Lion and tigers and birthdays oh my!

So we celebrated India's birthday on Sunday.  We kept things quiet with just a few family members which was just fine for us.  Ok, I say this out loud but what I am actually thinking in my head is, "Yes!!!! We escaped not having to have a big hoopla with coordinated gift bags and admission fees to some bacteria filled place of snot and merriment that kids love to have birthday parties at these days."

Our choices growing up in Texas were the back of a McDonalds, someones backyard, the park, or the Roller Rink.  Now it is crazy all of the options kids have.  Amusement parks, mini golf, jumpy places, elaborate oversized gerbil play structures, stuff an animal, and even cooking schools.  (Ok, so I kind of secretly like the cooking school concept.  Any place that teaches my kid how to roll sushi so I don't have to on somebody else's dime and floor is just fine with me.)

I know eventually I am going to have to suck it up and do something here in the next month or 2, because Calla now has school friends, and I am not sure quite yet how I am supposed to deal with it.  The reasonable side of me who realizes she lives in a 900 sq. ft. house in the country nowhere near these kids and their parents, says, "Have the party away from your house, where the hell are you going to put all of them anyway?"  The unreasonable part of me who had sour gummy worms and Red Bull today says, "Crap I better start looking on Pinterest for theme ideas now, and if we have nice weather we can do this outside, and I can order decorations from Etsy, and we can make cupcakes, and we can borrow some animals from a friend and we can have a petting zoo in the front yard, and and and...."  My inner Martha demon takes over and off we go.  I'll keep you posted.

Moving back to India.  (The small child, not the large country.)  There were balloons, and an Elmo theme.  When I say theme, we got her 1 Elmo balloon and an Elmo cake with some matching plates and napkins. She wore an Elmo t shirt and we called it good.  Because I know next week she will probably hate Elmo, and move on to Dora or who ever is next in line.  I can't remember.

My Mom and Calla before the party.

My Dad babysitting the Elmo balloon, because God forbid something happen to the Elmo balloon.  (We didn't drug Rusty, he was good...sort of.)

Mattie resting her twat.  No not on the cheap Target pillows.  The Pottery Barn ones of course.

Dave's mom and sister came over as well, but sadly I didn't snap any photos of them.  Everyone else related was at the Bronco game getting their Tebow on.  

"Come on now give me the damn balloon it's my party."

  

"Let's light this bad boy up."

"Um, y'all.... I'm 2 wtf am I supposed to do now cause you lit my cake on fire?" 

Rusty: "I smell cake, just blow out the stinkin candles already so I can eat the CAKE!"

That pretty much sums up the obligatory birthday pics.  Off to crawl into bed because 7 degrees is cold and I am tired.  

Check back in soon.  I have stories about opossums and pointe shoes, but not necessarily together.  

XOXO

The long and winding road

First off I wanted to say WELCOME to any new readers that have come to witness the madness happening here,  and offer a huge THANKS to Kristen Lamb and Ingrid Schaffenburg for pimpin my lil ol' bloggity blog.

Yesterday started off busy.  Since the weather has been somewhat warm, we have been busy with work.  I guess if it isn't going to snow we might as well landscape.  After I picked up the small child named after a large country, I decided it was just too pretty to stay inside, and should make good on some New Years resolutions.  So I hitched up the Dipshit Dingo Dog (aka Rusty or the Twit) to the BOB stroller via the giant mom caribener that is meant to hold shopping bags and tip over the stroller and an extra hot grande mocha at a moments notice when your 2 yr. old decides she wants out NOW, because she has to play with that damn Disney Princess plastic camera 1 million other kids have licked at the checkout line, and headed off down the long and winding road towards the Rockies.

It looks innocent enough, but that hill at the end was a bugger.

He looks innocent enough too, but he is also a bugger.  

After we got home we noticed the "Twat" had some issues literally with her twat.  Poor Mattie looked like she had 2 twats.  I'll spare you the details, and the picture.  So off to the Gyno we went to have the Vet look at her lady bits.

 

She looks just thrilled doesn't she?

In the meantime, I left Dave and the "Twit" at home, all tuckered out from his jaunt down the road, to deal with getting more then just a pint of blueberries in both the girls for dinner.  So it was just Mattie, her two twats and I all alone and driving in complete peace and quiet.  It was like a girls night out without kids.  Damn!  We should have stopped for Frozen Yogurt or a Mojito.

