Most of you are on Pinterest.  (I say that as if it were a factual piece of information.  As if I actually know all of my readers and have polled you for information.  Apparently I think you will believe me if I lie confidently.) 

    Ok, so I assume that a lot, if not most of you are on Pinterest.  I am on Pinterest as well.  If fact, I am on Pinterest a lot.  In the middle of the night mostly, when I should be sleeping, and instead I am clicking the "see more pins" button over and over again.  Which in turn leads me to desperately want to bulldoze my house and build an amazing one with bookshelves in the stairs and walls of bunk beds and kitchens with holes in the wall to throw recycling straight out to the garage.  Maybe if I had holes in my kitchen wall I would recycle.  Dear Mother Earth, I'm sorry.  It also makes me want to cook and eat every terrible thing you could ever imagine, including but not limited to and oreos wrapped in a chocolate chip cookies.  Also I feel an overwhelming urge currently to bury our trampoline in the ground and wear an outfit that pays homage to a different Disney character every day for three months.  I also have had the urge to join the crowd and make my own laundry detergent, and today I actually caved and did it.  Have any of you done it so far?  How do you feel about yours?  I made the powdered kind and am a touch apprehensive.  I know Gain is good.  I don't know about the homemade mix just yet.

    So tonight when I started typing four different blog posts and decided they were all boring, I got the bright idea to lame out with some cute e-cards from Pinterest that I feel describe my life perfectly.  It's like the designer jumped in my head and made these things up.  And even though many of you have seen these before, here they are again for the few (ahem......mother) that haven't so much jumped on board with the whole social networking thing yet.
I get it from my mother. We can't help it. It's a medical condition. Overactive Emotionalization
It's true. I've already decided that I am going to eat raw chicken before a big event I'm supposed to go to soon so I can get out of wearing high healed shoes.
The people in my life are so overly demanding.
Truth. No explanation needed.
Isn't it funny how we all have those people?
If only I could find someone who would pay me for making stuffed bell peppers and changing diapers.
This is how I feel towards my wonderful, but exceptionally busy husband every day!
You would be surprised how hard it is sometimes.
Busy being fabulous,
    What I am about to tell you is the most NOT groundbreaking piece of information ever.  It's amazing how obvious it's going to be.  Like...duh.  Duh haruh even.  (do you remember that?  did anyone else say that in the '80's or was it just me and my weirdo friends?  I digress)  I am about to tell you the very reason why my children and I had such a completely lovely and pretty-much stress free afternoon.  

    I just chilled out - remained calm - didn't let stuff get to me - drank whiskey.  

    (Ha!  I totally kid about that last one, but Aaron totally did acuse me of becoming an afternoon nipper when he heard about how relaxed I was all day.)

    Today was basically a typical day with Destruct-o-girl.  I woke her up this morning so we could take her brothers to school, she destroyed everything she touched until her nap time, she napped and my heart sang out praises for the blessed time of peace, she woke up earlier than I hoped and I cried a little, then she destroyed everything she touched until we went to pick up her brothers from art lessons.  Then we played outside and had a marvelous, lovely time (while I took a zillion pictures), I made her go in so brothers could do homework, she layed in the floor by the back door clawing and screaming "side! side!" for 47 minutes, she dumped half a box of cinnamon toast crunch in the floor, she spilled milk all in her hair, she got cheetos all over the iPad, she got a bath and 7 million kisses, and finally she and her pig went to bed.

    Same goes for the boys having a typical day.  I drug them out of bed for school, they complained the whole morning, I dropped them off, picked them up from their after school art lesson, Turnanator immediately started crying about having to do homework, Super-G disappeared the second we got home, we played outside and took photos a while, then we sat down for homework.  Neither wanted to do anything but they did it anyway, then Super-G had to practice for piano tomorrow.  He would rather have watched tv.  Turnanator didn't want to eat supper, no one wanted to bathe (wonder where they get that?), and even though they could barely hold their eyes open every time they got still, no one was tired.  All of this happened, btw, before Daddy got home tonight because he had to go out to eat with some Japanese visitors.

