...the Best part...

self serving... and a few quickies.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Tue, 08 May 2012 16:26:00 +0000

So this photographer worked some miracles. And this website wrote some stuff about me. I dig it. Thought you might too. And who knew Francesca's had really cute stuff? Cause I didn't.

I'm over bootcamp. I'm over 5am and the same freaking hour of songs. Problem is that I've got five classes left and I already paid. Therefore I power through. Taking a summer break for sure. But the good news is I am still running and my shins appear to be healed. Must be the divine medical help I got from that really awesome doctor.

Telling your wife as you lie down to go to sleep that someone tried to break into the neighbors house while we were away on vacation is a bad idea.

Key takeaways from locking my keys in the car at the farmer's market. No pun intended. I have amazing friends. Leaving your back door unlocked is OK as long as you know you have plans on locking your keys in the car. And I should use that remote keyless entry thing more often.

I was not cut out for music class. There's not enough preschool teacher in me to even pretend I like it. And when Little Bunny Foo Foo gets a lesson about bad choices and sits in a 'safe place' to think about his decision, it takes everything in my power to not to bop the teacher on the head.

O&R

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 17:15:00 +0000

I have been kind of a downer of late. Forgive me. Grandma is a bit better. Looking like I get to be greedy a bit longer.

Onto lighter notes.

The dishwasher was leaking. It also seemed like it wasn't rinsing as well as it used to. It's less than a year old. The repairman came at 8 sharp this morning (I called yesterday) and said I was right. It was leaking. He threw some soap in and noticed it sudsing quite a bit. And then said, and I quote, "Are you sure you're using dishwasher soap?". Turns out, what happens when you accidentally throw one of those new fancy laundry detergent gel packs in the dishwasher a few times, it leaks. Wonder what the bill will be for being stupid. And to be clear, it was NOT intentional. I did not realize it was laundry detergent when I grabbed the fancy new gel packs off the end cap a week ago.

I stepped in poop the other night. On my kitchen floor. Human poop.

I bought a new swimsuit. Only it's called a swim dress which makes me feel Amish and like I'm one step away from mom jeans. No, it doesn't have sleeves. Nor does it come to my knees. And it's amazing.

Discovered my absolute favorite flower growing in our backyard this morning. Gardenias. If you have not smelled them in bloom you are missing out. Majorly.

The other day Cannon said something to me in the car and I didn't hear him. When I asked what he said he responded, "neveryours mommy"... Brilliant.

I did it. She's 18 months old and I took the bottle away. Tough love for Cannon on his first birthday the bottles were gone but not for my baby girl. She didn't bat an eye. Someone hold me.

The tremendously talented brother of a best friend of mine designed a logo for my photography business last week. I am blown away and humbled by his talents. Check it here if you like. Or here. I'm not one for tattoos but this, I might consider.

In six days we are unplugging. For a week. Of vacation. Toes in the sand, lazy days, unplugging.

Greedy...

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 00:06:00 +0000

I'm being greedy. But I want more. More time. I want more time. Not for myself. I want more time with her.

My grandmother isn't well. Hasn't been in a while. And I find myself being selfish. Greedy. I realize there aren't many 31 year olds who have a grandparent still with them. I realize how lucky this makes me. I do. And I want her to stick around. I'm not asking for years (although that would be nice). Just a little while.

But I have to be even greedier. I want her around and feeling good. I want her to be able to enjoy a few more things before it's her time. I realize that 18 holes of golf might not be in the cards. But putting her toes in the sand might be. Hanging with her great grandkids a little more. Being at home. Not in a hospital bed covered in wires surrounded by beeping. I want her to enjoy a few more cold ones. A few more laughs. Maybe some chocolate cake.

I realize this is asking a lot. Maybe even too much. I know I'm being greedy. And selfish. But I'm not ready to let go.

I'm just not.

Dr. Asshole.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 18:07:00 +0000

Normally when I have bad customer service I have someone to call. I can find an email address to complain to. I have some sort of outlet. Today this is my outlet.
I've got these shin splints. Yes? You've heard. I know. So I made an appointment with an orthopedic guy to make sure they weren't anything worse than shin splints and also to have him look at my shoulder. It's bothering me a little bit and I thought, when in Rome.

So the appointment is this morning, at 10:10. I arrive at 10. I'm a new patient. I know there's paperwork. I should add I have an 18 month old with me. And maybe you know an 18 month old who likes to hang out in a stroller for a long time, but I don't. Anyway. I get called back at 11:05. That's right. Almost an hour. But I didn't throw a fit. I didn't even ask. I put on my very best face and used my very best patience. I told the nurse my issues and at 11:20 Dr. Asshole comes in.

Ask him. He's a big deal. Trust me on this one. He checked out my legs for about a minute. Told me I have flat feet (no shit...) and prescribed physical therapy (at the facility he owns). Then I ask about my shoulder and the conversation goes like this:

Me: Can we talk about my shoulder really quick?
Asshole: Let's do the shoulder another time. I've already spent a lot of time with you and shoulder is a whole other ballgame.
Me: I waited for you for an hour and fifteen minutes.
Asshole: You want an orthopedist you have to wait for.

And cue my mouth falling open, him exiting, and his nurse mouthing 'sorry' to me as she leaves.

This is what's wrong with healthcare. That asshole is going to get paid even though he did almost nothing for me. And if I was a fool and actually bought the whole 'come back again for the shoulder' thing then he would get paid TWICE.

So. I reviewed him on ratemds.com and I emailed my insurance company. I've found him on facebook and am considering emailing him to tell him just how disgusted I am and how I will be telling everyone who will listen what a prick he is.

Until then, I'm telling you.
If you live in Tampa and want to know his name I will happily tell you. Just ask.

And here's what I've come up with for the Facebook email... should I decide to send it... but I probably won't because it probably won't make any difference and he won't care and it's not worth it... but I feel better writing it... thoughts?

I hate to reach out to you this way but could find no email address or website with any contact information for you. So ,I have resorted to Facebook.

