I see you got your invitation!

Facebook makes me feel bad about myself. Actually, other people's birthday greetings on FB make me feel bad, because you want to know how many I got on my birthday? One.

That's it.

One.

Now, it's possible that it's because my birthday is Christmas Eve and folks might be a little distracted on that day. It's possible. But I think it's just because FB and the birthday fairy hate me.

Well, who needs 'em? I'm throwing myself an un-Facebook unbirthday party and you're invited! Yeah, you. Lurkers too, but don't be mad if I don't know your name. I'll wave, still. You know, that fake, "Hey..." (madly scrambling for your name but can't think of it so the "hey" implied by my wave will just trail off awkwardly in both our inaginations). But it's a wave.

So you don't have to bring anything except for an elephant joke and a birthday greeting. Just drop it off in the comment box. I had a book of 1001 of them when I was a kid and I still miss that book. If you don't know any elephant jokes, you can gimme a knock-knock one instead.

Anyway, I'm a giver. I give people my presents on my birthday all the time. (I'm sure I'd do it even it wasn't Christmas Eve. No, I would.) (Maybe I wouldn't.) For my unbirthday, I'm giving you my two favorite elephant jokes. The first one is actually my life motto. Or one of them, because I have maybe...twenty.

How do you eat an elephant?

One bite at a time.

Why do elephants lie on their backs?

To trip low flying canaries.

Ha ha ha ha ha!

I like you guys so much, I'm throwing in an extra, just for you.

What's gray and lights up?

An electric elephant.

Happy unbirthday to me!

So what's the technical term for killing someone imaginary?

There's this girl I know that I might have made up and put in my book that I wrote. And this girl is a pretty cool cat as things go. She's got it all together except for the part about where she's emotionally stunted from a bad break up after high school. But everything else she's got together. She's funny and smart, successful, and can dress herself with a fair amount of style.

But apparently, she's not relateable. And apparently (to everyone but me), the solution to this is to put a little egg on her face. You know, have her trip on a banana peel and split her pants in front of her love interest or something. I don't know. I mean, I guess that's what I was supposed to do with her. The thing is, she's a pretty controlled person and goes kinda far out of her way to make sure those things don't happen to her. Which is the unrelateable part, I guess. Anyway, I had to think for almost two weeks before I could find a way to figuratively muss her hair in a way that was in keeping with her character. Her humor comes from her wit, not her external situation. But I had to come up with some situations and make them work and have her react in a way that was funny but also true to herself.

Sigh. So I worked and re-worked it and sent that thing off (because I was invited to resubmit which is apparently a very good sign) and now I'm waiting.

And while I'm waiting, I'm reading a book that should be a lot funnier than it is because the heroine is always embarrassing herself, ha ha ha. But that's the problem. She's always embarrassing herself. She NEVER learns and it's driving me nuts. Every time she thinks, "Maybe I shouldn't," she goes and does some boneheaded thing anyway.

????

It doesn't make me laugh. It makes me want to slap her. Same as the people who still write checks in the grocery store (which I will forgive) but wait until the whole total is in before they start filling in the check, which I refuse to forgive. Or like the dummies who think they're immune to using a turn signal under any circumstance. Or the inconsiderate jerks that think the hands free cell phone driving rule is for everyone else but them.

Wait, that's me.

But I mean it about the other stuff. And about this dumb, dumb girl that I want to slap, except for she's not real.

But my character embarrassed herself with integrity, so I guess I can live with it. In fact, it might be that those editor people even know what they're talking about. In fact, if they buy my book, I'll swear they're geniuses. Genii? No, geniuses. Wait...

Identity crises

My brother lives a couple of miles away and every time I go there to coerce him into free babysitting so I can do things like not lose my mind for an hour while he watches the boys, I see this sign:
I don't even know what to think about Dr. Eggleston. Please discuss.

Upside down, you're turning me...

It happened! Ha ha! I finally got tagged! Can you believe that's never happened before? I am so excited.

Well, I WAS so excited, but now I'm not because it's that 6th picture one and here's my awesome 6th picture:

It's in there because I forgot to delete it in case someone tagged me for this. Seriously, I was just sitting around, waiting, thinking, I need to delete this because it's a stupid picture to have, much less be sixth in my file. This is seventh:

Much better, right? It's the evidence that Baby G is NOT an angel. He got into his brother's Nesquick chocolate drink mix, spilled it all over the floor, did some breakdancing, shoved a little in his mouth (just enough to get saliva all over his hands and make them sticky), and then crawled into the livingroom where he pulled himself up on my pants and left a trail of perfectly formed baby paw prints from the kitchen to my sweats. This is Baby G trying to act like he doesn't understand why it's such a big deal:

But anyway, this meme is about the 6th picture. It's a shot of the beach four blocks from my house where I took Baby G to play last week. Because it was 80 degrees and I have a hard life, I know. Anyway, I could tell you that this is an abstract rendering of how I see the world. Or I could tell you that it's a picture that shows my inner artistic eye, my slightly askew brain. Or I could tell you that Baby G snapped a pic when I wasn't looking. I could.

But I won't.

Today, Tim Tams. Tomorrow...the world?

Let's just clear the air up front...today's post is going to suck. Not because it's in and of itself bad. It's just going to suffer from over-hype. You know, like the last Spiderman movie? Anyway, after all the ballyhoo on Thursday, I thought you should be prepared. This is an okay post. Compared to the hype, it's a lame post. Or I think it will be. I haven't actually written it yet. I guess we'll find out together...

So I think Kevin Costner is going to try to sue me for intellectual property rights, or maybe that chick who wrote The Secret is going to come after me, but whatever. I'm dealing with blogging, not baseball diamonds in cornfields or whatever The Secret is. I don't even know the secret, so I can't have ripped it off. That means what I'm about to reveal to you is 100% genius. Ready?

Okay....

If you blog it, it will come.

Seriously.

My blog is kinda just my thinking place, but I see these bloggers who get hooked up with major swag to sample and review or give away, and I've thought, "Nice gig. Wonder how they do that? Huh. I'm gonna make up some random numerology crap now."

I guess I figured if you're blog famous enough, people will want to advertise on your blog and pay you in STUFF. In fact, I think that's how it usually works. But now, thanks to my genius brain, I don't have to become famous to start getting stuff, AND I don't have to just smile and nod over whatever random stuff companies decide they want to send me.