    And even thought all of that happened, and lots of people cried, and several fits were pitched - I remained calm.  And you know what?  It didn't take long and my offspring became calm too.  I'm sorry I'm even writing about this.  I know it seems so simple and dumb at the same time, but for me it feels like some kind of revelation.  I, as anyone who knows me knows, am not a calm person.  I'm not a germaphobe or a run-to-the-doctor-over-every-little-thing person, but I am a get stressed out and have a come-apart person.  I yell.  A lot actually.  And apparently I get some type of satisfaction from getting worked up over some of the most useless bits of life.  "Why do you have on tall socks with shorts son?!  How many times do I have to tell you to wear the ankle socks with shorts?!  Daughter!  Where is your hairbow?  Quit wiping your nose on your shirt kid!!  Husband!  How is it possible that you can dress yourself but are totally incapable of dressing our kids in things that match?!  Why are these shoes in my living room?!!!!!"  Do you see what I'm saying?  None of that matters one iota in real life, so you oughta' see me go when it's over stuff that matters.  Like my first grader's inability to read the word "does" over and over again in his take home reader.  I'm a psycho.  

    So today, for no particular reason at all, I decided I was going to work very extra super hard at controlling my emotions, not getting stressed out, and not raising my voice.  And guess what - homework went so much better than normal.  We had fun outside.  Everyone got to watch a few minutes of tv and was still in bed at a decent time.  And I didn't spend the rest of tonight feeling like I wanted to kill somone (and taking it out on poor Aaron who usually bears the brunt of my "crazy-lady").  Guess what else.  Super-G never did really master his piano this week, there are still dishes piled in my sink and laundry piled in my room, and I have yet to wipe the cheeto off the iPad.  Turns out, if all that doesn't happen tonight life will go on anyway.  

    While I'm sure that 98% of you make this a regular practice and aren't crazy nut-job mothers anyway, I just needed to put this on my blog tonight, even if it's boring.  I needed to have this written down so on the days that I am screaming about the fact that it's inappropriate to put food in your princess potty and shoes in your bed sheets, I can remember the day that I chilled out and it had such a profound affect.  So to the 2% of you that are wing-dings like me, let's hold each other accountable to be better moms that yell less and eat less junk food out of frustration and have less pounding headaches.  Let's be calm, and chilled, and hopefully not secretly drinking all afternoon.

Love you almost as much as my afternoon with my babies,
Mostly to write this very personal and meaningful letter for the whole world to see.  Thanks Al Gore for taking time out of your busy schedule to invent the internet so I have this medium to push all my deepest thoughts and feelings onto the general public.

Dear Inventor of the Spray Tan,
    Thanks for taking the time to invent such a wonderful product.  I so appreciate how it releases me from any responsibilty to tan myself and run the risk of more freckles or weirdly shaped mole type spots.  I love how in only 20 minutes of nakedness in front of a near stranger, I can walk around Walmart in shorts feeling confident that the cellulite on the back of my legs looks less disgusting because it is covered up with your strange skin discoloring formula.  And I also enjoy the novelty of turning my armpits green if I did not properly remove the deoderant before application.  It's like a fun little game of "how hard can you scrub those pits in the shower?".  Moreover, I would like to thank you for making my middle look less jiggly.  It is not actually less jiggly and is, in fact, more jiggly than it has ever been before in my life.  But thanks to you it looks brown and almost decent-ish.  So here's to you Mr. (or Mrs.) Spray Tan Inventor Person for being awsome and making my legs look like they contain melanin.  You're the greatest.

                                                                                                           Forever Yours,
                                                                                                           C. Foster
    Today I took a trip to the Hobby Lobby.  The mecca of all things, crafty, decorative and wonderful.  And with all my favorite things.  Fall decorations, pumpkins, christmas everywhere!!  So I am totally annoyed about this because it makes me pine deep within my holiday loving soul.  I pine for my favorite time of year with all the decorating and eating and football, even though it is currently 157 degrees outside and my eyeballs are sweating.  I pine for scarecrows and costumes and 10,736 trips to the attic knowing all the while I don't so much as want to step foot outside during anything quasi resembling a daylight hour right now.  So because I am sitting here wishing that I just bought mums and am going to the pumpkin patch tomorrow, I am giving you peeps a peek at a fun project I did for my yard last fall.  I let husband help me a little with the jig saw so he could feel needed and important, but this big guy was basically all mine.
Obviously it is an adorable, giant, wooden pumpkin......even if my father-in-law did make fun of me for having a giant orange rear end in my yard. I'm just saying.
    Also today I visited Sam's Club.  It is another one of my favorite places on this earth beacause buying things in bulk makes my heart beat fast, my palms sweat, and my face flush a little.  Few things bring me more happiness than buying toilet paper 90 rolls at a time or shredded cheddar in five pound bags.  It's a problem I have.  But more than the bulk grocery items, I cannot control myself when I walk through all the middle isles.  You know the ones.  Where the seasonal stuff and book stuff and clothes stuff and house stuff all live.  I get all giddy inside with every new isle because I don't know what's going to tempt me next.  Take today for instance.  I do not garden.  I have 5 potted flowers outside currently and 3 of those appear to be on life support with their brown wrinkledy leaves. (pretty sure I just made the word wrinkledy up)  I do not like to do much of anything outside except swim when it feels like the surface of the sun or maybe the lower half of the hadean realm out.  But for some unknown, insane reason - I left Sam's today with a rotating composter barrel.  Yes, you heard me correctly.  A composter.  What it wrong with me? Why do I walk in this store and shop like a complete moron?  Is it because you can buy a half gallon of carbonated beverage for 86 cents when you first walk in the door so you feel like the whole place is a bargain waiting to be guzzled?  I don't know.  I believe it has something to do with a gaseous substance they pump into the ventilation system or the inside of that metal building is like entering a whole other dimension possibly.  Kinda like the movie Tron.  Have you seen it?  Yeah, don't.  Anyways, all I'm saying is, if you need any fertile compost to add to your garden, don't come to me.  Odds are high that my composter will be right next to the kids' airplane seesaw they got for Christmas last year.  Still in the garage in the box.  It's a problem we have.

    Before I finish up on here for the evening, I just need to take a quick second to brag on my stellar mothering skills.  For the third night in a row, I let my boys stay up until all hours of the night to watch a movie on the Disney Channel.  Tonight's flick, Ratatouille.  The room was dark and my little angles were sprawled out on the couch, sleep heavy in their eyes.  I knew it wouldn't be long before they were both out and I would just move them to their beds, so I went about my business for a good long time before coming back to check on them.  This is how I found them.  How or why they are like this I do not know.  Please note that they are both sound asleep in those positions, and don't miss the fact that Turnanator is sleeping sitting straight up, leaning on the coffee table/chest.  Yeah, I know.  I'm a really good mom.  You don't have to tell me...........................
Adorable. Even when sleeping like a bunch of weirdos.
Love ya' like not having to sleep sitting straight up for an hour with my head on a coffee table,
    Laundraically speaking, I was a beast today.  A beast I tell you.  I washed, folded, hung up, unpacked and put away a volume of clothing that can only serve to reflect four things:

1) I am totally and completely awful at keeping our clothes clean in any type of wearable manner.  Whenever I see poor husband wearing the shiny black and silver, covered-in-red-hearts boxers that he won as a gag gift at a church valentine party, I know we are in a world a' hurt.  

2)  We have too many clothes.  As in, clothe a small army, Chinese village, starving kids in Ethopia, too many.  And yet I just got off of eBay looking for smocked fall outfits for one tiny ball of adorable destruction.  I have something wrong with me - mentally speaking I'm afraid.  (p.s. - by "we" I mean my children.  I have 4 items of clothing I can fit on my large jiggly body currently and two of those are long stretchy dresses) 

3)  There is something fundamentally wrong with our society  

4)  One day I am going to take my family to Disney with the money I will make selling off my kids clothes (when the day finally comes that I can decide to be for-sure finished bearing children - another post for another day).  Either that or I will repair the ceiling whenever the attic finally caves in.  Whichever comes first. 
    My mother fusses at me.  My mother-in-law jokes about it.  My friend Angela makes fun of me.  I don't know exactly why we have so many, because I really don't feel like I spend that much on clothes, but they are here.  For one thing, we have been so, so, so fortunate with hand-me-downs.  We have had a lot of friends be wonderful and let us have or buy cheap a lot of their kids' stuff.  And then I went through a phase of going nuts with end-of-season clearance for the next year.  It's great except for that one year that Super G shot straight up and totally skipped a whole size of blue jeans.  Had five extra cute pairs of bootcut, darkwash ankle pants though.  But when you get down to it and I really investigate what we have, there are some fabulous little Gymboree sweater vests sprinkled among a whole bunch of hand-me-down Arkansas t-shirts, free VBS t-shirts, old t-ball and soccer jerseys, and t-shirts with the sleeves cut off.  How did we get so many t-shirts for pete's sake?

    Anyways, I'm not really trying to discuss the quantity of second and third hand childrens' apparel that stuffs my closets tonight.  I'm really trying to brag on myself for being a beast. 

Laundraically speaking of course......................

