I got it! I got it!

I got the promotion that I've been trying for since, literally, May. It was May when my boss gave notice and, as of December 25 (Merry Christmas to me!), I've been promoted. Woo hoo!

Woo hum--oh, boy. Do I have the challenges in front of me, boy howdy. But I work with good people and I'm mostly excited. It's going to be a challenging, interesting, amazing time. If I don't wear out and die first.

Wish me luck!

Christmas is coming! Christmas is coming!

And now that I spent hours yesterday shopping and wrapping, I'm OK with that. I bought a bunch of gifts, including a couple for my husband that he is going to love (tee hee--he has to wait six more days). The stores were crowded, but not too bad.

The longest wait I had to check out was shopping with Greg on a Tuesday afternoon for the girls at Toys R Us--twenty minutes from when we got in line to when we walked out. On a Tuesday. That place must be insane on a Saturday.

I bought the gifts I owe my sister and dad for their birthdays from October (oops) and at work, open enrollment is finally over (we met with about 650 people, individually). There's only four days of work this week before a long, long weekend and I'm excited about that.

Life is good. Happy Holidays!

All of us in the Lee household made Christmas cookies yesterday. Flour everywhere. It was fun.

I used to make cutout cookies with my sisters and my mom every year when I was a little girl. We'd pull out the bag of cookie cutters and wonder why we never made cutout cookies at any other time of the year, so we could use the heart cutter and the clover cutter and the bunny cutter.

Then we'd make a double batch of Christmas cutouts and we'd remember why we didn't do them at any other time of the year--it took a really long time to roll and out bake that many cookies.

I don't have my mom's recipe (I should ask her for it), so when my family has made cutouts for the last three years, we've used a sugar cookie recipe from someone I used to work with. Here's a shoutout to Bev Gardner of Decatur, Illinois, who I unfortunately haven't talked to in at least five years.

It's so sad and so typical. You spend literally years of your life with people at work and then you leave or they do and you both vow to stay in touch and after, say, three years max, you don't talk to them anymore.

Well, Bev, your Eisenhower sugar cookie recipe is an integral part of my family's burgeoning history. Thank you! Onward to frosting!

We decided to make Julia's crib into a toddler bed. It converts by just taking the front rail off and tah-dah, toddler day bed. We were stupid.

We thought that Julia, the second child, would be like Allie, the first child. Allie stayed in her bed. She woke up on weekend mornings, called us to tell us she was awake, and stayed in bed, sometimes even when urged to join us in our room. Allie woke from naps, called to tell us she was awake, and stayed in bed until we came to get her.

Julia does not do this. Big surprise.

We put Julia in her bed and she stands up and jumps on her fun, bouncy mattress. Even though she always could reach, she's now figured out that she can reach the overhead light switch from her bed. So she turns on the light. And turns it off. And turns it on and leaves it on when it's an hour past her bedtime.

She gets out of bed and knocks on her bedroom door, trying to get us to come and let her out. (I said we were stupid, but we're not that dumb. Her door sticks, so she can't pull it open. She does have to stay in her room if we want her to.)

Julia lays on the floor just inside the door, with the overhead light on, and revels in her independence and control of her environment. It makes me smile and tear up at the same time.

Big girl.

I can't believe this is my 107th post. Who da thunk I had so much to say.

So it's time for a lecture--hey you, go donate blood! Yes, you! Don't be a chicken, you can do it. It's really no big deal. Hey, if I've done it 55 times so far (over the last, oh my god--could it be, 20 years), you can too.

Think about it. How much do you really do for charity. Uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah, we send a lot of clothes to St. Vinnie's too. Uh huh. Boy, that isn't a very impressive list, frankly. Did you know that I used to tutor a woman for the Literacy Council of Green Bay years ago and she got so much charity food at Christmas and Thanksgiving that she offered some to me? Sorry, off the subject. But occasional food donations still aren't too impressive.

You know, you could donate blood. All it takes is a little time and you don't even have to open your wallet, except to take out your donor card the second and subsequent times you donate.

They're really nice to you. They give you kool-aid or orange juice and brownies, cookies, and crackers galore afterwards. AND YOU HAVE TO EAT THEM! Isn't that the coolest? You have to eat them to get your sugar levels back in balance (plus drink water, but that's boring). So no matter what you ate for lunch or how close it is to dinner--EAT UP! You've earned it. Doesn't that sound tempting?