You've got it all backwards, people, if you thought like I did. The truth arrived in a FedEx box last Wednesday. I opened it up and guess what tumbled out? Check it out:

Yep, my beloved Tim Tams. See, I discovered they are temporarily on sale at Target through March and then it's back to Australia only. So in my joy, I waxed eloquent on my love of Tim Tams and even tried to peddle them to unsuspecting Tim Tam virgins, secretly hoping to develop a legion of addicts, thereby increasing the Tim Tam consumer base and perhaps make their U.S. debut permanent.

TWO different companies doing the marketing for Tim Tams discovered my bloggy love and sent me Tim Tams. FedEx. For FREE.

If you blog it, they will come.

Why did I think I would have to be famous? I have very strong anti-fame feelings that I will perhaps post one day, but I just figured I'd have to trade away getting free stuff for the security of blog anonymity.

I don't! I can have free stuff AND still toil in obscurity!

Suh-WEET!

So I had to think carefully about how to wield my knowledge. It's good I used the weekend to ponder this. I mean, if I'm going to proclaim my love for something and have it show up in my mailbox a week later, I gotta pick the right thing, you know? So after careful consideration (True Religion jeans? Concert tickets to a hot show? A cosmic mute button for Paula Abdul? Scratch-n-sniff stickers?), I have made my decision.

I'm shouting to the blogosphere...

I could really use a monkey!

You hear me? Bloggy gurus? Great and Terrible Oz? Yoo-hoo!

Monkeys rock.

Just sayin'.

P.S. FedEx, you can leave it on the doorstep if no one's home. I release you from liability. And it will answer to the name of Sampson. Eventually.

Time passes

Tomorrow marks a strange anniversary for me. It will be two years since my mom died. She was 59. It was breast cancer. I could blog for an entire year about the incredible woman she was and what she taught us even in her greatest hardship. I could, but I won't. It's funny the things you remember about someone after they're gone, the things that sneak in and become a part of you. I meant to do a different Friday Favorite, but it just seems right to tell you one of my favorite memories about her. It's nothing profound, but it makes me smile, and that's welcome today.

Both of my parents were deaf, which I've mentioned before. But they were really high-functioning. Excellent speech, excellent lip-reading, all that. Well, let me amend that. My mom had mostly excellent speech. Her W's and R's got a little tangled up sometimes. It was always easy to figure out what she meant, so no big deal.

One year for her birthday, my brother the thoughtful gift-giver, got her a framed picture of a rooster. It was done in the primitive folk art mode, her favorite style, and was painted like it had been made from patchwork quilt pieces, then mounted in a rustic red frame. It was a little on the country-kitchen end of the spectrum for me, but she liked it and hung it...in our kitchen. It must have been up there for about five years when she casually commented that she liked it, too, but wasn't sure what prompted my brother to give it to her. I was surprised. "I thought you told him you liked rooster art," I said.

It was her turn to look surprised. "Sure, I guess," she said, and shrugged.

It wasn't until months later that it hit me: she hadn't told him she liked rooster art. She'd been telling him she liked the art work of Jane Wooster Scott but had only come up with the Wooster part of her name, which to him sounded like "....folk art....rooster...." and voila! We had a rooster in our kitchen for five-ish years.

It started a tradition in our home for gift-giving. Every occasion after that, whether it was her birthday or Mother's Day or Christmas, she got something she wanted and could use, and she got rooster paraphenelia whether she wanted it or not. Rooster dishes, rooster dish rags...it was an impressive collection. That she never wanted and was powerless to stop.

When we settled their estate and sold off a lot of stuff, it was with great glee that we watched her rooster stuff get snatched up. But I it is always with a little pang that I see a gad-awful rooster accessory now. I have no one to buy it for. I miss my mom.

Oh, psych!

I can't post today. Ha! ha! It's a crazy busy day, which is too bad because if you thought what I discovered about numerology yesterday was amazing, what showed up from FedEx later in the afternoon is going to blow your minds! BOOM! Don't know if that's what mind-blowing sounds like, but it's the only sound effect I could think of to spell first thing in the morning.

Anyway, seriously, I think I may be onto the most brilliant blogging idea EVER, but...

It'll wait. Tomorrow is Friday Favorites and I've been jonesing for some elephant jokes ever since we had dinner with our friends a couple of weeks ago, and Friday Favorites is about the only way I can justify blogging about elephant jokes. I have RULES, you know? So my incredible secret to unlocking the blogging universe via the secret in my FedEx box will just have to wait until Monday. Be excited, but don't hold your breath until then, because I don't want to become the subject of a future ripped-from-the-headlines medical drama where a bunch of people simultaneoulsy suffocate and the only common link that's eventually discovered is that the victims all read my blog and then quit breathing. That would be weird.

Must dive into my day now.

Splash! (I thought of another sound. I must be waking up now.)

You can count on me

So I've decided to believe in numerology. You know, where every number has a meaning, and they all add up to stuff that means other stuff. Like here's something that I stole from Wikipedia:
Number definitions
There are no set definitions for the meaning of specific digits. Common examples include:

1. Individual. Aggressor. Yang.
4. Creation.
7. Thought/consciousness.
9. Highest level of change.
10. Rebirth.

Digit summing, as the name implies, involves taking the sum of all of the digits in a number, and repeating the process as necessary until a single-digit answer is produced. For a word, the values corresponding to each letter's place in the alphabet (e.g., A=1, B=2, through Z=26) are summed.

Examples:

Hello → 8 + 5 + 12 + 12 + 15 = 52 → 5 + 2 = 7

Anyway, it turns out that different cultures assign different qualitites to the same numbers, meaning the Jews don't necessarily think that "3" means the same thing as the Chinese do. So I figured I could make my own numerology meanings for stuff.

Like for example, my birth date adds up to the number 8. And 8 is the exact number of chocolate frosted donuts in an Entemann's box. My birth date is clearly telling me to eat more Entenmann's chocolate donuts.

Cool, right?

The possibilities are mind blowing. My wedding date adds up to 4. That obviously indicates that I should get four gifts on every anniversary. And the word "candy" adds up to 3 (3 + 1 + 14 + 4 + 25 = 57 = 5 + 7 = 12 = 1 + 2 = 3). And there are three meals a day and I think that means that I'm supposed to be having a piece of candy at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

But it doesn't stop there! Today's date adds up to the number "2". And that's how many shoes come in a pair. So I guess I better get over to the mall and hit the Steve Madden store. The numbers say so. Or thanks to Kristina P., I now know how I was missing out on the Snuggie. I looked it up and the numbers in the toll-free phone number you call to order one also add up to 3. I think that means that the Snuggie is 3 times more awesome than a regular blanket. Or that I should have three of them. Or that they cost three times more than they should. I'm actually not sure what that three means.