I want you to know that I am disgusted by the way you treated me today. I would have said this to your face but I was so shocked that by the time I had words to say you had swiftly moved onto the next paycheck, I mean patient. I waited an hour and fifteen minutes to see you today (with an 18 month old) and you couldn't take an extra three minutes (after spending 4 solid minutes with me) to even hear what was bothering me about my shoulder.

Clearly your time is more valuable than that of your patients. And your response when I shared with you how long I waited to see you today was nothing short of egotistical and rude. It lines up with everything I have now read about you on the internet. I don't want to see any doctor who thinks his time is more valuable than that of his patients. Having a long wait time does not make you a better physician. Just the opposite, in fact. And on top of that, it makes you inconsiderate.

I am an educated woman with a solid head on my shoulders. To suggest that I come back to see you to waste another 90 minutes of my time so you can prescribe more physical therapy at the facility you own is ludicrous. And I'm certain my insurance company would be thrilled to hear your suggestion.

I may not be a professional athlete seeking your help to get back on the field, but I am a profession talker. And I talk to just about anyone. About just about anything. I plan on talking about my experience today for a long time.

observations and revelations.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 00:03:00 +0000

So. I had a physical for the first time in probably close to a decade. I can't remember how long it's been. And while the nurse gasped when I told her that, I'm pretty sure I'm not alone. I think a lot of women my age who have kids just figure everything is fine. I can get pregnant. Have babies. I know all those parts work. So I'm sure the rest is fine.

Doctor told me to give up diet coke. All soda. He wasn't just hating on diet coke but it's the only one I drink. At first I scoffed. I haven't had one in almost a week (and there are cold ones in the fridge). I'm surviving. Don't have a headache yet. Drinking water instead, cause he's not a big fan of crystal light either. Funtaker. But he didn't tell me to give up wine so it could be worse.

I was hoping for a under active thyroid to be revealed in my blood work. No such luck. It also turns out the scale at home is spot on. I digress. I am vitamin D deficient. You know where you get vitamin D? The sun. You know where I live? The surface of it. Florida. Everything you read about vitamin D deficiency talks about people whose skin is never exposed to the sun. This is not me.

Tomorrow, I leave. With my kids. Without my husband. Over six days we will fly five different times. Tampa to Nashville to St. Louis to Pittsburgh to Cincinnati to Tampa. The only flights where I will have someone to help me with a very active 30 pound 18 month old (who doesn't have a seat of her own because why buy one before you have to?) and a three year old, are the latter two. You're jealous right? Or you're excited cause this can only mean one thing: excellent blog stories.

I have these shin splints. Posterior ones. They got bad. Like felt like my bones were gonna crack in half. And so I got some compression sleeves. They help. And not just cause they're hot pink tye dye. Got some new insoles too. Legs no longer feel broken.

You know that boot camp I was doing for eight weeks at 5am two days a week? Well it just wrapped up the first eight weeks. I swore I wasn't going to do it again. Because 5 in the morning sucks. But I'm doing it again. Because the only part that sucks is the alarm going off and the getting up. After that it's pretty awesome. And it's turning me into a brick shithouse. That's right. I said it.

Ok. Off to put every snack in the house into a ziploc baggie, pack the iPad, DVD player, Mobigo, 1000 cars and a flask.

And... we're off.

one of these things is not like the other.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 12:25:00 +0000

We don't have lots of princesses. Our collection of baby dolls and things pink and girly is growing, albeit slowly. She plays with the same stuff he does. Bubbles and cars and chalk and puzzles and books. Cause he's her favorite. So she wants to do what he does. So I don't have one kid on one end of the house playing monster trucks and one putting a baby in a crib. Yet. I don't feel the huge boy/ girl divide. Yet.

But yesterday. I saw it manifest itself in a different way. It had nothing to do with cars or dolls. Pink or blue.

I picked her up out of her crib from her nap and she asked for the shoes in her closet. (Side note: Not her shoes. Her brothers shoes. Specifically orange crocs that she walks around in constantly. Not just the orange ones. Blue. Green. Doesn't matter. She wants to wear his shoes and only his shoes.) I said no. She smacked me. Not that unusual. She's figuring out that when she doesn't like something she can express that dislike through a simple smack. So, I smacked her back. Kidding. I took her hand and firmly said, 'no hitting.'. Period. No exclamation point. I did not scream it. I did not give her a nasty look. I just said no.

But I think she must have heard: listenlittlegirlifyousomuchaseventhinkabouthittingmeagainyouwillbeswimmingwiththefishies.

She immediately starts bawling. Real tears. Sobbing. The kind of crying you think might make them vomit. I hurt her feelings. I had to sit down and cuddle her (twist my arm) to get her to calm down.

Cannon would have barely reacted to that kind of discipline. And so for the first time, aside from anatomically, I see the difference in my kids.

Here's the thing baby girl. I get it. I don't like being told 'no' either. I'm certain it's made me cry way later in life than it ever should. A word of warning. You will also cry when you get your name written on the board in elementary school. When you get your first 'B' (this one you'll get over by high school). When one of us is disappointed in you. When you feel fat. The list goes on. I get why someone you care about disciplining you hurts your heart and makes you feel sad. I get it. Cause I'm the same way. And I would rather you care too much, than not care at all.

Because maybe, just maybe if you care too much, you won't come home sporting a tramp stamp, with a motorcycle riding boyfriend (who doesn't wear a helmet), and tell us you're dropping out of college to move to Vegas and be a showgirl. Just maybe.

Love her. Her passion. Her giant personality (rivaled only by that of her brother). And her tears.

a neglected blog.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 10:42:00 +0000

It's not that I don't love you. I do. It's just that I get busy. And it's a good busy. But it's busy. And random blog post thoughts pop into my head and then quickly disappear. So here I am with a quick O and R. And really only writing it because I set out to run this morning and I am just too damn sore. Here goes nothing.

My kids are at awesome ages. C and his letters and numbers and curiosity is ah.mazing. He's fun and smart and learning and the temper tantrums seem to have slowed every so slightly. Cause you know, at 3 1/2 those things slow down. E is hilarious and has the biggest personality of any 16 month old I know. Her sleep habits are sporadic at best but I don't mind middle of the night cuddles. It's the screaming that I mind. How many teeth does one child need anyway?

