Last year on this day I did my very favorite post ever. This year, I give you more links to bloggers - in the form of my “New Commenter” shout-out.

Thank you all for stopping by and spending some of your precious time with me and my life.

MommyLiz from The Day My Tivo Died asks the rhetorical question we’ve all asked ourselves.

Ramblings from Life’s Alexis shares some amazing news with us.

Tom Slatin and his self-named site gives us stupid teenage tricks.

Saucy’s Bloggedy Blog Blog only missed one. What is the fear of being tagged for that meme?

Julie’s Journal’s is Jule’s baby. See what 1500 viewers saw - her wedding!

Mrs. Jelly Belly writes about health and nutrition. My guess, though, is that Red Hots, Fireballs and Hot Tamales aren’t included here.

Jess writes with the other Bond Girls, Bridge and Al. She’s thankful for toilet paper - and who can argue with that?

Kath and Margie are Soeurs du Jour. They have breathtaking photography - please go see their first post.

Little Lionness Fiona wonders. Yea, me, too. Should we try it?

Jarrard is Living the Dream While rowing to Live. We share some of the same friends. Snort.

Kat gives us her (My) Two Cents. She’s also given me an idea for a gift for Shortman.

Mommy Cracked Mandy had me laughing all morning thinking about this post. Oh My God.

Beckie from Spookiez Spot is taking the handmade challenge. Go look for crafts.

The Working Diva Ellebee muses. Just remember - Trouble? That’s nuffin.

Tamara de-stresses with stamps. All kinds of wonderful ideas for card making!

Ell, the Suburban Gypsy gives all kinds of advice. Especially good - what to say to the UPS guy.

Bolo writes here. I wish I could read Spanish. Me Congratula means “I am pleased.”

Hazard to Myself’s Aimee gives us her life story in the 21-year-old’s playlist format.

Iris Mama writes at Lulu Chronicles. She’s a single adoptive Mom to a Guatemalan baby girl.

Jodi Watson is Throwing Some Scraps Around. Know a scrapper? Check this out.

Valerie from Disorderly Conduct made this list as I was typing this post!. And Valerie? Much more Tina Fey than Tammy Faye!

—- We’re in the middle of our first snowstorm of the season. It was supposed to start snowing at 4 pm this afternoon. It started at 1:30. The original prediction was 3-5 inches before midnight. What does an extra 3 hours of snow get you? Shortman is hoping “no school”. —-

Aaaaaaannnyyywayyyy, I’m hoarse. U of M was behind by 20 at half-time (so I screamed about how stupid they were being), sent the game into overtime (their coach must have some amazing patience), and ended up winning by 2 with 0.01 seconds left on the clock. So, the equivalent being, if I were to have yelled with my fingers, I wouldn’t be able to type right now. Because, The Pain.

Lucky Mr. Hot - he’ll be able to talk at me all evening and I won’t be able to interrupt without sounding like a 3-pack-per-day smoker.

You, however, get a couple of things:

• Very important if you’re planning to give gift cards! You must read this.

(Edited To Add: from Valerie: Read this too.)

• Wondering what to do with your leftover turkey? Go see Sangria Lover.

—- Tomorrow, I’m making Mr. Hot clear out the corner where the Christmas tree will go. Can I turn on the lights on the porch now? —-

No, that’s not really it. I mean, it is - like “Shortman” is my 6′2″ son’s nickname - or the nickname “Tiny” that you’d give your 350-lb neighbor. My mother nicknamed me Grace many (many) years ago - because I was 5′6″ tall and had size 9 feet by 5th grade - and believe me, there is NO WAY that with arms and legs that long can walk without tripping over air. I was always sporting a new bruise - either from walking into walls or bashing a leg into a table.

But in this case, Grace is something I found at Schmutzie’s site. (By the way, if you aren’t reading Schmutzie - you better go check her out now. No, really. You can come back to me later.)

I probably won’t make it an everyday post - but I will track 365 days of finding “Grace in Small Things” - something that I hope will help me focus on all of the good things in my life during the upcoming year. And so, I begin.

• 48 weeks of severance pay. Not necessarily a small thing, but definitely full of grace for this time of the year.
• My parents, aged 67 and 66, are both healthy - and as much in love now as they ever were.
• My little girl cat snuggles up to the back of my knees in the middle of the night and purrs so loudly that she wakes me up - and then purrs me back to sleep.
• Fake tattoo eyebrows. Because I can’t draw them on - and I can deal with no hair, but I need eyebrows.
• Gas at $1.61/gallon - so Shortman can go snowboarding every weekend, even though it’s 35 miles away - and get out in the fresh air with friends for great exercise.