Numerology even works for your pinkie toe. Like if I add up all my fingers and toes, that equals two (20 = 2 + 0 = 2), and the mani/pedi place is only two blocks from my house. Score!

I kinda think the Zodiac thing is a crock (because I am soooo not a Capricorn. Maybe a Taurus, but a Capricorn?). But this numerology thing? Total believer.

Change we can believe in

I went to school in the ghetto. I'm not exaggerating. My elementary school was surrounded by shotgun shacks and my middle school sat in the middle of public housing. I saw very few white faces in my classrooms and all of my closest friends were black.

At home, across town, it was like a photo negative. We had no black families in our neighborhood and neighbors with no interest in changing that.

I grew up in Baton Rouge, and I was bused across town because of desegregation laws, which is how I ended up in the ghetto every day. Rather than attending the school just down the street, I was sent on a forty-five minute bus ride one way to a school that needed it's chocolate mixed with a little cream. It was a fantastic experience. I hung out with my girls Shemika, Yolanda, Neddra, LaTina, Andrella and Donyelle at recess. I learned the newest dances and discovered Kool and the Gang and New Edition. I was blessed that my parents looked at it as a culturally enriching experience. Not all of my family did.

Unfortunately, I've got some not-so-closeted bigots in my family tree. I heard all manner of racist jokes and epithets while growing up. I was blessed with parents who were careful never to perpetrate that kind of garbage in our home, and we were free to enjoy colorful friendships and school experiences.

That didn't make me blind to the fact that outside of the chain link fence around our school, things were not the same for my friends and I. I could see and know for myself that being white made me different and gave me advantages that they didn't have and I felt, even at an early age, that white guilt some of us have. Even more, I felt an overwhelming sense of injustice at our different treatment.

My high school, by law, was required to maintain no more than a 60% white majority, and the remaining forty percent was fleshed out by Asians, Indians, and blacks. I knew almost no Latinos. In fact, I can name only one from my acquaintance. Our public high school, an academic magnet, attracted the best and the brightest minds in our district and we worked in a wonderful melting pot of high achievement and cultural diversity. But again, when we left the grounds of the school, most of my black friends returned to the poverty-stricken rundown neighborhood that surrounded the campus and the rest of us took buses back to our tree-lined suburban streets.

I kept my son home from school this morning to watch the inauguration of a man who proves that even when the scars of segragation are fresh just in my short lifetime, that we are a nation of people who can change. Yes, we can. We can deliver on the promise of hope to the generation my sons represent, and we can work toward a time when neither race nor money defines us. We aren't there yet, but we are so much closer than we were yesterday.

I have tried to walk my talk. I took a teaching post at a middle school challenged by the integration of Hispanic students into a previously "white" campus so I could be one of the teachers that wanted "them" there, instead of demanding transfers off-campus. I chose to enroll my son in the track at school that had the highest proportion of English language learners so he could enjoy the exposure to the rich language and cultural differences, and embrace them.

I hope, as Rick Warren prayed, that President Obama has the wisdom to govern in humility and the courage to govern with integrity. I hope the we regain our credibility with the international community and set the standard for liberty and civility.

But mainly I hope that my children will judge others only on the content of their character and never the color of their skin and never dream that there was a time when it was different.

You don't belong here!

You people need to learn your place, you dig? I get confused when you're out of context.

No being out of context, you guys!

Do you know who just spent three days at my house? Do you?

Because if you do, that's kind of creepy because...why would you know that?

Anyway, Alison Wonderland's brother-in-law was here. I think he actually carved that into the bottom of the bunk above him.

So, he stayed here because he and my husband had a college band together and so they decided to play catch-up and they went to some big music trade show down here. Which is so not the point. The point is, how weird is that I just randomly stumbled across Alison Wonderland's blog and months after I started reading it, her sister made the connection that I was the Melanie J married to former frontman Kenny of BYU-famous band Picture This, and that we knew each other and that Alison Wonderland and I had this weird meta-blog connection? And I just totally misused the "meta" prefix which is bad because metafiction is my husband's expertise. But whatever.

The point is that it was strange to have my blog friend's BIL, a blog friend I haven't met in real life, sleeping in the extra bunk and carving, "Brent wuz here" with a super modified guitar pick he got from some hussy trying to promote them at the trade show.

That's super weird, right? I mean, that I made that up? He didn't carve anything. But he did get the bottom bunk.

Anyway, it's not like this is the first time this has happened. The out of context thing. I did two years of high school in Louisiana and then two in California and when I would bump into CA friends while hanging out with Louisiana folk at BYU, it was confusing and unnerving. I wouldn't let them be friends with each other so that my brain wouldn't implode.

That's why I could never go to one of those famous blogger meet-and-greets you Utah people do. You know, because 1) I'm not blog famous and 2) I don't live in Utah and 3) the top of my head would blow off if I saw these folks in person.

And when I go to the LDS Storymakers conference, I'm going to sit by myself and not talk to Annette, or Sue, or Kimberly or Josi because I don't want to lose my mind.

Which brings me back to my original point. Know your place, people. Know your place!

Is there a problem, officer?

My husband is a God-fearing, law abiding man who does NOT fight with his wife (in case you missed that in the comment trail yesterday). He pays his taxes, donates to charity and believes that work is a godly principle.

Which is why I'm sad I have to tell you this...

But every time he goes to the bank, he thinks about how to rob it.

Now mind you, he doesn't want to actually rob it. He just thinks it's interesting to think about how he would pull it off. And what's more, he insists that this is a pretty common thing for guys to do. I've done some field research and discovered that he's telling the truth.

According to one of his former roommates, a psychology major, this is called an intrusive thought and we all have them. Our sanity is determined by how well we resist acting on them. By this measure, my husband is a completely sane man. Note to the FBI or whoever is monitoring Google alerts for the phrase "robbing banks", my husband HAS NOT and WILL NOT ever rob a bank. Mkay?

Still, this little quirk of his does lead me to my Friday Favorites. If you've been following me for a while, you know I've covered everything from favorite fruits to recipes for wall boogers. Today is all about my favorite intrusive thoughts.

1.
2.
3.

