Breaking

Christmas Break '11...the usual suspects: Jump Street, Chuck E. Cheese, movies (were this season's films great or what? 'Muppet Movie', 'Sherlock Holmes', 'Arthur Christmas', 'Tin Tin')...for the first time in many, many moons we hit the inner workings of Krispy Kreme.

Seeing Charles Ross perform his one-man show of the first Star Wars Trilogy (you know, the good ones? 'New Hope', 'Empire Strikes Back', 'Return of the Jedi'?) was a real treat for me and the eldest three: one man, all lines of dialogue and sound effects, 90 minutes. Tour de force. Must see. Treat yourself: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lI6HxUueYhU. And, by the way, our audience was a LOT more engaged. Therefore: better.

Evie and I, braving the rink at Southlands, then scoring hard at Gap at post-holiday sales. Gap was all I wanted for her as a baby...she kept pulling me out of the littles' section, mostly because I don't really want to carry, give birth to, or raise another Crawford, per se; I just want to name and dress one.

And below, our annual trek to Denver's Zoo for Zoolights was, as always, spectac...we were joined by Desi, who has never before had the pleasure of this particular Crawford holiday tradition. She's so brave.

Santa Baby

Time is one eternal round...and December came and went in the appointed fashion. What a wonderful holiday this year, all part of my new life plan: STOP FREAKING OUT OVER EVERYTHING and just enjoy, wouldja? So we did. A lot less crawling in an exhausted fashion across the finish line and way more time giggling, watching movies, going Christmas shopping with Daddio, bouncing, museuming, decorating, visiting Santa, etc. And there was much rejoicing. Good for us! Harbinger of Christmases to come? Indeed.

Seriously? I'm THIS far behind?

OK. Halloween 2011. An out of control extravaganza, as always. A spectacle. A spooktacular. You get the drill.

Poor Belly-Boo. We're so chronically overscheduled in the fall that on October 30th, Evie was just getting around to celebrating her 12th birthday, which fell way back in July...she invited Desi, Ashley and Emily to head out with the crew to Fright Fest at Elitch Gardens, LoDo, Denver. It's always a good time, but there are freak-out cast members who walk around with chainsaws and bloody knives - and the longer you stay, the more in-your-face they become.

As mentioned previously, Shane's birthday falls on the 30th; on the evening in question, Matt did not cause the carving knife to come in contact with the birthday boy's skull. No need to call social services.

The girls experimented with chenille stems, and the boys went for the straight carve.

Gracie, gettin' her spook on. She's so sassy.

Grace as Ariel. Fetching as always. The boys, however, have outgown the costume stage of life, and I HATE it. My compensation is their desire to be decked in Broncos' jerseys, not just on Halloween, but nearly every freaking day of the NFL season. As far as compensation for lost childhood goes, it's a fairly even deal: our Tebow-led squad was quite the story, quite the bandwagon, quite the rallying and unifying force in the Rocky Mountain region, for four blessed months, anyway. I'm sure I'll blog about it.

And once again, October left us breathless and staggering over the finish line into November...we have yet to recover.

The Scouting Report

Crawling back into the ring, you know how it is when you're down for the count...

So, when was it, early November? Gracie Lou, who, along with her troop, blazed through the requirements so thoroughly and so rapidly, was able to bridge to Brownies after only one Daisy year. And mere hours after we finally got all her bling applied to her Daisy tunic...

she became a Brownie, complete with new sash to decorate. Add that to the list.

I predict corrective dentistry in the years ahead. This, by the way, was the time period in which I volunteered to the troop cookie mom...this was when it seemed possible that I wouldn't bankrupt the troop and still be able to perform basic tasks, such as shopping, cleaning, laundering, etc. It was a simpler, gentler time, last fall was...sigh...

Not long thereafter, Shane advanced to the Bear den...all new opportunities to run around the church building and avoid the well-meaning and thoughtfully planned activities set in motion by a new set of god-fearing adult leaders. Yay!

Glory, glory, alleluia...those cubs keep marching on.

In the interest of time, we'll fast-forward to late January and the Pinewood Derby Cup Series...I dig our pit cards. Dad was out of town for the race, but engineered the crud out of cars for his boys and youngest daughter to enter into the Crawford family's annual bid for last place. Didn't disappoint, either. Our status is secure.

Ty, as an 11-year-old scout, was exempt from all rules and regulations, and put out this opponent-halting beast, only to find that the lane lines were prohibitively high for his...what should one call them? Unsportsmanlike barriers? Well, he had to remove them. Much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. But a last-place finish nonetheless, so, no harm, no foul.

Shaner's masterpiece.

Ty's first Court of Honor - he got some kind of award. Do people really expect me to keep track? Something to pin on me and someting to apply to some part of his uniform. And on and on it goes...