The workouts. So for a solid six weeks I've been busting it. Boot camp two mornings a week, running the other days. Today is probably the third day in the last six weeks I haven't done SOMETHING. And it's 6:30 am so there's still time. It took all of five weeks to lose five freaking pounds and it also took that long for me to stop obsessing over the scale and looking in the mirror. Remember this post? I should read it more often. Because when I look in the mirror, things are good. Asses are higher, legs are crazy strong, arms are thinner, boobs are smaller (of course, stupid stupid thing that happens to women). I'm really pretty proud that I have gotten into shape and I have zero plans of stopping.

Speaking of being proud of myself. Photography. Rocking and rolling. A solid three to four sessions a weekend, sometimes more. I am in love. In love. And pinching myself that it actually happened. I set out to start a small business, make some money, do something I love, and have something that was just for me. And I've done it. And I'm proud. You can check out my Facebook page should you so desire.

It's summer here. A lovely 80 degrees during the day and 65 at night. Remind me of this in June when it's 100 already.

So. That's an update. Not a very exciting one. But it's' why I haven't been around these parts. Cause life is good.

Hope you are too.

xoxo

photo op. post 501.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Fri, 02 Mar 2012 19:19:00 +0000

Oh hey. Been missing. Wrote a boring post that I haven't posted yet. About turning another year older, yadda yadda yadda. And then this happened.

BTW, this is my 501st post. Should have celebrated on the last one.

Anyway.

Yesterday afternoon I packed up some buckets and shovels, the jogger, some towels and a blanket and headed to the beach. It was 82 and gorgeous and we were going to take advantage. And we did.

Played in the sand. In the water. Breathed deeply. It's good for the soul. Really good.

See? We had fun. My kids love it. I love it. We will never get tired of it.

You get the point. It was fun.

We have learned, the hard way, that you don't take snacks to the beach. The ~~rats with wings~~ seagulls are majorly aggressive. Like out of control. They will fly down and grab food OUT OF YOUR HAND. Not only does that scare the shit out of me but it's disgusting. And they call all of their friends as soon as they smell blood. So. We snack on the way to the beach and on the way home. Not at the beach. Yesterday was no different.

Then. People of Walmart showed up. Mullets. MAJOR mullets. A cooler the size of a small car. Everyone smoking two cigarettes at a time. Tattoos. Ugly ones. Green and yellow ones. Jorts. Sleeves were hard to come by too. They set up camp and immediately pulled out giant bags of chips and sandwiches. They didn't seem to mind the giant rats circling their heads waiting for the right moment to strike. Then they start feeding them. This is why the birds are aggressive. Because assholes feed them. So now there's like 30 seagulls pooping and cawing all over the damn place.

I'm taking some pictures of my kids. And I hear, 'y'all! I got one!' Yep. He did. Balding dude #1 in the grey tux grabbed a seagull out of the air and was holding it on his lap. Feeding it chips and petting it.

And so. I did what any other person would have done. Took a picture.

No. Make that two pictures. To the left of mullet man/woman (?) in the grey tux sans sleeves is the gull whisperer.

And he was surprised when he finally freed Willy the gull why it shit on him.

The end.

PS. If you click on the picture you can see the another member of the POW crew. It's worth it.
Happy weekend.

helllooo president's day weekend.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 17:36:00 +0000

It's a 3 day-er. With almost zero plans. I am in love.

I've lost 3 1/2 pounds in the last almost 3 weeks. I will take it. Sure, I would love to have dropped 10 but that's not realisitc. Not only that but even though it's only a few pounds, I know I am a lot stronger, my clothes fit better, and I'm on my way to being in amazing shape. Or at least really good shape. That's all I want. To be in good shape. And be slightly skinnier. The running, bootcamp, and spinning is working. And since I'm getting up before the sun every week day to bust my ass, it should be working.

I hosted a happy hour playdate yesterday afternoon where we served goldfish and wine. And lots of other goodies. I let like 20 kids destroy the house for the sake of some fun for them and for the moms. And it was fun. I wrote about it here too.

The baby jumping on the couch because her brother does gives me heart attacks.

Told Dan I want to go to Ikea this weekend. He asks, 'what for?'. Um. I don't know yet. Um. Does it matter? Um. Sweedish treasures I am in dire need of and just don't know it yet. Any of these answers is the right one in this situaiton. FYI.
Trader Joe's is opening in Sarasota. It's like an hour+ away. And just like that, my plan is falling into place.

I don't deal in tuna fish. Tuna steaks, yes. Tuna fish out of a can or a pouch or a gold encrusted box from Tiffany's, no.

E took her diaper off in her crib in protest of a nap the other morning. When I walked in after she slept I thought for half a second that she hadn't peed the bed.

Also, this child has some serious junk in her trunk. It does not come from my side of the family. I have no ass. If she gets my other curves and that ass we are all in big trouble.

Am I the only one haunted by party favors? The dollar store crap that just shows up, even after you thought you had thrown it away? Would rather send children home with a shit load of candy and call it a day. Or sidewalk chalk.

It's one of those gray gloomy days where if you didn't have kids and didn't have a job you would just lay in bed and watch movies and drift in and out of sleep. Although if you didn't have kids or didn't have a job that may be your everyday.

And since my kids are about to nap. I'm gonna go pretend I don't have any kids or a job. for like 45 minutes.

Happy weekend friends.

observations and revelations

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 19:14:00 +0000

Throwing it back to the old school cause I'm so cool.

January kicked my ass. It took a full week for me to return to feeling semi normal.
This dieting thing is working. I said bye to two pounds last week. And it's probably no coincidence that as soon as I decided to diet I ran into a friend who talked me into a 5am bootcamp twice a week. There are small muscles I didn't know existed.