Hm. I guess I don't have any that are moldering because I'm a tad impulsive and do things when they come into my head. I'll have to call in an expert.

KENNY...! Oh, there you are.

1. One time, Kenny was driving down the street and he saw a guy in a bunny costume and he thought, "What if I walked up and just punched that guy in the stomach?" But then he immediately thought it was mean and felt bad. He still feels sad that he ever thought that.

2. Whenever my husband stands on Pacific Coast Highway to cross to the beach, he watches the traffic whiz by and wonders, "I wonder what would happen if I just jumped out in front of all those cars?" But I'm supposed to let you know he has no suicidal tendencies. He doesn't even like the band.

3. Sometimes when he's in business meetings, he gets these intrusive thoughts where he does or says inappropriate things. Like standing up in the middle of the meeting and saying, "I'm bored" and leaving. Except he doesn't acutally do that.

Oh, I thought of one I often have. See, I have an amazing talent for belching which I NEVER share because I think it's super gross. But sometimes I wonder what would happen if I let a mighty belch pour forth in the middle of sacrament meeting, like when the high councilman is speaking.

And sometimes when I have a stomachache while I'm driving and I accelerate toward home and my OWN personal bathroom, I think about how if a cop tried to pull me over, I'd make him follow me home and wait until I did my business before he could write me the ticket.

Is that oversharing?

But seriously, to the Google cops:

1. My husband isn't a bank robber.

And to the rest of you:

2. We have not had a single real argument in our entire marriage. No raised voices, no silent treatment. Kenny feels it's important to tell you that, since he thinks my ironic tone might have been too subtle yesterday. And I will gladly clear that up because Kenny is my Friday and Everyday favorite.

If I have two apples and take one away, will anyone care?

I'm going to defy common sense and blog etiquette and put my dirty laundry out there for all of you to see. My husband and I had a fight last night and now I'm going to let it ALL hang out. Because I have a blog and I can.

It started innocently enough. We were watching American Idol and a contestant said they were going to give 110%. This really bothered Kenny. It did not bother me. This began the fight.

Kenny has a problem with 110% only when it comes to people, not pie. I know, because he explained it to me in a very detailed analogy. Apparently, you can give someone 110% of a pie if it's just a regular old pie. You know....apple or key lime or something, and you have more of them laying around.

Mmmmm.....key lime....

Oh, okay. I'm back.

Anyway, giving someone 110% of a pie is just giving them a whole pie plus a tenth of another pie that's the same kind. BUT, if it was a really unique pie, the only one of it's kind in the pantry (or display case if you do pies the way I do), then you can't give 110% of that pie. You can only give 100% of that particular pie. There's no more to give.

Are you following this so far?

Do you like that I'm asking you that as if I'm even going to stop and wait for the answer while I'm typing this? Because I'm not. Just in case you thought I was. Not because I don't care, though. Just because...um, well, that wouldn't make sense.

Anyway, according to Kenny, people are like pies in that we are completely unique and so we can only give 100% of ourselves and nothing more. You can't take 10% of someone else and give that too to make it 110%. This bothers him.

I think his logic is fine. But I think he is wrong to be bothered by this because I think 110% is an excellent metaphor. I don't take it literally (Annette) and I don't think most other people do, either. What the metaphor says to me is that you wring out every last drop of your effort and after you've given it everything you've got, then you dig a little bit deeper and find just a little something more than what you thought you had. I think it's a very nice metaphor, actually.

Hmmmm....I guess it's more of a cliche. But whatever. I don't mind when people say they gave 110% because I understand the level of effort they're indicating. I hate 150% though, because it ruins the metaphor. And I'm not going to even explain why because this is a stupid post.

Please don't worry, though. We've decided to stay together for the sake of the children. After all, I said going into this marriage that I would always give 110%.

Seriously, you, with the grade book? Stop it. Just stop it.

I am so over creative spelling assignments, and I say that respectfully as a language arts teacher.

Just give my kid sentences and three times each, I beg of you, Mrs. Fourth Grade Teacher.

Please, PLEASE, stop with the "Use ten spelling words in a poem", especially when you don't give a list with words that have easy rhymes. Treatment? Powerful? Discolor?

YOU rhyme them, you no-child-having fresh-out-of-teacher-school smarty pants. If you had kids old enough to do homework with, you would NEVER assign this to other parents. I mean, kids.

ABC order? Fine. Write it in cursive? Fine. Define each word? Fine. I get it. You need to know how to do all that.

But make a crossword puzzle? A word search? A treasure map? A comic strip? A themed poster? With spelling words like "remake"? Really? What life skill are those activities teaching, exactly?

Look, I know some of you are going to light up my comment trail and accuse me of being a fun nazi that probably wants kids to be efficient bubblers and not creative thinkers.

To you, I say, "Pbfllllllllttt!" I was a kick a** teacher with the adoration of my students to prove it and test scores to back it up. I don't mind creativity. On the contrary, I embrace it! I really do! But making a word search? That doesn't require creativity or teach anything useful. You know what it requires? My patience. Gobs of it. Pound upon pound upon tons of patience while I explain to my nine-year-old why he has to do it when I've got no better reason than, "Your teacher says so." No examples of how it's helping him learn and apply his knowledge. It's monkey work disguised as "creative" teaching.

Pbffffllllllltttt! To my naysayers! I blow raspberrries in your general direction! And your mother smells of elderberries!

I'll compromise. Of the four spelling assignments we, I mean he, gets each week, why not let one of them be self-directed? We'll, I mean he'll, do something creative but something that captures his interest. That way my son doesn't have to write goofy poems.

I have mad rhyme skillz, and to demonstrate the absurdity of this assignment, I shall now turn my kid's spelling list into a poem:

Dear Mrs. *****, your assignment is useless
Let me name the things I dislike
Crossword puzzles? A little clueless.
A treasure map? Psych!
The comic strip displeases me
I want to discolor both
I feel as unlucky as can be
And that one you can quoth!

So let it be said, so let it be written.

Except for not in the form of a word search.

Chuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnkkkkkkk!

I think the lottery is stupid.

And yet...

I have grand ambitions to do the following: go the the Ellen show during Christmas and win all the giveaways. Or get on The Price is Right and play Plinko. Or win a half million on Who Wants to be a Millionaire.

In fact, I've thought long and hard about how to win a little pocket change. That Regis show Password that was on for a little while...I would kill on that. But I'd be too good and they wouldn't pick me to be on it. And I'm not quite fast enough for Jeopardy. I might do okay if they never asked any wine or geography questions. Wheel of Fortune? Consider the name. Fortune by definition means I would have very little control over the outcome. Ditto for Let's Make a Deal, and I lack the nerve besides.

