Yes Virginia, There is a God

This is quite possibly the best Christmas ever...and who would have thought. The blizzard of '06 has hit Denver and left us stranded with no flight until Christmas Eve. I was certainly a little bitter about it, but day after day my prayers have been answered and this is turning out to be one of my favorite Christmases ever. God is so gracious to us!
Some things never get old. Hearing Lincoln laugh about the same things over and over, building snowmen and baking Christmas cookies. How is it that I missed these things? At any rate-the blizzard left John and I miserably sitting at home wondering what to do and living out of the suitcases we've had packed for our trip for days. It would seem to be a waste of time being at home, nothing to do, nowhere to go.
But it turned out to be a wonderful blessing in disguise. John and I had a great time laughing, throwing snowballs, building a fort and a snowman affectionately named Frosty Schmidt.
Anyways, it's a great reminder of all the Christmas magic that floats around this time of year. That elusive, glittery stuff that only comes when you're not looking for it. To quote the Grinch:
"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"
It's so great how God used a horrible set of circumstances (the mess of the plane, being trapped, snowbound and cabin fever crazy) to make me realize how grateful I am for all the wonderful Christmas fun we get to have as a family.
Merriest of Merries to all....

I am woman-Hear me...Snore?

What nail will you hang your day on? You must hang it on something every morning. Your agenda. Your priorities. Even sleep. or God's agenda.
These were the words of wisdom I recieved recently that changed the way I think about what I do.
I was never one of those "quiet time every day first thing in the morning" girls. That was too legalisitc for me. But when this point was brought up to me it really struck home. You see as women we are given the unique ability to single-handedly set the temperature in our home each day. When I come downstairs with a grumpy--"what can I be excited about today?" or "how many hours till my husband gets home?--let me kill the time" attitude (which is unfortunately, all too often I must admit), the thermostat slides down to a chill 40 degrees in the Schmidt house. But--when I take the extra few minutes to focus myself, remind myself that I am God's daughter, and I need to act like the beloved one I am--I hang my day on God's agenda--I focus my priorities and see the day as a gift--well then it's creeping up to a cozy 70 degrees in our abode.
It's great to be a woman! God really created us to be amazing. Maya Angelou said in the poem "Phenomenal Woman":
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

How exciting can it get? We all know we have some certain intangible power over the life of our household. We're the encouragers, the supporters, the thankful ones, the cheerfulness, the joy, the laughter, the lilt, the thrill, the hand holders, the help meets. We get to boost the spirits of our home. We are created to be phenomenal.
But I can assure you that if I choose to hang my day on anything less than the strength of God's word and intentions, (by choosing those extra 15 minutes of sleep--or just plain not trying--- whatever) my character is anything but phenomenal.
Oh to get to the point where it's no longer a struggle to choose this every single day---to get to the point where it comes naturally to me. It seems like something I'll never attain.
But I'm just one choice away at any moment from a warm day---or a cold one.

Good news of Great Joy that will be for ALL nations!

Joy!
The Lord is come, Let earth recieve her KING
Let every heart prepare him room
And heaven and Nature SING!

If you miss the point this Christmas...it's not because you didn't hear it--it's because you weren't paying attention.
There's something about this idea of God choosing to come to the earth and in the humbe form of a baby...and then (as my pastor pointed out on Sunday) you'd think he would have appeared to the righteous, the leaders, the upper class...but he came to shepherds...the outcasts, because he wanted everyone to know it was for EVERYONE. And if he'd told the religious leaders--no one would have believed it.
On top of that he chose a 16 year old girl to get pregnant out of wedlock and introduce the king into the world. Then he was born in a stable of all places with absolutely nothing.
You can't make stuff like this up. And if anyone can hear this and think we serve a God who is redundant, sleeping, traditional, predictable, or even angry---they haven't listened. Because he chose to show himself in the least predictable, most humane way he knew how--a baby.
And if anyone has ever been around a baby you know that there is nothing they can do on their own...the God who can do everything-came to earth in human form-as a person who can't do one thing for himself, and shared in our weakness, relying totally on a 16 year old girl to care for him--all because he loves us tremendously and wanted to save us all!
Get your head around that....
and if your heart isn't shouting JOY right now....maybe you should check your pulse!

It's time for some jolly by golly.