Donate blood, give it a try. You might need some someday, you know. And you'd have paid your psychic debt if you've donated even a few times in the past. See, it's karma! Everybody needs good karma, right?

So seriously, try donating blood. It's a good thing to do, only 3 percent of Americans do it, and you can actually save a life. Donating an old can of sauerkraut just doesn't compare.

Julia is now 27 months old and she knows how to count to ten. How do I know that she can do it without coaxing her by getting her started? Allie, me, and Julia play hide-and-seek. And when it's Julia's turn to count, there you go.

Allie and I usually count to twenty, so Julia counts to ten, then goes llellen, then she pauses and starts over with one again. The second time through, though, she says one, two, three and then uncovers her eyes and hollers, "Here come!"

Julia is also completely in love with her candy bucket from Halloween. We really need to hide the buckets of both kids, but Greg and I aren't completely finished stealing all the chocolate yet. So Julia carries her candy bucket around the house, tries to take it to daycare (I don't think so!), and insists that her bucket be next to her head when we lay her down to change her diaper.

In the morning, she wakes up a little and almost immediately remembers (well before any thought crosses Allie's mind) that she has a bucket full of candy somewhere, so off she goes to look for it. I don't let her eat candy for breakfast, obviously, but the hope in her little brain springs eternal. We're planning an addict intervention for next week Tuesday.

My sisters love Cancun. They love it so much, in fact, that they recently planned for and paid for their fourth (yep, you read that right, fourth) trip to the same resort in Cancun in the last 8-9 years.

Unfortunately . . . . .

They're scheduled to leave on November 5 for their resort. Wonder if it's still there?

In other news, Betsy and Chris (of the tornado tale) are expecting their third baby! Congratulations to them and their two girls. It turns out that Betsy was about 2 weeks pregnant when they lost their house. Rebuilding is underway, and with any luck, they'll be in their rebuilt house about a month before the baby comes.

Destruction and construction all around.

Happiness all around!

This month is the time to celebrate my parents' 45th wedding anniversary, my dad's 67th birthday, our 9th anniversary, and my sister's 44th birthday. Hallmark is earming record profits this month, by the way.

Last weekend, I took the girls to a fast food place for lunch while Greg was off at his vroom-vroom class. We were eating (or Allie and I were eating while Julia busied herself sucking ketchup over and over again off one french fry) when a bride-to-be came in, complete with veil and attendant.

Someone asked her when the wedding was (it was about 12:30) and she said 2:00. I told her that Saturday was my parent's 45th and she exclaimed, "that's a good omen." Indeed.

Ah, wedded bliss. Right now my loving husband is downstairs on the couch, watching a trashy show about celebrity couples while moaning that his stomach is upset, and I'm on a different floor of the house surfing the web and blogging. We do love each other, honestly. But, at least some of the time, I believe this is how we got to 9 years.

Happy Anniversary, Honey!

The other night, Greg and I were in the kitchen talking about work when Allie came over and said, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to tell you about something that happened at school today." Where does she get this stuff? She's 5!

Fortunately, she still acts like a little girl most of the time. Recently, I called her "buttercup." She smiled, then asked me what a buttercup was, then gave me a huge hug (with a face-splitting smile) when I told her.

She's sweet. Even though she looks grown up these days. Something about her wearing jeans and Converse tennies and hoodies--- And she's getting so tall. Allie's going to be 6 in about 3 months and I can't believe it. What happened to my baby?

I was reading an article in a human resources magazine the other day about how something like 40 percent of Americans lose some vacation every year because they don't take it. And something like 68 percent said that they check either voice or e-mail messages while they're on vacation. And something like 85 percent did not take 5 days of vacation in a row last year.

It's official, we're vacation deprived. Especially, as the experts like to point out, compared to Europe. Would I like the entire month of August off? You betcha. Would I actually do it? Of course not. The world would fall apart, wouldn't it?

We're all so absolutely necessary. At least we tell ourselves so--how immodest.

And how many of the past 10 years have I taken off 5 days of vacation in a row? This year was the first year in 10, since Greg and I went on our honeymoon. Sigh.

Date Night!

