Got Nuffin

So there's this song by Spoon called Got Nuffin. And I love it. Apparently a lot since my iTunes tells me that it has 1485 plays. I'm not sure I believe that though. I mean it's nearly 4 minutes long, so that would be about 5,940 minutes or 99 hours. I just don't think there is any possible way that I've listened to 99 hours worth of Got Nuffin. So I think there must be something wrong with my iTunes. Which doesn't surprise me at all because technology and I are currently not on speaking terms. 

But anyway, the reason that is the title of my post is not to lament about how my iTunes messes with my head, but instead to point out that I really have Got Nuffin. I have not had much desire to write anything lately and it's all the fault of the December Daily. Kind of like how some people will train for months for a marathon, run it, finish it and then not lace up their sneakers for a month following. Burn out. It's probably healthy to take a bit of a break, right? Yea, try telling that to my Mama. I know if I don't put something up here soon she's going to be sending a lynch mob my way. (Hi mom! Love you!)

So what I'm going to do here is cheat. I'm going to do a quick recap of the past week throwing in a picture here and a tweet there so that it will look like I've actually concocted a lengthy and delightful tale when all I'm really doing is regurgitating. Your job is to play into the farce--pretend like it's an interesting read. Ok?

Alright then, let's start with January 1--the new year. A fresh start. The day that I decided that perhaps I should also resolve to not wear this shirt every day of my life.

It's going to be hard as it's the softest most comfortable thing I've ever had against my skin. But I will make the effort.

Also, on this day I was a little cranky because the fireworks next door disturbed my beauty sleep. I require at least 8 hours of sleep every night or I get cranky. Crankier than normal I mean. If you can imagine such a thing. There's only one cure for that--body combat baby. Yep, while all the rest of you were sleeping off your hangovers, I was practicing my katas and working on my evasive side kicks. And boy am I glad I spent that hour getting all sweaty because it meant I could eat all of the yummy food at Brian & Teresa's basement warming party without even the slightest touch of guilt. The kids had fun there too--see:

Grandpa should be especially thrilled by this picture here:

Chase and Joshua worked and worked with their tools on Pooh's house. So apparently carpentry prowess is genetically based though it appears to have skipped a generation in my particular case. As did the cooking skills.

 

 Speaking of cooking chops--on Sunday we had the most delicious brunch at Adriana's. Girl can cook. Which isn't fair because she's also one hot little mama with a high powered career and a beautiful family. But I'm not going to complain too loudly, because she's always feeding me and my urchins. Which got me thinking that with the proper planning and social scheduling I could probably work it so I never had to cook for my own offspring again. I'm already putting this new theory into practice by going to her house yet again tonight for a Three Kings Day dinner. I've never celebrated this holiday before and don't really know what to expect, but it only took the briefest mention of the word lasagna for me to say: "I'm so there."

Hmm what else? Well there was this: 

Princess Amaya says an upside down crown still counts, and I'm not about to argue with her. Are you?

And this: 

Chase: Mama my eighth brother will be 10 in 2011, but this isn't him.

And after watching several women in yoga grimace and pull away from me in disgust, I finally got around to taking care of this little personal hygiene chore:

The winter pedicure sandal answer is not such a big deal when it's 50° outside. The salon was empty, and I think my technician was a bit entranced by her soap opera because she rubbed my calves and feet for like 35 minutes. It was heavenly. The only problem was that my feet were so lotiony, that I kept sliding all around in my sandals. I felt like I was under the influence of some wacky drug. Which brings me to my final offering of the day that begins with this tweet:

I think I might be addicted to cough drops. Do they have interventions for this sort of thing?

Which led to this tweet later in the week:

My Halls Pep Talk in Every (cough) Drop says: It's yours for the taking. This mentality is what got me addicted to them in the first place.

And guess what I'm doing right now? Sucking on a cough drop. I am quite certain that I will be carted off against my will to a rehab facility soon. That should make Drew happy since he force fed me Nyquil yesterday because my incessant coughing so annoyed him. I'm still looking into whether or not that's a punishable violation of the In Sickness & Health section of our marital vows. I think at the very least, he should bring me home another bag of Halls. Cherry please.