I don't know about all of you out there in blogville--but the second my head hits the pillow on November 23rd (actually about a week before that if I'm being totally honest) I'll begin thinking about the jolliest of jollies, beause without fail--the day after Thanksgiving-- up go the lights, the ornaments and all the Christmas spelndor.
I love Christmas. I know it's cliche and traditional--so what, I'm not unique--but I get so excited just thinking about all the Christmastravaganza (it's now a word) that takes place every year. I love the crowded malls (or at least the idea of them) I love the holiday traveling, the tangled Christmas lights and the obligatory Christmas cards (we're sending out 101 this year---I know I'm insane).
Everyone goes on and on about the commercialism--the mandatory presents--the way we've ruined the season.
Maybe so, as American consumers we tend to do that--but think about a whole season centered on giving (even if it is unecessary stuff) because we've been given a little baby king to save the world. It's a holiday that not only is about a baby--one of my new favorite things...but about a baby that saved the world.....WOW.
Bring on the jolly!

I'm thankful for you!

Is anyone else so ready for the day long indulgence that is Thanksgiving? Truly an American holiday--the entire day is centered around eating. Which I don't really have a problem with.
As for the Schmittys--we'll be waking up (probably around 7:00 thanks to our little turkey) and eating pumpkin pancakes, moving on to watch the parade in front of the tele for 3 hours and then capping that off with a fat old meal consisting of more than one kind of pie.
It's a good thing turkeys are pretty ugly, because if I thought about it for too long I might actually feel a little guilty for an holiday that revolves around the idea of eating them....it is a bit carnivorous.
Finally, as far as the guilt of eating an animal--I must admit that the mayor from the movie Chicken Little does make me feel a little sad. But come on, give anything a hat and the voice of Don Knotts and who wouldn't love it.
Turkey dreams to all!
(Note: Thanks go out to the little kid that made this hand turkey that I found on the internet--he apparently is thankful for computers)

Panda Sneezes

This one goes out to my homies.

Restless Evil full of Deadly Poison

Yikes!
God has really been laying on my heart recently the dire need I have to work on controlling my mouth. My friend Nicole would say I "need a filter" (meaning between my brain and my mouth). I was reading my Bible this morning--specifically these verses:
"If any think they are religious and do not bridle their tongues but decieve their hearts, their religion is worthless."
James 1:26
and
"No one can tame the tongue--a restless evil, full of deadly poison."
James 2:8
Scary huh? I was so convicted my thinking of all the times I've gosspied, complained (even on this blog) grumbled, griped and nagged and just been plain rude and unkind and I chalk it up to "just being honest". I am so immature. It's amazing how many of my problems could be less complicated or avoided altogether if I would just learn to control myself a little more. I had a dream about rattlesnakes last night...one of my great fears. The thought makes me squirm--so when I read this verse this morning and realized what I am capable (and sometimes all too comfortable) with--I was quickly ashamed. I need to ask for forgiveness from all of you in this area. I know I have, on more than one occasion, given myself over to lax or even malicious words, and I hate this part of myself. Thank Jesus Christ for grace that is afforded to me and the liberty that comes from knowing that my salvation and eternity are secure (and it's not because of me). The verse that struck me the hardest I think is Luke 6:45:
"It is out of the adundance of the heart that the mouth speaks."
Wow!! So the thing that I need to be working on the most is the condition of my heart and the state that I allow it to be in. Mainly I think through what I feed into my mind. Complaints, gossip, profanity etc. This all manifests in my heart until
B--L---E---H!
There I go again spitting out awful things.
Lord, Please give me grace in this area and help me learn to control the words that I speak. I know I can bring great joy to your heart through my words, or destruction to my life and the lives of those I care about from it. I trust you to give me the strength to overcome it. And give me grace in the times I am struggling or fall short to remember your forgiveness toward me. Amen, Amen, Amen.