Last night, Greg and I got to go on a romantic, no kids-- date. My parents were here at the end of this week, taking care of our two girls because our daycare was closed and they stuck around so we could go out for dinner and a movie last night. Thanks for everything, Mom and Dad!

We ate at Crave, which is one of those oh-so-modern, trendy food type of restaurants and everything was very good. The best part of the meal, however, was the dessert. Strawberry shortcake, in a tall skinny glass, layed and yummy.

After dinner, we walked around the Monona Terrace rooftop garden and looked at the views. It was a beautiful night, not too cold.

Then we drove to the theater and saw, "The 40 Year Old Virgin," which was excellent. Bawdy, sweet, cringe-inducing, very funny.

We did call to say goodnight to the girls. Sweet dreams, glad you aren't here!

My mom, who is one of the few who reads my blog, told me this morning that I needed to update it because she was tired of facing my tornado story. This demand for update on a blog is, by the way, from a woman who didn't know what a blog was until about 2 1/2 years ago and who didn't own a computer until about 4 years ago. When she got the computer, she said she was only going to use it to look at the pictures we were posting of her first grandchild. Uh huh. Now she asks for blog updates and whizzes her way around the internet.

So what's been happening? Lots of things in our town, in the aftermath of the storm. I drove out to see what was left of Betsy's and Chris's house a few weeks ago, once the state police took down the roadblocks intended to keep out gawkers like me. I drove to see Betsy's house and then came home, so I don't know that I win a gawker's first prize.

By the time I saw where their home used to be, there was nothing left but the foundation and they were waiting for a report from an engineer to see if they were going to be able to rebuild on it--they are. They still hadn't drained the murky swimming pool in the backyard yet as of last week and because they can't see the bottom, they have no idea what might be in it. For all they know, there could be a car down there. They're not going to be able to safely garden in their yard for years, too, because of all the broken glass in the soil.

The 3-year-old, Erin, talks a lot about the poopy tormado (not tornado) that wrecked her house. Maddie, the 5-year-old, doesn't talk about it at all. She started kindergarten on schedule, though. They're going to be OK.

Allie started kindergarten on September 6 and she loves it. Last night, as she did last Friday night, she almost started to cry because she wasn't going to be able to go to school on Saturday. She's made new friends, including a little girl named Maddy (different girl than above) who sat at Allie's table at lunch every day and cried. Allie's nothing if not a sensitive soul, so I don't think she ate lunch for the first 7-8 days while she too tried not to cry.

Allie's not too crazy about hot lunch--she likes her daddy's sandwiches, made fresh every morning. She got to go on her first field trip yesterday, to a nature center, and she learned all about plants and bugs and saw a real tarantula. Allie did not want to touch any bug, by the way.

She's had gym class 5 times so far and all the games they play sound like they involve extensive running. She's had art a bunch of times and she's working on some project that she hasn't talked too much about. Allie likes music class, and she loves her reading buddy (reading with a 4th grader) which is once per week. She's already brought home three books from the school library (sequentially, they can only take out one at a time).

And she's doing great walking the three blocks from her bus stop to daycare, thank goodness. That was the thing Greg and I were the most stressed over. She's done it completely by herself at least a couple of times and she often walks at least part of the way with other kids. Now we can just start worrying about winter walking.

Meanwhile, Julia is doing just fine at daycare. She's talking in phrases all the time now. When I opened her window shade this morning, she saw a bird and called my attention to it, then spent a good 3-4 minutes telling me the bird was "Up, in da sky. Up, in da sky. Up, in da sky." Yes, I got that, Julia.

She hasn't bitten anyone in ages, knock on wood, but she does hit. I have to confess that I'm not going to worry about that. It's usually Allie and Allie usually deserves it. Now if she would just eat------ Well, I suppose she eats like a normal toddler, but that's not very much. The kid is still skinny and tall.

I got a raise last month, which is awesome, and we're spending a little less on daycare now. Pig, the cat, is still doing OK despite her diabetes, and the grass outside is actually greening up in places now that it's cooler. The newspaper said we should be giving our trees a drink, though, since it hasn't really rained in ages.

That's the update on our family and household. How are you doing?

Tornado Stories

Some information about what happened to us and to our friends yesterday . . .

Our girls were sitting at the kitchen table, eating some apple slices, and Greg was going in and out, grilling leftover prime rib, when our weather radio went off. We shushed the girls to listen to the broadcast, which said that we were under a tornado warning, with severe weather to the far north and far west of us.

