Reily-isms

Reily is a fun girl. Since I last blogged, she turned 5!! (I know ...5?! It's crazy!)

She does a lot of talking,

a lot of cartwheeling,

a lot of handstands,

and a lot more talking.

All day.

Every day.

That's just about it.

Today she wanted to walk the track at the YMCA. Every lap she would stop at the electrical outlet and fill up with imaginary soda. The next outlet, she would serve herself some imaginary ice cream. We did 1/2 a mile...snacking the whole way. I may have found MY new motivation.

She currently has a little mark on her lip, a scuff of some sort. I asked her how she got it. She launched into a fairly elaborate story about our "Elf on a Shelf", Jingle, sneaking into her room at night and punching her in the face. Mythical beings creep her out. She insists we should send Jingle back to Santa...one way. As for Santa? No likey. She's on the letter route. If he does come to visit (which is questionable with the naughtiness level in this house) he is not to stomp around in his loud boots, and he has to promise to stay downstairs. So many rules. Santa may just skip us.

One more:

Tonight before going to sleep, she asked, "How long is the night?" I replied, "About 11 hours for you.". Reily: "GRRRRR! I can't keep my mouth shut for THAT long!!"

That's for sure.

For my friends who are not losers...

If I can get the rest of you to balloon to your GREEAATEST potential, I would look so goood.
So, in defiance of the BL (Biggest Loser), I'm giving you these...Killer Brownies.
Uh huh.
Yep.
You're goin' down.
So, grab some good, stretchy yoga pants and get cookin'.
I don't have a visual.
I can't make more to get one.
Seriously, I can't.
It wouldn't be good.
I wouldn't be good.


Killer Brownies

1 milk chocolate cake mix
1/2 c. butter, softened...not melted
1/3 c. flour
1/3 c. evaporated milk

1 lb. caramels...unwrapped
1/3 c. evaporated milk

1 pkg. milk chocolate chips

1. Mix cake mix, butter, flour, and 1/3 c. evaporated milk. The dough will be sticky.
2. Smash 1/2 cake mixture into bottom of 9 x 13 pan.
3. Bake @ 350 for 5-7 min.
4. Melt caramels and 1/3 c. evap milk. Melt slowly. Watch carefully. You'll be really mad if you scorch this gooey, creamy love.
5. When the cooked brownie mix is out of the oven, sprinkle the chocolate chips, pour on the caramel, and squish/crumble the rest of the cake mixture on top.
6. Bake 10 more minutes.

It's best to wait for them to cool. If this is a lesson you wish to learn the hard way...they'll still taste delish!!

Lesson Learned: Charity & Death

My little Reily has several neuroses. She's also quick to establish new ones. She's always been curious about babies, armpits, and death. (Yep, armpits)

This weekend she and the other primary children were blessed with the opportunity of singing to the residence of the Sterling Home. The residents are chronologically gifted*. Our friend, Katie, celebrated her 100th birthday recently.

They all did an amazing job singing their little hearts out and even accepted those sweet, yet slightly suffocating, hugs and kisses.

Later, Reily confessed that she started to cry "just a little bit" when she was singing. When I asked her why... "Because I thought some of those people were a little bit dead. But, they were just sleeping. They looked a little dead though."

Since then we've had several discussions on the difference between sleep and death.

Oh, Reily.

What the fuss is all about.

Blaine and Dr. Drake's research came out in Nature yesterday.

It's caused quite a scientific buzz.

If you're into that sort of stuff, here are some links.

For those who like and can understand big words:
Nature

For those who like big pictures and little words:
Wired

I'm sure there's a TLC reality show in his future.

Dear August,

I thought we were done with each other?!
You need to take your mayhem and torture someone else.

AND...how DARE you drag September into this. A car robbery and all those bills from August's destruction...let's call it quits. Please?

You need to go away. I can't afford to have you in my life.

I don't care if you are my birthday month. I don't need to turn another year older. Besides, my birthday checks can't even cover your damages.

Bah-bye!
So long.
Farewell.
Ciao.

This doesn't need to be a bitter break up. Just go. Leave September where it is. We need football season, and if Reily doesn't have a birthday...the world would likely end.

Just go.
Now.

No more calls from the sheriff, the foundation repair guys, the dentist, the school, or the doctor.

Just move on.

Stay away from my family and friends. Go find some really mean people. They need you. They deserve you.

I'm not answering your calls, emails, or texts anymore.
Gone.
August...out!

Did I mention our GPS unit was stolen out of our car? yep. yay.