And the mornings where there isn't bootcamp I am sleeping in until 6 and running with a few others. Honestly it makes it so much more enjoyable and goes by so much faster when you have someone to talk to and pass the time with.
Sometimes I look at the people I'm friends with on facebook and think, really? Why? I mean it's not like we talk, ever. If we haven't talked since high school should we be facebook friends? I mean if you have kids and we can relate and you say funny things sometimes, then I'm cool with it. Then I got a request from a girl who I don't remember. I didn't do anything with it. Then she sent me a note reminding me who she is. Really? Is this what facebook has become? Cause I don't think she's saving the whales and looking for support... I think she wants to stalk my pictures. Not cool.

I added some new initials this week. LLC. Now I can pay taxes. Exciting, no?

Speaking of taxes, when our packet of documents arrived from our accountant this week it had our names on the outside and two other clients names and social security numbers on the inside. So. He's fired and I'd like to know who has our information.
And how about this one? I'm not speaking in religious undertones but I love this. Courtesy of Pinterest. Which Dan told me last night is the newest and fastest growing social marketing tool. Probably cause it's awesome.

I'm mourning the fact that my three year old can now pronounce L's. No more 'I wuv you Mommy!' and no more 'Mommy I was the wine weader at school today!'. Sad.

I'm hosting a happy hour playdate with toys and crafts and drinks for the moms. I was a little worried people would judge. So far, everyone is coming. Guess everyone is tired of the playground.

E has fallen for Elmo. Honestly I am so happy! Cause Cannon was Elmo obsessed but since he doesn't really watch anymore, and since she watches whatever he watches, I was worried she wouldn't even know who Elmo was. Which I am pretty sure is a right of passage for a child. But she does. And she asks for him and dances to him and sings the song. That little red monster is baby crack.

It's gonna be 'winter' here this weekend. Cold and rainy. I won't tell you how cold. Cause you'll want to punch me.

The Best part? I'm actually really loving the early morning workouts. It's good. Hope you are too.

a weighty issue.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 18:14:00 +0000

I was pregnant for most of 2008. When I wasn't pregnant, I was nursing and figuring out life with a newborn.

In 2009 I was figuring out how to work fulltime and be a mom.

In 2010 please see above reference for 2008.

In 2011 I was nursing for most of the year and also moving my family 1000 miles away.

Welcome to 2012. The year I get my body back. I am not growing a child. I am not feeding a child. I am feeding my face to provide for me and only me. And I'm going to lose 15 pounds.

I am not fat. I know that I am not fat. I don't look in the mirror in disgust. But I also know I weigh 25 pounds more than I did when we got married almost 7 years ago (what!?!?). My diet then of slimfast, lean cuisine, and alcohol isn't sustainable and no one should actually exist on fewer than 1000 calories a day and lots of exercise.

It starts today. A sustainable diet and exercise. Nothing crazy. Fewer carbs, calorie counting, and good old fashioned workouts. I will not cut out any one food group nor will I cut out alcohol. We will still eat out and I will have cake on my quickly approaching 31st birthday. Sustainability is key.

About a year ago I did this same thing and lost 15 pounds. I have just hung out there. So I will do it again. And pray to maintain.

I have issues with my weight. Not like eating disorders or anything. I don't need counseling. I have a blog instead. But I'm tall. And big boned. I never weighed 120 pounds. I'm not ever going to weigh that. My goals are realistic ones. But I still have issues.

I was a chubby prepubescent. And I have a few vivid memories from middle school when kids were mean. I remember one time in eighth grade walking up the stairs and hearing two of the popular boys guess how much I weighed. That'll mess with your psyche.

I am a sizist. Just for myself though. I watched a lot of Stacy and Clinton in my day and I know you should dress for the size you are because you actually end up looking skinnier. But I won't buy a pair of pants if I have to go up a size. Won't do it. I know that's irrational. I know that all manufacturers have different measurements. I also know that the size of clothing isn't found on the outside of the pants for the world to see. Like I said, issues.

When I get on the scale (which is too often... this new diet I will weigh myself twice a week, not twice a day praying for a miracle each time) I hold onto something and then let go like it will trick the scale. Or myself.

It was just recently that I realized it's normal for adults to discuss challenges with weight. That no one is going to judge me for admitting I need or want to lose a few pounds. It's not something I have ever discussed in depth with anyone. Until now. Because more and more I am realizing that this is normal. That most people (save a lucky few) have this challenge. I am not alone.

I am writing about it, saying it 'outloud', to hold myself accountable. There won't be weekly updates. But I will celebrate small victories.

Saw this on Kim's blog and then on Pinterest. Found it appropriate and motivating.

So there you go. It's out there. On the table. Time to be accountable.

15 pounds, I'm coming for you. Cause come vacation time (yes, people who live in FL still go to the beach for vacation) this mama is gonna look like she did before she was a mama. Or at least resemble that young svelte 26 year old.

Coralee.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

That's what he called me. Coralee.

"Coralee" he would say. "Coralee, what is the meaning of this?" as a giant smile spread across his face.

umpah and i circa 1988

I called him Umpah. Thereby paving the way for all the grandkids who followed to also call him that. Umpah.
Umpah passed away this weekend. I said goodbye. We all did. Doesn't make it easier. But knowing he's at peace now, that he can rest now, that makes it a little easier.

I share this not to solicit sympathy, but to share a life. Share a passing, and a lesson.

Frozen bananas. He would unpeel them and wrap them in saran wrap. Then freeze them. And eat them. All the time.

umpah at penn state in 1942, before the war.

Penn State. Jo Pa.  Umpah graduated from Penn State in 1948, a year before he married my grandmother. And the year before my Dad was born. My grandfather was a Nittany Lion to his core. He bled navy blue and white. And he loved Joe Paterno. Joe Paterno died on Saturday night too. The coincidence didn't escape any of us. And it's comforting in a way. To know Umpah and JoPa are up there, having a beer, talking about tackles.

He ate salad but never vegetables.

My grandfather loved swimming. The sport. With a passion.  He groomed my dad, uncle and aunt to be amazing swimmers and athletes. And he loved the beach.

Cold beer. Miller lite more specifically. Or gin.  Football. Ice cream. Those hats with the mesh in the back.  The weather. Crossword puzzles. Shooting the bull. Watching his stocks. Newspapers.