We looked at each other and then silenced the radio. I ran upstairs to get on the computer in our bedroom, so I could see the radar and tell whether stuff was coming our way. As the computer booted up, I looked out the side window of our bedroom and saw clouds in the not-very-far-away distance, black and rotating.

I ran downstairs, yelling to Greg, who was now sitting at the kitchen table with the girls, to come outside now to see the clouds. We both saw the formation of the tornado.

I ran back in and grabbed Julia from the table, where she was screaming because everyone had gone outside. I pulled Allie with me and we went downstairs to the basement. Greg stayed outside.

I booted up the computer downstairs and tried to get a weather radar up, and turned on the TV. Just then, the cable went out and both girls started crying because they were so scared and because the TV was turned up really loud (it made a static noise).

Our lights flickered a couple of times but we couldn't hear anything happening. The online connection on the computer didn't work because we have a cable modem. The girls and I stayed downstairs for perhaps 5 minutes while Greg stayed outside, taking the video you see on the main site.

When I couldn't stand not knowing any more what was happening, I went upstairs with both girls--there was no way they were going to stay downstairs without me. By then, the tornado had moved probably a mile or so to the east and was clearly not going to hit us.

Greg had watched it go behind our water tower from west to east, which meant it was at least 1/2 mile away, but we didn't know how far exactly. It turns out it was about 1 mile away or so--an F3 tornado with winds estimated at 200 miles per hour. The path of severe destruction is 1/2 mile wide. This thing looked huge. Greg's video doesn't do it justice. The news tonight said it was Wisconsin's strongest tornado in the last decade.

One man died in his basement when his chimney fell on him, so sad. The saddest story that touched us personally was about our friends, Betsy and Chris. They lost their house, their beautiful 1 1/2 yr. old all brick, three-car garage, inground pool, screened-in porch home on the golf course.

The garage is gone, the bricks (that they agonized over the choosing the color of) are stripped off, the second story is gone, the roof on the screened in porch extension fell straight down, and the pool is, of course, full of debris. Some of the walls of the first floor are still standing, but the house is completely ruined. Most of it that didn't blow away fell into the basement, where Chris was sheltering with their two girls who are 5 and 3.

Betsy had gone to play in a softball game, which means that this morning all she owned was her game t-shirt, shorts, and cleats. Chris saw the tornado coming across the golf course and took the girls to the basement. They just got there and hunkered down when the tornado hit and the house fell apart.

After the noise stopped, Chris managed to find a way out--he doesn't remember anything about how except that he carried both girls and kicked things out of the way with his bare feet (he hadn't been wearing shoes in the house). They had to get out immediately because of the strong smell of gas.

They started walking towards Betsy's parents house, which is about 2 blocks away, out of the path of major damage, and someone gave them a ride there. In the meantime, Betsy's brother, Dan, came running from his house, which is about 2 blocks in the other direction. He saw Chris's wallet in the car, which was now in the driveway, more or less, instead of in the garage, and knew that Chris and the girls had been home.

Dan had the presence of mind to turn off the gas (and he knew how to do it, heroic guy) and he eventually figured out where they had gone. Shortly after Dan left, Betsy arrived at the house with a couple of other people. You used to be able to see the house from about 1/2 mile away as you drove in, and Betsy could tell that the house wasn't really there anymore.

She got to what was left of the house and things were dead silent. The three of them spent what had to be an agonizing 15 minutes or so calling Chris's and the girls' names, trying to figure out if anyone was still in the house, before they found out where Chris and the girls had gone. Can you imagine how Betsy felt for that time? It makes tears come to my eyes.

They're all OK, at least physically. Erin, the 3 year old, asked for a nookie last night when she got tired enough to sleep, and Betsy's family managed to find one for her. The family didn't have anything to call their own until this morning, when they bought some basic supplies. That is, except an exceptional family support network that will get them through this.

Another friend and co-worker was driving and ended up just south of the tornado when it cut across the highway. She ended up lying in a muddy ditch while it passed, next to a man and a woman who was sobbing hysterically. They're all OK.

Two cars had a t-bone accident right in front of her, right before she went into the ditch, and I haven't heard that those people were injured too severely. There are 4 people hospitalized, one in serious condition.

Another co-worker had an aunt and uncle whose house was destroyed. Her cousin was sleeping in an upstairs bedroom before she ran to the basement and she ended up outside after the tornado passed wearing only a silk nightie. As of last night, she still didn't know where her car had ended up. It was gone.

It could have been much, much worse, really--small consolation to those who lost everything. If it had come 1 mile further south, into our town proper, there probably would have been multiple deaths and millions more dollars in damage. We're just giving thanks that things are OK for us. We were lucky, really lucky.

Allie asked what would happen if a tornado came again. I told her that tornados don't come very often at all, and now that one came close to us, it will be a long, long time before we see another one. I pray that that's correct.

Allie and I played Snow White this afternoon. Originally, she wanted to play Hide N Seek, but then she decided to watch the movie, and afterwards . . .

To play Snow White, Mommy has to become the evil queen. She looks in the mirror in the bathroom and says the "Mirror, mirror" line, then when she gets the answer, she looks at the beautiful Princess Snow White and strikes her dead with a bolt of evil magic from her fingertips.

She gloats over the dead princess, then turns away to plot and mumble aloud about her next step (something involving a glass coffin, I would assume). And then, magically, Snow White comes back to life and runs away.

The next two rounds involve Snow White running, getting struck by evil magic, waking up and getting away. Then Allie's rules say that the fourth time she's struck, she doesn't wake up.

The evil queen puts a baby blanket over her face (cause it was it the room) and the beautiful princess has to lay there until the evil queen becomes the handsome prince and kisses her awake.

As soon as we've finished one game, Allie immediately wants to switch places and make me die four or so times. After we switch roles twice more, Allie decides that I have to stay dead. I lay dead on the couch (the floor got hard after dying that many times) while she tells me the prince isn't coming.

He isn't? Bummer.

My husband has been playing Metroid on a GameBoy for three straight hours--no exaggeration. I don't even think he's gotten out of the chair to pee.

Oh, he made a wonderful dinner first, but then he disappeared. The girls and I played together, I got them in their jammies, and I put them to bed (Allie did kiss Daddy goodnight--he paused the game for that).

He's going to develop carpal tunnel, I know it.

Allie, by the way, is learning to read. Tonight we read, "Harry, the Dirty Dog." Allie read as many as four words in a row. She's not going to be the most advanced kid in kindergarten, but she should be able to hold her own.

In comparison, there's a boy in her tumbling class who is so backwards in behavior. He has to be at least 4 or 4 1/2. But he starts to cry when he doesn't get to sit on the red stripe on the floor. He won't stretch unless he's pretty much in his dad's lap.

And his father futilely warns, "We're going to leave, Danny (name changed to protect the problem child)," when you can tell they've never left anything due to his behavior.

My children are very imperfect, but at least they're independent children who can do things on their own and demand to do things on their own. We're lucky. At least we're lucky so far!

It's been three months since my boss gave notice. Nothing, and I mean nothing, has happened yet. There's one silver lining to that. If I actually got the job, I probably would never have time to blog anymore.

We had Julia's birthday party and a surprise early birthday party for me. If you know me well, you may already have a customized U.S. Department of Toast t-shirt from my party. They're gorgeous and my husband is a wonderful man.

Forty is coming up fast. I decorated the house for Julia's birthday with gold streamers and Greg said, "Well, Deb, we can just leave those up for 10 years and have them for your 50th birthday party."

I hate my husband.

Julia is going to be two years old next week. That means I've been blogging for over two years. Not that I've put that much effort into it at times, I must admit.

We've been teaching Julia to say "Two," when someone asks how old she is, so she already thinks she's two. Unfortunately, that extends to her behavior.

The terrible twos have arrived early. She has huge tantrums when she doesn't get what she wants or when you don't understand what she's telling you. She'll repeat the same word over and over, louder and louder, while you vainly try to suggest things she might want.

And, oh my god. The child loves to Go. I say Go with a capital G because she'll Go anywhere. To Madison, to the mailbox, to Chicago, to the grocery store--it doesn't matter as long as it's out of the house.

On the plus side, she nearly always says Please and she is excellent about saying Thank you. So after she finished screaming "Q - pee" at you for the tenth time and you figure out she wants her "cuppie," even though she's already holding a cup (she wants juice instead of milk), she will say Thank you in that now-cute-again little voice.

