Slothier Than a...Sloth, More Comfortable Than a Couch, It's Pajamazon!

A great day for me:
Wake up. Make excellent coffee. Read Sunday newspaper (it doesn't have to be Sunday, but it has to be the Sunday newspaper). Stay in pajamas for as long as possible -- if I never have to put on "real" clothes, then my day is perfection.

The older I get, the more I can't wait to get into my pajamas. The minute dinner is done and the dishes are washed and if there is no sports or school related function...then it's pajama time!

My husband and I vie for the prize of "first in pajamas." And then the other one yells, "pajama time!"

I'm fairly certain I'm much more patient in my pjs (my mom always called them pajeejays) how can I get upset when I'm so darned comfortable? I can't. My youngest understands this and gave me pjs for Christmas (along with excellent coffee). He's a smart kid -- keep mom comfy.

The other day, my husband gave me the name "Pajamazon." I love it so much, I'm thinking about changing my name...but I'm just too comfy to think about it now.

Do you love pajamas? Do you even wear PJs?

No Fun for You, But, Enjoyment is Okay...

Recently, I was in Seattle for family reasons. That doesn't sound like fun, does it? Well parts weren't fun, like waiting with my two sisters and brother-in-law while mom was in surgery. That wasn't fun, it was, however, hopeful. And the surgery turned out successful.

After mom was out of recovery she said us,"Go have fun!," to which my brother-in-law replied, "We'll enjoy ourselves, but we won't have fun. Not without you."

It's funny how you can do that. Because, no matter what, part of your heart is back in the hospital room with your mom. So nothing is wholehearted, (pun, not intended) which is how we could enjoy ourselves, and we did, yet, not have fun.

Mom's doing great, we knew she would, and I'm certain, can't wait to start having some fun.

Le Cupcake...Or, I Couldn't Find the French Word for "Cupcake."

The idea of France makes me smile, just the idea. It's been my dream to visit since the good nuns of St. John's decided to teach French to 7 and 8 year olds. I was hooked at: Bonjour! I could recite all of Little Red Riding Hood, AND I understood what I was saying. Really.

Unfortunately, they didn't continue it past the second grade. The French language and I did not cross paths again until JR. High School, 8th grade...ah, Bonjour! Comment allez-vous? It was a pretty good reunion -- even moving to Rhode Island and trying to decipher French through a Warwick accent didn't phaze it.

You'd think I'd be proficient...five years of French (six, counting 2nd grade), and all I can say now is: Le vagues son tres forte. Yeah, those waves are pretty darn strong. Oh, yeah, and: Quasimodo rit! Yet, the dream lives on -- I still want to go to France, they all speak English there, right?

Patty Griffin - Heavenly Day

Happy Expectations...Are Great.

Happiness comes easily to me, even in the midst of sorrows, I can compartmentalize and see joy -- over...there, while feeling pain, here. I think it's a skill, or maybe a handicap, whatever it is, it gets me through the day.

Happiness comes easily to me, so what? So, I want to spread it.

Like frosting

Swirl it around, make peaks, create designs, and then lick my fingers. Yum.

So, here's the thing, I'm going to try to do just that -- spread that happy joy joy here, without treacle (too much of a good thing, and all that). This blog and moi have gone through a few inceptions, but I've decided on sticking with joy.

Happiness/Joy in all flavors -- books I love, people I adore, writing days that make me sing (even those that don't -- I'll try to find the humor), music that makes me wish I were young(er) and could be someone's dancing queen.

My happiness goal for this blog: Post 3x a week, in combination of words, collage, music.

I chose "Cupcake" as my blog name because, of course, it makes me happy.
What makes you happy?

A Few of My Favoritest Things...

In no particular order:
Bacon. Who doesn't like bacon? I had a vegitarian yoga instructor, he would say, "Well, if it's a gift (the bacon), then you can eat it."

Pigs. Unfortunate, I know -- I love them for their smarts, and always try to not love bacon after visiting with one.

Crackly ice. The kind you step on, not the kind in drinks...well, that kind too.

Crackly fall leaves. Walking through them. Not so much raking them.

Hard Rock. The better to clear my head, and bang it.

Opera. The better to feel to the depths of my soul. No, really.

Glasses on toddlers. I don't know why...I just love it.

Good coffee with cream/tiny espresso with a twist of lemon. self explanatory.

Dirty Martinis. Also self explanatory.

Clean Kitchens. The better to make the coffee and the Martinis.

Boots. Especially ones made for walking...

Handsome men who are nice.

Eating potato chips late at night.

Chocolate cake for breakfast.

Ice cold milk. With the chocolate cake. But not the potato chips.

And finally (for now) one of the things my youngest loves:
"I love the word 'uber,' it sounds so cool -- and, it's a real word!"

betwixt

betwixt by amy kennedy featuring a pink brooch
YA paranormal. complete, until I made this piece, now I'd like to add more things!