Does this Make Me a Giant Dork?

I am seriously considering buying the  Great American Bestsellers: The Books That Shaped America course from the teaching company.   I wish Haley would have never told me about this website, my wish list just grew...

Dear Santa...

For Christmas this year could you please bring me something that would make it possible for me to look like Sophia Bush?  If you cant work that out could you at least make me as tall as her and give me her arms?  I will be sure to leave you milk and cookies and be a very good girl.

Love,
Cara

You're Hurting the Horsey's Ears

I spent a good part of my weekend up at my parent's house helping my Mom put up Christmas and spending time with my sister and her family since they are in town visiting from California.  As part of the all the Christmas decorations my Mom has a great little Playskool Nativity Set for the boys to play with.  So as soon as we pulled it out Drake, my oldest nephew, wanted me to play with him and I happily obliged.  As we were playing he would ask me questions about each toy and I would explain how each one fit into the Christmas story.  One we got  Baby Jesus he asked what he was sleeping in and  I responded with "it's a manger, like in the song"  and then proceeded to sing "Away in a Manger."  Drake had the little toy horse in his hands, he quickly covered the horse's ears and said "Aunt Cara, stop singing you're hurting the horsey's ears"  

Ah there is nothing like a three almost four year old giving it to you straight.  It's a good thing he is so cute, I mean look at that face?

Oh M You are the best...

http://megbd.tumblr.com/post/220353769/for-c-we-can-do-it 

I wish this was my backyard, and my set up for a dinner party.  And while  we are at it, I wish i was a gourmet cook and I was amazing at taking pictures.

Seriously…

I think I may have the worst luck with cars ever.  So I am pulling up to the Junior League building with a wealth of cookbooks in theback of my car that I need to unload.  As I attempt to turn my car off and remove the key the remote portion of my key comes out but not the actual key.  I am standing there going WTF Mate?  Could this day get any worse?  After several attempts to fanigal it out or to have it start my car…I freak out and call my parents.  Because that is what I do….don ‘t judge.  At which point my Dad says “I thought we talked about getting AAA” which I have not done yet because I am lazy.   Of course when he gets there he manages to get it started (you would think that the whole moving it to neutral and back to park would work, but no, it’s locking and unlocking the doors, something I did not think of).  Off to the Nissan Dealership I go, it’s a faulty key.  They get me a new one no harm no foul other than the hour and half of my life wasted waiting for them to program the new key.  Oh and the fact that when I get home the remote doesn’t actually work…..back to the dealership I go to waste another hour of my life in an uncomfortable chair.  At least I had a book in my over-sized giant I call my purse. 

I'm in Love with this Poem...

Leaving is not enough; you must

stay gone. train your heart

like a dog. change the locks

even on the house he’s never

visited. you lucky, lucky girl.

you have an apartment

just your size. a bathtub

full of tea. a heart the size

of Arizona, but not nearly

so arid. don’t wish away

your cracked past, your

crooked toes, your problems

are papier mache puppets

you made or bought because the vendor

at the market was so compelling you just

had to have them. you had to have him.

and you did. and now you pull down

the bridge between your houses,

you make him call before

he visits, you take a lover

for granted, you take

a lover who looks at you

like maybe you are magic. make

the first bottle you consume

in this place a relic. place it

on whatever altar you fashion

with a knife and five cranberries.

don’t lose too much weight.

stupid girls are always trying

to disappear as REVENGE. and you

are not stupid. you loved a man

with more hands than a parade

of beggars, and here you stand. heart

like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.

heart leaking something so strong

they can smell it in the street.

— marty mcconnell