For the last couple of months, Thing 2 has been bringing home issues of the newspaper that he has been publishing in his spare time (aka when he's supposed to be working at school). It's called The Newspaper News. We love The Newspaper News. I had no idea there were so many scams going on in our neighborhood! I scanned a few of my favorite issues for your viewing pleasure. I have my attempts at the translation underneath, but I warn you that my second grade is a little rusty.
Newspaper
A person is getting money for the poor, but she is actually stealing the money, and the old beggar spent it all on one pair of jeans which is mean!
Newspaper
A man is stealing rubies. He is wearing black stripes and white stripes. He has black thin rubber gloves, and he has a big, big bag.
Newspaper
A man in black is robbing old people. He has stolen 9,000 dollars. He has a big brown bag. He has a knight that is double bladed (I'm thinking he means a sword. I'm sure double bladed knights are hard to come by). He has escaped from jail. He has clothes that are black and white.
I love playing with my kids. I'm not just saying that - I really do! But in the last few months, Thing 3 has turned into a game junkie. Board games, cards games, whatever. He is constantly trying to get his fix, and he'll play with anyone - he's not picky. He's a good sport, win or lose, although more often than not he wins. He's great at Yahtzee, and he smoked everyone the last time we played Monopoly (with him exclaiming "I love money!" and "I love this game!" the whole time). I play games with him every day, but it never seems to be enough to satisfy him. Unfortunately, I can't play Uno and go fish every waking minute, so in desperation, I taught my four year old how to play 4 card solitare. What does this say about me as a mother? 
This is why I haven't been blogging. Normally I don't have an excuse, but I have had one for the last couple of months. I'm starting a fitness program in my stake: We're celebrating the Mormon pioneers by "exercising" our way from Nauvoo, Illinois to Salt Lake City, Utah, the 1300 miles that the pioneers walked. Every 30 minutes of exercise equals 5 miles on the trail, and if you exercise 150 minutes a week (recommended by the American Heart Association), after 52 weeks you'll hit 1300 miles. My dear friend Diana put together the chart you see above, and my lovely friend Jen helped me with the blog for it: pioneerfitness.blogspot.com (It's a private blog, so let me know if you want to view it and I'll send you an invitation). The challenge is from February 1, 2010 to January 31, 2011. I just wanted to put this out there in case any of you are interested in taking on the challenge. I don't know about you, but I'm always in the need for a little motivation when it comes to exercise!
At Christmastime, I usually try to focus on giving, but this year I can't stop thinking about the blessings that we have, especially the blessing of friendship. I have been overcome with the thoughtfulness of our friends this year. Some good friends of ours invited us over and went out of their way to cook us a gluten free, vegetarian meal. This year we have had an outpouring of caroling and goodies (Including some gluten free!). And the Christmas cards, so many of them hand written, have brought us so much joy. I usually try to reciprocate, but this year it's beyond my capabilities. I feel like George Bailey at the end of It's a Wonderful Life, surrounded by all his friends who love him, with everyone singing Christmas carols. "Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan!" Thank you, dear friends. I wish you all peace and happiness this Christmas.
My lovely friend Shama has great talents when it comes to photography. She took some pictures of us on a freezing cold day in November. I think anyone that can get us to relax somewhat in front of a camera is truly gifted; usually we all look like we're being tortured. Go to Shama's blog to see more pictures. Thanks, Shama!
For about the last year I've been bragging about something, and now it's coming back to bite me. I was at a doctor's appointment, getting my blood drawn, when the lab tech saw my wedding ring and said, "Oh my goodness! You're married? I thought you were in high school!" I would have hugged her if I didn't have a needle stuck in my arm at the time. She didn't make my day, she made my year.
It all came crashing down yesterday, when I was Christmas shopping at the mall. I was at the register buying something for Sparky, some articles of clothing clearly for an adult man, and I had this conversation:
Perky just-out-of-high-school cashier: "Oh, cool. Are these for your son?"
Me, full of calm and patience: "Um... no... They're for my husband."
*Awkward silence*
Cashier: "Debit or credit?"
I wanted to either slap her or lecture her (Listen, if you're going to work in retail...). Of course I have no backbone and did neither, just pasted a smile on my face and got the heck out of Dodge. I've decided that the two experiences cancel each other out, so now I'm just left with me, being dragged kicking and screaming into middle age.