Anywhoo, we got to the Vet, and she decided Mattie had an abscessed anal sac that is now coming out through the skin.  In other words, she had a boil on her bum.  Lovely.  I am pretty sure I used the word anus and anal more then I ever had in my life yesterday during 6 and 7 pm.  So they whisked her away to the back, gave her a sedative, lucky bitch, shaved her bottom, and squeezed and cleaned her up.  I was never so happy to pay someone to do something in my life.

Meanwhile, in the waiting room I was having 3 conversations at the same time on my phone to keep myself occupied.  It was either the phone or some animal magazine explaining what certain parasites can do to a dog with graphic pictures.   Convo # 1 on FB with Ingrid explaining what I was doing and why we needed to eat tortilla soup.  Convo # 2 also on FB with Sonja trying to help her get rid of her Broncos playoff tickets, and Convo # 3 with Dave at home via text on how many blueberries is too much for a 25 lb. child to consume at once, and how to ripen kiwis like now.

Once we got Mattie home she was still a hot mess, (kind of like me returning home from the hospital after having both kids,) so we threw on a pair of Dave's boxers to keep the carpet, and dog beds clean.  They were perfect because they already had a hole for her tail. ;)

Thanks to the the long run for one and a sedative for the other, both "Twit" and "Twat" slept like a Nyquil commercial last night.

I am happy to report the 2nd twat is looking much better today, and it just looks like a sore.  As for India, well...... what goes in must come out.  Purple.

Happy weekend.  India turns 2 tomorrow, so pictures of that fun filled frosting adventure coming soon.

XOXO, Cara

Another one bites the dust

I am not going to attempt to recap 2011.  There really isn't any point (like my new attitude about things?)  All of the posts are on the right hand side, so if you missed something from last year and or would like to revisit it, then by all means pull up a bowl of popcorn and knock your socks off.

Moving on to 2012.  Hi 2012.  Like how I am updating this blog almost a week after?  Well....truth is I haven't been lazy, but we haven't had internet due to the high winds.  Today the Skybeam dude came out and told me the dish on my roof was pointing upward instead of down.  Ok, then.

I haven't ever been a huge fan of resolutions simply because I am really bad at keeping them.  If someone said, "I think you should make a resolution to eat gummy bears and popcorn daily," sure no problem.  (Wait, that isn't a resolution....that's my diet.)  This year though I thought I would jump on the bandwagon and attempt to set some realistic goals that even I can accomplish because they are so simple.  So without further adieu, my top 10 list of resolutions for 2012:

10. Win the HGTV Dream Home 2012 in Park City, Utah.
Ok, so I might as well throw in dinner with Robert Redford while I am out there too.  Seeing as I would have to sell my soul to the Devil to win that resolution.  Unfortunately Dave can't play the golden fiddle well enough to get me out of that deal.  But damn....wouldn't that house be nice?

9. Bathe the Dipshit Dingo Dog.
He stinks.  Nuff said.  Today he showed up outside the back door with an empty 20 lb. bag of Friskies cat food on his head.  We don't have a cat, so I am not sure what trash he was digging in.

8. Run and dance more.
I got this one in the bag, because I don't do either as much as I could right now, so anything I do is good.  I did attempt to put on some pointe shoes tonight after I talked to 2 friends today about pointe shoes and Sleeping Beauty auditions coming up.  Yeah, it wasn't pretty, even in the kitchen and especially on my bad ankle.  Unless Sleeping Beauty has a need for a wicked old hag named Ethel who lives deep in the woods amongst the woodland creatures and locks up small children, we won't be attempting to skip on pointe like Little Red Riding Hood.  We'll just put the memory of that roll back on it's dusty shelf and leave well enough alone.

7. Paint some trim inside the house.
Notice I didn't say the barn.  (Laughing to self)  Because, that is a lead paint can full of worms I don't want to open.  I am pretty sure it might be easier to learn how to yodel like Jewel instead.

6. Watch more movies.
This would be great.  If only my children would find a way to occupy themselves while I do this.  If only I could manage to stay up past 9 pm to finish it.  And before y'all suggest we watch it together like on big happy freakin family, I wasn't thinking of anything G-rated, animated, or involving a talking animal in a costume saving the world.  (By the way, Muppets don't count.)

5. Keep up with the dishes every night.
(Laughing to self harder this time)  I'll get right on that.

4. Snowboard more.
It was good to get up again last week after such a long hiatus despite the 80 mile an hour wind gusts that actually pushed me down the hill, and runs so icy they made me take a digger on a pinecone.  Let me just say a pinecone in the ass hurt like a bejesus.  (Go ahead and make your dirty jokes folks.)  I am pretty sure I peed a bit when I landed too, because snowboarding after 2 c-sections just isn't the same as my carefree college days.

