I SWEAR I AM REALLY LOSING MY MIND. I’ve been bitten by the holiday bug and I wanted to actually make stuff. Last year, it was ornaments, bags of popcorn mix, and chocolate covered pretzels. This year, it was many things. Scarves. Cookies. More Scarves.

First up is the oatmeal/chocolate chip/M&M cookies Ashley and I made for everyone.

Best parts of making these were:

• Niel (Ashley’s husband) asking if we’d made them already. We hadn’t, but to all recipients, I promise I’ve made them now, they are edible, and what’s more, they taste GOOD.

• Niel wondering if we cut up his shirt to make the lid toppers. Why yes, sorry to whoever got the sweat patches! Really, no T-Shirts were harmed in the making of these treats.

• Aspen coming in and looking at the bowl of M&M’s and declaring “Yummmm” with such longing, that we had to give her some. Which she ate with her back to the door. I could almost hear her thinking, my preciouses….

Now on to the sweaters. Not much story here. Just knit, knit knit until my hands want to fall off and run away like the hand from the Adams Family.

Now my nieces will be warm, and bellies all over Utah County will be full of sugar thanks to me. I just worry what crazy craft I’ll come up with next year!

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BECAUSE I KNOW YOU WILL ASK, no, I am not done posting about Christmas. Not even close. Maybe in two or three posts I will have exhausted my efforts, give up and start posting about the size of my pants. Maybe. Maybe not.

So here’s the run down. Eddie. Eight-year-old Boston Bull Terrier.

Eight-year-old little you-know-what that torments us with staring at the ceiling lights, farting on people, barking to no end, and just being crazy in general. So imagine, you add Eddie with people, Christmas music, lights (oh no, the lights!) and a ton of presents. . .and here is what you get.

WHAT IS THE BEST PART ABOUT CHRISTMAS? I thought to myself on Christmas Eve. Awaiting me at my parents house was a pork chop dinner, with mashed potatoes and a tall one – of milk that is. We had a night of viewing The Grinch (which is so much better on that night than any other time of the year) while the snow is gently twirling down on us outside.

So what is the most important part of it all? Is it the magical feeling that you get? The fact that everyone gets along for one night in the year? Waiting to see what Santa threw down your chimney this year? Or the feeling of timelessness as the powder drifts lazily from the sky? Maybe it’s time off work so you can spend quality time with family? Can it be the look on their face when you give the perfect gift?

I think it’s a combination of everything. Nothing is more important than family. So from my family to yours, here is a photo journal of our little Christmas.

Christmas Eve:

My parents tree. Forgive the blurriness. I don’t have a good excuse for it.

Some gifties for the good girls (no boys in this family other than Dad).

Probably my favorite decoration of my moms is this light up deer.

And. . . a closeup of the best foil wrapping paper ever.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a great night!

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DEAR INTERNET, I HAVE COME TO INFORM YOU that after this post, you’re way of viewing me and my life will drastically change.

Forever.

And no, Vanity Vain is not a post even related to Danity Kane (even though my name is Aubrey. The girl in the band isn’t worthy of the name).

It’s not that I like making a fool of myself, or that I want to post scary pictures just for the fun of it. Besides, Halloween was two months ago. The reason I’m posting these godawful pictures is so everyone can know the painstaking processes that us girls go to just to get the look we want. And no, it’s not pretty. This is going to be a step-by-step picture documentary of how I do my hair.

DUE TO THE UNATTRACTIVE NATURE OF THESE PICTURES, VIEWER WARNING IS ADVISED.

First picture starts off after my shower. I put a gob of gel in my hair and put it up like this:

Then I get dressed, watch some TV, eat some cereal and come back to the bathroom. I take my hair out, and flip my head completely upside down. After a few Beavis and Butthead-like head bangs, I’m ready for the blow dryer. When I’m done, here is what that little beauty does (before I’ve even tweaked it):

Someone, get that girl a hair brush and a straight jacket, STAT!

Thankfully, I’m not quite done. Now I have to spray my bangs back:

Is it just me, or do I completely look like Cruella De Vil right there? I even have the white highlight. Go Disney!

Next step is to pin hair up in the middle, add makeup, and take about fifty more pictures just to make sure it looks good:

Overall look

Closeup of the makeup

Finally, we’re at the last step. Add jewels, more hairspray, glasses, and another spray of Suave just to be sure:

I’m done, but wondering why I’m not looking directly at the camera in the last picture.

There you have it my folks. The completely unglamorous. I, AubreyMo, have posted the impossible. I’ve posted pictures of myself that were completely and utterly shocking. Now, to be fair, some shots I just can’t take by myself. Like one where my head is upside down with a ten pound blow dryer attached to it by little poky things. Or the one where I think I have to have my mouth open to apply mascara. But let this be a lesson to everyone. If your girl isn’t looking at her best, just wait!

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IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING RIGHT NOW. Correction, make that two-thirty. Why, oh why am I still up, playing on my macbook and surfing the web? Well, I’m glad you asked. My new room mate is making it rather hard to sleep. So instead, I’ll recount what I’ve done for the day.

