Postcards From Oblivion

First, I have to toot my own horn, because I don’t think I took the time to do so yet. I crafted something just for YOU, my wonderful reader. It’s for your blog–just down there to the right of this post. Ah madez mah own button! If you know anything about my level of technical (in)ability, you might just break into song upon seeing it. Anyhoo, if you’re so inclined, feel free to grab mah button to put anywhere that rings your bell. And thanks!

Now… on to serious matters, such as lunch prep:

I finally sat down last night to work on my kiddie’s class valentines (because I can’t NOT make some adorable paper craft with a goodie tucked inside). I’d been putting off making them, knowing I would be attending a scrapbooking event yesterday. You know, where I’d have several consecutive uninterrupted hours to create several hundred works of art.

Yeah. That didn’t happen. I did create some really cute stuff that the hostess had planned for us, and I also got the kids’ teachers candy holders done:

Just not the valentines.

I’ll bet at this point you’re also wondering what the flippity flop this has to do with romantic movies.

Practically the official image for romantic movie

I parked myself in front of the boob tube last night so I could get down to some serious crafty magic, and a new favorite romcom was on–The Proposal. I was a bit torn, because I knew I’d finish up my project before the movie was over. So what if it’s on Netflix streaming and I can watch it anytime day or night as the mood strikes. It was on now, and I didn’t want to miss a minute of it.

Turns out I didn’t have to. Two and a half hours later (oh, hai, 1:15 a.m.) I finally gave up on finished The Girly’s valentines. I got them all ready to transport in the morning. I really enjoyed the movie, though. It was the second time I’d seen it, and I suspect it will now be added to the list of movies I must watch every time they’re on TV.

Which brings me to the romantic favorites. In honor of Valentine’s Day tomorrow, I thought I’d list a  few of my faves (you may have seen them here before), and I’m hoping you’ll list a few of your faves in the comments section. Maybe we’ll all hear of some we didn’t know about.

A few of my faves:

• Pride and Prejudice (obviously)
• The Notebook (have your tissues at the ready)
• Love Actually
• Much Ado About Nothing (romance, comedy, and no-good scallywags)
• Must Love Dogs (Must also love John Cusack)
• Serendipity (Must love even more John Cusack)
• The Proposal (I’d totally watch it again if it came on tonight)
• Never Been Kissed (I’m not Josie Grossie anymore!)
• Kate & Leopold (How could you not love Hugh Jackman? Or as I like to call him– Huge Jacked Man)
• Someone Like You (I’m on a Hugh kick now. Also, since I usually include a clip or trailer, why not use one that includes a scantily clad Huge Jacked Man?)

I know I’m forgetting a ton of good ones. Help me out in the comments! C’mon out lurkers. We want to hear from you, too!

My credit card finally stopped smoking after so much use over the holidays, so I’ve started venturing out again for a some retail excursions. Lots of looking with a little less buying. This keeps my credit card from getting all twitchy. I may return home with empty arms, but these trips are never short on material for this series.

She’s a seamstress, she’s a stage beauty; this girl does it all:

*Hoorish Toddlers and Tiaras makeup sold separately.

Um, that’s a little too much nature for this nature lover:

I think I may have upchucked a little just now.

What the what? I haven’t been this grossed out over spider eggs since the big Bubble Yum/spider eggs hoax of  1975.

This is just wrong on so many levels.

Does cashmere have an appealing smell I don’t know about? Because the only time I’ve smelled it is after it’s been washed and it’s air drying. It’s nothing I’d want to have wafting through my house:

They should just rename this one "wet dog."

Mr. Wombat was pretty disappointed that I only came home with a picture of this and not the real deal:

The awesome gauge on this toy goes to 11.

I have no idea where these are made or how to say them, but they look like s’mores meets hostess snowballs, and I must have them:

It would be a huge bonus if you get to make your own faces on these.

Dear Target, I’m guessing I wasn’t the only childish adult shopper who was disappointed that something so fun looking wasn’t so fun after all:

"Yay! A fun ball I can kic--ouch!"

I found this at a medical office. Read the line below “hand soap:”

I think we've gotten a little disclaimer crazy, folks.

Aw, look at all the great baby gifts we got, honey! A baby laptop, a wee little flat screen, and a baby Smartphone so she can text while she’s nursing!

Text me in my crib, yo! No, I mean my actual crib!

My new favorite line of hand sanitizers:

I used to be friends with this man. Wait--that's every man!

For those moments when you’re sifting through clearance items and you discover one of them is wet. Or feeling that soft baby blanket on display only to discover that is also wet:

You can say that again, sister.

You may need to grab a handful of these to pass out at work to Typhoid Mary and crew:

You know who you are. Pack up your hack and hit the road.

Happy shopping!

A while back, someone mentioned they were watching the movie Mr. Mom, and it reminded me of another movie starring Michael Keaton that always amused me–Multiplicity. It’s several incarnations of Michael Keatons, actually. If you haven’t already seen it, Multiplicity is a story about a construction worker who finds it difficult to keep up with all the facets of his life. A geneticist ends up cloning him, so the extra versions of himself can lend a hand and lighten his load a little.

The always charming Andie McDowell plays his wife, who isn’t really sure what’s going on with him from one minute to the next. You’ve never seen multiple personalities quite like this before:

Last night while I was attending my very first PTA meeting (I know–I never pictured myself at one either), Mr. Wombat was perusing the latest People at the kitchen table while the kids chattered away over dessert. They were discussing how you can tell if a woman is married by her name (Miss vs. Mrs.), but you can’t tell whether a man is married by his name, because he’s referred to as “Mr.” in either case.

An engaging discussion, yes?

My understanding of the conversation that followed went something like this:

Mister Man: Well, I thought Mr. W. was married, but I just found out his isn’t. He has a Beyoncé.

[Mr. Wombat abruptly disengages from his People crossword]

Mr. Wombat: Mr. W. has a what?

Mister Man: A Beyoncé.

Mr. Wombat:  Beyoncé?!

Mister Man: Beyoncé.

Mr. Wombat: ??

Mister Man: He’s going to marry his Beyoncé!

Mr. Wombat: Oh! You mean fiancé! It’s fiancé. Not Beyoncé. It’s a French word. Beyoncé’s a person.

In the boy’s defense, it does rhyme, and Jay-Z did put a ring on it:

Sure it does. Much like the thank you note I’m going to send out to my girlfriend today for the Christmas gift she gave me. We did celebrate Christmas late, so it seems like it should be okay to be a wee bit late on the thank you. I figure better late than never.

I’m more than a wee bit late on this, though. Missy over at Literal Mom was gracious enough to pass along an award to me in LATE DECEMBER, and I’m just now getting around to responding to it. truth be told, it was so long ago that I only remembered it because my blog buddy, Bonnie, posted about an award she received, and it tickled my memory feelers. By the way, if you want to read a hilarious story about a dead cat in a freezer, Bonnie’s your blogger.

Here’s the award  the wonderful Missy bestowed upon me *ahem* in December: