Caroling the Pickett Way

This time of year always conjures up memories of my dad singing.

For those of you who aren't lucky enough to have heard my dad sing, he has an amazing voice. It's deep, pure, and full of emotion. He has just enough vibrato to be beautiful but not so much that you want to plug your ears.  In fact, one of my favorite things to do in this world is listen to him sing.
The thing is, he not only has a great voice but he has a pretty great sense of humor while he sings. Sometimes we'll sit in church and he'll sing every verse of a hymn in a different accent. And sometimes... he'll sing his very own versions of Christmas songs.

Energy waster.

Here are a couple of my favorites.
Silver Bells: City sidewalks, sh!tty sidewalks... Chorus: Ring-a-Ling, you Ding-a-Ling.
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer had a very shiny schnoz.

He also had his songs that were off limits. Twelve Days of Christmas, for example, made him get those crazy eyes that scared the crap out of any living creature within 5 miles.

Then, there was Far Far Away(in Spanish, of course). That is my family's song. We'd sing it in June or December with the same amount of gusto. He'd kind of lead us (on purpose or was his hand moving involuntarily?) to sing the last part in staccato.  "Peace on earth good will toward men," then we'd hit the last line with everything we had while Dad sang the bass line. Awesome. I know my family wasn't perfect but I want my kids to have the kind of memories that I had growing up. Memories like these.

Pinterest

Like most women, I have a love/hate relationship with Pinterest. I love the ideas people post, but I hate that it makes me feel bad that I'm not a cool mom like so many mommy-bloggers out there. Yes, I'm an acceptable parental figure, but I don't hand-sew all my kids' clothes to look like designer stuff or make themed lunches (unless PBJ is a theme) or even take them individually wrapped hand dipped crafty gifts for their classmates for Arbor Day.
Another thing I love about Pinterest are the recipes. I have a food blog and love all things food. I've made many successful recipes from Pinterest and even pinned some of my own. It's a virtual recipe book and I love it.

On the flip side, one other thing I hate is how Super Cheesy Lard Stuffed Delicious Whatevers and Chocolate Dipped Chocolate Covered Chocolate pins always end up next to my fitness pins. You know, the ones that say things like,

and

Seriously, I don't need that kind of pressure in my life. Therefore, in an effort to preserve my sanity, I have blocked all dessert and bread boards from my Pinterest. Regular foodstuff is still ok, but I can't handle seeing your White Chocolate Peanut Butter No Bakes or Deep Fried Pizza anymore. I swear it makes me gain weight just by looking at the recipes.

Choose the Right (or Left)

Something so great about living here is that I can vote. Since I'm 36, I've basically voted half my life.  It's amazing, isn't it? Last night I sat in my bed and decided who I wanted to be my president, what my definition of marriage is, and whether or not I want charter schools.
I let the girls help me draw the line for the presidential ballot so they can say they voted. I'm glad they got to be part of the process and that they see how important it is to be involved, even on such a small level.
So go. Exercise your right. Then don't be a d-bag about it. Everyone gets to choose for themselves how they want to vote.

Holiday Season

I have to admit it:

I am so excited for Christmas!

I'm one of those people that love the lights, the music, the feeling, and if it weren't for a strict "No Christmas Before Thanksgiving" rule at my house, I'd put up the tree in August or so. I just love it.

Not that I don't love Halloween. It's super fun. I'm awesome at carving pumpkins. Dressing up is almost as fun as dressing up my kids and stealing their snickers bars when they are asleep. I do. I love Halloween.

I just love Christmas more.

I'm a bit of a scrooge when it comes to presents. We do bare minimum presents for the kids and I don't buy little gifts for my friends or my kids' friends. That's not the Christmas I'm talking about. I'm talking about the twinkle lights, the hot cocoa, the Luke 2, the singing songs, the fireplace, the wonder in my kids' eyes... I'm talking about traditional Christmas Eve dinner and new jammies to sleep in and giant breakfast on the 25th even though you aren't hungry. I'm talking about making a tree on the wall with everyone's Christmas cards and showing the kids who is who in our line of loved ones. I'm talking about watching crappy movies and snuggling on the couch with everyone piled on top. I'm talking about random and secret acts of service.