Not for the faint of heart

Okay, So I'm doing something I said I'd never do as a mother...talking about poo.
If this bothers you or you're one of those "Ugh, how disgusting" types....dont' read on.
I have yet to figure out how a small baby under the age of one can single-handedly manage to defy the laws of physics, but Lincoln has achieved it.
This morning when I was eating breakfast (thank you son) Linc had his normal "flow" of events. I pick him up and carry him up the stairs to change him only to realize that my bath robe is covered in poo, as is his leg, his tummy, all his clothes and his foot. I brace myself, since this is not the first time this has happened and I begin to attempt to strategically remove layers so as not to spread the poo--to no avail--I frantically grab wipe after wipe...finally determining it's just as easy to plop him in the bathroom sink and "hose him down".I cautiously open the diaper expecting to be astonished....practically nothing inside. A microscopic bit was actaully contained in the diaper (Thank you pampers).
This happens time and time again in mommyhood...you'll think all your wonderful little scientific improvements suck as "leak guard" and "dry weave" will contain the chaos...only to be reminded (usually with a strange warm feeling on your shirt) that it's a messy job. I have a friend who's child actually managed to poop in a way that it began leaking out the bottom of the car seat....yeah.
Brace yourselves ladies and gents. If you have yet to experience a baby...it's coming...and it will happen.
We all have (or potentially will have) terrible horror stories...that are usually strategically timed when we're trying to rush out the door. Whether it's pee, poo, spit up, or (when the teething monster strikes) drool, drool, drool--and you'll think to yourself one day...when you're sitting around in your dirty clothes, holding your little slime bug's slobber covered hand..."I never thought this would seem normal to me." But it will....and that's the scary part.
The best part is, it doesn't seem that bad. God gives us grace to accomplish the daunting tasks of parenting one day at a time, which is a good thing, because by the time they're potty training and they poop on the floor...maybe that won't seem so bad either.
Maybe I've spoken too much--some may say that all I write about is mommying....yeah yeah yeah. It's what I do. 24 hours a day. And I love it and I'm proud of it. Poo covered and all.

You've GOT to be kidding me!

So, I'm watching the Today Show this morning, and was reminded of the reason I don't have cable.
Meredith (the host) had the "What not to wear" ladies from across the pond on for an interview and they were making over a stay-at-home mom. They show the before picture of this tired looking woman, hair in a pony tail, bag slung over one shoulder, cargos, and a t-shirt on and I'm already thinking to myself--"yep! That's about right." Then they go on and on with their snobby british accents about "looking sleek" and "just because you stay at home doesn't mean you have to dress down."...
pardon me...but yes it does.
I don't know about you out there, but speaking from experience there is something fundamentally wrong with their thinking. When you stay at home with a baby, you go places like the park, and the grocery, and the post office--not brunch, or the boutique or rodeo drive. And not to mention that all my stay-at-home mommy friends truck around in the same gear, old navy t-shirts and jeans, so I'd be the only one toting a prada diaper bag and high heels? I don't think so.
Top it all off with the fact that you're awake at 6:00 in the morning and you're toting around a little puking pooping drooling machine and you have plenty of very good reasons to "dress down". Excuse me for saying so (and all you reading who don't have children and say things like "I'll never do that" prepare to eat your words) but when I finally get halfway down the block in my car after trying desperately to leave the house for an hour and happen to glance in the mirror and see a huge patch of spit up on my shoulder--and I try desperately to blot it out with something that probably already has spit up on it from yesterday only to be satisfied with a semi-visible white spot on my t-shirt and the faint smell of puke--I don't also want to have to be thinking about the fact that I paid $80 for the thing that has just been christened by my little monster. And don't worry--because it all happens again in about 45 minutes when he's sitting on my lap and decides to "let it all go" thus rendering all my effort to look normal useless because I now have a giant spot of urine on my right leg.
If you have never experienced this--you probably will, and it's perfectly normal. As much as people say they don't want this to be their reality and they still want to dress cute after babies, resign to the fact that you can let some things go..and dress nice again when they can control their bladders.
So when I see the shiny new mommy come out to the camera "post-makeover" with her beautiful trench coat, and charcoal gray dress slacks, I'm snickering to myself thinking "yeah, that'll last." Don't get me wrong, I love staying at home with the snugger, getting to see all his little smiles, and giggles, and reading books to him as he drools down my sleeve--but let's face it--it's not a profession without it's price.
And call me crazy--but dressing down sounds like a perfect idea.

It's my blog...I'll preach if I want to.