Tasks:
Manage to live through the drive home – check.
Pick up indoor rabbit cage – check
Clean cage – check
Add one adorable, floppy eared goofball of fur to the cage – check
Shovel driveway, do dishes, wash laundry, wrap presents, shop for more presents and wrap them? Um, can I get a rain check? Those are still a work in progress.

Here’s.

The.

Deal.

Rabbits make for noisy, messy room mates. I took pictures of the cleaning/cage setting up process. I should’ve taken one just five minutes after I had it all done pretty and he’d messed it all up.

Take neat picture of cleaning the cage.

Photo of me dreading to finish cleaning the said cage.

Add bedding. Run hands through it for a half hour for its cheap, relaxing quality.

Top it all off with water bottle, food, hay, litter pan with Kitty Litter
(that he neglects to actually USE)

Add Houdini to the cage. Hope he doesn’t escape! No that’s not really how he got his name. That’s a completely different story.

And now to top it all off. . .take the freakiest picture of an eye I’ve ever seen.

Houdini, I know you don’t read, but please understand at least this: I could have left you out in the frigid cold all winter, with me only making trips to feed your insatiable hunger, and break the ice out of your water day in and day out. It would have snowed. And since you tend to use your BED as your litter box, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been very comfortable.

And to be honest right now, having you outside doesn’t sound half bad again, since I’ve been listening to you digging out all your precious litter I carefully arranged. Give it another twenty minutes and you’ll get bored with that, and move to chewing the bars like a madman trying to break out of a top security prison. I’m sure I’ll move your cage around the house at least five times, trying to find a spot where I can’t hear you jumping about.

But noooooo . . .despite the fact that you have a double coat of fur, regardless of the fact that you beat Bigfoot when it comes to how much fur-per-square-inch you have on the bottom of your feet, and ignorant to the history books that tell me your ancestors have lived, do live, and will continue living outside, MY NURTURING INSTINCTS MADE ME HAVE TO BRING YOU IN. Dang rabbit, you better love me, that’s all I gotta say!

Animal & Pet Information

THIS IS THE ADORABLE LITTLE GREMLIN we call Aspen. She’s an awesome niece to have, if you can’t tell from her confident posing (and no, you can’t have her).

One of this punks first words was “bird”. Its all the rave nowadays apparently, as she always makes her mother Ashley run her outside to see the local magpies, finches and the occasional sparrow.  So I got to thinking . . . it would be neat to introduce her to my two parakeets, Rico and Pip.

Everyone listen up, if you want a recipe for tears, gently coax a child to stick out their arm, and promptly place a Killer Bird on them.

We took documentary footage of this event. After we got the same results, we thought we’d just post it and see what you think. Remember: Baby+bird-on-arm=scary.

Oh and message to Aspen -  that was the fakest cry I have ever heard you utter in your year long life! In fact, it was so fake, it reminded me of Charlie Bit Me.

I TOOK THE DAY OFF OF WORK TODAY. Whether it was the dizziness as I stepped out of the shower, the growling, lurching sound of my empty stomach as it considered spilling green acidic fluid everywhere, or the ear aches that convinced me to stay, I’m still not sure.

I am sure, however, that I am not someone that enjoys staying home. Here is my reasons why I’d rather go to work (please forgive my crazy reasoning. I have a fever of a hundred and fifty degrees right now it seems, and my brain doesn’t function properly while fully cooked).

(Apparently Eddie thinks he needs the day off)

1. It pays. Ok this one is obvious, but I’d rather feel productive, and I’m certainly not earning any money sitting on my rear.
2. Social Interaction. After eight hours listening only to the voices in my head and the drama on TV, I am convinced that Suri Cruise must have a real tough life at age four, the Kardashians cannot act no matter what amount of training classes, and E news makes even the most boring celeb life (I’m looking at you, Billy Ray) look like the most fascinating thing us humans have seen since the invention of sliced cheese.
3. No guilt. I hate taking work off. Feel bad each time, like I’m the worlds worst worker and all fingers are pointing at me. Me me me. That’s all I think about when I’m sick. At work, you focus on other tasks, other to-dos and other people. Selflessness is one of my major goals in life.  I will never reach it with counteractive selfishness.
4. Tasks. Things to do, that I can accomplish. When you’re sick, you’re stuck like a turtle on its back, helpless to do anything. I’ve been trapped in my own head and body all day (again, with the focused on me). Nothing that I can do that doesn’t require a massive amount of energy.
5. Food. When you’re on a lunch break, the world is your buffet. I have about twenty different fast food places around my work. Right now, food is a foreign word that only induces the green monster in my stomach to gurgle, reminding me why I haven’t eaten.
6. Normalicy. I’ll never take for granted the fact that work will be the same tomorrow as it was today. Stability is a nice reprieve after the roller coaster of sensations one gets from being ill. I feel like I’m playing a part in the Katy Perry song “Hot and Cold”.
7. End of the day. When you end a day at work, you walk out ready to have a great evening. Hopefully you feel good with the work you have done. When you’re done with a day of being sick what is there? Nothing. Not a dang thing. The only thing you’ve done is wasted a whole day because you were sick. . .and there is no guarantee that you won’t be sick tomorrow.
8. Being sick is boring. This one is self explanatory. If it isn’t, go find the nearest coughing mucus bag and ask them to shake your hand.

