From Shabby and Crappy to Sparkly and Snazzy

Toys
(or in AvaSpeak: "Koys")


They're a conundrum, right?

I KNOW you've all thought this at one point.

"I MUST PURGE. THESE TOYS ARE RUINING MY LIFE."

But dagnabit, our little nuggets love their crappy, beat up, chewed on, headless piece of crap toys SO MUCH and it physically HURTS them when you toss their beloved junk away.

One time I did a mini purge of Ava's old toys, during nap time, thinking,

"Aw, she'll never know this stuff is missing!"

WRONG. Wrong, wrong, wrong-o, wrongington, wronglicious. WRONG.

She honed in on the missing toys like a bat scavenging for that juicy bug in the middle of the night.

I felt like I punched her right in the feelings when she bawled, like a seasoned 2-year old over her profound loss.

BUT this is what I have to live with every single day...

(ok, really, I'm choosing to show you only a mere FRACTION of what I go through, so I'm not haunted with thoughts of the universe having access to our perpetual hoarding-of-useless-toys problem... trust me, it's a process and I swear Ava and I will be attending group soon.... it's called Toy Hoarders Anonymous. Or THA.)



disclaimer: I STILL don't have my photo editing software... (sob) so all of these pics are sadly untouched.... it HURTS me to put up unedited pictures.... it's like going out without makeup on. Well, then again, I do that ALL the time. I can't think of any other analogies.)

These little beasties SUCK.
My feet have been permanently pocked with Flounder or MiniKitty imprintations.
(and yes, that's a Polly Pocket WIG)
They're ALWAYS out.
Polly Pocket, you're the devil, but we still love you so.


This abomination is our only MAN.
He's Paul Pocket, headless husband of Polly.
He needs to go, but somehow still gets his play time.
Why.


Wow.
Really. I have no words.
This is NOT the Cinderella I grew up with.
No Sirree.
Just look at that face. Only a MOTHER could love it.
A Mother named Ava.


And here's our Beautiful Briar Rose.
She, too, is special.
I'd toss these toys in a heartbeat:

BUT LOOK how LOVED they are!!!!



These babies are protected Fiercely by a love that I can only describe as:
Mama Bear Lovin'.


Here they are having a very animated conversation about how lovely they each believe they are.
So. Vain.




From the VERY bottom of my heart.
THANK YOU,
Nana Aaron, Beboo Wilson, and Grandmere Hi Suk
For the new Christmas Toys.

They're SO much prettier.
For now.

Young Punks

I STILL don't have my beloved computer back, but I gotta get this all down before my old, faulty, hairbrained mind forgets the highlights.

This weekend we decided to ditch our "Old Farts" persona's and dive head first into "Young and Hip". It was an adventure, I'll tell you rapscallions that much!

We (the Hursts', the Killians, and D'laney) left Rexburg for greener pastures in Boise this weekend for a concert and some playtime.

T and I left Ava here with my parents and I can honestly not tell you who was happiest... the Grandparents who got SassyPants Magoo all to themselves... OR.... Ava who was the recipient of non-stop attention from Grandparents who laugh at all her jokes, every single time.... OR.... Ava's parents who were THRILLED to have a taste of sweet, sweet freedom for a couple of days. In the end, we all came back together glowing with freakishly large grins on our faces.

I'll spare you the long stories of how "cool" we all felt as we stood in line waiting for the concert to start amongst a sea of 13 year old girls in tight emo pants and thick eyeliner.

I'll also skip the part where after a few hours of standing and "rocking out" like some young whippersnappers, we hobbled to our cars as we lamented our knees, feet, and lower backs. It's just not COOL to complain about arthritis. Not Legit, man.

BUT, I will tell you that we had a blasted BALL listening to:

I really loved these guys.
I have a feeling they'll make it BIG. Like really big.

But then again, I never expected DVD's to outshine the awesomeness of VHS. How did THAT happen?

THIS SONG ROCKS MY SOCKS... Six Shooter

Quickie tale: We were only a few feet back from the stage and as I was throwing up my "ROCK ON" hand gestures and acting pretty dang foolish (foolish meaning RAD) the lead singer of The Rouge takes a massive mouthful of water from his water bottle, rears his gnarly, sweaty head back and....

into the crowd.
(imagne the dude isn't a redhead and is a tad more Rockstar than this fella)

WELL.... that would be just dandy
IF
a LARGE drop of water didn't land

RIGHT IN MY LEFT EYEBALL

Seriously.
I felt like someone punched my eyeball with a disease.

I desperately wanted bleach.
INSTEAD I just looked like this:

Yes, with the drool and everything.
I'm SO not hard core.

A few minutes later, the lead singer flicked his guitar pick out into the audience and by some lucky stroke of luck (i LOVE being redundant) the pick landed
Right on my SHOE

It was red.
And sweaty.