She sings, she dances, she gives great hugs and she's damn cute. We just have to get through the next 16 years and we'll be good-to-go. Hah.

I have to head out now. We're taking the girls to see "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." I hope the bratty one behaves (which one I mean by that, I won't know until we get there).

I just read a comment someone wrote on my last post where they asked what had happened with my possible promotion.

The answer is, nothing yet. Because of a combination of factors, the president told me on June 3 that he expects it to be 2 months before any decisions are made.

I'm thinking 3 months, personally. Nonetheless, I'm still in the running!

Wimbledon. It definitely turned out to be Greg's favorite part of our trip. Even though, since it was only a little over two weeks until the tournament when we were there, they wouldn't even let people touch the grass on the practice courts.

Just to finish my trip narrative, after Wimbledon we went to Abbey Road Studios and took pictures at the famous zebra crossing. Then we did some last-minute shopping for souvenirs and got ready to head home. We'll go back to England, especially, some day. We had a wonderful adventure.

Since then--we've both been catching up at work and enjoying time with our girls. Since Nana cut the hair on both of them while we were gone, they really did look like different kids when we saw them for the first time in 10 days.

Shannon and Anna got married on June 11--Congratulations to them! Very nice wedding, awful weather. The reception hall, while it had a gorgeous view, did not have air conditioning. It literally was about 100 degrees in the hall. It's been two weeks; I think I'm back to normal body temperature now.

I got my wisdom teeth removed, finally. Two of them were partially exposed and my dentist had been bugging me for literally five or six years to have them removed because a pocket made it a certainty that I'd someday get a cavity there.

I would not recommend the surgery. I would recommend being put to sleep for it (I'll pay the $325 for anesthesia myself, I don't care). It's been about 1 1/2 weeks and I really wish my stitches would come out because I'm tired of chewing on them, now that I can kind of chew again.

It's been very hot, weatherwise. Where did spring go so quickly? And life goes on.

Here's the story of our trip so far--

Arrived in London on Saturday morning, exhausted, legs aching, flights 'over the pond' suck.

Checked in at our hotel, thank god they had a room available early. Went upstairs and upstairs and through doors and through doors (they take fire doors and fire safety very seriously here--that whole Fire of London thing, I think). Tried to sleep but the fan to the hotel's restaurant was in the air shaft just outside our window, noisy.

The room was hot and smelled like fried food. We laid down to try to sleep and Greg said--I can't do this. He went down to the desk and we got a much, much better room--their handicapped room in fact, which was not overly warm, twice as large, and had a huge bathroom. Yay!

We slept for a couple of hours, then visited the Museum of London and Piccadilly Circus. They say if you sit at Piccadilly Circus long enough, the whole world will pass by. I have no trouble believing it.

The next morning, we did our Grayline tour to Oxford, the Cotswolds (completely stereotypical beautiful English countryside) and Stratford-Upon-Avon for a 'cream tea.' The only bad part was that Greg and I were most interested in the Shakespeare sites and those were rushed because they were last. We did finish before the pouring rain, however.

The next morning, refreshed, we visited the Tower of London for about four hours (it's pretty cool), then St. Paul's Cathedral, then tried to go to Westminster Abbey (too late) and saw Big Ben and the London Eye and Parliament, then Buckingham Palace, then to Harrod's (where we ate chicken at a counter in the Meat Hall for $70).

On Tuesday morning, we took the Eurostar train to Paris, which I would highly recommend. We were cheated out of about $20 by an oh-so-helpful man at the automated ticket machine for the Metro when we arrived (we should have known better). And that was our first contact with a Parisian, isn't that nice.

We saw Notre Dame and I almost killed myself climbing the stairs. Seriously, we've walked so much on this trip that I think we're both in better shape than we've been for awhile, but my chest hurt from these stairs. 411 steps, all winding counterclockwise, with only one place to rest on the way. The chest thing went away as soon as I got my breath, but then I kept coughing and I thought I was going to throw up.

On Wednesday, fully recovered, we went to the Louvre (oh, our aching feet), the Eiffel Tower (fun but very, very high, Greg would say), did a boat cruise on the Seine, visited the Place du Concorde, walked back to our hotel through the Tulleries Gardens, and called it a night.