Love you like being able to see the floor of my bedroom,
The laundranator

    You know that feeling you get when you think about home?  I'm not talking about your house now necessarily, I love that one and all, but I'm talking about the house you grew up in.  With your mama.  That one.  Where you had all your best Santa Claus Christmases, and spankings, and you and you siblings made tents.  That's where I've been all this week.  My mama's house.  So sorry I haven't blogged any.  I really wanted to, and should have, but there were lots of reasons why I couldn't.  The fact that I hung out with my Grandparents and Aunt a lot.  The fact that my parents live way out in the country and their internet is questionable at best if the wind is not blowing and the skies are clear.  The fact that I watched the new True Grit with my brothers and sister-in-law.  And the fact that I had not seen my adorable, squeezie, smell-good, cutie nieces in like 7 months and I had a lot of kissin' to do.  So the kids and I have been there for the past 6 days and had a great time.  It took two whole days before anyone got on my nerves or I got on anyone else's.  And I'm a firm believer that if your family doesn't get on each other's nerves, then you aren't much of a family to start with.  
    Since it had been a while since I had been home, and since it was my first time home since I started blogging, and because it is right dead in the middle of farming season, I felt moved, compelled even, to give you a peek into life at the farm.  My home.  The place I grew up that makes me feel all good and warm and gooey inside. 
So I went out with my camera and took some pics of the stuff that you can only really appreciate if you are from the Delta or somewhere that shares it's way of life.  The stuff that you can't really understand unless you know what it's like to work from sun-up until dark in 100 degree weather, worrying about too much rain or not enough rain or weeds or bugs or broken equipment or the rising cost of diesel.  Stewards of land that has been in families for generations with the hope that it will remain for gerations to come so long as the market, the weather, and the grace of God continue in their favor.  The place my daddy, and now my brothers like him, farm because they love it, or they have to, or it's all they've ever known.  And I wanted you to see it. 

This is the only bumper sticker on the back of my 85 year-old grandparents' white lincoln towncar.  There is a lot of pride in a place like the Delta.  It is an area and a community solely built around farming, so the feeling of accomplishment among everyone at the end of a season is deep.  If you live there and are not a farm family then you are usually the farmer's banker, doctor, tractor repairman, chemical salesman, ag pilot, or accountant.  It takes a lot of work from a lot of people.

Not only is there a lot of pride, but history runs deep because in today's day and time, no one just "starts" farming.  Land just doesn't become available like that.  People farm the land that their daddy, or granddaddy, or great-grandaddy farmed first.  You don't have to look far to find families who tell stories of their parents getting off the boat from Italy and moving there with a dream.  My own grandfather moved there from Arkansas when he was a very young man.

Some things are just a given, ya' know.  But don't be confused.  There's plenty of red stuff around here too.

Here are some of my family's soybeans.  They farm rice and beans, probably triple the amount of acreage they farmed when I was born, and it takes a lot of good help and equiment to get it done.  There are guys on our farm that have been there since long before I was a twinkle in my daddy's eye, but none of them really wanted to be on the internet I suspect.    So instead I put some soybeans on here.  See the grainbins in the background?  I just love this picture for some reason. 

This is Judd, the older of my two brothers on the left, and Steven his "secretary" on the right standing in a waist high rice field.  They are really fun to be around and have somehow aquired the names Trigger and Nuttsy from everybody else.  First person to name which movie that's from is the winner of nothing but my love for ya' baby! 

This is Milkshake the shop dog.  He is ferocious.  Ok, maybe not ferocious exactly, but he will lick you.

Meet Uncle Bruce and cousin Jake.  They are working together now, and look absolutely nothing alike.  You can't even tell they are related.  Ok, maybe I'm kidding about that too.

L to R - Judd, Daddy, and Austin
You know that feeling you get when you think about your daddy and brothers?  The one of love and occasional annoyance and deep appreciation and fond memories?  At least I hope you get that feeling when you look at your daddy and brothers because I sure do.  This is a wonderful tailgate load of men in this photo, men I am lucky to call my family.  They are funny and grouchy and kind and good.  And they are excellent farmers.  Thanks for letting me have an emotional moment today and brag on the people and places that I love. 

Love ya' like hot tamales from Rosedale,

p.s. - ladies, Austin is single and I am always looking for him a lovely churched lady.  So if you have any prospects in mind please contact me at your earliest convience so that I may put her through the initial, big-sister evaluation.  He will be so happy.  Ok, maybe not.  He will probably want to beat me up for putting that on here, but hey, can't blame a big sister for trying can you?

p.p.s. - also, Aaron has been fussing at me for not having a picture of my Mama on here because she is as integral a part of the farm as anyone, but I'm feeling sort of "homey" right now.  So there will probably be a whole post dedicated to her soon.  She totally rocks.

