen to anyone and I make my own opinions. I'm very stubborn and opinionated.

Justice: So, I take it God is the most influential person in your life? Or your sister?

Stephanie: Well, which sister?

Justice: Me.

Stephanie: God, definitely.

Justice: Do you consider yourself a morning person? Or a night person? Or an afternoon person?

Stephanie: I think really early morning is the most peaceful time of day, before everyone else is awake and starting to bother me. It's when I'm most productive. BUT, I am not a morning person. I hate hearing my alarm go off. I snooze it eight times every day. I am a night owl at heart. It would be incredibly easy for me to fall back into the habit of staying up and waking up late.

Justice: What is the most important thing to you in any relationship?

Stephanie: Trust. And candy. This is why you and I are so close.

Justice: That's funny. The first thing that popped into my mind was honesty. What holiday do you enjoy the most and how do you celebrate it?

Stephanie: Christmas. We wake up early, open presents, visit family, laugh a lot, and eat until we fall over in a food coma.

Justice: Yeah. Christmas is good.

Stephanie: Yeah.

Justice: My favorite, too. Anyways. Aww crap. I had a really good question, but I f- Never mind. I remember. Do you like giving advice or receiving advice? Or, do you like listening or talking?

Stephanie: I can do both, but I have to be in the mood. Sometimes I don't want to talk or listen. Sometimes I do. I don't really like giving advice because people don't typically take it.

Justice: What is something that you hate to think about?

Stephanie: Money.. and how we're ever going to be able to afford a house in freaking southern California.

Justice: What is your favorite month or favorite type of weather. (Damn, I wish it was raining.)

Stephanie: Me, too. I love December because of Christmas. I love The Holidays. I love it when it's cold and rainy.

Justice: What is one thing you would not be able to live without?

Stephanie: Oh gosh. Probably my laptop. Remember when my battery died a couple weeks ago? I almost had a panic attack.

Justice: What is one thing that you hate doing, yet you seem to have to do it all the time?

Stephanie: Work. So, Justice, what's your favorite food? BESIDES CEREAL.

Justice: Orange chicken. Duh. What's yours?

Stephanie: Can I say chocolate? Or do I have to pick real food?

Justice: Real food.

Stephanie: Shit, that's hard. I love ALL food. A big juicy steak or lasagna or meatloaf or macaroni and cheese... I'm hungry.

Justice: What kind of situations do you try to avoid?

Stephanie: Any that involve large crowds of people I don't know.

Justice: Do you consider yourself shy or outgoing? Or anti-social?

Stephanie: Anti-social.

Justice: Is that why you often ignore phone calls, even from your family?

Stephanie: Now you sound like mom. Yes, I ignore my phone because I don't like talking to people, but I ignore phone calls from family only when I'm watching TV and I don't want to get up and find my phone.

Justice: If you have ever wanted to be traumatized, what would you want to be traumatized by?

Stephanie: What the hell kind of question is that?

Justice: Ok, what is your favorite color?

Stephanie: Pink, what's yours?

Justice: Mine's gray or light yellow or white. What do you think about gas prices?

Stephanie: I'm just glad I drive a little Toyota... and I hope the prices continue to go down.

Justice: Did you know that Toyota's are made in Japan and by buying products from other countries we are supporting their military powers against us? Are you against America?

Stephanie: Shut up, turd.

Justice: Do you like watching the news?

Stephanie: No, it's sad and it's always the same.

Justice: Would you ever try to grow a tree in your backyard, if you had a backyard, and do you want a backyard?

Stephanie: Um, yes, I want a backyard... and yes, I'd probably try to grow a tree. I've always wanted a tree house.

Justice: What was your favorite subject in school?

Stephanie: Political science. Yours?

Justice: Literature.

Stephanie: What kind of grades are you getting right now?

Justice: Ummm

Stephanie: Hmm?

Justice: I think a B+ in HONORS History. It's hard. B+ in Honors Lit. A+ in normal science. And A in piano.

Stephanie: Geez, how many honors classes are you in?

Justice: Two.

Stephanie: Gross.

Justice: I can't think of any more questions.

Stephanie: How does it feel knowing you got all the smarts in the family?

Justice: I feel that you all should treat me more special than everyone else. I deserve special treatment, bitches. That's how I feel.