—- Because, in these months of family and friends - we all have so much to be grateful for. (Which is NOT to say that I won’t still be my bitchy self) —-

more animals

—- From the Hotfessional Family to yours. —-

1. Clothes: For work? Slacks and a sweater for Fall/Winter. Slacks and dressy t-shirt for Spring/Summer. Yes, I do wear blazers when necessary. I rarely wear skirts or dresses anymore - mostly because I don’t have any that I really like. I have a couple of suits that I adore and will wear whenever I get the chance. When I get casual? Jeans. Mid-rise with a flare. Long-sleeved t-shirt. I won’t go out in my yoga pants, but I will laze around the house all day in them.
2. Furniture: Cushy - Microfiber for easy clean up for the “soft” goods. Mission-style cherry for tables. Strong colored abstracts or stylized florals or architecturally interesting wall decor.
3. Sweet: Vanilla bean ice cream with hot fudge and peanuts.
4. City: True city? Chicago. City around here? Um…we don’t have cities around here. Ann Arbor is a great town though.
5. Drink: Unleaded? Ruby Red grapefruit juice. Leaded? It varies by season. In warmer weather - Grey Goose vodka & Limeade. In cold - wine or bourbon/Coke. (But we don’t have the B&C very often because when we do, Mr. Hot talks in his sleep all night long.) Of course, seasons are interchangeable depending what I have on hand.
6. Music: Classic rock and classic R&B top the list, but give me anything bluesy with a rock beat and lots of guitar, and I’m happy
7. TV Series: Entourage. No, wait. Dream Team (BBC). True Blood. I don’t watch a lot of non-sports television, so you’ve been given my entire list of television series. I have been watching Malcolm in the Middle reruns and Scrubs in syndication. Snort.
8. Film: Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Wizard of Oz. Oh, wait…something current? The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Shawshank Redemption. Seven.
9. Workout: NOT running. Horseback riding - but I don’t have a horse anymore. ::pouting:: I do love most of The Firm videos - which are a cross between lots of aerobics and weight lifting. I like Pilates, too, and don’t do it nearly often enough.
10. Pastries: Hmmmm. I typically think “pie” when I think pastries. And I don’t eat pie. I do love those cheese filled things that show up on continental breakfast platters for early morning meetings. Do they count?
11. Coffee: Black. Lots. Or occasionally a skinny vanilla latte.

—- Now, all of you who have 3 more days of NaBloPoMo - feel free to steal this yourself. Must go find the snowman hot chocolate carafe and the Santa taper holder. —-

I have a question. Y’know, after you have a baby, does your stomach go down immediately?

Mr. Hot’s voice - from next to me at the kitchen table:

No, it’s still kinda poofy.

Next sound - on the hallway floor:

click, click, click, click, click, click, click

Mr. Hot, again -

I said poofy, not Poopy.

WAG, WAG, WAG.

Okay, I’ll give you a scooby snack.

The garage? With the pristine new paint job on the pristine new walls and ceiling? Well, we had an attic ladder installed so we could use the rafter space as storage for things like Christmas boxes, and folding tables, and out of season shit. Like Shortman’s snowboard.

Guess who’s going snowboarding in 45 minutes? Guess who decided to go retrieve said snowboard from rafter space? Guess who, in a fit of brainlessness - kneeled, not on the rafter, but on the insulation - and put his knee through said pristine ceiling?

That’s right. Shortman - all 6′2″, 220 lbs of him - kneeled directly onto the insulation and the 1/2″ thick gypsum board. I heard a pop from where I was sitting - then I heard, “What the fuck? Move your knee!”

I went out to see. None of us could look at each other. I knew if I looked at Shortman, I’d start laughing. If I looked at Mr. Hot, I’d start laughing. Either way, I was doomed.

Finally - we all went into separate rooms. I sat in the kitchen, Shortman went into the living room, and Mr. Hot climbed the ladder to try to push the pieces back into place. (The photograph was taken after his attempt to repair.) We each had our own little “compose yourself” timeouts.

When Mr. Hot came back inside, looked into the living room and said, “You goofball.” And Shortman said, “I’m sorry.”, I knew I was safe. I buried my face in my arms and laughed - silent tears streaming down my face…my shoulders doing that hunch thing - as I tried and tried not to let Shortman hear me laughing.

—- Then I grabbed the camera. —-

Of course, Mr. Hot did this while fixing breakfast, so Kettle, meet Pot:

It’s a shame there aren’t more uses for the things.

******lalalalala******

When I had dinner with these two last week, they were surprised to find out that 24 still lives here. Oh yes, he does. Because, apparently, I haven’t been bitching too much lately.

Is he still making me crazy?

Only when I let him. Which isn’t too often anymore, because I’ve taken a stand. I refuse. This house only needs one Alpha Bitch - and that role belongs to me. So, he’s become like that smaller, younger female in the pack - largely ignored by the Alpha Bitch. She, er, I mean, he works Monday through Thursday from 8-5 and spends at least three nights every week with his boyfriend.

When he does manage to make it here after work, he walks in, goes directly to the kitchen, eats our food, and then goes down to his room until 10 pm or so, when he comes back up to take a shower. This past weekend, he left Friday afternoon to go back to Morganhole to pick up MORE STUFF from the house he moved out of last April. (Remember? He had a desk?) I don’t know what he brought back, or where he’s going to put it, but then…I Don’t Care. La la la la la. And you can’t make me. So there.