I had a situation.  An awful disgusting horrible situation.  Luckily someone came and saved me.  Luckily.
The Situation
My Savior
Thankful for my brave, frog scooping, 6 year-old kid,
    Last night I wrote a long and involved blog entry about the fact that I feel like I can never get caught up, but then my computer restarted itself, lost the entry, and almost got murdered.  So tonight as I sit and try to rewrite last night's thoughts, I realize - I can't remember exactly what I said and I'm not quite feeling it any more.  So tonight, you get the cliff notes version.

    I look around at some of you and you look so together.  You are good at your jobs, you are great parents, you sew, you dabble in photography, you are great cooks, you find time to exercise and dress cute, you read, you are active and involved at your church, you never miss a ballgame or practice, you are caught up on all the latest tv shows, you paint your fingernails, your house is clean, you coupon, your ironing is done, you don't have suitcases from last week's vacation still sitting in your dining room, your flowerbeds have no weeds, you shower, you study your Bible, you're tan, you spend quality time with your children, you have s*x with your spouse whenever you feel like it, you're on facebook, and you are best friends with your sister who you talk to every day.  Congratulations, I hate you.  Well, technically I don't hate you, I am just jealous of you but that sort of feels like hate sometimes. 

    So I look out at so many of you that embody a lot of these characteristics, and I start to wonder - "I feel busy all the time, but none of that stuff ever seems to get done.  What am I doing with my life for pete's sake?!  Why can't I exercise or get the suitcases out of the dining room?".  And honestly, I don't know.  It just seems like I can't because of some glitch in the space-time continuom maybe.  I think it would be awesome to experience life for just one day with nothing looming over my head waiting to be done.  With no cheeto smeared on my couch and mail piled at the back door and fecal matter waiting to be dealt with.  But that day does not exist.  Instead I am wondering how I am going to finish couponing in time to shop while Super-G is at piano so I can get home and get Destruct-o-girl down for a nap in time to start the dinner that will be ruined when I realize part of it has fallen victim to the current ant invasion.  And what makes is worse is that I know ya'll are all doing it too.  All of you.  So why then do I feel like many you are doing it better than me?   Do you ever feel that way?  Surely it's not just me?  I need reassurance, and advice, and a few more hours in a day, and a life coach, and a Reece's peanut butter cup as big around as a vinyl record to feel better about this.

    Why do all of our clothes seem dirty at once?  Why do I get the electic bill on the pink paper because I forgot to go by and pay it this month? Why do I hate showering?  Why do I get so consumed with guilt over things not done that I won't go enjoy the pool in my own back yard with my  kids? Why did 7-up change its taste a few years ago and become awful to me?  Why am I the only person on the planet who can't make my hair do the cute, loose curls with the straightener?  Why will my children only pick up after I scream and get out the spanking spatula?  Why do I like to blog so much that I stay up until all hours of the night instead of sleeping?  Why am I full of mixed emotions about the fact that I'm a stay-at-home-mom who doesn't spend enough time with my kids? Why do I love icing so much?  Why won't the ants in my kitchen go away?  Why do I miss hanging out with my husband even though we live in the same house?  Why do I still have no idea how to work my camera after more than a year?  Why are my calves too big for tall boots?  Why don't I have any idea what "True Blood" is?  Why does fingernail polish take so long to dry?  What is the weird yellow coaggulate substance all over the back seat of my truck?  Why don't I go to the dentist like I'm supposed to?  Why do I feel some sort of uncontrollable need to post all of my worst flaws on the internet for the entire world to see?

    If you know the answer to these or any other ridiculous questions, will you please clue me in?  I need to know how you're doing it all.  And if you are not actually doing it all, it wouldn't hurt to let me know that either please.  It makes me feel better about myself to hear of others' failures.  And also, could someone please remind me that my children are small and it will not always be like this?  Remind me that one day they will grow up and I will find myself wandering, "Why do I have nothing to do anymore?  And what am I doing with my life for pete's sake?!". 

Thanks a million.
Cassie (a usually proud and happy disaster who seems to be having an introspective week)
    At first I thought that I would start this blog and seven or eight people would read it.  Turns out there are a few more than that (My biggest day so far has been 404.  Talk about an egomaniacal episode.  Aaron was sick of me that night)  And while I'm sure I have met four hundred people in my life, I'm pretty sure they are not all reading this blog, which means that there are many of you reading who have not actually had the um..... pleasure of meeting me in person.  So I decided that tonight I would give you all a look into the real me.  A glimpse of what lies beneath (beneath the jarred cheese dip and double stuffed oreos that is) to my true self, my inner psyche.  Be scared.  Be very afraid. 