So, I'm going through this Bible study now, and it's awesome.
Yesterday, the writer was talking about how we need to believe what God says, and she was talking about how we need a visual reminder of who we are as God's people. So in Numbers (a book of the Bible) here's what it says, bear with me (I'm using a super easy to read version so you stay awake):
God spoke to Moses: "Speak to the People of Israel. Tell them that from now on they are to make tassels on the corners of their garments and to mark each corner tassel with a blue thread. When you look at these tassels you'll remember and keep all the commandments of God, and not get distracted by everything you feel or see that seduces you into infidelities. The tassels will signal remembrance and observance of all my commandments, to live a holy life to God. I am your God who rescued you from the land of Egypt to be your personal God. Yes, I am God, your God." Numbers 15:37-41 (The Message)

Okay, so we were supposed to have some sort of blue ribbon around our wrists to remember this...I dusted off my old "friendship bracelet" skills and there you go---it's no boondoggle, but what is? Except for a boondoggle I mean. (sorry the pic is a little blurry, only had one free hand to work the camera...obviously).
Anyways, what am I supposed to remember you ask?
Well, the verse is a little old, since our salvation doesn't come from keeping all the commandments any more (Thank God...literally), instead it comes from grace, and our faith in God's grace. But the verse says to "not get distracted by everything you feel or see that seduces you into infidelities".
Hmmm...what does that mean.
For me, I get distracted by fear (fear of death, of losing someone, of losing control, of being in danger etc.) I get distracted by what I want (more of everything, clothes, shoes, stuff, junk etc.) all these things seduce me into the infidelity of thinking that my life is in this world (and here's where I'll sound a little like a fanatic) and it's not.
My life in this world is like a prefix to the fact that I will live forever. Didn't C.S. Lewis describe it as just "The title page in the book of Life?"
So that doesn't mean I stop shopping at Old Navy (never!) or don't go to the gym because this world doesn't matter (it does matter) it's just the beginning though. And if I can look at my wrist and remember the most important thing in my life (more than Lincoln, John, stuff, or junk, more than making a difference, being cool, popular, unique, or important) if I can remember my God, and the LOVE (L-O-V-E) that he has for me, and I have for him,
THEN...
I'm living for the very purpose I was created for.
Call me a fanatic, fundamentalist, Bible-thumper, Baptist (uh-oh) whatever, I don't care. I want a life of reckless abandon and total passionate pursuit of loving Christ, because it's not just "church"...if it's true...and all we believe or say we believe is really what we believe...then it's THE most important thing in the history of the universe and I should act like it right?
Now that I've said all this to everyone that knows me best, I better be sure that my theology is matching my reality right? When I'm griping, down in the dumps, feeling soggy or cranky-when Linc's creaming his head off---remind me to look at my bracelet okay? Cause Lord knows, I need help remembering.
Now come on, if anyone's even out there in cyber land, and for whatever reason is reading what I'm writing in my little bathroom tile sized piece of the universe....
Can I hear an "Amen"?

The unhappiest place on earth

So, if at one end of the spectrum you have Disney World, which is quite possibly the closest you can get to being a kid at age 30 and is also the happiest place on earth (something I fully buy into), at the other end of the spectrum you have...
WALMART!
This place could easily pass for the third ring of Dante's Inferno, and if I had to pick one place I'd never want to go for the rest of my life it would be here.
You know when they were wondering what to do with the terrorist who orchestrated 9/11? I say we send him to Wal mart, strap him into one of those smiley face vests and never let him leave..that would be enough to strike fear into even the coldest of hearts.
You may be wondering "What's so bad about Walmart? I mean, they do have great savings and they carry quite a selection of products", well, to simplify things (and ensure that John will keep reading this because a list looks more concise) I'll give you my top ten reasons I hate Walmart.
10. There is only one bathroom and if I want to use it I have to cross Wal Country all the way through the video and fabric departments to get to it, and upon arriving often have to wait in line just to use a dirty stall that hasn't been thought about let alone cleaned for days.
9. I inevitably get stuck behind someone pushing their cart so slow they may as well be moving backward and stopping at each of the end caps to stare at the great sales they have on pop tarts and mexican soda, and I can't pass them because they refuse to go to one side of the aisle.
7. They're always out of one thing that I need. They'll have Jell-O in every flavor you could ever dream of but when I reach for a box of couscous there isn't a single package left. I hate you Walmart.
6. There is invariably a woman with 15 kids that are all running around grabbing things off shelves and screaming at the top of their lungs while the mother is blissfully unaware of anything that's going on around her.
5. No one that works there EVER knows where anything is...but they pretend like they do sending you all over the store until you eventually find it on your own.
4. The parking lot is so huge it needs two zipcodes and the spaces in front are never open (so do the faithful Walmart fans show up at 5:00am and take all the good parking all day or what?)
3. Their carts are always crappy. Not only are they engineered in a way that when I put Linc's car seat in the front his head is a foot lower than his feet, which makes him start to scream, but they always have something sticky on them, or a squeaky wheel--just to remind me of how annoyed I am the whole time I'm shopping.
2. It smells funny--Is it meat? Fish? Bathroom cleaner? I don't know...and I'm not sure I want to.
1. That &*$% smiley face staring at me every corner I turn, reminding me of their "rollback" prices, when all it makes me wanna do is rollback and punch his fat yellow head.

