Molly Piper

Time for true confessions: I don’t drink coffee.

[insert audible GASP!]

I know, I know, I know. Will you still be my friend? I can drink tea! Or even a chai tea latte (see… SEE? I’m getting closer, right?)

But seriously, all funny business aside, I’m at peace with my distaste for coffee. I can still be a grown-up! I can still do all the things that responsible adults do!

I figure, if I made it through college and graduate school without resorting to coffee, then I will probably do just fine for the rest of my life (with a cup of caffeinated tea from time to time). You know, they say “It’s an acquired taste.” I just chose not to acquire it. I love the way it smells, can’t stand the taste.

So, with that fumbling preamble out of the way, I had to pass on this adorable (yet informative) cartoon about… coffee!

I like this cartoon because:

• It’s so cutely illustrated.
• The points are short enough to keep my attention (that of a non-coffee drinker).
• So much useless information (but could probably be of use in Trivial Pursuit someday)!

So if you actually like the stuff, you’ll probably be doubly entertained.

(via Wesley Hill)

I know I’ve completely dropped off the map in 2010…

I know you’ve been wondering if:

• I ate so much holiday food that I’ve literally popped and vaporized?
• I got trampled when some post-holiday shopping madness went terribly wrong?
• There was some horrible glitch in the matrix and I’m frantically banging on the window of 2010, stuck on the other side, in 2009?

Truthfully, it feels like I’m stuck a few days behind, just waiting for the energy to officially enter into 2010.

Someone call Keanu.

You are warmly invited into my parents’ living room in Erie, Pennsylvania for…

Orison’s Christmas Concert 2009

It’s a little long, but trust me, this is the short version. The original was over 30 minutes long! The kid just wouldn’t stop singing!

So, hunker down with a mug of hot chocolate and enjoy! But drink at your own risk, because there are some laughs that might send it out your nose. Don’t say I didn’t warn you! I don’t want any Christmas lawsuits because of your burnt nasal passages….

Or, if you need to get dinner ready this evening, get your church clothes ironed, or get some last-minute gifts wrapped, plop your kids in front of the computer for ten minutes of family-friendly holiday entertainment! Just my little gift to you….

And for those of you who hang out until the end, Morrow makes an appearance as a Christmas dancer! He goes absolutely nuts anytime he hears Jingle Bells!

This is our joy-filled way of saying to all of you: Merry Christmas from The Pipers!

And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear.

-Luke 2:9

This, my friends is our angel.

I know… she’s filling you with fear right now.

I know… it’s weird. But to us, it’s hilarious. And now… it’s just tradition.

You can’t see too well against the pink bow backdrop, but the angel has some pink netting for wings. And of course, her cotton candy hair.

“What is the deal?” you might be asking. Well, this is an art project my husband did when he was little. And for our first married Christmas, my mother-in-law bequeathed us the box of ornaments she’d been collecting for each of her kids. (Which was a very good thing, because we had neither Christmas decorations nor money to go buy them.)

Abraham’s family grew up not doing Christmas trees (they did a Bethlehem Tree instead). I grew up going out into the field and chopping one down as a family. So the first Christmas we were married, Abraham just didn’t understand why I would want a Christmas tree so much.

But one night, he dropped me off to do some grocery shopping, and said he needed to go run some errands of his own (we shared a car then, and still do). At our set meeting time, he picked me up, but when I looked around for evidence of his so-called errands, I couldn’t find any.

As we got home, we came up the back stairs to our second-floor duplex apartment and started unloading groceries. A few minutes into it, the doorbell rang, and he told me, “Why don’t you go get that?” I remember being kind of annoyed, thinking, “Well, why don’t you?”

But somehow he convinced me and I walked toward the front of our apartment. As I walked into the dining room, there it was…

A Christmas tree, standing tall and proud.

I screamed and hugged him and screamed some more and hugged him. (Oh, and then I got the door.)

It was one of the best Christmas gifts I’ve ever received. So surprising, so unexpected, so thoughtful.

Thanks to Abraham’s mother we actually had some things to put on the tree. But what would we do about the topper? We didn’t have a star (which is what my family always did), and we didn’t have a proper angel.

At some point during my lament about the sad state of our tree and it’s lack of crowning glory, Abraham jokingly placed the little drag queen angel from his childhood at the top. We had a good laugh about it, and decided she should stay.

And she’s assumed the same post for all our Christmases since.

What’s the weirdest thing on your Christmas tree?

Our five-year-old is in love with Christmas. I know he’s not alone, all kids like Christmas. But I realized that his obsession excitement is helping me love Christmas more.

Not that I didn’t love Christmas before, it’s just that it becomes new and fresh and wonderful when you experience it through the excited and eager eyes of a child. That sounded really cheesy, but it’s true.

Last night my mother-in-law lovingly babysat our kids. One thing you should know about my mother-in-law: she has the most Christmas decorations of anyone I know. It’s like a Christmas Spectacular over there. And as you can imagine, for Orison, it’s a-ma-zing!

There are nativity sets from all over the world, lights in the windows, and even a life-size manger for re-enacting.

Orison told my mother-in-law that he was being Joseph and he was taking care of baby Jesus. She wrote a sweet and beautiful post reflecting on that idea.

Most days you can find him playing with his Playmobil Nativity set or with this magnetic doodad he got from… can you guess? His grandmama (the above-mentioned fellow Christmas fan)! He used this magnetic set to do Sunday School lessons for me and Abraham the other day.

