X.T. Update

Our X.T. (christmas tree) is still outside and it has officially changed colors again, from green (to begin with), to light brown, then to yellow (six months later) and to red (the color it is now). It's still in our driveway and my neighbors just sent their congratulations for finally getting rid of it. They were very proud. I then told them to read my blog, because I have no shame.

Effie has become quite the little Kamikaze jumper this week. She did a nose dive from the baby slide in the backyard (that I purposely moved onto the grass to avoid her falling, but it was still near the cement) onto the concrete which scratched her nose up. Everyone we see keeps asking her who beat her up or who bit her. The next day at the park she decided to walk right into a pole which then aggravated her nose yet again. (a curly haired little Jewish girl with her Mexican nanny walked up to me and asked in one of those real cute baby voices "wha happen to your niña?", after having asked Effie 10 times. Since Effie did not respond [because she's slightly mute], she tried me.) Yesterday she tried doing the same acrobatic leap from a slide about 6 feet higher. Today she decided to run down the driveway 142 times to me, and on the 141th run, she ate it and tasted the concrete again, splitting open her nasty scab that already made her look a little like a baby bear. I have been tempted all week to draw whiskers on her face so people won't think I have been beating her up and so she'd just look like a cute animal. Now it's worse, and as she sleeps I am lathering her snout in Neosporin.

As for our 1st born, she has not done anything funny enough worth posting that I can think of at this time. Have a great weekend. I'm looking forward to mine. Are you? Peace out fools.

Heaven

Some people reading this blog may have had the same CCD (catechism, religious education) teacher as I did. His name was Bill. I'm not sure what his last name was, Mr.... something, but anyway, Bill was a greasy haired nut.

I always remember him teaching us with an exceptionally loud tone of voice. He scared the crap out of me. On some occasions I even argued with him, like the time he told me I was going to hell cuz I loved my Mom more than God. Woops! Even though he was nuts, he was definitely my favorite CCD teacher, and the only one I can remember. I even remember (even though I was 12) some of the things he taught us. Between cigarettes, I remember him telling us:

"You wanna know who's gonna get into heaven?"

"People who get their hands dirty".

hmmm.. I thought. Mechanics got a straight shot!.

He said:

"When you die, and walk up before God, he's gonna say - 'let me see your hands'. (I always imagine Snow White asking to see the Dwarf's hands at this point) If your hands are clean, perty, nice, and soft, tough luck! It's gonna be the hard workers, the ones who got DIRTY that are gonna walk through heaven's gates!"

I tend to think about this every night while I do the dishes. If Mr... Moore!! (I just remembered - Mr. Moore) Yeah, so if Mr. Moore was right, I won't even have to knock at the door, cuz my hands are JACKED up from washing so many dishes. They are all tough, I have calluses, and they are lookin' more like a 60 something-year-old's hands than a 29 year olds. These hands are sure torn up. I just better show up before I wash the suds off.