I think the perfect show for me is that pop culture trivia competition they do on VH-1 every summer where you compete in teams of three. And you have to think of a cool name for your team.

Oh, wait. I just realized I have something new to obsess about. I need to think of a name and an outfit for my team. My favorite from last year was "Fragilay", referencing A Christmas Story, of course.

I'm thinking....I'm thinking...

Got it. We'll be the Truffle Shuffle.

Okay, I gotta get after this. I'm going to earn me a down payment for our next house.

Nancy, tell Paula and Martha I'll be calling!

Stuff and Nonsense

I want scratch and sniff stickers. I used to have a bunch of them. I mean, granted it was second and third grade, but I had a sticker collection with all kinds of cool stuff. I had holographic pink ballet slippers and a pretty shiny rainbow thingamabob. But the scratch and sniff were my favorite. I distinctly remember my pickle and root beer ones the most. Now, though? I wouldn't have the faintest idea where to find a smelly sticker. Maybe they went the way of Garbage Pail Kids and plastic charm bracelets. Maybe they were recalled for high levels of lead. Maybe kids just think they're dumb.

I've had a bunch of collections over the years, so let me share a little bit of my accumulated (pun intended) wisdom. Unless you really, REALLY love what you're collecting, NEVER tell anyone that you collect it. Not unless that's all you want to get for every gift-giving occasion for the rest of your life. Letting your penchant for a certain something out of the bag basically just hands everyone in your life an excuse to never think of what to buy you again. You like hummingbirds? Guess what you're going to get forever?

I know because in high school I really liked frogs. They were everywhere when I was growing up in Louisiana but there were none in California, where I moved. So I started collecting them, maybe as a homesick thing. Just cute little figurines, wooden or pewter or whatever. But then word got out and for years, that's all I got from friends and family, even when I outgrew the collection. I got a handmade frog quilt (still cool), a frog jewlery box, plastic frogs, frog shirts, a Buddha frog. It rained frogs in my life until I finally begged for mercy at the age of twenty-five. "Let's ALL move past the frogs. Please!"

My collections are much subtler now. I didn't even realize I was collecting in some cases until I sat and considered what I spend time acquiring. I collect books. Lots and lots of books. Hundreds in storage, dozens in my home. Slowly I'm beginning to build a subset of super cool books: I have an original edition of Huckleberry Finn (whoa!) and a SIGNED copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. I think I'd like to expand my collection but only with books that resonate with me emotionally, so I imagine that my pile will grow slowly. That's a particularly expensive habit.

It's better than some of my collections from years past, though. In fifth grade, I collected fingernails. Don't read on if you're easily grossed out. My fingernails grow really long, really fast. I keep them short now but for years they were super long and that was kind of my trademark. I'm talking an inch long, in many cases. And when my really long ones broke, I would keep them. I had spent a lonnnnng time with them as part of me, you know. I think in high school I finally figured out that it was a bizarre thing to do and they went in the trash. That particular quirk makes a cameo appearance in my recently completed novel, because heaven knows, you just can't make stuff like that up.

I've had other less disturbing collections, too. Buttons. Shoes. Empty Pringles cans (sour cream and onion). Red M&Ms. Wheat pennies. Foreign coins.

But as I grow older, I become less attached to things. What I like to pull out and dust off and admire now are memories, experiences, stories, adventures past. So that's the collection I aim to grow for the next seventy years. I expect I'll be rich indeed when I'm done.

*P.S. If you didn't collect your compliment on Saturday, you can pick it up below.

Yes, it's really YOU I'm talking about.

Whew! You guys really took me at my word yesterday. So as Crash Test Dummy would say, let the lurve begin. I shall now pour forth the compliments.

Oh, wait. A gentle correction. This was not a clever scheme to solicit comments, although once it was pointed out to me, I decided that it was such a good idea that I almost feel like I should take credit for it. But... it didn't exactly go down like that. My happy number is 15. That's the number of comments that makes me feel like I've been heard, that I'm engaged in a dialogue with virtual friends and acquaintaces that gives me my fix of grown ups for the day, and that it's worth sticking my thoughts up on a daily basis. I've been averaging about 18 comments, and that's what prompted The Love.

I was reading another comment that came in on Thursday night, and it occurred to me how cool it was that I could wake up in the morning, ask for suggestion on TV shows, and have 23 people leap into the gap to offer ideas by bedtime. And I got this little warm tingly feeling because people were so quick to offer help with something so inconsequential. While all that tingly love bubbled around, I decided to show my appreciation the only way I know how and say "thank you" for all the little comments people make that brighten each day. But the only way I know to thank folks in a way that each of you can know that I mean YOU, really YOU, is to pay you a little compliment for YOU only, so you know that I mean it. It's like a little gift specific to your personality and what I know about you.

And one more thing before the lurve begins...a disclaimer in the form of the story. Once back in my college days, I was hanging out at a dance club with my friend Sarah and I met this guy named Paul. We chatted and he told me where he was from, his major, blah-blah-blah, you know how it goes. I ran into him a couple of months later and since I have a good memory, I asked him about some of the stuff he had mentioned to me in the previous conversation. But he didn't remember me at all and he was taken very aback that I knew he played tennis and what he was studying and I could tell by the look on his face that I had just become A Crazy Stalker. I tell you that to tell you this: I pay a lot more attention than most of you probably expect, I'm an honest person, some of you I read even though I don't comment much or at all, and I don't want anyone freaking out if these compliments are specific and detailed. Yes, I stalk you, but only virtually and I won't be coming to your house any time soon to lurk, so let's all take a deep breath and relax. Just feel the lurve!

*A side note. I just finished this post. And while it was not hard, it took a lonnnng time. I had to stop halfway through and fortify myself with Cool Ranch Doritos and root beer. I love you all so much that I sacrificed Weight Watchers points for you. You should feel very, very special. Mostly because of that, but also because....well, because you are special. Can't overlook that. And while I'm rambling and interrupting myself in the middle of my post, does anyone know why Crash doesn't stop by here anymore? I miss that dummy.

CaJoh: I think you are a real gentleman. Your comments on other people's blogs are always kind and thoughtful. Your words always strike me as well-measured and I love how much kindness and respect colors your tone when you mention your wife.

