Made in Richmond

Go to RVANews to get the first installment of my two-part analysis of 2007’s best moments of celebrity insanity.

Ross lived in Brazil for during his years in 3rdish or 4thish grade. Consequently, he just didn’t experience what the rest of us did at that age. Sometimes we’ll be in the car and a song will come on the radio that I remember from that time and that he’s never heard and I get kind of sad for him - but just for a minute because, come on, he was living in BRAZIL where he had a MAID and a CHAUFFEUR because it cost like $11 a month.

Last night while we were at Kroger, Ross decided he should get a toy as long as it cost under $4. Because he’s seven. He came across this:

Actually, his was of the Backyardigans variety, but you get the idea. Of course as soon as we got in the car, he started playing it. With, shall we say, some difficulty? And then I realized why.

Brazil.

Anyone who went to elementary school in Chesterfield County (and maybe in the state of Virginia) played the recorder in 4th grade. It’s what you *do.* Hot Cross Buns is old hat by Winter Break and by April, you’re rocking out to When the Saints Go Marching In.

But, Ross wasn’t in Chesterfield County then. He was a bit closer to the equator, going to the beach every day and speaking Portuguese like a beautiful little native.

A lot of good that does him now. Sure he’s gone swimming in pristine caves, but did he pick apart (and eventually MASTER) the melody to the theme of Free Willy like my sister and I did? I think not.

Ross and I celebrated our Christmas together this morning. I must say he did an excellent job. I got this, this, and this:

(Made just for me by this lovely lady)

When we first adopted Zapp, they told us that she was a golden retriever/shepherd mix. They were totally and unequivocally wrong.

Based on her need to sniff EVERYTHING and her tendency to bay rather than bark, we’ve determined that Zapp is some kind of hound. We like to think she’s this, minus the defining ridge, although I don’t see her chasing lions anytime soon. More like covering herself up with a blanket and lumbering over to the lions to say, “DO YOU SEE THIS BLANKET ON MY HEAD IT IS SO MUCH FUN LET’S GO TAKE A SNUGGLE NAP!”

And now for an unrelated but velvety-cute picture:

(A rare moment of stillness that does not involve a nap.)

Go forth and purchase. For me.

Today during lunch, I watched a flash of recognition pass across a coworker’s face as she looked at me.

“I know who you look like! A Who!”

Hmmm…

What do you think? And should I be angry?

It wouldn’t be Christmas at the Catrow Estate without our beloved Nativity Set:

To your right, we have the typical manger setting with Mary, Joseph, Jesus, and the supporting livestock. The three wise men are currently on the other side of the room, but they will catch up with Jesus in a few days.

Oh, and that big green thing is the T-Rex. As you can see, he’s protecting the Baby Jesus from King Herod’s army.

Don’t tell us we don’t know us our Bible stories.

It turns out that today isn’t Thursday. Shit.

People on my street like to do two awesome things when they pick people up: 1) Honk repeatedly and 2) Stop their cars in the middle of the street, even if there is plenty of parking directly to their left or right.

I’ve been entirely too focused on this Jamie Lynn fiasco.

Pigs-in-blankets are best when made by a member of the Creehan family.

I remember all of the songs from the plays we did in 3rd grade (an adaptation of the Nutcracker) and 5th grade (Tall Tales and Heroes). My oldest friend Kate does not. I’m not sure who wins in this scenario.

Orange juice is still awesome.

There is this guy at the gym who always happens to be on the treadmills when I go there. The weird things is, he’s Ross’s circa 2003 doppleganger, so I’m always tempted to say the same ridiculous things to him that I would say to Ross. I have never spoken to this man.

Botanics Lighter Than Air Face Powder is the dust of the heavens.

Lately when I meet a new baby, I act like I’m only semi-interested in them because if I surrendered to my instincts, I would just smell the baby’s head for an hour.

Go here and scroll down to watch the video at the bottom of the post.

If you don’t get even the slightest bit smooshy inside, well, you have no soul and there’s nothing I can do for you.

I just found out that June Carter Cash’s first name was…

VALERIE.

I win at everything.