Open Letter to Technology

Dear Technology,

Why are you so much smarter than I am?  I have trained on the subject of you for many, many years both formally and informally, yet you still pass me up.  

Example #1:  My new computer.  I had uploading, downloading, word processing, file sharing, music playing, picture organizing, and screen switching down.  But now I am but a poor lost women staring into a perplexing screen of icons and desktops.  Please, ease up on me.  All I want is to organize my family's pictures and post them to my blog.  So quit harassing me with threats of "System Download," and "File Not Found" because I know you are lying.

Example #2:  My phone.  Seriously, quit flipping the picture around when I am taking one and snap a pic of me.  I know that you must love to gaze into my beautiful, yet slightly aged face, but you have to take pictures of Goodwill treasures and not me.  Sheesh.  

Example #3:  My car.  YOU.  ARE.  TOO.  SMART.  FOR.  ME.  TOO.   SMART. Because you turn the headlights on and off without me, you should consider doing the same for the interior dome light.  That way, when my hubby drives the car and turns off the interior light, I don't avoid trying to figure out how to turn it on for 2 weeks because I assume that the car will do it for me.

Example #4:  The TV.  You are too complicated for words.  I just want to watch Teen Mom 2, so please can we just agree to use one remote.  I can't keep up with all of the "sources" - - wii, blue ray, cable box.     And while we are at it, would you please tell me how to clean your screen?  Noah says that I can't use windex, so what do I use? Let me know.  You can email me, since you probably know how and have your very own email account.  I'm sure it's something like smartypantstv@gmail.com.

That about sums it up, technology.  Can we try to work together now?

Sincerely,
Old Woman Shafer

He's So Smart.

Calvin.  That's our son.  The one we are so wonderfully proud of.  He participated in the Read-A-thon at school. And although he is a mere kindergartner, he still made a name for himself, which is:  Winner!  Yep, he is the winner of a gift certificate for a book fair and a pizza party for his class!  It turns out that he read the most time and earned the most money (for a kindergartner).

We highly recommend "The Magic Treehouse" series.  Fun to read and very interesting.

P.S. Mimaw - - here he is showing off his gingerbread boy to his class.  It was awesome, and so are you for sending it to us!

"Hey, Mom. Take a picture of me and Rico."

And, yes, I affirmed to him that he looked just like Rico.

And the puppy legacy lives on.  Cyrus only says about 4 words, one of which is, "Puppy."  

The Holidays

Even though the holidays have come and gone, I am still so behind on our blogging.  So, you will just have to endure a stroll down the not-so-long-ago memory lane.  Our Thanksgiving was so nice.  We decided that even though we were all by ourselves, we weren't going to skimp on any of the good food.  So we made all the dishes that everybody loves.  Calvin requested turkey (convenient, no?) Wyatt requested spaghetti (not too far off of the beaten path), and Cyrus requested a nap (and believe me, he got it). I decided to try and dress up the table with a tablecloth, place mats, and two drinking glasses a piece.  And it was a success!  The boys looked at the table like, "Has our mom lost her mind?  What is all this stuff?"  We also got everyone a little place sitting card (Super Mario Brothers Wii trading cards), and it was so popular that no one wanted to eat their dinner.  Oh well, you win some.  You lose some.

 Here I am after I had cooked the meal, looking just like I had spent three days cooking. Hair never lies.  It was so sweet.  Calvin looked at the table and then asked Noah to take our picture together holding hands.  I almost cried it was so sweet of him.  Wyatt, on the other hand, couldn't care less.  

 Most of you know how much Noah loves Christmas.  So, as soon as the turkey had been digested  Noah ran us to Wal-Mart for Christmas lights.  He dutifully stapled them to the house, and I dare say we had the best house in da 'hood.  And yes, he staples in his pj's.  I actually respect that.

 We decorated the tree.  a.k.a the boys hung the ornaments in one spot at the bottom just within Cyrus' reach, and I rearranged them the next day.  In fact, I was so sick of those paper ornaments that I had made a few years ago, that we trashed them and picked up some new ones from Target.  (And as a side note:  I cringe to think about what my life would be like without Target).

 We listened to Christmas music and danced nearly everyday, all day.  Before school, after school, before bed, when someone started crying, during dinner, while cooking, while staring off into space and sitting on the couch.  Yes, by the end we were so sick of the same songs that we all were glad to wait another year to hear them again.  Here you can see Calvin dancing to some little ditties.  

Christmas Eve jammies.  A tradition that we share with, I think, the entire world.  And in the background you will see our poor dead Christmas tree.  He shed more needles than I knew possible and clogged up my vacuum.  I am still smelling evergreen when I run it.  

 Unwrapping, unwrapping, Wyatt in his underwear, Cyrus strolling around with a cracker.  

 Ahhh, the Christmas fort.  Noah is one great fort maker.  He inherited it from his Dad.  Shafers make forts.  It's just what they do.  Too bad nobody slept in it though. They were too busy barfing.  Yes, barfing.  Nothing says "Merry Christmas" quite like the flu.  

Despite any intestinal issues, we have to admit that our Christmas was awesome.  

Mess Makers Anonymous

Hello.  My name is Cyrus, and I'm a compulsive mess maker.  I have been making messes for about 2 months now, and I can't seem to stop.  I love to pull out every pot and pan in my Mom's kitchen, scatter every one's shoes to places that they will never find them, and throw away important family objects (including two remote controls, shoes, food, and valuable electronics). I try hard to reach things on the kitchen table using only my tippy toes.  I have pulled down several bowls of cereal right on my own face, which always makes me cry.  If I can't find a mess to make anywhere, I'll try to shred any paper that I can get my meaty fingers on.  I have a problem.  My favorite mess to make is to pull all of the dirty clothes out of the laundry basket and scatter them all over the house.  I DON'T RESPECT CLEANLINESS, AND I NEVER WILL!  Good thing our family has this guy:

Sucker.

Look Who's Comfy!

Immediately after we walk through the door after church on Sundays, these two hoodlums get down to their undies, sit on that half-wall, and say (yes, you guessed it), "Look who's comfy!" in a very sing-song voice.  Then they fall backwards on the couch behind them.  You wouldn't guess Wyatt is so comfy with that scowl on his face, but he really is.  It's actually more of a self-satisfied-I-can-climb-and-perch-on-this-wall look. 

It gets us every time.  And, "Look who's comfy!"  has become the taunt that everyone in the family says when they are the first to get into relaxed attire.  

Brag Blog

Well, it's true.  I've actually accomplished a couple of things recently.  Chiefly, I ran a half-marathon. Whew!  And I was tired.  Truth be told, I was just running and managed to find myself behind a doughnut truck, and so I just ran after it until it stopped.  Can you believe I ran 13.1 miles for a doughnut?  

Yes, I am the nervous one standing with my hands clasped at the starting line.  

The BEST PART.  Yes, THE BEST PART was seeing my guys at the finish line.  They were cheering for me, and it made me feel so good.  I love 'em.  (Please excuse the hot mess picture.)

I also found these free end tables on Craigslist and liked their bones, so I went to work and sanded, painted, and stained them.  

And now I love them.