3. Keep up with the laundry every week. 

(Laughing even harder out loud)

2. Buy only what I need.
This includes any unnecessary crap or clothing I don't need, because I should be able to make do with 20 pairs of black yoga pants that won't ever see the inside of a yoga studio right???  Notice I didn't involve the word Target in this resolution, because that would be impending doom from the start.

1. Lose some weight.
Ok, so I realize this is the most unrealistic goal out of them all, but it really is the most simple if you think about it.  I'll just eat less.  (Did I mention we ate at the Olive Garden tonight?  We won't talk about my breadstick tally before they brought out the Tiramisu.)  So if I am dancing, even my one class a week,  I should be eating like I was back the good ol' dance days?  No, not the Gelsey diet, because the only little blue pills I pop are Aleve, but a steady diet of Diet Red Bull, oranges, peas, rice, and I Can't Believe It's Not Butter Spray Butter should do the trick.

And that's about it.  I am off to fulfill my daily clicking to register for the HGTV Dream Home Giveaway.  If anyone is headed to Utah soon, and they happen to run into Robert Redford while out and about, tell him I have dinner planned for the new house.  I hope he likes peas and rice! :)

Cara

'Twas The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all though the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; (Ok, so it is highly likely there is a mouse or 2 in the basement.)
The stockings were hung by the chimney grate with care, (Cause we don't have a chimney, Santa uses the door.)
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads; (And thankfully not mine, because I am so done with anything related to Nutcracker.)
And mamma in her sweat pants, and I in my boxers,
Had just passed out on the couch at 8:30 pm for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. (Because if it is was the septic system that just got fixed I would be pissed.)
Away to the window I flew like a flash, (Tripped over the twit and twat in the process.)
Tore open the curtains and threw up the blinds.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, (huh?)
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny chickens, (What, like you thought I would actually say reindeer? At least chickens can fly.)

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, (hum....wonder if the fat man wants to learn how to drive a plow truck?)
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his chickens they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, BIRDIE! now ELOISE! now, BUTTERCUP and FIONA!
On, HENRIETTA! on BEATRIX! on, PENELOPE AND RHODA!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, (Cause we still haven't done a fall clean up at our house.)
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, (Down here guys, remember no chimney.)
With a sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. (Wow, those chickens sure ate their Wheeties this morning!)

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the porch
The pecking and scratching of each little claw.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Through the front door St. Nicholas came with a bound. (So help me if he wakes up India)

He was dressed in all fur, from his head to his foot, (PETA is coming!  PETA is coming!)
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; (Damn it I just mopped the floors!)
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. (So I thought to myself, where the hell are we supposed to store all of that?)

His eyes- How they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! (Yo Santa, I have a facial cream from Nordstrom that could do wonders for that.)
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the bead of his chin was as white as the snow; (Hey what do you know, Dave's is too!)

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; (Febreeze, where is my can of Febreeze?)
He had a broad face and a lithe round belly
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. (Just like me!)

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; (It's ok, I laugh at myself all the time.)
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, (Dirty old man. But hey these days, I ain't complaining.  I'll take what I can get.)
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; (Which is good, because I had to quit watching CSI for that very reason.)

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose, (Santa please don't farmer's blow in the house, I'll get you a tissue.)
And giving a nod, out the door he closed;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, (Trust me, they would come much quicker if you give them a pancake or banana.)
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!

Merry Christmas from our family to yours!
Love,
Us! :)

The Ethel Chronicles

For those of y'all who are my special friends on Facebook, you know that Ethel is the styrofoam wig holder that holds my Grandma wig from Nutcracker.  You also happen to know about the many escapades Ethel has gotten into this last week before we retired her last night after our final performance.

For those of you who are not on Facebook I thought I would share all of her shenanigans here in one big post complete with all of the descriptions from Facebook.  So sit back and follow along.  K.C. this one's for you.  As for the rest of you who are wondering why the hell I am referring to a styrofoam wig holder as Ethel, well....check back later this week and I might get my lazy butt together and attempt a Christmas card letter here on the blog.  If not, don't be surprised.

Before we check Ethel in on Sunday to the home for retired Victorian wigs (the prestigious Le Trash) we thought we'd get her out of the crowded theater dressing room for one last hurrah.  Be sure and check in throughout the week to see where in FOCO Ethel might be spotted next.  