LisAway: I admire so much your commitment to living the gospel in a foreign land and your thoughtfulness in sharing your beliefs. I can tell your convinctions are carefully considered and deeply felt. I like your writing and how easily you relate little glimpses of your family life. You really have a knack for drawing your children's and husband's personalities in a way that makes me feel like I've been to Poland and hung out with you. And I like how encouraging and thoughtful your comments are on other people's blogs, especially mine!

Chris: I enjoyed the enthusiasm you had for the Tim Tams and how sweet you were to worry about "making" me send them to you. I admire you commitment to collie rescue. I think that people who care deeply for animals are kind and compassionate.

Debbie: I so enjoy your blog! I love your sense of humor and even better, your sense of perspective. I think it's cool that you take time to personally respond to my comments and I thank you for making me laugh every day.

Don: Although you haven't commented on my blog often, I think I can make some pretty safe inferences from what you've said here and other blogs where I've noticed you drop in. You come across as thoughtful and considerate and in this case, I offer those as two distinct qualities. Your comments have often made me smile. I suspect you have a gentle spirit.

Mina: I'm so glad I discovered your blog through your comments. In fact, I'm adding you to my blogroll this weekend. I have no idea why I haven't done it sooner. I enjoy how articulate you are in both your blogging and commenting and how you never make throwaway comments. I think that's really cool. You come across as a very real chick, which is my favorite kind.

Luisa: I've been stalking you a lonnng time. I respect your passion for writing and all things cultural. I think you showed exquisite taste in the art and poetry you shared through Christmas. You are well-spoken (written?) and I have no doubt that your determination will pay dividends in your inevitable publication.

Stephanie: I really like your Gaining Equilibrium blog. Even though you haven't made many entries, each one is a gem, and you definitely are a writer at heart.

Jami: I love that you tell like it is! You are a straight shooter. You're so smart and knowledgeable and I like that your opinions are so well-considered, even if it means you have to change your mind about something big (you know what I'm talking about, right?). I like that you'll go to bat for your kids at school or for any reason and that you have no interest in putting up a front about who you are, spiritually or financially.

Alyson (New England living): I only know you from CTD's comment trail, but that's enough to tell me some things. You are sharp and witty and I always enjoy reading your comments over there. I think you're very on the ball and a lot of fun.

Kristina P: Geez, where do I begin? You make me laugh. And laugh and laugh. Your blog is a bright spot in every day that you choose to post and it's one of the first I'll go to when I start each day. You're so off the wall and creative and generous in your comments to others. Oh, and in sharing nudity and stuff. I'm in your debt forever for inventing chacon.

Annette: You have been so remarkably generous to me on a personal level by sharing your counsel in my various writing dilemmas. I also think you are incredibly articulate but it's in a subtle way, which is not articulate of me at all. What I mean to say is that your intelligence and common sense shine through in your blog posts without looking like you're trying. I think it's cool that you're so generous in encouraging others in the craft of writing with both of your blogs, and I totally dig your word nerdiness. We're kindred spirits that way!

Elizabeth: A lot of what I know about you I know through stories from Kenny, since we've not spent much time together in person. But based on the various ways our paths cross (FB, Goodreads) and my husband's tales, I respect your strong convictions, your commitment to your family, and your unswerving determination to do right by them. I appreciate your friendliness toward me, and you rclear sense of who you are. I think you are a wonderful example, even to someone who votes Republican less than half the time. :)

Zina (at myimaginary blog): Oh, man, do I look forward to your comments every day! I think you're a great writer with a fun sense of humor and I like the little slices of your life you share on your blog. I'm a little jealous of how creative you are with your sewing and different projects, since I am a barely competent crochet-er. Thanks for so regularly perking up my day when you stop by.

Kate: You sing it straight, sister. I think you show a remarkable sense of perspective in dealing with your convulted blended families, and you seem like just the kind of fun chick I like to hang with. It's a good things our paths never crossed at ye olde BYU or there would have been trouble a-plenty. We are soul sistahs in our shoe love (I'm trying to keep my collection down to forty pairs), and occasional snarkiness. You have a fun life to read about.

Emily: I LOVE that we have reconnected. I had no idea you were such a good writer until I started reading your blog, but you come across in your posts the same way you do in person: warm, funny, enthusiastic, optimistic and REAL. I'm delighted that you're a mother now and it's so fun to have you drop in for comments. I look forward to reading more of Emily's Musings!

Linda: You rock! I love you and Uncle Mark so much! You have filled a void in my life since losing my parents that I couldn't possibly explain. You are so loving and enthusiastic and caring and generous and make me feel like I am NOT a forgotten orphan. I love that you love my husband and children as much as you do me. I have so much respect for your decision to follow that call to become a nurse when you could just be taking it easy right now and enjoying life. I think you're so stylish and I just love the passion you have for life. I want to be like that!

Charrette: Such a wise, wise woman. I know I just told you yesterday that your blog is one of my happy places, but I want to say it again. I wish that we could hang out because I know I would enjoy you so much. You have such a huge brain, a mighty spirit, and yet...you are humble. I think you're wonderful.

Sue: Hi, writing partner! I'm so glad we're working together now. I think your comments are insightful and right on and I appreciate your critiques. But that aside, I know I'm the ten billionth person to tell you that you're hilarious, but that's because it's true! You are refreshingly honesty, and I LOVE it when you tell it straight. I think you're smart, INFORMED, and articulate and I want us to hang out, too! Mainly it's so I'll have a reason to write about your left elbow which has been so valiant in supporting your wrists and metatarsals in the pursuit of your brilliant blogging.

Herb Of Grace: You're always such a fresh breath of air when you stop by. I don't know you or how you found me, but the fact that total strangers can engage in conversation about each other's lives....well, every comment from you is an affirmation of my choice to blog. It's a reminder that we're all a giant community no matter how far apart we range on a map. Thanks for speaking out from time to time and reminding me of my membership in that larger community.

Nancy: You are the most gracious person I have ever known. Your warmth and kindness have made some of the most uncertain times in my life more bearable and your love and acceptance of my child have helped BOTH of us to feel anchored when everything else was topsy-turvy. I'm in awe of your culinary prowess, your artistic creativity and your generosity of spirit. And I will yet defeat you in Scrabble, but that doesn't mean I love you less. I look forward to visiting you soon!