My grandfather shaved every single day. He retired 27 years ago and shaved every afternoon. 'You have to shave, Cor. Everyday.' he would respond when I asked what he was going to do at two in the afternoon on a Wednesday.

umpah and my younger brother circa 1988

The last few years Umpah had become less active, and less interactive. He had Alzheimer's, forcing him to take a backseat in conversations, do a lot of nodding and smiling, and talk about the weather. Alzheimer's takes away the person. The personality. Not the life, but the life. The life like the energy. The passion. The enthusiasm. And he struggled to get around. It's not how he would want me to remember him. And it's not how I will remember him.

umpah, grandma and my parents after my parents were married

Back up a couple weeks to Christmas week. We spent it at the beach with my parents and my dad brought along home movies (formerly VHS tapes converted to DVD, for posterity). We went back to the 80's. When I was 8 and my brother 3. When slouchy socks and tube socks were cool, horizontal stripes in bright colors were worn with stirrups and Keds, and when you drove a wood grain station wagon (you know the ones where the way back seat faces backwards and you stare at the people behind you) instead of a minivan if you had kids.

And when Umpah was healthy.

When he played tetherball with us, took my new rollerblades for a spin, let my brother tackle him while they played football in the backyard. When he walked miles a day and went for a daily bike ride to Publix to pick up a paper and chat with his buds. When he said things like, 'thing of it is Cor...' and 'Well I'll be darned...'. He's in those videos the way I want to remember him. The way he would want me to remember him.

My grandfather fought bravely inWorld War II. And the Battle of the Bulge. He earned a bronze star and a purple heart. He came home, married my grandmother and started a family. Three kids. Six grandkids. Two great grandkids. All because two people loved eachother.

He wrote notes. Lots of them. His wedding gift to us was a fireworks show at our wedding. Fourth of July style. A loan from him enabled us to buy our first house. He sent me one of those quarter collection things (when they first came out with the 50 states quarters). He had filled in about 60%half of it. The rest was up to me. Dan finished it. Umpah would be proud of that. When I was in college and we would talk he would ask on the regular if I was Suma Cum Laude. I, of course, was not, but he wanted me to know he wanted me to work hard. Study hard.

umpah around 1927

My grandfather met my children. Not many people can say that. Sure, my kids might not remember, but I will. And I have the pictures to show them some day. The pictures. Not an online album that will someday go the way of the dinosaur. An actual physical picture that I had printed and I dutifully filed away in an album. A real album.

We will celebrate his life soon. The way he would want it celebrated. With family and friends and cold beer. Not crying over a coffin in a church. We will toast him. And remember him. And honor him. The way he deserves to be remembered and honored. We will laugh about his quirks and habits.

We will wrap my grandmother in love and support. Her parnter of 63 years is gone. Her high school sweetheart. My heart hurts for her. His wedding ring rests on her ring finger, next to hers. They will be together again (but not anytime soon!).

Here's the lesson.

My dad sacrificed his coolness card and hauled that enormous video camera just about everywhere. Didn't care how silly he looked doing it. And sure then, it may have been a joke among us. But now? Now I am so very thankful to have those memories, those times when Umpah was healthy. So thankful.

Take videos of your kids. With your parents, with your grandparents (if you're as lucky as I am to still have grandparents), at family get togethers, or just on a random Tuesday afternoon. Doesn't matter who's watching. Your kids will want to watch someday. And they will appreciate it.
And take your camera. Everywhere. Take pictures. And have them printed. And put them in an album, or a box, or on your walls. Have them printed. Or have a photobook printed every year. Just have something you can touch. Memories you can actually hold on to.

And. Tell people you love them. Out loud. Don't assume they know. Tell them. Because it's what makes the world go round.

all because two people loved eachother

I love you Umpah. And miss you. And will hold hard to those memories. Forever. We will take care of Grandma. Rest in peace.

perfect parent. I am not.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 01:54:00 +0000

I am not a perfect parent. I lose my temper sometimes. My kids eat pancakes for dinner (ahem, tonight). I am not sure I say the right thing all of the time. The list goes on. But. I am doing my best. We all are.

Or most of us are.

I try to be understanding of people's situations, or my lack of knowledge of people's situations. Try not to jump to conclusions. Try not to judge. Because I don't know. I don't know what people go home to at the end of the day. I have no idea what goes on behind closed doors. So I try not to judge (at least not immediately).

This time. I can't help myself.

It was a gorgeous 70 degree Florida winter day and we took a jog to a nearby playground to meet some friends, play, chat, burn energy. While chatting, a little boy (he's probably 5) runs by myself and a few friends and slams his shin bone into the edge of a stone wall. I heard his bone hit the wall. There's no padding on your shin bone. That hurts. A lot. He reacts as any child would (I probably would have reacted this way as well) and falls down and starts crying. We ask him if he's ok and then see his mom come sauntering over. Not as quickly as I might have sauntered (I would have run if my kids bone had hit the wall like this, fully expecting it to be exposed and bleeding). She picks him up and walks right by us saying to her son, and I quote, "Stop crying. Boys don't cry. Don't be a sissy." End quote.

Cue jaws hitting the floor. Or the synthetic playground surface. This wasn't a playful conversation (as though those words coming from a mother could be playful). This was a direct order. Do not cry. You are a sissy.

She called her son a name. Sissy to be exact. She called him a sissy. And told him not to cry.

My dad cries. My brother cries. My husband has cried a few times. (sorry to give you up guys). Real. Men. Cry. Real men express emotion. Gone are the days where men don't have the right to be sad or to show how they are feeling. Gone is the stoicism. Real. Men. Cry. And wear pink.

I'm not an expert on bullying, but I'm pretty sure this is how they are born. Hell, his mom just bullied him. So when this kid, sees another kid hurting, get hurt, or in pain, how will he react? Will he run to his aid (as I hope my son would do some day) or will he laugh and call him a sissy?

I have a son. We are working hard to make sure he grows up into a kind, compassionate, ambitious, loving, passionate, considerate, good natured, sincere man (LBS if we achieve a quarter of those we'll be successful). I know we won't get there by calling him names.