There you have it...I don't feel bad for saying it and I won't ever apologize- I hate you Walmart...always and forever. But rest assured, I still shop there. Because under their flourescent lights amidst the nauseating aisles upon aisles of american consumerism I can save about $50 on my grocery bill. And that's how they get ya!
(To balance my nasty attitude this post, I've added a picture of the happy family to brighten your day)

Bomie

Over the years John and I have amassed a strange number of little stuffed animals. Many people think we're juvenile, but each one not only has a name-but some have a middle name and a story-so the new series is to profile them.
We begin with Bomie.

Name: Boma Mara Jiko Zawadi (Bomie for short)
Hobbies: Lounging, snuggling, dancing when no one's looking
Favorite song: Move your feet by Junior Senior
Zodiac Sign: Ironically- a Leo (born in August)
Famous Phrases: "mumjumbo" ("hello" in his native tongue)
Story: Bomie was the souvenir John bought me on our honeymoon at Disney. He's named after every store/restaurant at the hotel we were staying at-The Animal Kingdom Lodge.
John used to wake me up by turning up a favorite song of mine (the one by Junior Senior) and making Bomie dance around to make me smile. Anyone who knows me knows he would be doing this because I am a terrible morning person. Needless to say Bomie has been with me every night for the past 3 years, with the exception of a short stint where he was forgotten in Colorado as we left for Cincinnati. He was quickly reunited with us via $12 air mail and a very pregnant friend who was willing to ship him to my mom's house in Ohio without passing judgment on how strange we were.
Now you know.

My Top Ten Weaknesses

10. Cookies
9. Anything with pumpkin in it--on it---or even near it.
8. Lincoln's laughs
7. Lincoln's cries (he plays me like a deck of cards)
6. Purses
5. Fun T-shirts
4. My triceps
3. Gym Shoes
2. Garage Sales
1. My hubby's dimples

One side of guilt please!

There are 2 kinds of people, those who are comfortable walking around the locker room naked, and those who aren't.
I'm the latter.
Don't get me wrong--if you're okay blow drying your hair topless, more power to ya--not for me though.
Anyway you slice it the locker room has become my new favorite place. Why? Because I get a shower. Those small wet little cages with the cheap green tub of soap on the wall used to gross me out, I probably swore I'd never use one (too many cooties swimming around) but now, after I exercise someone watches the snug monkey while I indulge in 15 minutes of selfish wonderful shower time (sometimes I even put on makeup--gasp!)
Now, what no one ever tells you is that mommyhood comes with a side of guilt, at least for me it does. I feel awful leaving him in there with all the screaming toddlers while I'm curling my hair--but I do it anyways.
Hey, it makes me a better mom, and I wish I wasn't the kind of gal who needs a break from her little bundle of joy--but I do.
(If you're wondering why see below posting entitled "Professor Snuggle Monkey"- note: picture)
So, at 10:00 each morning, you know where to find me--in my shower cell trying not to step on the disgusting drain or touch anything unless totally necessary...and loving every minute of it.

I'm having a niece!

Lillian "Lily" Wayne Reynolds is set to be born in January. You know what this means? All those fun girly things that aunties get to do, like spoil their neices.
fun fun fun.