Annie: Okay, I'll stay away from your dress size, especially since that's a poor measure of a person. And especially since you are far more than that. You are witty and funny, which are not always the same thing, and you're another one of those people who keeps it real. I find that rare and invigorating. I think you're a strong writer and your words are well-placed. I like the transparency you offer into your life and your willingness to invite other people in. Sometimes it's the little glimpses into other peoples' challenges and victories that make us feel less alone. Thanks for helping me to realize on a number of occasions that if I am crazy, I'm not the only one!

Sandi: You have excellent taste in movies and books. If you could do a dramatic re-enactment with me of several key scenes from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, then I'm sure we can be freinds for life. I also have a great deal of awe for someone who mothers four daughters. If I have even ONE I'm trading for one of my SIL's boys. Brave, patient woman....that's YOU!

Shellie: I have never known anyone who has such fantastic recall for the truly strange and hilarious incidents of their long-buried pasts as you do. Except for me. But I am selfish and totally unwilling to share, whereas you have an amazing capacity to laugh at yourself and make gray skies blue. And you're pretty. A smart, funny, pretty girl? The world is at your feet! I can always count on your blog for a good time. And since the Teen Witch clip you posted, I have seen "Top That" references every where. (30 Rock this week). And I've never seen it! Imagine how many more times that would have slipped by me without me ever realizing there even was a reference without YOU to educate me. Thank you!

Kazzy: Another wise soul. Your blog is a nice place to visit. I always walk away feeling better after reading a post even though it's nothing earth-shaking. There's just a quiet surety in the way you blog that I enjoy. And I so dig the singing. You have a great voice.

Christi: I went and snooped around on your blog today. I think it's awesome that you're committing to your fitness. I think I might HAVE to have a Wii Fit now. It's like the Wii sports we currently play just won't cut it anymore. I admire you for homeschooling your kids. It suggests a patience and far-sightedness that I totally lack. I also enjoyed your subtle sense of humor (getting back into a shape besides "round"? Classic) and I'm delighted you dropped a comment in my box.

Kelly: You are part of some of my favorite memories from my misbegotten mid-twenties. You are so accepting and so loving and you always made me feel like I was part of the family when I had no idea where I fit. I love your enthusiasm and easy laughter and how crazy you are about your kids. I will be forever grateful that you were there to help through James's birth, with your calm and cheefulness. It made a very overwhelming situation so much more bearable. And my mom? Totally loved you.

Kimberly: One of my first true blog friends. So friendly and happy to help with annoying blog questions. You're so generous with your comments and I'm in awe of your honesty when you write. I love the scope of your imagination and how easily you paint beautiful word pictures. I admire your introspection and desire to be better and the truth that you speak to yourself. I cheer for you daily!

Thank you all for giving me an outlet where I get to feel like a sane human being for a brief part of each day. You're the best!

No, YOU'RE the best!

Know what's my favorite? Comments. Actually, commenters. YOU! I love you! I LOVE YOU!

So for Friday Favorites, you're my favorites. That means for everyone who leaves a comment today, I'm paying you a compliment tomorrow on my blog. Like if imaginary Sally So Sassy says, "Hi!", then tomorrow, I say, "I think Sally So Sassy's blog theme is super cool." And if Bitter Bart stops by and says, "I think you are odd," then tomorrow I will say, "Bitter Bart is so honest!"

So go ahead, be one of my favorites. I'm so excited for tomorrow!

It just occurred to me that this is kinda weird.

But I don't care. I was just thinking today about how much comments cheer me up and I struck upon this idea for saying thank you, and I'm stickin' with it.

Oh, and while I'm being random, I have purple and orange glasses with rhinestones. That I wear. Often.

Be my TV Guide

I have to turn on the TV to get anything done around here. Yesterday? Did two loads of laundry, one load of dishes, cleaned the microwave, cabinets, counters, and stove, organized the bookshelf and the rolling cart, dusted and polished the living room furniture, and cleaned the entire downstairs wooden floor on my hands and knees.

Why? Because I watched TV.

See, here's the thing. My housework has fallen by the wayside lately, and I thought it was because my blogging habit had marginalized my cleaning "habits". Not so. Blogging marginalized my daytime TV watching and that's why I quit cleaning.

Confused?

Check it: I clean during commercials. And I used to watch Gilmore Girls everyday and then jump up and clean during the ads. But when the series started over again on season 1 for my SIXTH time, I decided maybe I would sit this time out. And since that's the only TV I watch during the day (except for a couple of shows I like that my husband doesn't and so hello, DVR), I blogged instead. And I don't take breaks from blogging like I do with TV watching. So I didn't get as much cleaning done.

It's a pathetic revelation, but whatever. If the cleaning happens, that's what matters. But now I have a dilemma. I need to introduce an hour of TV back into my daytime schedule and I have no ideas, so I come to the blogosphere with a request.

What can you suggest that I put on my DVR to watch each day that is interesting enough to make we want to turn it on and ergo, clean my house? I'm sure my husband will thank you for your answer.

I'm not picky. I don't like soaps or "yell" shows or snarky judges. Other than that, I'm good. I tried a Cold Case Files show on A&E and liked that but I don't know about for every day. Are there classics being aired on TV Land or Nick at Nite I'm missing out on? A history show I might find fascinating? Something utterly hilarious and bizarre that hasn't made it on my radar? Something that will enrich me? And to be totally honest, I'm not so much for "inspirational" kind of stuff. Because...um, usually it's sucky TV. And I hate to cry. Which is why I quit watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

Anyway, hit me with any suggestion you can think of. I'm not above anything. I may not like soaps, but you should see my reality tv viewing list. Ridiculous. Come on...I, my husband, my DVR, and my sink full of dishes are all begging you.

Clarification: Thanks for the suggestions so far. Just to be clear, it doesn't have to be on during the day. I can stick anything on the DVR and watch it back later. I'm just trying to find something that will keep me interested. Keep the ideas coming!

Not puffed up

My husband and I are super holy, just so you know. For fun, we sit and read the scriptures and then quiz each other on if we still have our Scripture Mastery ones memorized. We make a point of raising our hands to answer every question in our classes at church and we're always the first volunteer for callings. We have told our bishop several times that we'll gladly serve as RS president and EQ president, respectively, and my husband even said he would take on the burden of the youth program because our young people desperately need someone who isn't afraid to call them to repentance. Probably every week they need it, even.