I kid.

    I'm really not telling you anything that deep at all.  But I came home wanting to get on here and feel sorry for myself because my husband got roped into working 14 hours today with no lunch break and had to miss the boys' last baseball game, at which Destruct-o-girl acted awful and caused me to almost cry in front of Jesus and everybody.  But then, after careful consideration, I decided that I might feel better if I just get over it.  I know a lot of people with a lot worse than that going on right now, and tonight I feel emotionally equipped to just get over it.  Plus I can only go on about that kind of stuff for so long on here before ya'll are sick of it.  So there.  Done with it.  Consider this to be "it".  And I am over here.  Over it.  So now, back to the earth shattering details of what make me, welp, me.

1.  I love double stuffed oreos. (I also look like a double stuffed oreo, but that is another topic for another day), but I only really enjoy eating them after I have removed a chocolate wafer off of one side from two cookies.  Then I squish the two creamy ones together and eat a quadrouple stuffed oreo.  Judge me.  I don't care.

2.  In most ways I am so happy with my life.  Pretty much mostly perfect husband, healthy children, full life, Christian family and home, and a smattering of lovely followers on my blog :-)  But sometimes I just feel like I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing.  Does that make any sense to anyone besides me?  I don't mean like I don't know how to cook or drive or whatever.  I mean that one day my children are all going to be in school and then eventually grow up and leave me (I die every time I think of it), and I feel like I don't know what I'm supposed to do then.  I have no real career laid out in terms of my education (I didn't go to medical school like my daddy begged me to) and I have no goals or plans or paths set in front of me.  I really feel jealous sometimes of the people who know what it is they are after, even if they don't have it yet.  So what I guess I am trying to say is, I am a girl with no plan for "me" and I would like to have one some day. 

3.  One time, when I was a child, we had a skunk in our oven.  We did not put it in there. 

4.  I am not an animal lover.  I think it's awesome if you are, but I am not.  There are already too many things around here that need to be fed, watered, cleaned up after, and babysat.  I am worn out enough with that and I gave birth to most of those things.  Plus I have a few random, weird, sporadic germ issues and touching something that sheds and just licked it's own anus is one of them. 

5.  WARNING - this one is gross.  I am a picker.  I won't do it on just anyone, but if we are related or are close friends, I would like nothing more than to dig out your splinter or pop your zit or cut out your ingrown tonail.  Sorry.  Told you it was gross.

6.  I have only been to Disney World for one day.  It was MGM Studios at the time, and we did all that we could fit in in those few hours.  Deprived I tell ya'. 

7.  There was a time in my life when I knew very well how to drive a tractor, and I'm pretty sure that with just a few minutes of refresher I could jump right back in there.  One perk of being a farmer's daughter.  Another is all the cool country music songs that you can adopt as your own theme song. (She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy was what all the boys sang for me in college)  (I was skinnier then)

8.  I feel like I am a very creative person.  This is very different, however, from being artistic.  I am devoid of even the smallest of art talent.  You need a good idea, you come to me.  You need a drawing of a stick figure that actually resembles a stick figure - I am not your girl.

9.  I am the oldest (and smartest and best looking and awesomest and coolest) of four children.  They are very lucky to have me tell them exactly how to make every single move of their lives. 

10.  I wish I liked to garden and work in my yard because I actually would like a pretty yard, but alas - I do not.  The thought of pulling weeds makes me want to do anything else.  Even laundry.  My mother-in-law keeps telling me that it comes with age, so here's hoping I get better at it over the next few birthdays.

11.  And speaking of laundry, no matter how much I try to avoid it, some of my laundry still smells a little mildewy.  I try not to forget it in the washer but I totally do sometimes.  Plus, I'm blaming my front loading washer too.  Anyone else have that problem?  I really think it does get mildewy faster in there than in my old, sad, washer-you-get-when-you-first-get-married one.

12.  I know nothing - I repeat - nothing about makeup and hair.  I seriously have one look.  For eve.ry.thing.  People try to help me.  To teach me things.  It's no use.  I will forever be that sad girl who looks the same at the ballpark and at church and on dates and at parties and in Walmart.

13.  I think my husband is the cat's meow.  (have I mentioned that before?  I can't remember.)

And since I am in no way superstitious, I have no trouble ending on number thirteen.  The end