.::still blinking::.

Phew. Caught up on email and am now looking at my staggering to do list.

We were in Las Vegas last week and it was fun. We worked the Control4 booth at CES. I have smartened up a bit and did not wear high heals at all and surprise, surprise, my legs did not go numb. Shocker.

Anyway, since my legs were not bloody stumps at the end of the day, I wanted to go out and do things later on.

We went clubbing one night at Pure a club in Caesars Palace, I have not done this since college with Katrina and those clubs were not like this club. And than went to Le Reve at the Wynn the next night. It was really amazing.

Also, have you noticed how Trump Tower, or whatever it is called looks like a giant gilded penis. I am serious. It is the most phallic building on the strip, I wonder if the little man is trying to make up for something.

We are back now and so happy to see Gentry and his cute little tush. I love being a mom and coming home reminds me of it.

Love yer guts,
Makayla

I miss him.

“He who is passionate and hasty, is generally honest; it is your cool dissembling hypocrite, of whom you should beware.”

I have a problem with honesty. I have mentioned before.

I have really been thinking about what I should and should not be writing about. Cause, you know, shit happens. But how much of it do I write down. My grandma kept a journal and I was asking my mom about them around Thanksgiving. My Aunt Adele has them now, but she won’t let people read them because they are sad. I know that Grandma Katherine’s life was sad, but it was filled with people who loved her as well. Like me. And my mom. And all of my family.

I was talking to my mother-in-law about this the other day and she said that in church a lady stood and read from her Grandma’s journal, a Christmas entry and that it was really so touching.

So where do I draw the line? Do I pretend that my life is magic, and lucky charms, and unicorns? Or do I include the other stuff as well. Because the other stuff has changed me and made the person I am today, but so have the unicorns. Do I pretend I am happy all the time? I just don’t know exactly.

I have recently started keeping a journal again. JJ kept a journal everyday on his LDS mission to Russia. I have been typing it up and really enjoy his little entries. He even writes about how many rubbles things cost. Is a rubble, like a fruity pebble?

Here is what I think. I write honestly and from the heart. Because sometimes things are magic and sometimes they make me cry in my bed for days. But the thing is, when I have read my journal entries from when I was struggling so much more with life I appreciate the changes that I made and realize I am doing better. And the happy times, well they are fun to remember. Like the first time I kissed my first real boyfriend, and felt the fire. And the time I realized I would probably marry JJ, even when I did not know him well yet. And when I got pregnant. And when the baby kicked. And now. When he tells me about being there when JJ and I got married and how I looked like a princess.

I think being honest is the way to go. Honest and true feelings and thoughts. Those are the things I should share. Because what is the point of writing if I am not sharing the truth.

Tony Stark

Wolverine

James Bond

Seriously.

I am still frantically preparing for Christmas. What they heck was I thinking making so many presents? I hate giving things I put no heart into, but my heart is no longer feeling it, I am completely out of steam and yet I head back into the mess to continue upward and onward. Hopefully.

The presents are really cute in my head, but I am a clumsy seamstress and it shows. I am trying though. Seriously trying.

Mr. Dino has made it into a lot of photos lately. The last photo he was not “eating” Baby Jesus. I was informed that this is just Jesus’ new mode of transportation. Like Dino Taxi, with out the joy of being screamed at in the middle of a busy street in New York in the rain about getting OUT of my taxi. Taxi drivers in Denver are a lot nicer, doling out advice about having more children and spreading the love.

Cookin’ the books with JJ makes me want to perform my own frontal lobotomy. Except that I have been begging for 6 years for his help with this. The one year that is missing from this equation, I was on a postpartum fueled release time.

Anyway, it is probably that I have reached bedtime and I just cannot comprehend all this number talk and why do I have to do the majority of this and we are still 2 years behind. Because as you read in a previous post we JUST got our tax returns and economic stimulus check, thanks GW. And now begins the rush to tax season, because I swear to you, I am not filling again in September.

Also, I got cold recently and decided I give up on cute I am going for old granny warmth. I am now wearing JJ’s down parka that hangs down to my knees and I went and bought thermal underwear that are totally feminine with 2 inches of elastic lace at the bottom. It is totally hot. There is also a lot of beanie wearing, which helps with not wanting to do my hair.

There you have it. The formula for avoiding doing the deed.

Long Underwear (to my ankles)
+ Talk of Quicken and Reconcilling
——————————–
= A Long night of hot, hot sleep.

Does this happen to Baby Jesus at your house?

Gentry went Christmas shopping for me with JJ on Saturday. I guess JJ was looking at the pajamas and Gentry brought this over to him and said, “These are for boobs. This is cute.”

Have I mentioned Gentry’s current obsession with boobs. I have them and he doesn’t. Same with JJ, I guess. We have been talking a lot about privacy and how he doesn’t see me when I am naked. But he and I got all cuddly on the couch the other day to read Christmas stories and he announced, “My head is on your boob!” Well, lets change positions than.

I guess this is just the beginning. Boys are so not like girls.

What you cannot see in this picture is that he had a hicky on his cheek. I thought that would be a hilarious thing to have in all our wedding pictures. I still find it rather hilarious and he still groans when I bring it up.

Love you babe.

He likes to be Tarzan at night and run around like a wild man in his underwear. We let him. This night he was a star-wrangling Tarzan!