We often drop off meals at other people's and say, "Surprise! We're just meeting our obligation to feed the hungry and take care of the poor, and we picked YOU!" That's one of our favorite things because people always looked so shocked when we do that. And Sundays are our favorite, too, because then we get to stay in our church clothes all day and remember to look spiritual. Usually we go to every ward that meets in our building so we get three sacrament meetings that way. The baby kind of fusses a lot because he's frustrated that he can't speak to share his spiritual insights.

We're pretty close to perfect. Heaven knows we're trying, LOL. The only thing is that we don't have a lot of friends here yet. I don't know what's up with that....

Potty mouth

And the Tim Tam giveaway winner is...Heather! But she won my book giveaway and I don't want people thinking this is rigged, so I will be sending Heather some Tim Tams, but we drew another winner: Chris! Yay! Everyone's a winner! Except the thirty of you that are not.

On to some existential stuff...

As a Mormon mommy blogger, or a Mormon Mommy Blogger!!!!! if you prefer, I wonder if my blog is an appropriate place to discuss pee. Shall we find out?

Warning: this will fall under TMI for most of you, does not concern infants or cute diaper/potty training stories, will in no way uplift you, and may cause you to lose IQ points.

Still here? Okay, then.

The other night I was in the bathroom. This is, of course, a great place to think. But I had a particularly brilliant insight because as I was doing my business (just regular potty), I sneezed. And it occurred to me that there are two things that are great about sneezing when you pee.

1) It makes you go faster. It's like a turbo button.

2) It is the rare time that you can sneeze and not worry that you're going to wet your pants a little. Not that this has ever happened to me. Okay, it did once a little while after I had Baby G and it's been over a year and I still worry about that. I change diapers all day long. I certainly don't want to change my own.

Anyway, that's the nice thing about sneezing when you pee. There's nothing nice about peeing when you sneeze.

Did you enter the Tim Tam contest? Do that, okay? I'm drawing a name tonight.

And while we had a rough week, we were able to end in loves and giggles and I thought I'd share some with you. Some people are all modest and stuff about their kids. Not me! My kids are rad! This is Baby G giggling like crazy. That's all it is. Him and his hilarious laugh for about 90 seconds, but I guarantee you it's the best laugh you'll ever hear.

I'm sharing this to help ward off anyone's Monday-back-to-the-school-grind-blues. Enjoy!

Upping the ante!

So, have you entered to win the Tim Tams? Do you even know what Tim Tams are? HURRY, go to yesterday's post and enter now! Why, you ask?

Well....

One, because the contest ends Monday and they're super awesome cookies. But that's the lame reason why.

TWO is the awesome reason why you should: Helen at Dal, Hel and Bel is a crazy Aussie who likes to rock the party and she de-lurked after months (I'm just plugging in the length of the time that satisfies my ego so it may or may not be true) of following to tell me she was so delighted I was spreading the Tim Tam love, that she's going to throw in a full set of all the flavors for us Tim Tam deprived Americans.

Check it out: she's going to kick in (besides the caramel and chocolate which I had to drive to TWO Targets yesterday to get) the flavors of Tim Tam Double Coat, Tim Tam Dark, Tim Tam Love Potions Double Chocolate and Raspberry, Tim Tam Love Potions Chocolate Mud, Tim Tam Love Potions Sticky Vanilla Toffee, and Tim Tam Latte.

WHAT?! I said, she's a CRAZY Australian. And I think these might be coming from AUSTRALIA, not even via Target!

WHAT?!

I strongly suggest you check out the blogs she follows, find out if you're one of them, and mention Tim Tams on your blog. She might HOOK YOU UP!

She even offered to send me all of those flavors but I felt bad for making her do it twice, so I DECLINED because I'm incredibly honorable.

But it was HARD.

I feel like SUE today. HI, SUE.

So for the love of TAMN or Tim Tams, or even just for the chance to love Tim Tams, enter here.

Oh, and I just found out even more hilarious Tim Tam stuff through commenter Chris's blog. You gotta check it out!

Check out the tim tams on that girl. Are they real?

I was sitting and getting a manicure and pedicure for my birthday last week, reading US Weekly and minding other people's busines, when a picture and news item in the back of the issue caught my eye.

It was a picture of Hugh Jackman. And no, that's not why it caught my eye. Not that he isn't eye-catching. But the picture revealed that Hugh and I share a great love, a love that can now be realized.

It is the the love of Tim Tams.

That's not a euphemism for something naughty. They're Australian cookies. I first tried them when my son's step mom (who is Australian) brought me some back from one of her trips home, and then consigned me to thinking of them wistfully and never being able to taste them again. She's nice like that. You can't get them anywhere in the U.S. I even tried to get Trader Joe's to carry them with no luck.

However, the makers of Tim Tams have now struck a deal with Pepperidge Farms and Target to distribute their tasty deliciousness here in the U.S. I ate a whole bag by myself the other day.

So, I give you Tim Tams as my Friday Favorite:

I mean, I really DO give them to you as my FF because I'm GIVING SOME AWAY! The caramel ones, because they're my favorite. And yes, I realize you can buy them from the Target on your corner for cheaper than I can mail them to you, but 1) I am a control freak and this is the only way I can ensure that at least one other person experiences the joy of Tim Tams, and 2) I'm just an incredibly generous woman and am willing to do this for one lucky person.

You can enter by just making a comment saying that you want them. Or share a Tim Tam experience. Or curse me for introducing these just in time to derail your New Year's good eating resolution. Whatever! Just make a comment.

And if you just have to know more, you can read about people's obssessive love here:

The number one chocolate biscuit in Australia, Tim Tam cookies are truly irresistible! Beneath a smooth layer of heavenly chocolate fudge, between two layers of crispy biscuits, a mouthwatering layer of chocolate creme awaits. Pepperidge Farm is pleased to offer Tim Tam cookies in two delectable varieties - Chocolate Creme and Caramel. Available exclusively in Target stores nationwide, Tim Tam cookies are sure to bring deliciously sweet cheer to families this holiday season.

With such a loyal following, it's no surprise that Australians consume over 400 million Tim Tam biscuits each year -- that's 35 million packs. And earlier this year, a joint poll by The Times in the United Kingdom and news.com.au in Australia ranked Tim Tam as one of the best inventions since sliced bread. Tim Tam came in at number four behind stiff competition: The World Wide Web, penicillin and the TV remote!

Pepperidge Farm Tim Tam cookies are available from November 2008 through March 2009 at Target stores nationwide, with a suggested retail price of $3.39. For additional information, please visit www.pepperidgefarm.com.

I TOLD you I deserved a cookie.