I'm not a perfect parent. I let them watch too much tv. I bribe with suckers all too often. And I have never forced a vegetable. I'm not a perfect parent.

I'm just saying. I judged her. And she deserved it. That and a swift kick in the ass.

Absence make the heart grow fonder...?

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 13:27:00 +0000

I have been noticeably not around these parts of late. No particular reason. That whole not boring you with uninteresting things just to put up a blog post is the reason.

Can dogs live without a tongue? Cause around 3 this morning when the dog was licking his nonexistent balls for the third time, I considered grabbing the scissors from the knife block and taking care of it once and for all.

Had our first friend over last week without his mommy. It went swimmingly. Sure they destroyed the place but there was someone else to entertain. Pretty awesome. Have a playdate at a friend from schools house this morning. I don't know their last name and asked via text if she wanted me to stay or drop Cannon off and pick him up. I am sure I sound like mom of the year. I'm just saying. They live close. It's a christian school so surely they are good people. And I have laundry.

We are preparing for 8 days of visitors and I can not wait. Rooms have been painted. Menus are being planned. So excited to have old friends visit our new life. Friends who are really family.

I took pictures (shot photos... captured images... whatever you prefer) of food yesterday afternoon. And I really loved it. Little more creative. Little less pleading with small children.

I wrote an open letter to Trader Joe's basically pleading them to open a store here. Publishing it on another blog I write for. I am certain they will see it, read it, and instantaneously make making dinner at the Best household easier.

I put on a sweater last week. One time. We have turned the heat on twice this winter. True stories. Both of 'em.

The Best part? The friends coming south to play.

O&R new year's edition

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 19:01:00 +0000

Happy new year friends. Hope it was fun. And safe. We celebrated at home. Amongst luggage, laundry, boxes, and the Christmas turmoil we left behind when we set off for vacation.

We shared a bottle of champagne. Good champagne. And both still had a headache yesterday. I have heard that to tolerate champagne you have to drink it on the regular. Not sure I can afford that. And know I can't tolerate that slight headache it brings me for long enough to 'build a tolerance'.

Thought today was a holiday. As in no trash collection. Was wrong. Oh and not only was I wrong about trash but they rounded the corner to pick up Christmas trees too. Know what happens when you see them three houses away and undecorate your tree in five minutes? Not pretty.

So thankful to have had the last two days to recoup/regroup/clean/organize/get life back together. Also so thankful school resumes on Wednesday. Even if it is only three hours this week.

Never missed the dog so much in my life. He's been at 'camp' since Christmas eve. Never realized exactly how much food he cleans up off the floor until now. When one year olds walk around with pretzel sticks it's not pretty. At all. He will have a smorgasbord in a few short hours.

E is definitely my daughter. And not just because we look alike. The child loves to eat. Anything. Anywhere. Anytime. If you have food, she wants it. And let's you know it. This is endearing now. When she's 12, probably not. Hopefully she has her father's metabolism.

Do you know what a 'willit' is? Apparently it's a yellow and blue snail like creature that spits on three year olds in their dreams. Have a half asleep three year old tell you that at midnight and try not to laugh. Dare you.

There is a 'hard freeze' here tonight. Apparently that means you get out all your ugly old sheets and put them in your front yard. Interesting. There are sheets I should have saved for such an occassion. My apoligies ahead of time to those of you who may be visiting us in the coming weeks. Promise to wash them. Swears.

Promised Dan I'd watch more movies with him this year. I don't really love movies or even like them. But he does. Started last night with Horrible Bosses. Hilarious. Hoping he returns the favor by partaking in this season of the Bachelor.

Doing ok so far on my promise to blog more. You can thank me now. Or later. Whichever.

The Paper Mama: Photo Challenge

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 14:26:00 +0000

Been a while since I did one of these but this time, I can't resist. The challenge is sparkle. What sparkles more than a sunset on the gulf? Not much. I adore this photo. If both of my kids were in it I might explode.

Adore.

Happy New Year!

well thank you, 2011.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 18:58:00 +0000

Do you remember last year's new years eve post? I didn't either. So I went back and read it.

You should too, before you continue.

I have been a blog slacker (btw, just renewed my domain therefore I resolve to be a better blogger than I have been the final quarter of 2011) and wasn't even sure I was going to write a new year's post this year. But, alas. Here we are.

So. 2011. Wow. We had no idea what you had in store for us and boy did you ever have plans. First, let's review the things I said I wanted to do (because I don't make resolutions, I think they're BS and can't keep one).

I said I wanted to do another half marathon. Fail. I did not do another half. However, I have taken a liking to jogging and plan to continue. I have no current desires to run 13.1 miles.

A long weekend with the husband was on the list. Well. We had plans to go to the Greenbrier and take a long wonderful weekend. But life got in the way and when we were supposed to go on the trip we were putting our house on the market. We did spend a night downtown without our kiddos. That kind of counts.

I requested eight solid of sleep. I think I get that on the regular now so that's checked off the list.

Write more. I did write more. A lot more this summer and fall. I had a lot to write about. We moved. To Florida. We lived in an apartment. With a dog. We bought a new house. We started a new life. Then I stopped writing when that new life got busy. Again. Will be better. Swears.

I did not figure out how to make a living blogging. However if I ever get a tax id (which is on my to do list... cause you need one when you have a small (teeny tiny business) I may get 10 bucks from adsense.

I wanted to become a better photographer. This one makes me smile. This one makes me proud. This one. I did this. And I am learning. Every day. And people are paying me. To take pictures. Get out of town. Pinching myself. Cause I kicked this one's ass.

I wanted to ring in my 30th in style. Thanks to my amazing better half. That happened. In a major way.

And we laughed. We celebrated. We loved hard.

We are wrapping up the year with a week with our toes in the sand. So lucky. So grateful. Not taking one second of it for granted.

So over crab cakes and champagne we will ring in a new year just the two of us (cause the other two will be in bed by then.) With new things in store. New adventures. New excitement. New. And from 2011 we will bring with us the knowledge that things happen for a reason. A peace of mind that what will be. Will be. And joy. We will bring the joy and laughter and never ending fun that Cannon and Emerson bring us every day.