I walked into a store to get a witch cut-out last week and left feeling so excited about Christmas. I'm trying to contain my excitement and keep it in perspective. But mark my words, my tree is going up in 25 days.

Micumán

Elena and I just returned from a lightning-quick trip to Tucumán, Argentina, to visit my folks.

I'm not going to bore you with a travel log. I've been back to Argentina enough times that my "reports" are almost like a broken record... but what I want to blog about is why I like visiting.

Elena was so happy to be with her grandparents!

I loved seeing my parents as missionaries. I swear my dad is a rock star in the area where he's working. The members love him and the missionaries depend on him. My mom is like the district grandma. All the little kids love her and the members respect her. She even GQs the taxi drivers! Awesome!

I love how my male cousins and nephews are such gentlemen. They always walk on the street side of the sidewalk, they always refill my drink for me, they always open the doors for me.  I married a gentleman, but it's only in Argentina where I feel so taken care of by all the men surrounding me.

I love the food! This may go without saying, but I friggin love it.

I love going to the park, the plaza, or anywhere, really, and seeing people drink mate (Argentine tea).

Mateada @ Ciudad Universitaria 

I love my family. They have their problems, that's for sure, but they love just as hard as they fight (and that's saying something!). It's always such an outpouring of hugs and loves and laughs when I visit.  My mom and female aunts/cousins/nieces are so beautiful and such a pillar of strength.

I love the memories. Seeing a certain monument, smelling leather or jasmine, walking on different types of sidewalks, saying your prayers before getting in the car because traffic laws are for suckers, loving the crumbly walls, etc, all bring back specific memories for me. I have a terrible (no, really really terrible) memory, but was surprised by how many times I could say things like, "Aren't we near ____?" or "Isn't this where we used to ____?" We left Argentina when I was a baby, but some things are seared in my soul.

I love telling people I'm Tucumana. I was born there and carry a piece of it in my heart.  Thanks to those who made the trip so special, especially my parents.

Flower House

I've picked up a lot of odd jobs over the years. It helps pay for diapers and helps me get out of the house without going crazy.

One of my favorite jobs has been helping my friend out at her flower shop over holidays. It's fun to see someone pick out something for someone they love. It's fun to swap a flower for a dime when a kid walks in and wants something for their mom but doesn't have any more money. It's fun to watch Paula throw together an arrangement that you'd never think would look good but then all of the sudden it's the prettiest thing you've ever seen.

I also love writing cards for internet orders. Most folks just sign their name, or a simple "I miss you!" or "I love you" or "Happy Mother's Day, Mom!"  Some people say the craziest thing. I recently found a couple of my favorites and decided to share.

These flowers died laughing.

• My dear, Your knight is slaying this beast with the strength that God gives. His will is where I want to be with you. Love, Joey.

Yeah, Joey, that's just weird. 

• To my dearest lady how i long to be back by your side can not be measured, nor contained, for today not but a year ago we severed ties of life standing alone and joined as 1. your loving husband, shane.

I think he means happy anniversary. Or he killed her and drank her blood.

I wish that I had collected more of these gems... but I think you get the picture.

Just keep in mind, next time you order flowers over the internet, someone is reading what you wrote, and it isn't just the intended recipient. 

Pick Chicks

If you are a Pickett Woman, there are certain characteristics and/or qualities which you have. You must be: smart beautiful brave funny and a little bit dorky. If you don't have one of these qualities in your persona, you fake it til you make it. I realize this sounds very self-congratulatory, but it's not my fault. I was raised with a healthy dose of self confidence. I was also raised with a healthy appetite, which led to my not-so-healthy self image, but that's a whole different blog post.

We Pickett women got together the first weekend of August to do a Foam Run. It was brilliant! We weren't the first team in, but we were the best team there. No doubt about it. When we were concerned that we didn't get muddy enough, we steam-rollered in a mud puddle. We cheered each other on. My mom got a big muddy, foamy group hug at the end. Best of all, we crossed the finish line, hand-in-hand, triumphantly. You see, having so many strong, proud and beautiful women in one family may occasionally (ehem) cause problems, we know that in the end, we're in this thing together and we're on the same team.

GO PICK CHICKS!