On Thursday, we traveled to Versailles via suburban train, where we stayed for hours, and where it got very hot and very sunny (91 degrees, the London paper said today). We ate at McDonald's at Versailles (thank you, Gregory, for letting me eat American food), then returned to Paris.

We tried to visit the Catacombs of Paris (closed for renovation, gotta clean up the bones, I guess), visited the Arc du Triomphe and Champs Elysses, then called it an early night--so wonderful to just rest.

This morning, we took the Eurostar back to London, then dumped our bags at our new hotel (thank you, God, they have free internet access and we could get into our room early).

We headed off to Westminster Abbey, which is really like a big cemetery because there are so many dang dead people everywhere. I wonder what you had to pay to get buried inside, because it seems people from 1200 onwards have been put everywhere in this place.

We liked our boat tour in Paris so much that we did one for London, which was a good idea because we've spent so much time traveling underground that we didn't see a bunch of neat things along the Thames.

We saw Tower Bridge again, then traveled to Trafalger Square briefly before heading back to our 'neighborhood.'

All we definitely want to do tomorrow is go to Wimbledon, which should take up a good part of the day since it's a ways out of town.

I could write on about blowing the black stuff out of our noses every night and the weird times we've been eating meals and the incredible sums of money we've been spending, but I'll leave that for another time.

For now, know that we miss you all, especially our girls. We take out their pictures every day, at least once per day, and we look at the pictures of them that Greg has stored on the digital camera. We talk about how we know they'll have seemed to grow and how we hope Julia doesn't cry when she sees us or refuses to come to us.

According to Marcia, Allie isn't quite ready to go home yet, but I think we've about had our fill of Europe for this trip. We're not looking forward to the horrible, even-longer flight home (I asked Greg if they could just drug me for it), but we're looking forward to getting back to our corner of the world.

Happy Birthday, Pam!!! See you all soon.

Debbie in London

Ah, babyhood.

Julia's on the waning edge of babyhood, what with being 21 months old (time to start saying "she's almost two") and with her speaking phrases and running and walking down stairs holding the railing (that one scares me, yes, and I always hold her arm when I catch her doing it).

But you know she's still a baby when she cries out in the night and doesn't stop and so you head to her room and pick her up. Then you realize that her stomach moving against your chest is her retching and she pukes all over your shoulder.

Yup, nothing says you're a parent more than a nasty, warm, wet, oh-my-god-that-stinks gift from your sick child on your shoulder.

She seems to be feeling better tonight. She hasn't thrown up since first thing this morning and she doesn't have any other symptoms, other than not wanting to eat much.

And when I carried her up to bed tonight, she was back to putting her normal sleepy, heavy head, warm and sweet, on my shoulder. Feeling better, thank god.

Big changes at work--changes that could really affect things for me. My boss gave notice. I was floored to hear it.

She has a milestone birthday this year, and she decided that if she was ever going to pursue her goal of starting her own business, she needed to get going. She'll be doing HR consulting.

So----- I'm the obvious successor, her right hand person. I have a good reputation in the company and with upper management. I just don't know if it's good enough to take over control of the human resource functions for a company of 1400 people.

And if I don't get the position, will I be able to stay, working for someone who will really needs my help but who I resent?

Yeesh.

It snowed here off and on all day today. When I drove home, it was 39 degrees on the thermometer at Walgreen's. That sucks.

Then Greg told me it's supposed to be 18 degrees tonight. Yuck. I want spring. I want it now. This crap isn't spring. This is playing winter when everyone is already sick of the game.

It's supposed to be up to 70s by the weekend. It had better be, or Mother Nature is going to get her butt kicked.

Today was our company's "Take Your Child to Work" Day. Allie loved it, though she really just came for an hour and then for pizza. She was happy that there were no crying babies. It's funny, though, since when Allie was Julia's age, I brought her for this day!

The girls are doing really well. We were just starting to be convinced that Julia was past her biting stage (though I still have the mark from when she bit my arm two months ago). And then she bit me tonight because Greg and Allie were going to the store and she wasn't going.

On the plus side, (ALERT: Don't read further if you don't want to hear a potty story!), Julia was acting like she wanted to use the toilet the other night. So I went upstairs, got the potty chair, and Greg took off her diaper. Sure enough, she sat down and looked for something to read.