And so to plagiarize myself from last year. Hope your plans are stellar. Hope the champagne is cold. Hope 2012 is magical.

O & R four days away...

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 18:06:00 +0000

I've had some requests for some laughs. Ok. Fine, one request. From a best friend. Whatever.
The Santa/ Elf on the Shelf threat has lost all power. The breakdowns are epic and it's like the kids understand that stress comes with the holidays.

Against my better judgement I went to both the grocery store and the mall Monday with both of my children. Here's the thing. Monday afternoon at the mall the Monday before Christmas is not quiet like I thought it would be. At all. And it never fails. We finally get to the store we need to go to and he says "Mommy! I need to poop!" Every. Single. Effing. Time.
Took the 3 year old to the dentist a few weeks ago. He was a rockstar. Just laid there and watched Bubble Guppies. He had a cavity. I lost my mom of the year award. Shockingly. It's not from the crap he eats. Cause it was on a front tooth. So now he flosses. More than I do. And no more milk before bed. Lesson learned.

How do you discpline a one year old? She pinches. When you are holding her she pinches your arm. When she is standing at your feet, she grabs your knee skin (don't lie, you have it too) or tries for some other skin. And when you say no, yell no, move away, tell her it's bad, she smiles. Laughs even.

I think I am finished Christmas shopping. Think. But this is the time where I get all 'I don't care, just buy it'. So staying away from the aforementioned mall is important.

I ordered too many Christmas cards. Way too many. Want one?
I don't know what to wear when it's December and it's 80. I feel weird putting on shorts and flip flops. I mean not weird enough to not do it. Just to be clear.
Speaking of what to wear. Man am I in a damn rut. I feel like I wear the same five things all the time. Hoping Santa sends some giftcards and some time to shop. All by myself.

In our old house it was hard for babies to open doors. They were knobs. Here they are handles. And she can open them. And she does. In particular the one to the bathroom. Oh and the lid is always up. Cause I have a boy. So that's fun.

Christmas cookies with their great grandmother and cousin this afternoon. So that's pretty rad.

Also, I plan on bringing 'rad' back. Also bringing 'sexy' back.

Hope you are merry. Hope things are bright. Hope you didn't miss me too much. To all a good night.

Just a couple.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 13:16:00 +0000

I wrote earlier in the week about the magic of Santa. The magic of the season. The magic that lives in the eyes and hearts of children this time of year. Then a friend sent me this article. Read it. It's perfect. Could not have said it better myself.

Also. Launched my new photography website this week. I'm in love with it. Maybe you will be too. Check it.

The halls are decked. There are parades and parties to attend. There's a week at the beach coming. It's good. Hope it's good on your end too.

Happy weekend!

magic.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 19:07:00 +0000

We got a tree this weekend. It's late for us. Travel and busyness delayed the selection of the perfect frazer fir.

Fireworks stands and Christmas tree lots are everywhere in Florida. At their respective times of year of course. So there's the huge lot at our local high school which benefits the boosters. So, while fighting off ~~the plague~~ a stomach bug we ventured out.

Cannon was in love with walking among the trees, smelling the smell, helping Daddy pick the perfect one. Until. He spotted him. You know. The man of the season. He's on every corner, in every store, watching your every move.

Cue the bee line to Santa, who's back was to us because he was helping himself to some warm coffee (cause it was a frigid 78 degrees at 1pm). Cannon stopped about three feet behind Santa and said, 'Mommy, I just want to watch'. So he did. Then Santa turned around and this is what came out of his mouth, 'Hi Santa, My name is Cannon and I would like a scooter for Christmas please'. Of course it was slightly mumbled because everyone gets nervous when talking to the man with the list. But it was magic.

Pure magic.

Santa had on Air Jordans. Was slightly thinner than a 'jolly old elf' and his costume left a lot to be desired. It didn't matter. In the eyes of a three year old, he was in the presence of greatness.

I know the real reason for the season and thanks to Christmas carols and a nondenomenational preschool, Cannon does too, ish. I mean he knows it's someones birthday. That's good for now.

But there's another part of the season. A part that lives in the eyes and hearts of children. A part that is pure magic. About this generous man who blesses you with gifts once a year. If you believe. And when you've seen a three year old who's gotten an email video from Santa (portablenorthpole.tv do it, trust me) or who runs into Santa and simply must go talk to him, you know it's there. There's magic in the air. And sure, we may get to play Santa to keep the magic alive but for me, that's the best part. That's the fun. Seeing your children's eyes light up and knowing that someday, they'll know. But for now, they believe. It's magic. Pure magic.

It's why we sleep in our house on Christmas eve. So that we can wake up in our house on Christmas morning. It's why we have a date night coming up to go get dinner, drink some wine, and then go spoil our kids. It's absolutely my favorite part.

The Best part. If you will.

Merry merry friends.

O and R. It's been a while.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 02:59:00 +0000

We ate turkey. Twice. We spent eight days with two different families. We flew thousands of miles. Slept thousands of seconds. I am barely hanging on.

I put Christmas lights on palm trees today. Yep. Looks awesome. Did you know those bitches have thorns? Me either. Do now.

I used to hold a record for getting my Christmas cards out first. Streak broken.
Also. There's a typo on the Christmas card. Can't blame any other asshole. It's my fault. Plan on eliminating anyone who points out said typo from next years Christmas card spreadsheet.

One year olds on full flights suck.

Something happened last week. I have been running (read: jogging. Slowly.). And I hated it. But I was doing it daily. Usually a couple miles. Then on Wednesday I went a couple miles and finished and felt amazing. Like I could keep going. Like I wasn't going to die. Wasn't panting. And I loved it. So with my better half by my side on thanksgiving we ran a 5k. And I ran on Friday. Took the weekend off cause we were out of town. Got home tonight. Ran again. For the first time ever I don't hate it. It's pretty cool.

Do not pack candles if you move to Florida. They will not be burnable at Christmas time.
The stockings are hung on the stairs with care. Because in Florida fireplaces are rare.