He also loves to sing. There have been lots of traditional carols and some non-traditional ones he writes himself:

So if you’re needing a little shot in the arm of Christmas spirit, let us know! Orison would be more than happy to accomodate. He’s got enough to go around!

I don’t know about you all (that’s y’all for my Southern peeps), but I didn’t do much laundry this weekend.

And now, I pay the price. Folding party at my house tonight! It’ll be fun… really.

Doesn’t she look like she’s having fun???

I realized that my anxiety about starting the laundry is two-fold:

1. The sheer volume. Heavens to Murgatroyd, we dirty a lot of clothes. (By the way, I think I’m gonna name the lady in the photo Murgatroyd.)
2. Not wanting to start and then find that I missed something.

I suffer more with the second one. I hate when I try to wash every last stitch of dirty laundry in our house, and then, as if from nowhere, a random dirty sock will appear. When that happens, it feels like it was all for naught.

And then, inevitably… the end of the day comes and there will be more dirty clothes, thus confirming the maddening phenomenon that is the laundry.

You know, you hear about postal workers going insane because “The mail never stops.” But I think more wives and moms would be justified to go similarly batty by the same token.

Okay, gotta go start this exercise in futility. I’ve put it off long enough by:

1. Pondering.
2. Posting.

So if you’re slogging through piles of laundry today, you’re not alone. And just remember Murgatroyd. She’s having so much FUN!!! (insert insane laughter).

Orison went trick-or-treating for the first time tonight.

I wish I could’ve bottled up some of his enthusiasm and zest as he ran, full-speed, from house to house.

I wish I could’ve apologized to all the people whose doorbells were rung in rapid-fire fashion as he waited to scream “Trick or Treat” with all the excitement a four-year-old body can handle. He didn’t seem to hear me when I said, “Only ring it once!”

He dressed as a cowboy, and he was the cutest little cowboy there ever was.

There’s another pretty cute cowboy in this town, too, and they joined forces for a little croonin’ before bed.

(Yes, they both have *real* cowboy boots!)

Happy Halloween, y’all!

I’m sure many of you have heard of the sensation that is Improv Everywhere. Basically they set up all kinds of hilarious improv scenarios in the midst of everyday life and surprise the heck out of people.

One of my fanatasies in high school was for an impromptu musical to start in the hallways of McDowell High School—people everywhere bursting into spontaneous song and dance. Can you tell I was a musical theater person? It really wasn’t cool back then, but I’m glad for Improv Everywhere making my dreams come true vicariously.

My favorite:

Their blog is cool because you don’t get bombarded by tons of stuff, you just periodically get a laugh at their newest, creative scheme.

Other Blogs I Read

• Honey for a Child’s Heart
• Elizabeth Esther

When we were in Santa Barbara, California last week (a place that has recently been added to my mental list of “Favorite Places”), I got my first pedicure.

I know, I’m thirty years old and I’ve never had a pedicure. I honestly had no idea what the big fuss was about. But I’m happy to report that 45 minutes of pampering to my tired old feet was something spectacular that I wish could happen on a frequent and regular basis.

We strolled into this nail place around 7:30pm in the funky, fun shopping district of Santa Barbara (State Street, for those of you who know it). I was hesitant to spend the money (of course), but Abraham insisted. It wasn’t that it cost all that much, I just have issues with spending money on stuff like that. Anyway…

There were two Asian women working that night. One spoke decent English, but the other one spoke almost none. But she didn’t even need it—she was speaking some unknown foot love language that is kept secret from the population at large. She was the pedicure master.

I had a difficult time picking out what color I wanted, so picked a few finalists and had Abraham pick his favorite from those. He chose a deep burgundy red that I liked a lot. So I went with it.

The pedicure was nothing short of fantastic. There was lots of rubbing, snipping, filing, polishing… my toenails have never shone like that!

I was transfixed by the pretty color and how professional they looked. I never thought of my at-home toenail jobs as unprofessional, but I had now seen a whole new level of potential for my piggies, and I was diggin’ it! Imagine my sadness when I discovered a chip in my polish just two days later!

For all you pedicure veterans, is this normal? Obviously I can’t go back to Santa Barbara (as much as I’d like to) and get it fixed, but do pedicures usually have such a short life? Will nail salons fix it within a certain window of time?

I was definitely thinking it would last a week. Were my expectations totally overblown?

Please read the following segment in the most cheesy infomercial voice you can muster:

Ever feel like there aren’t enough hours in a day?
Do you struggle to get through your to-do list?
Are all those tasks piling up on you and making you feel perpetually behind?

Well… do we have the answer for YOU!

It’s called “Start Living in a Different Time Zone!” With “Start Living in a Different Time Zone!” there’s no need to move, just adjust yourself to the time zone one or two behind you and—BAM!—instant time! Now you can give yourself the gift you’ve always wanted… more time!

[end cheesy announcer voice]

We got back from our  California trip on Thursday night. Every night since then I’ve been up until at least 1am. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m just going to start living on Pacific time.

I mean, it’s not working out as well at the morning end of things, but hey, I’m always tired then so… it’s cool.

Here’s how it works: when I wake up I’m living in Central time (real-time for me). I do all my normal tasks in my actual time zone. Then, after the kids go to bed, I just started telling myself, “Well, it’s only 6pm California-time.” I’m seriously getting so much more done!

Just wanted to impart this amazing discovery to all of you.

We’ll see how it works out tomorrow at work.