But dang it, I EARNED it....
I won't accept getting leprosy in my eyeball for nothing so a pick will have to do.

Ok.... MOOOOVING ON.

Another "AWESOME to the Power of RADICAL" band that we saw........

You know these guys... I KNOW you do.
In fact, I said the same thing you just said, "I have no clue who this band is"
But Methinks you do.
Go look 'em up (i'm too lazy to find a link for you)
They sing that one "Color of Love, love love love love...."
You'll recognize it.
And then you'll exclaim, "OOOOOHh!!!! Yeah, THESE guys."
And then you'll think, "Man, Katy is cool. Like really cool. In fact, I'd consider her 'Off the Chain' cool"
But then again, You probably WON'T say "Off the Chain" cuz I think that's SOOOO 2008.

Ps. Dearest Parachute,
Yes, that was ME who went a little bizerk when I realized you'd be singing a Phil Collin's classic. I think I had an aneyerism and I think the 12 year old girls next to me rolled their eyes.
But I just don't care.
Cuz a concert ain't complete without a little Mr. Collins thrown in.
I thank Ye.

OH! By the way... the lead singer in this band, too, chucked his pick out into the undulating audience (i just wanted to say Undulating... I've never been able to).
And you'll NEVER GUESS
who's SHIRT it went right down.

That's right.
MINE.

Pick right down the front of my shirt.
I swear I saw some 14 year olds planning to jump me after the concert and beat me down.
I was scared.

ALRIGHTY.... this is getting longer than I expected. Let's move on.
THIS is the band we came to see. These guys were the Bees Knees of the room-- (even though they didn't throw down any classics like Parachute did, at least they didn't spit in my eye)

Whoop. Whoop.
These guys got the crowd going. It was electric.
(speaking of Electric... who here still remembers all the moves to the Electric Slide?
A small shout-out to my elementary P.E. teacher, Mrs. Dalton. Woo)

A Looksie into Safety Suit (check out their little song demos... you'll like it.... if you're young and hip.... dare you)




All in all...
Fabulous Weekend of Hard Coreness and 12 year old Emo girls- AWWWWWE-SOME!

BUT the weekend wouldn't have been complete without playing:

PIRATE PING PONG

don't ask.

Just imagine a lot of running, spinning, throwing up shame numbers on hands, dancing like a scallywag, and Lady GaGa.

Sick Fun.

This was me.
It's the Asian side coming out.

I kid. I kid.

I was an embarrassment.
But TAYLOR won the entire Ping Pong Tournament.
That's right, eat your heart out girls, my Man is a Ping Pong extraordinaire.

But I make a really good Pirate/Lady GaGa.

Dear Blog...

Dearest Blog, (which i shall henceforth be referring to as Charlotte... because it's a fun name to type)

Charlotte, please stop crying. I know you miss being DAZZLED by my fancy words and charming photos... but sometimes life just gets in the way, you know? I swear I didn't abandon you... you've got to trust me on this. Seriously, stop weeping... you cry like me, we're both Ugly Criers... it does No One any favors when we express ourselves with tears.

I have much to tell you, Blog Charlotte, and I'm nervous I'll forget it all if I let TOO much time go by. But, dearest Charlotte, you must be patient. My computer, (which I shall fondly refer to as Prudence), is sadly broken... it's been nearly 2 whole months but could easily be years for as much as I miss her. She's got my Photoshop tools and I just cannot justify posting a SOOC (that's 'straight out of camera' for those who don't know the lingo... yeah, camera jargon... i know, I'm pretty cool, huh Charlotte? Charlotte?? Come on, stop pouting!)

I'm digressing here.

Without Prudence up and running, my life feels a little out of sorts. Granted a pal has graciously lent (lint? lended? lant?) her computer to us which saves me from true insanity... it's just not the same, is it, Old Friend?

But to end on a GOOD note, darling Blog-named-Charlotte, I am happy to announce to the entire universe (or at least the 15 people who read this) that I'm officially finished with CHEMO!!!! Life is getting back to normal... well, Better than normal actually... we, the Wilson's, are very, VERY excited for this upcoming year... it's most definitely going to be a great one... we can just FEEL it. Feel it in our chemo-free BONES!!

So just to wrap things up... I'll compile a Boo and Woo list. (just so you know, Boos are bad. Woos are good. Okay, let's proceed)

• Boo for no computer.
• Boo for no pictures.
• Boo for my lack of blogging finesse (I'm suffering from a creative brain fart).
• Woo for end of chemo and doctors.
• Woo for 2010 (I choose to sound ultra-hip and futuristic by saying "twenty-ten"... I know, I amaze myself with my funky-fresh ways)
• Woo for improvements.
• and lastly Boo for becoming so out of touch with reality that I'm naming inanimate objects Charlotte and Prudence... I literally couldn't think of any better names though... I swear, I tried.
  

With all my love, Katy