Me & Goose, 30 Turkeys, Julie Aigner Clark, & WHERE I'M HEADED in 2006

Yep. That about sums up my day.

Do you see that Delicious Diddums, Boo-Snickums, Silly Goat, Goosey Guy right there in the pic with me? Have I ever said before that one day I might eat the cheeks off his face?

Sometimes I want to slap the cheeks off his face (brutal honesty has always been one of my attributes), but mostly I want to just eat him up with some salsa (America's #1 condiment).

Right now I am listening to the Housewives on Prozac's Christmas album. I am neither a housewive nor on Prozac, and mostly I hate all of their songs except for "Eat Your Damn Spaghetti" and "Naughty Santa." Here are the lyrics from the latter, just so you can get an idea ...

It was a quarter after midnight
Late on Christmas Eve
I finished wrapping the presents
And put them under the tree

Well I was getting comfortable
And then what did I see?

I must’ve been mistaken
I must’ve been confused
I saw Santa, slidin’ down the chimney
Wearin’ his underoos.

I left the fire burnin’.
I feel it burnin’ inside.
Well a big fat man
In a cute red suit …
C’mon and take me for a fire ride.

CHORUS
SANTA CLAUS
SANTA CLAUS
Did you come all this way just to give me lovin'?
It's a good thing I got some cookies in the oven.
Santa Claus, thanks a lot for comin'.
Would you like to have

Some

MILK?

Now don’t take Santa for granted
I never will again
He told me things I can’t talk about
Unless the kids are tucked into bed

Well it’s a long way from Who-ville
We’re gonna deck the halls
Take off your hat
Open your sack
Let’s play Jingle Balls.

Repeat Chorus.

I love it.

I mean, playing "jingle balls" with Santa is a little gross, but it's still funny.

ION ... (i.e., TRANSITION?)

If you have kids, you inevitably know about Julie Aigner Clark, founder of the Baby Einstein Company. Well, I checked out an older one of their videos from the library and at the end of it is Julie herself, explaining the thoughts behind the company (the part that doesn't include money. Money. MONEY BABY! Send it in to babyeinstein.com).

She is sitting there with her daughter and there is enough blonde hair to kill a man. Her hair alone could make twenty-five thousand Barbies and her daughter could also contribute to some non-profit doll endeavor funded by Oprah Winfrey for poor children in Africa or something. And they are just sitting there reading a story about sunflowers and there is Bach playing in the background and some impressionist paintings flashing on and off the screen among National Geographic video clips of the savannas in Africa and a croton plant beside their rocking chair and y'all: Julie probably has One Zillion Dollars in her pocket just from making some cheap videos of toys and playing the 2nd movement Dvorak's New World Symphony while giraffes lick each other.

In the credits of the video it reads, "Puppeteers: Julie Aigner Clark & John Jones."

WHY CAN I NOT BE THAT INGENIOUS? ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS PLAY SOME CLASSICAL MUSIC AND STICK YOUR HAND UP A PUPPET'S ASS TO MAKE ONE ZILLION DOLLARS.

Not that money is everything, of course. It's just that here I am teaching my heart out about grammar and politeness rules in English and there she is sticking her hand up a puppet's ass and making One. Zillion. Dolares. That's Spanish for "dollars," in case you were wondering who has STUDIED IN SPAIN AND ONLY REMEMBERS ENOUGH WORDS TO COUNT ON YOUR HANDS.

ION ...

Earlier today while The Goose was napping, there were 30 (count 'em) THIRTY turkeys in my driveway:

And speaking of white meat ... (WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE ONE OF THOSE SQUEAMISH ANIMAL LOVERS WHO likes the fact that aliens look down on Earth and think DOGS are in charge and who SUPPORTS NO-KILL SHELTERS):

We had to kill one of our chickens. One of them had gone practically bald and was prancing around BACKWARDS while grinding her beak into the ground, and so Husband shot her with a shotgun. She died honorably in the backyard, while her sisters watched. Yes, I know. I did tear up when I heard that part.

But y'all: WE DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH MONEY (or time) TO TAKE A DAMN CHICKEN TO THE VET.

So now we need a couple more to keep the others' company. We never should've had an odd number of them anyway. They peck on each other and really, even numbers are better when it comes to chickens (although NOT when it comes to other things).

ION ...

I am wrapping up the semester and am getting ready to start a new job. It's at the a school where one of the co-owners was once fired from a local private college for sexual harrassment, but HEY, it's gotta be better than working THREE NIGHTS a week teaching really sweet and respectful refugees, most of whom fled Kurdistan after Saddam Hussein dropped chemical bombs on their friends and family, right?

Right.

So I'll be working five days a week from 10 a.m. to 12 noon p.m. and The Goose will start going to "school" two days a week. On the other days The Dad will watch him and lord help us all. I am about to gain a comrade in this parenting business.

I am still planning to teach one night a week at the CC with the refugees just so that I can be near some Sudanese Lost Boys, whom I would totally invite to LIVE WITH US (all of them) if I ever went to teach class after a few toddies.

ION ...

I like that "Jesus, Take the Wheel" song and I am thinking about getting out my guitar as a New Year's Resolution. This is mostly stemming from the fact that I think I could've done a much better job as June Carter Cash in Walk the Line than Reese Witherspoon (don't get me wrong, I love me some Reese -- especially in Legally Blonde). I mean, I can say, "Quit clutchin' on me" and sing "JACKSON" with just as much cutesy tutesy as her and I am a natural brunette anyways. And plus, when we lived here in Nashvegas the first time (pre-grad-school-in-the-wild-west days) I took guitar lessons from the same man who taught Johnny Cash's son to play. So there. Hopefully that teacher has some openings for 2006, since getting back into MUSIC is one of my NYRs.

ION ...

This is what The Goose came home from school with this week:

And up to now I have refused to take him to get professional photos, but y'all, that greasy, cheesy man who snapped these little gems is now right up there with The Buddha, in my mind. I don't care that they're posed. I don't care that that all those presents are fake or that the little girl in line in front of us (who was in the throws of Terrible Twoness and was REFUSING ADAMANTLY to smile and stand sweetly by her 7-week-old-baby-brother-wannabe-Jesus (in a fake manger writhing around with fake hay and all)) made a huge scene while her mother and the photographer crooned, "KISS BABY JESUS!"

That LITTLE BOY in those pictures is MINE and I will spend all of our Saved and Reserved Money for Emergencies (such as ALL FOUR NEW TIRES ON SUSIE Q SUBARU) on copies of these photos because they stole my heart and put it in the witness protection program somewhere in the Australian outback.

I love that he has on that striped sweater and that a wrapped-up empty box is balancing precariously on his knee. I love the fontina background and I even love the "Cherish life's every moment" quote.

Forgive me. It's the last few weeks of 2005 and I am a proud mom. Let's see ... what else am I?

I am hungry a lot (albeit psychological).

I am trying to just live life fully. It's harder than just saying that you are trying to live life as best you can. It really is just about taking battles one at a time and, for me, doing yoga and hiking.

I am about to be an aunt (in May of 2006).

I am trying to get over the fact that the best person in my extended family is gone.

I am not the person who is typing.

I am the silent one inside.

I am ...