That was a nice surprise!

Last weekend the husband and I went north to PA for the weekend. His grandma and all of her sisters had planned a brunch for their daughters and granddaughters, and the mother-in-law got to have a daughter (me, hello) along for it. I was under the impression that this was an annual thing, although the mother-in-law was under the impression that it was a belated Mother’s Day get-together.

Neither one of us was under the impression that it was a surprise baby shower!

Oh hello, and surprise! Now please don’t wake me until the baby arrives. Thank you.

But that’s what Mommom turned it into, plus a surprise grandma shower, which I had never heard of until the husband’s family. You know, when the grandma-to-be gets goodies to keep at her house that will help her be a grandma. The mother-in-law received bath time, bed time, story time, riding-in-the-car time, picnic time, and snuggling time baby things to make the oyster’s–and future grandbabies’–trips to the farm comfortable for everyone.

In addition to the gorgeous baby blanket that Mommom crocheted for the little oyster using the pattern and colors she had me pick out the very day we told them there even was an oyster, the aunts and great aunts and cousins were so generous. Now the oyster has little tiny clothes to wear! One of the cousins is an Arbonne lady, so the oyster also has the classiest shampoo, wash, and diaper rash cream on the market. A boo-boo bunny, the world’s softest stuffed lamb, hangers for itty-bitty clothes, the oyster is well on her way to having a room of necessities to come home to once she hatches.

It was so fun to be surprised. Someone (not at the party) told me that I should just assume that when I’m invited somewhere, someone is going to do something for me and the baby. After I swallowed the spit I was about to choke on, I managed to say something polite about not assuming everyone’s life or budget revolves around me and my baby. Heck, our budget barely revolves around this baby, and our lives only do when we’re not busy doing fun grown-up things.

Again, it was so fun to be surprised and so nice of everyone to bring such wonderful gifts. Half of these women I had never met before, and I know it was kind of a drive for a few of them to get to Mommom’s. But the brunch was delicious and the surprise was great. The mother-in-law and I got to pack our gift bags of chicks and rocking horses up in her new Jeep and head off to the farm, where I carefully pawed through all the bags to show the husband what fun things the oyster will have to use when she comes.

I already know what great genes and stories and experiences the oyster is coming into with my family, but it was a lot of fun to hear the stories and banter of the husband’s family, too. Mommom and her sisters and their girls are living proof that age is a number, family is always family, and your sisters will remember your most unflattering and hilarious moments and recount them at showers in years to come.

New Year’s Eve, farm style

On Saturday the husband and I packed up the dog, an overnight’s worth of food for him and clothes for us, and headed north to the in-laws’ farm for the second time in a week.

Dietrich was elated to be back with his cousin–a long-haired female German Shepherd who was far more welcoming to the mild-mannered chap than anyone expected her to be–and the husband and I enjoyed the relaxed pace of not-Christmas.

Shooting guns at midnight is the standard celebratory measure on the farm. The husband and I thought ahead to put Dietrich in the barn so he wouldn’t be scared, but he found his way out and shortly after hearing 13 rifles fired in quick succession and close proximity, also found his way into the house and hid out, shaking, under the table. The mother in law was kind enough to pretend she didn’t notice him inside.

The blog is called red white and new for a reason.

All-American new year.

Girls just want to have fun.

Just waiting out the shakes.

When we got home, we washed the dog in the bathtub, a first for us all. He did his best to stoically resist, pretending his legs gave out after we lured him into the bathroom with treats and then stiff-arming the bathtub as the husband lifted him in, one half at a time. Eventually all four paws were in the tub, the bag of bacon treats was empty, and the forlorn but clean Dietrich emerged.

That’s when we realized how much water an 80 lb. Rott holds and decided to blow dry him for all our sakes. Although not thrilled with this, the dog has the patience of a saint (something about he knows he was rescued and we are the bearers of the treats or whatever) and bore his 1800 watt ionic burden with steely resolve.

I can’t believe you are photographing this humiliation. I smell like a girl.

But I am ready for my close-up!

Thursday morning is a second phone interview with A Certain Organization. I had a phone interview with them about two weeks ago, for an editorial position, and was referred to the media relations director after that. So really it’s a first second phone interview. I have heard excellent things about A Certain Organization and would really love to work for them.

Tonight the husband is at a watch party for the Iowa caucuses and I am home, blogging and plotting how to begin a freelance career. And also eating cookies before they go stale.

Merry Christmas!

And may all your holidays be waterproof, like mine will be, now that the husband gave me Hunter rain boots for Christmas!

The box was on the table with a big ribbon around it. And pretty soon the boots were on my feet, for a test run (ha!) around the shoebox. A practical and quality gift, my favorite kind. The cranberry color makes it a very merry Christmas indeed.

Even HRH the Queen wears these! Maybe in a different color.

Now the husband and I are off to the farm with Dietrich, who is currently chewing away on his Christmas gift from my parents (it’s a chew toy, no problems there). This will be the first time we are at the farm with the husband’s family on Christmas Day and we are both looking forward to it.

I kind of hope it rains. 🙂

As they say in the movies, “Happy Christmas, Harry!”