However. There are moments… Oh, are there moments, y’all. This one makes me laugh every time I think of it.

Last weekend, his sister (21), my brilliant, beautiful stepdaughter (as long as SHE doesn’t try to move in next) and her boyfriend came up from West-by-gawd-Virginia. Mr. Hot and I decided we’d make a huge breakfast on Saturday since all 4 “children” (Shortman, 24, 21 and the boyfriend) were going to the U of M/Northwestern football game at noon - and Mother Nature promised rain mixed with snow and sleet. (Mother Nature delivered.)

We told 24 to go ahead and invite C - his boyfriend - for breakfast as well.

Friday night, as we were discussing sleeping arrangements, 24 whined, “It’ll just be easier if I go sleep at C’s house.” (Yea, whatev.) We reminded him that breakfast the next morning was at 9 am - and spent the rest of the evening playing board games. (Which, y’know, I RULED. Have you ever played Apples to Apples? Dude. You don’t want to take me on.)

At 9 am on Saturday, we all assembled in the kitchen except…of course, 24. and C. But they were on their way. (We took bets to see who could come closest to actual arrival time. 21 beat us all with a 9:35 guess - only 2 minutes off.)

When they finally arrived (and C. is perfect for 24, by the way…it was first time we met him), Mr. Hot was making a second round of eggs. 24 was not impressed that we were taking bets on their arrival time (especially Mr. Hot’s guess of 10 o’clock), but he quickly recovered and started getting C’s plate of food ready and poured his coffee. He bustled around like a nervous girlfriend.

It was really something to see. There we all were, dressed in sweats - unwashed hair (well, the others, y’know) - standing around with cups and plates - dirty pans piling up - and 24 was waiting on C - making sure that he had everything he needed. I kept waiting for him to tuck a napkin into C’s shirt collar.

“Where’s the cream?”, 24 asked. “C takes cream in his coffee.”

Mr. Hot looked at me and mouthed, “Cream?” over 24’s head.

I shrugged my shoulders.

Um, there’s milk - well, there’s skim milk. We don’t have cream.

And so, C had skim milk in his coffee.

You’re probably wondering, “Why does this make the Hotfessional laugh? There’s really nothing that funny about it. In fact, she’s kinda being condescending towards the relationship.”

No, really - the funny thing is CREAM???? CREAM????? The kid has been living in this house - eating our food and drinking our coffee and using our water. And yet, the look on his face when we told we had no coffee cream … was priceless.

—- Okay, so maybe it’s only funny to me. And maybe I should add CREAM to my grocery list for this week - I’ve invited C for leftovers from Thanksgiving dinner. We actually invited him for dinner, but he’s going to his parents. Where apparently, they have cream. And sugar that isn’t served out of the 5 lb bag. —-

Aaaaaaaannywayyyyyy, (she says, trying to dig herself out of THAT hole), Mr. Hot is an admitted chauvinist. He ‘fesses up, y’all.

He’s really hard worker, and an excellent cook, and he gives pretty good backrubs when his heart is in it. He loves his kids and his wife and even, for the most part, the animals. He’s an excellent son-in-law (probably better than I am a daughter).

He’s also a sports freak, so when we moved to Ann Arbor, home of the University of Michigan (Go Blow!*) - we gave up professional sports outings to Pistons and Tigers games (they’re now too far away) for Wolverine sports. The waiting list for football is about a kajillion miles long, but U of M basketball hasn’t been a real contender since the Fab 5 years, so season tickets were readily available.

For the past two years, we sat in Section 57, Row 30, Seats 11,12, and 13. This year, because it’s our third year, we got moved closer to the court. (Down one.whole.row. To Row 29. snirk.) We also got a special offer. “Buy Women’s Basketball Season Tickets for $10″.

Um, y’all? That’s not $10 per ticket. That’s $10. For a seat. For the season.

I batted my eyes and told my chauvinist pig darling husband that we could combine the best of both worlds. Sports and dates - for an entire season - for $20. Screw Shortman - he wouldn’t be any fun. I may have offered, um, other benefits as well. Shaddup.

Even better? It’s general admission. No assigned seats. Sit anywhere you’d like.

Last Thursday, we sat close enough to smell the Gatorade.

Today, we sat on the court. (And I may have lusted after the photographer’s cameras, just a bit.)

Now, I’ll give you one guess as to which member of the Hotfessional family is these girls’ biggest fan.

—- Of course, it kills me to have to listen to that fight song - because as a Spartan, I think it can do serious damage to my brain cells. —-

*And as a Spartan, I NEVER, EVER cheer Go Blue. Just sayin.

Y’all know Elle? Elle who makes delicious truffles every November for Adoption Awareness Month? Elle who handmakes these truffles and packages them beautifully and sends them to your home for you to give as gifts? Or to eat every single one of them your-own-self (NOT that I would ever do that, y’know.) Click on the bee to order.

You can see the story of Sweet Hope here.

—- There you go. What more could you want? I could want Michigan State to beat the pants off of Penn State, but that doesn’t seem to be working, so make me happy and click up there! —-