It's official.

I'm not betty crocker.

I know. You're terribly shocked.

See, every year since I became a wife, I've had this vision of making Christmas goodies for all my friends and some neighbors and we'd go about delivering them with smiley faces and carols in the car. It's never, not once, been done. The closest I ever got was the time I made dozens of batches of hard cinnamon candy for the golfers at Bentwood when I worked there.

So, today, I went to HEB armed with a list of supplies. My first sign of impending doom should have been the absence of three items that I needed. I should have considered it a sign.

Not so. I persisted in my shopping in the craziness with all the other crazies at HEB who had also waited till this late hour to do their baking.

When I got home, the first item on my list of goodies to tackle was pralines. I LOVE them. My grandmother always made them. My mom, however, never was successful at making them. They always became what we jokingly called Praline soup. They never hardened, try as she might.

You might ask why I would choose to begin with an item that has proven to be a failure in my genetic past. I don't know. I really don't. I could say something about wanting the hardest treat to be done while kids are asleep. whatever. I shouldn't have started there.

I now have about 50 lovely blobs of praline soup on my countertop.

I measured precisely. I boiled to the exact temperature. I beat vigorously. And beat some more. And called troy to beat some more. And beat them again. Thinking they were getting thicker, I began spooning them out.

Nope.
Soup.

Now, the blow to my ego, as I really did think I was Betty Crocker up until this point(haha), was bad enough but the fact that FOUR CUPS of pecans are ruined is beyond devastating. That's like throwing money in the trash.

Sigh. It's only a matter of time until I begin to inhabit my mom's body as I am mere steps from the complete metamorphosis into her. I hate the vacuum cleaner. I can't find my "safe places" and I almost bought a jumbo sized container of bungee cords the other day. If only the things like excellent gardener, genius on all subjects and diligent vitamin taker would find its way into my system...

I'd like to say that the tragedies stopped there. No. While waiting for the pralines to boil to whatever degree it was, I melted chocolate for another recipe. I haven't a clue how, but somehow that chocolate didn't get all melty...

I don't even have the energy to explain. I have a whole kitchen to clean and no food to show for it.

Next year. There's always next year, right?

ouch.

maybe it's just my eyes but if you read meem's bright white backgrounded blog and then go straight to A's jet black background blog, your eyes will totally freak out.

Don't try it.

You are, aren't you?

Powdered Donuts

While I was searching for my cell phone this morning, inside and out, Grant found himself a little treat. He pulled them off the table and had himself quite the powdered sugar feast. Little stinker. He's just so cute while being a little stinker...

(oh, and if you're curious...my phone was in Mason's lunchbox. I-i don't know. When I called it five times to find it, his whole class heard it vibrating in his lunch box. His teacher must really think i'm a nut...)

Not fair.

Why do I get this with other people's kids? And this....

And THIS! with my own. I declare.
It was perhaps the worst shoot of my life. You'd have thought mason was being tortured. And Grant, well, Grant wasn't awful except for the fact that he threw a fit everytime his brother tried to hug him. Which made mason cry because "bubba doesn't like me!!!" which was so fake. So fake. It started off cute enough. But then it was a downward spiral. I got a few good shots. But Mason somehow managed to turn an adorable candycane eating shot into him looking as though he is playing the piccolo.

I'm a photographer. I MUST send out christmas photo cards. They must look amazing because they're going to customers too.

I need children to cooperate.

Geez.

Back to editing I go.

(I must admit the crying picture of grant is pretty stinkin' cute...)

it's all about perspective...

You might think, "aw, that's cute" when you see the above.
But wait.
This is what was really going down...

Look Ma, No Training Wheels!

On Saturday, Mason and Troy worked on teaching Mason how to ride his bike without training wheels. Then, on, Tuesday, Mason just went out there and did it. I was watching from the window - he fell a few times trying to start, but then he just did it. That same day he lost his second tooth...he's just so big now!

I always knew I loved Australia.

Bekah took me on a date tonight to see the movie Australia with Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman. So very good, my friends. You must go see it. I laughed. I cried. I hated. I loved(and by loved I am referring to Hugh Jackman who was a most dashing, rugged cowboy with an added perk - an australian accent). I cried some more. I cringed. I laughed. I loved.

"I sing you to me."

To know what that means, you gotta go see the movie. Oh, so good.

PS - if for some reason, unknown to mankind, you didn't like the movie, please refrain from telling me so, because I would be forced to immediately not be your friend anymore.