Stephanie: Oh, but you are "special". Do you ride the short yellow bus?

Justice: I don't ride buses. I'm anti bus.

Stephanie: Oh, yeah... mom and dad make you walk. Haha.

Justice: Actually, they drive me, for your information.

Stephanie: 'Cause they don't think you can walk on your own? 'Cause you're "special?"

Justice: How does it feel to know that you're a bitch?

Stephanie: You are.

Justice: I can't think of any more questions to ask.

Stephanie: What else should I tell people about me?

Justice: That I'm your sister, not your daughter. And to warn them not to get on your bad side, because you are a bitch.

Stephanie: I thought you were trying not to swear?

Justice: Oh. Well, I decided that online it doesn't count.

Stephanie: That's nice.

Justice: It doesn't feel bad when I do it typing.

Stephanie: What's your favorite movie?

Justice: The Notebook. Or Twilight. Even though I haven't seen it.

Stephanie: You can't say that if you haven't seen it! Retard.

Justice: What's yours?

Stephanie: Under the Tuscan Sun, Love Actually, Sex and the City, Chocolat, Something's Gotta Give, the Holiday, Walk the Line, and every Disney movie. Is Twilight your favorite book?

Justice: Mmmmm yeah. Or For the Roses. But right now Twilight. Probably because I just read it.

Stephanie: Did you finish Public Secrets?

Justice: No. I have like 50 pages left, but for some reason I feel like the book could end right now. She's basically with the guy. And that was one of the main problems in the book. And then to find out who murdered her brother... I don't want to really find out.

Stephanie: I'm going to be seriously disappointed in you if you don't finish it.

Justice: Like I care. So. How'd you like your interview?

Stephanie: It was very serious.

Justice: Interesting. Let's go get some ice cream.

Stephanie: Okay.

The end.

NaBloPoMo. Because all the cool kids are doing it.

If you didn't know that November was National Blog Posting Month, then you obviously don't spend as much time online as I do. Then again, I have no life. And I only have one friend. And my husband spends his time glued to whatever sporting event is on TV. So, what's a girl to do?

I wouldn't say I'm "participating" because usually, when I commit to anything (such as posting every day for a month), I crap out halfway through and feel like a big, fat failure. And we all know how much I dislike feeling bad about myself.

So, let's just say I'm entertaining the thought of participating and might possibly continue to entertain the thought, that is, until I skip a day.

It's November first. Halloween just ended. A pillowcase full of my sister's candy is sitting in my freezer and I'm thinking of all the big plans I have for The Holidays. And, yes, I feel it deserves a capital T and H. I am a big fan of The Holidays.

November is an important month, not just because of Thanksgiving and all the Christmas madness magic that begins to kick into full gear, but also because it's my wedding anniversary. The Husband and I will have been married for five years this November ninth. And I had the strangest thought that this is it. There's no going back after five years. We're in this for good now.

As if we weren't when we said "I do."

I have big plans for the Fifth Anniversary (again, the capital letters imply the importance of the occasion). Big surprise plans that I'd love to tell you about except for the fact that the Husband reads my blog sometimes and I don't want to spoil it.

Which leads me to some curiosity. For all you bloggers out there, I have a question. Does you spouse (or significant other) read your blog? And, if so, how often?

When I casually asked the Husband if he read mine, he nonchalantly said, "Sometimes." Maybe it's a female thing, but I thought if he had a blog (hahahahaha), I'd read it every day. I'd check for updates constantly. I'd be terribly interested in anything and everything he had to say. But him? Interested in me? Not unless I'm talking about the University of Minnesota football team. Or the Vikings. Or the Timberwolves. Or anything sports.

Did I mention the Husband was born and raised in Minnesota? He's taken me back there three times. It snowed twice. In October and April. Driving around Minnesota scares me. I'm afraid I'll accidentally veer off the road into a lake or get sucked up into a tornado or be attacked by a rabid mosquito.

The Husband, by the way, is terrified of earthquakes. But prances through the streets during tornado warnings. The psycho.

Where was I going with all this? November. Blogging everyday for a month. Anniversary. The Holidays. Who reads your blog. The Husband prances through tornadoes.

Well, whatever it was I intended for this post... Happy November.