The emperor within

Just when I'm coasting through mommy-hood thinking to myself, "I'm getting pretty good at this parenting thing", life smacks me upside the head.
And what is it that could possibly be strong enough to zap the strength of super mom? The same thing that killed the aliens in War of the Worlds...you guessed it--I've got a cold.
Not just your run-of-the-mill sniff sniff kind of cold. We're talkin full-blown nose running, entire box of tissues in 24 hours,head propped up on a pillow, "I'm starting to look like Emperor Palpatine" kind of cold. Lucky for me my betty of a friend Gretchen did my make up for me (she works at Clinique and even wears a lab coat) so the scary face was a little better, but the sick breath is still lingering. The worst part is- Linc is totally oblivious to the whole thing. Now I know how my mom must've felt all those days that she wasn't feeling well and I demanded full attention--come to think of it--I don't ever remember her getting sick (must be some mom super power I have yet to reveal). Until then, I'll be trudging around my house with a kleenex stuffed up my nostril ( yes, I actually do that--foxy, I know) and a baby on my hip, trying to figure out how much longer I have to stay awake before bed.
I'm all drama folks.

Professor Snuggle Monkey

It's the question every new parent is all too aware of "Is he sleeping through the night yet?" Everyone is excited about it and as a new parent bringing your little angel home from the hospital you anxiously await that glorious day when your baby randomly selects to give you a taste of grace and sleep through the night. But, what no one tells you is that there are a few caveats to this miraculous little moment.
Stipulation 1. Sleeping through the night technically only means sleeping between feedings for a minimum of 6 hours.
Maybe it's because a doctor coined the term, and they don't need much sleep, or because new parents in their extremely sleep deprived state willingly grasp to anything over a three hour break as a good night's rest. But to me...5 consecutive hours of sleep doesn't quite cut it.
Stipulation 2. They still wake up at 4 am.
If he eats one last time at 10:00 before we doze off--he's still waking up at 4:00 in the morning ready to party. That's 6 hours right mom? Yes, but when our snug monkey wakes up at 4:15 all smiles and bushy tailed, it doesn't matter so much.
Stipulation 3. There's not much you can do to control it.
Everyone swears by some secret system to get your baby to sleep through the night--heck, there are even books on it. But if you ask me, there's not much rhyme or reason to it. Some nights Linc will sleep in perfect peace for 6 hours, some he'll go 3 and then be ready to play--there's no real predictor. I'd like to think we had some contribution to the whole deal, but at this point, our little Tonight Show host is the dictator of when we sleep (I know, we're supposed to be able to control this right?)
Bottom line is, it really doesn't matter. I often catch myself determining a good day by how much sleep the snug's gotten the night before, but that's not the way to do it right? When I was holding him in the rocking chair yesterday-I started thinking about how fast he grows, and maybe it was because I was lingering on the edge of that state between sleeping and wake but I definitely felt a little emotional. God gave me this little man, and there will only be a few moments in the long run where he's this tiny little person who needs his parents for everything. He relies on us. We're all he's got, and he can't do squat (aside from some pretty tremendous poops) on his own. So I guess I'll take advantage of all this--even at 3am (someone call and remind me of this occasionally ok?)
It's faith like a child, it's total reliance. I wish I could have the same sort of dependence on God for everything I need. My little monkey is teaching me more everyday huh? And who says they don't do anything fun.
Oh, and if anyone needs to talk at 4:00 am...guess who's available.

My big jump to the bandwagon

Okay, so the title is a little crude, but it's the truth. I'm figuring out this whole thing, not sure why I'm even remotely interested in joining, but I figure it's time I punch my card to be a trendy member of the 21st century and begin blogging my butt off.
This will hopefully be a glimpse into the life of our family, filtered through my mind. My husband John, our little man Lincoln (affectionately referred to as Linc), and our two cats Tweedles Dee and Dum (Mikey and Maggie).
A little about me: recently I'm into my new gym membership, (took a hip hop class today and felt like such a coolie), making Lincoln laugh at all costs (let's just say I'm glad no one else sees me and he's too young to remember how ridiculous I look) and getting a shower when I have time.
Right now Linc is snoozing, and I should be, but I'm off to strap on my pretty Donna Reed apron (over my sweat pants and t-shirt...yes I said sweat pants...it's horrid I know, those "what not to wear" goons would shudder) and make a yummy shepherd's pie for dinner.
Speaking of Shepherd's Pie, what an awful name for an entree, we should nominate some new names for that one...feel free to comment.