Til death do us fart part

Wow. Time flies when you're having fun. It also flies when you've been married to Stewart Alexis for NINE WHOLE YEARS.

Who'd have thunk it way back in 1984 when we looked like this?

Stew, you've made every second of the last 9 years more interesting, emotional, hilarious, stronger, fascinating, challenging, unbelievable, fun and meaningful. Totally worth it. Thanks for sticking with me. Thanks for sticking with us. Happy Anniversary!

Seriously.

Dear Old People,

Leggings are meant to be worn UNDERNEATH something. They are not meant to be worn as pants. They are also not meant for OLD PEOPLE, but that's a whole nother blog.

I'm just sayin',
Suzie

The thought only counts like 50%

I hate to be Debbie Downer or Pouty Patty during a time of cheer, but I have received some pretty lame Christmas presents over the years. It's likely you have too. I decided that I'd honor those gifts (and their givers) in a little list. Now you don't feel so alone and hopeless for getting socks and a fruitcake. We're all in this together.

Gift: A half-used bottle of roll-on perfume
Giver: My Great-Aunt Jewell
A half empty bottle is one thing, but the fact that it was rolled on another person's skin is quite another thing.

Gift: The Superman Superheroes Children's Cookbook
Giver: My Great-Aunt Jewell (are you noticing a pattern?)
Actually a really fun cookbook for kids, except that in the first paragraph of the introduction, I learned that eating too much food is what makes you fat. Up until then (at age 11) I seriously had no idea that overeating caused obesity. I totally could have lived my life in ignorant bliss if Aunt Jewell and Superman hadn't schooled me on that fact of life.

Gift: A box of bubble wrap
Giver: My Mother, Leanna
I actually think this was a really creative gift (I LOVE BUBBLE WRAP), it's just that when you unwrap a giant box on Christmas morning you expect there to be something in there besides packaging material.

Gift: A microwave potato chip maker
Giver: My Husband, Stewart
Because it's much more economical to spend 3 hours cutting potato slices and ending up with twelve soggy chips than to go to the Kwik-E-Mart and pick up a bag of Lay's for 99 cents.

Gift: A microwave radiation detector
Giver: Again, My Husband, Stewart
Nothing says "Happy Birthday Baby Jesus" like the threat of a defective household appliance.

This year, I hope you get everything you ever wanted for Christmas. And I hope that my husband doesn't buy 75% of my gifts from the As Seen on TV store. If you need to vent about the awful presents that you've experienced - comment below!

As Always,
Stewzie

Silent Night

Last night, Stew returned from his week long hunting trip in Indiana. How we ever went months on end without seeing each other...I'm glad that whole stage of our lives is over with. I mean, one whole week of me being responsible for Austin's morning meal and then having to take out the trash twice (which actually only got done once) left me longing for Stew to come home and do his man chores.

For clarification, I'm responsible for the woman work - you know, cooking delicious stuff, making sure the house doesn't smell like dirty socks, cleaning Stew's tiny beard hairs from between the faucet handles, DVR-ing the current episodes of Steven Seagal: Lawman for my husband's viewing pleasure, etc.

So, in honor of my true love's return, I want to share with you a little prose I came up with. Don't worry, I won't quit my day job.

An Ode to Snoring - by Suzie Alexis

It's something no writer could compose

The symphony that plays out through your nose

Night after night I hear it blow

Pillow in hand, to the living room I go

Oh, how I'd rather a quiet bed

I guess I'll settle for the sofa instead

-The End-


Welcome back home, Stew. Austin and I missed you. And your snoring. Loud, noisy snoring.

O'er the fields we go

Spoiler alert:

If you haven't received our Christmas card in the mail yet, please avert your eyes for the remainder of this blog post. I just couldn't wait to share it.

The AWESOME photos and card design were created by my AWESOME brother, Tim. You can check his other stuff out at www.tjmohrphoto.com. I can't wait 'til he edits and posts the rest of our photo shoot pics on there. That's a hint, Timbo.

Meet my Father

So this one time at band camp...

This little gem was taken when Phil was practicing with the Southern Rebels Drum & Bugle Corps. Back in 1911...or whenever it was when he was that young. I don't know. I didn't inherit his stellar math skills.

But I obviously inherited his keen sense of fashion. As my pal Karlee would say - he's wearing an abundance of Twenty. Look it up.

Unbeweaveable

Oh Lawdy. Shorty done dropped her weave up in the EZ-Serve pawkin lot. Shoo, now she gone have to get her hurr did again...