 

On her way home from dropping the kids off at school, Ethel remembered the chickens were out of food.  However she is not quite sure how to get the 50lb bags up in there because she is kind of short. 

After picking up India later that day, Ethel decided she was hungry.  So we stopped for shrimp salads at La 

Luz.

Ethel really wanted a donut from Lamar's next door instead, but sadly they closed at 1 pm.

This evening after tonight's Nutcracker show, Ethel ran into a couple of friends of hers across the street from the theater and insisted I help her say hi. 

Since Ethel isn't getting the workout like she used to during the Nutcracker, she decided to hop on a treadmill and "make it work."

So Ethel heard about the Colorado Eagles and thought it would be fun to check out some hockey guys.  

So after visiting the Budweiser event center, Ethel decided she was craving a beer.  So, we trucked it over to New Belgium.

Things were all fun and games until she passed out in the trunk amongst all the new beer flavors.  Damn Ethel!  You are such a lush.  

And so after the last show Ethel and her new haircut settled down for a long Winter's nap with visions of Sugar Plum Fairies dancing in her (lack thereof) brain.  

Came home to this today.  3 words: 1. Dipshit  2. Dingo  3. Dog!  Not sure why the mouth???  It is official.  Ethel has now checked into Le Trash along with all of her feathers and a roll of toilet paper for good measure.  

R.I.P. Ethel It was real while it lasted. 

Nutcracker 2011

Ok, just warning you, I am not Ansel Adams.  All of the photos are from my phone.  Just pretend the dark and blurry ones were taken from some Hipstamatic app or something cool like that.

On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me:

12 pairs of eyelashes

All of the junk it takes to make me into Grandma each night

On the 11th day of Christmas my true love gave to me:

11 shows!

Ok, I'm done being creative and out of numbers.  Here are just the pics.

Practice tutus

Snow rehearsal in studio

Rat King head

What old ladies wear to rehearsal

What I look like before the wrinkles.
Well, the drawn on ones at least.

The new "lounge" backstage at the Lincoln Center.
All those doors are separate dressing rooms  

Snow headpieces and tiaras 

Pointe shoes

In the wings for warm up w/out backdrops and curtains

View from the orchestra pit

Nutcrackers for sale

The house 

View from the house of dancers on stage during warm up 

Nutcracker head

Our dressing room and Ethel the Grandma head

The robe back (I added Giselle)

The robe front

Grandma after her wrinkles and pearls

Ethel and Herman before all is said and done

If you scroll back up to the close up shot of me, you will notice I had to draw a widow's peak on my forehead because the wig didn't fit right, and it kept slipping backwards.  It took till Sunday night to realize the Costume Mistress had styled the wig upside down.  Would have been good to know 6 shows and 2 dress rehearsals ago. So with 3 hrs to sit around between shows, we flipped the nasty ol' wig right side up, adjusted my feathers, and now it sits lower on my head.  Grandma Ethel now looks proper.  Well......as proper as a drunk old lady can look.   

Thanks to everyone who came and saw the shows.  It was much appreciated!  

And thanks to Greg for the last picture actually taken with a real camera.  Too bad about the damn wig.  Oh well there is always Loveland.

The correct answer

And the award for destruction of the tree goes to India!!

In case you were wondering, that is a blue footed booby she is carrying.  She carries it everywhere and just says booby booby.  I suppose some people probably think I am still breastfeeding her.  Wouldn't that be just a bag of fun?!   

Surprisingly the dipshit dingo dog has not wanted a piece of the tree.  Yet....I am not convinced when the presents come out he won't poop purple twinkles in excitement.

I am headed to a full day of Nutcracker rehearsals.  One of our last at the studio.  It snowed about 4 inches last night and Dave is plowing plowing plowing, so my parents are taking the girls to Macy's to get cards to write to Santa while I get my Granny on.

As I was loading up the kindle last night with some books to read as I sit around and wait during rehearsals, I started to think y'all might like to see some pictures of everything going on at rehearsal and the theater and how it all goes down instead???   Now, I know most of you see Greg's photos on Facebook, but for those you who don't know who Greg is (besides my ballet husband) and are affiliated with me because you know what actually goes in Finadene (sp?) sauce, and know where Crowley really is, I thought this might be a good way for me to pass the time, while I was wishing I was doing Snow corps, or Chinese. (ok maybe not missing, but def. missing the exercise) Sorry guys, there will be no naked boobies.

Except for India's blue one!

XOXO, me.  more pics to come.