Or at least looked like she wanted to find something to read. In any event, she said down and peed! What a prodigy. She's only 21 months. Which means, of course, that she probably won't do it again for another year.

I know why I don't blog more in the winter. It's cold down here in the basement! Unless Greg has been down here and has had the heater on, it's not very comfortable sitting wrapped up in a blanket and typing. The thermometer says it's 63.4 degrees. Yes, if you know my husband, you're not surprised we have an electronic thermometer down here.

A couple of weeks ago, we took the girls to the doctor for their checkups--Allie's 5-year checkup and kindergarten physical and Julia's 18-month checkup. All went well, except that the doctor doesn't seem to have any helpful advice for us about Julia's biting.

Greg and I agree that she needs more words, so she can express her frustration. We both think Allie was talking more at this point, but I know Julia's going to come out with some elaborate sentences when she feels like it.

In the meantime, they're both fine--growing up fast. And Julia is still skinny and tall. Whose kid is she, anyway?

All I can say is that it's a darn good thing she's cute. I remind myself of that every time I look at my arm where I still have a red mark from when she took a nip almost two weeks ago. Little vampire---

Rats! I didn't do a single post in the whole month of February. That's because I've become a "Sex and the City" junkie. My dear husband bought me four seasons of the show on DVD and I'm completely hooked.

So far, I've watched all of the first and second seasons and I'm on disc 2 of the third season. Don't tell me what happens next!

Actually, I kind of know what happens next because the reason Greg got me the DVDs is because I was watching the cleaned-up versions of the show faithfully on TBS, every Tuesday and Wednesday. They're at about year 4 or 4 1/2, I think.

I love this show. I'm thinking about going back and counting how many people each of the women has had sex with after I get all the way through. It seems unbelievable to this naive soul how they all jump into bed with someone at the drop of a hat. Or the drop of a condom.

Nonetheless, it's very entertaining.

At the rate I'm going, I figure I'll be through season four sometime in the week after next (and remember, I have young kids around and can only watch for about 1 hour per night). You won't hear from me until after then, most likely.

Are seasons five and six out? Almost time for a trip to Best Buy! Race you there, Gregory (though he has completely different reasons).

Illness is ravening the ranks of our family and friends. Nothing too catastrophic has struck our family yet, but I'm holding my breath. Julia turns 18 months and Allie turns five on Sunday and the birthday party is Saturday. No one can get sick.

Who am I kidding. Allie had a nasty fever for her first birthday party (she looks very flushed in all of the photos) and neither Julia nor Allie ate any of their respective first-birthday cakes. We'll see if this party can turn out better.

Don't tell, but Allie's getting an Easy-Bake Oven. Her Grandpa Mike in Florida actually bought it for her when she was two and we figure she's now old enough (and she's been begging for one enough lately) that we'll give it to her.

It freaks me out a little. The box says, Age 8+. As my boss said when I commented on that, however, at age 8 Allie will be using the real oven. She already loves to bake. She started cracking eggs, more or less successfully, at age 2.

I know her favorite part of baking is licking the bowl (I know some eggs have salmonella, so sue me). She's always a little annoyed when she has to share the licks of the bowl with her daddy.

I never had an Easy-Bake, but my friend Connie did. We couldn't use it very often though, because the mixes were too expensive. Since we're not actually buying Allie the oven, I want to go hog-wild with getting her Easy-Bake mixes.

She can mix a batch of little brownies and eat the whole thing for all I care, without baking it. As long as she eats a good dinner first (don't get me started on her eating habits lately).

Anyone for a cupcake size cake?

Greg and Julia were somewhere else in the house the other day when Allie said, "Mom, I need to tell you something. And I don't want you to tell Daddy and I don't want you to tell Karina (our daycare provider)." She was intensely serious.

She said, "Come here and I'll tell you. OK, bend down and give me your secret ear." So I bent down next to her and she moved my hair aside to whisper in my ear.

I could hardly wait. She gave me a very serious look and said, "OK, mom, now you can't tell anyone." I said, OK.

And Allie said, "Mom, I'm on a secret mission."

I almost looked around for M. She really gave me pause for a minute. Then she went on to say, "Sabrina and I hid in the closet to make plans, and I didn't want to go because it was really dark, but we had to figure out the mission," and I felt better.

My daughter wants to be a spy. I've been watching too much James Bond lately, obviously.