January was Dadgum Awesomely Rad. Shoot!

I know you are all clamoring to wish me happy anniversary as it has been one glorious year today that I started this here blog. I can't wait 'til the mailman shows up with all the presents I'm sure you sent. Oh, I kid. A card will be fine.

So January is practically over. I know I said in my last post I wasn't going to share my theme word for the year of 2009 (because surprise...there isn't one). BUT today you are in for a treat because I am going to share my looking back word for the month of January. Thinking back over the month and all that was or was not accomplished a pattern definitely emerged. And that word is whitetrashification. I will now demonstrate our grand whitetrashification through both picture and word.

The first example of our whitetrashification is our attempt to put Hank in his big boy bed.



Here's how Hank feels about it:

Either he's not thrilled, or there's an Elvis convention in town...the jury's still out.

Apparently it isn't going so well. He sleeps alright at night, it's napping that's a struggle. He just gets out and plays. So I put him back in his bed. Then I eat some doritos. Then I hear him playing. So I put him in bed, eat some doritos, hear him playing; it's a vicious cycle. And I'm running out of doritos. We may have to address the issue. Also, it's taking it's toll on the kids. They now fall asleep while I make dinner, or while they watch a movie, or pretty much anytime. Maybe we aren't so much hicks as elderly?

Good thing Lindy can clutch on to those dirty socks for comfort while she naps. Because nothin' says "sleep tight" like some dirty socks.

Another fine example of our newly established redneckedness is a fascination with facial hair.

Sweet goatee, Lindy!

And it's obviously no big deal to eat with your foot on the bar, I mean come on, who hasn't done that?

But it may be going a little too far to paint yourself a rockin' handlebar 'stache with your ketchup while sportin' a bib that says, "tough guy."

You may have thought to yourself when I began the post that whitetrashification is not a real word. Well, part of whitetrashification is making up words, but that is beside the point. Because this is a real word. And when you look it up in the dictionary you will see a picture of Hank from, say, the top of this post on his big boy bed with Lindy, and then you will see this image. I call it TRANSFORMATION COMPLETE.

Yes. Moon boots and wife beater. With Billie Idol face. I've.never.been.so.proud.

The New Year, The New You

January. The time of year when everyone is focused on bettering themselves. I have absolutely loved perusing friends' theme words for the year and reading about resolutions. I have found a lot of inspiration from them. I too have chosen a word, but no matter how hard you beg in the comments, I am keeping it a secret. Because that's how I roll. And maybe I haven't chosen a word, just kidding, I have. Just kidding, I haven't. No. I have. Not. But Yes. Seriously.

We had an FHE on goal setting the other week. Everyone set goals and then I threw away the papers a couple of days later. Guess what my goal was? Yes. Tidy the house more, thereby throwing away everyone else's goals. Hazaa! That worked out so well!

There is one in our family, however, who is taking his resolutions to heart. Diesel. Apparently, his goal was to eat healthier. He doesn't speak English, so I am just guessing at this. But it seems pretty obvious. Today I glanced out the window to see Diesel munching an apple. Yes folks, an apple. I took a couple of pictures while I ate my cookies and doritos for lunch.

Diesel: "Hey everybody in the house, look at this awesome red ball I found out here!"


"What is that intoxicating smell? Delicious! And so on track with my new vegetarian lifestyle!"


"Yum. I am the weirdest yet healthiest dog ever."

He ate four.

What? How's that? You would like to know how a bunch of apples ended up in the backyard to be consumed by our vegetarian dog? Oh. Right. Well, it's NOT because we pitch apples at the cats who come to drink Diesel's water (and by AT I mean NEAR, just to scare 'em a little). Because in addition to his vegetarianism, Diesel has, it seems, adopted a complete hippie lifestyle by also pledging to be a peace-lover and no longer chase cats. Instead he has taken a vow to cower, act scared of them, and let them drink his water whilst he meditates on the meaning of life. But that is not why the backyard is peppered with apples. Because we would never do that. Just kidding, we would. But we didn't. Yes we did. Not. Just kidding, we did. No. Yes. Never. ish.

Either way, I think the world would be a little better if we all took a page out of Diesel the Hippie Dog's book. More apples, More love, More meaning of life. (I think I should probably order that in vinyl for my wall, don't you?).