To begin with, this was supposed to be a list of ten. I guess one more we can unofficially add is the lack of focus. Now, please forgive me for stepping away from the computer and curling up in a little ball. Don’t judge me – what comes around, goes around *coughs*.

Happy Karma to you too!

And I’m sure that because of that last remark, I’ll be sick all week.

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IT’S THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN. The one where you dust off the boxes of ornaments, untangle the lights and tackle putting up a tree and your Christmas cheer. The time where you put the holiday music on repeat, cozy up by the fire with a mug of cocoa in one hand, and your lovers hand in the other.

The time where you realize Christmas is more than just magic and is actually a lot of work.

• Learning how to put together a whole Christmas tree

• Putting on the ornaments just right (Mom, I apologize for never helping for more than 20 minutes. Now I see just how big of a chore it really is!)

• Decorating and figuring out where things should go

• Putting a bow on the door – still a work in progress. Blame the tape that just won’t stick.

• Learning how NOT to drive with a tree on my car.

Wait, what?! You heard right. How NOT TO DRIVE WITH A FULL SIZED, 6 FOOT GREEN MONSTER STRAPPED TO THE ROOF OF YOUR MOVING VEHICLE.

Now, let me backtrack. The tree you see in the picture is fake. The one that fell to its doom was real. My friends Marci, Margo and I went to get a tree. Marci is doing an awesome thing right now and decorating her brothers house so it will be holiday ready when he moves in. Since my car has taken multiple beatings from weather, age and a few car accidents, I offered to move the tree. After we went and picked out the lil beauty, we run into problem number one.

The lovely, helpful guys at the department store strapped our tree down perfectly. Wouldn’t budge an inch. . .and neither would our doors! Imagine, five people strapping a tree on top of my car (ok, only two people doing the work, the other three of us were supervising while freezing to death), and out of those five, no one realized they had tied my car doors shut! We didn’t want to climb in the windows, so they redid their wrap job. Mistake number two we believe, is this wrap job.

It failed.

An awful ‘twang‘ from the ropes announced the tree’s wild plunge off the top of my car. Multiple things happened at once. Time stopped. Car stopped. Hearts stopped. Three voices rang out with a collected and disjointed, “OOHH!!”.

I swore.

Tree bounced happily into the middle of the road in my rear view mirror. Last thing I hear is one of the girls asking, “Can we even stop right here?!” and I’m out the door, heedless of traffic as I run into the middle of the street. Adrenaline rushed as I picked up the tree, and ran it safely to the curb. Later on, I couldn’t lift it by myself again. Adrenaline is a funny thing.

Now we had a dilemma. No way to re-strap the tree down, its snowing and cold, and we’re right next to a busy street. Then the cowgirl side of me kicks in. I remember the horse halter I’ve had sitting in my car for a year. The one my sister gave to me as a graduation gift. The one I almost put away, but decided last second to leave it be.

Turns out, horse halters will ALWAYS be handy. Nothing breaks a halter. And nothing ties a tree down in a trunk better than one! And that, my dears, is the tale of how a simple horse rope saved the day.

(No trees were permanently hurt in the making of this tale).

TO ALL THOSE PEOPLE who already knew all of this. . .

Please excuse this post.

Here is a quick run down of my life. I’m nineteen (and a half). Five-foot-four (and a half). Blue eyes, brown hair and a definite true South Paw. I have plenty of pets, which we’ll get to later on. I have three awesome sisters and some pretty neat parents. I live in my own apartment, which is nice until I think of all the monsters that could be hiding under my bed. I always check the back seat of my car for murderers. Seriously.

I’m a member of PAA Pet Addicts Anonymous or Picture Addicts Anonymous. Up until now, my family are the only ones that have been haggard with my “look what i took!” pride of my work. Now I will terrorize you with the very same. You’re thrilled, I can tell.

I love drawing, reading, going for walks and cloudy skies. The thing I collect the most of is pets. My favorite color is blue, and combined with brown it is the loveliest thing.

I also love that this post is starting to sound like a dating advertisement. Awesome.

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TODAY IS THE DAY that I blog.

It’s been a long time coming. I’m sitting on my couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table, and I’m hoping that as my blog develops you, my reader, will be able to read my words comfortably and relax. At times, I wonder what you’ll think of me…of my opinions and views, achievements and failures, and of my life through my own eyes. Part of me wonders if you will care…

…and part of me wonders if I will care.

I’ve heard blogging can be a very mean, unforgiving place. One where comments can make or break your day. One where people either blog too little, or blogging consumes them. For me, I don’t want it to be any of those things. I want my blog to be a place of happiness. I want to share with everyone things that I think are funny or touching. I refuse to be the blogger that always apologizes for not blogging, or just use my blog to vent (that’s what moms are for).

So please, feel free to comment. I don’t think it needs further explaining…so without further ado, I give you

AubreyMo.com.