The baby's hair is in that weird stage where she always looks like a ragamuffin. And she still won't wear bows. But I am not cutting it. So. Ragamuffin it is.

Happy Christmas time y'all!

O&R

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 20:37:00 +0000

I do believe we will spend two of the next three days at the beach. Cause we can. And who doesn't want to go to the frozen north sporting at least a slight tan?

I despise chain letters. In the last week I have gotten two. One for books. One for stickers. I told the book lady to shove it, in nicer terms. The stickers. That one came from a bestie. Who is a loyal reader. Who is lucky she is 1,000 miles away. Just too bad she has to see me face to face in a week.

Know what's awesome? Holding your 24 pound one year old in one arm and your 30 pound (weight differential doesn't seem quite right) three year old in the other arm so he can pee in a public potty that is too tall for him to stand and reach to pee. Also you are holding your wallet, and keys.

Jogging with a double jogger loaded with aforementioned 50+ pounds of
kids in the 85 degree Florida heat the week before thanksgiving should count as double mileage. At least.

Not writing much lately because my creative brain is dedicated to capturing moments for local families. And it's awesome. And so is word of mouth marketing.

A month or so ago this indentation showed up in my upper thigh. I was pretty sure it was a tumor or a blood clot or my twin growing in my leg. Figured out this week that the indentation is exactly where my bathroom counter hits my leg. Also where the pulls on my kitchen drawers hit my leg. Right now I am leaning against the drawers typing on the iPad. Glad I didn't go for a CT scan but kind of weirded out by the cause and effect here.

In one hour this week I filled four trash bags with toys for kids who aren't as lucky as mine. And one bag for the trash. And I took it to goodwill and was done with it. And there was no one around to stop me. Felt fantastic and I may just do it a few more times before Christmas.

Running a couple miles a day. Haven't lost a pound. Not eating bread or pasta. Or crap. Never really did. Still drinking. Feel better even if I haven't lost any weight.

Red Envelope has stepped up its game.

I have two children and have not gotten one toy catalog in the mail. To quote Julia Roberts.... Big mistake. Huge.

I will leave you with one final thought. Thanksgiving is less than a week away. And Justin Bieber looks like a girl.

Observations and Revelations: the way I used to do them.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 15:26:00 +0000

Wanna hear about the time Cannon took the chain off my bike while standing on an ant hill at a park four miles from home?

For a half a second on Halloween I worried that our new neighbors would judge us trick or treating with cocktails. A half a second. Turns out if we didn't have a drink they would have judged.

It's freaking gorgeous here. Like high of 80 and low of 60. We are going to freeze in the northeast in a few weeks. Probably cause our kids don't have winter clothes.

We got 'elf on a shelf' out almost a week ago. His name is Elfie. Here's to a solid two months of behavior enrichment. Now if we can remember to hide him nightly... and remember where we hid him.

We are back on the eating healthy and working out train. The diet of peanuts and candy corn wasn't doing it for me. I still hate running but I hate it less in gorgeous weather. Dan is on the train too. This of course means he will lose 10 pounds by tomorrow eating tuna fish and cheese for every meal. I, on the other hand, will fight for every tenth of a pound.

We're back on the train mostly because we want to go into the holidays feeling fit. Cause we like to indulge if you didn't know that about us. There is a vacation coming where I want to eat key lime pie and drink cold beer on the beach. Also, Thanksgiving isn't exactly a healthy holiday. So. We will run. And lower our carb intake.

Hello Skinny Girl Margarita. I didn't say I was going to stop drinking.

So. I bought a domain this weekend. I guess that means now I own two. This one and bestpartphotography.com. I have no idea what to do with the domain but baby steps. I am having a blast taking pictures. A blast.

I swear this won't turn into a photography blog. I don't know nearly enough for that. I bow down to some of the photographers I have started stalking. I've been liking photographers facebook pages like crazy. Then I saw a picture that almost made me throw up. Picture this. Pregnant belly. Only the belly, no head or legs. Hair man arms wrapped around the belly forming the over used cliched heart with his hands. And super imposed in the heart is a 3d ultra sound picture of the baby. If that woman can get paid to take pictures, I can succeed too.

I don't think I have ever been wrong guessing the sex of a baby. Maybe once. But still. That's a good track record.

Tomorrow night I get to have dinner with one of my best friends. With no children. And real napkins and adult conversation. I am in love already.

The Best part? Fall in Florida. I am in love.

it's good. really good.

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 18:28:00 +0000

You know what's awesome? When something starts falling into place. Like you hoped it would. See, I decided I liked taking pictures. Then I decided I loved taking pictures. Then I decided to practice and learn and grow and I decided I might be good at taking pictures. And it turns out, I'm not the only one who thinks that. That is awesome.

Something else that's awesome. It has opened up a whole other side of my brain that I have either never used or that I shelved in favor of writing stories about murderers and snowstorms and tax season. I am creative. It's fascinating to me the way I look at things now.

When I see scenes, I picture how it might look in a picture. How I would frame it or if the lighting would work. I liken it to when I moved to Spain and found myself thinking in Spanish. I was really learning it. Being immersed and knowing that you have so much to learn and that you are beginning what could be a really awesome adventure, it rocks.

I am totally and completely intimidated by what I don't know and that's awesome. That means that I won't ever stop learning about it. And it means that I will always be humbled by the work of others and honored that people think I am good enough to take their pictures. It's totally rad. Totally rad.

Another awesome thing is when someone decides to pay it forward. Thanks to social networking I have this friend and photography mentor who is friends with a lot of my friends but who I have never met. And she's helpful And encouraging. And funny. And excited for me. And you should hire her if you live in Indy. And she picked me to pay it forward to. That's rad too.

The Best part? It's good. Really good.

Observations and Revelations

noreply@blogger.com (Corey) — Tue, 25 Oct 2011 17:12:00 +0000

I no longer miss fall. It's freaking gorgeous here. We hang out on blankets in the yard. Play at the playground. Don't have to bundle up. Yep. I will take it.

The sound of the dog cleaning himself makes me want to vomit. Same as when I find a sippy in the corner and then discover it contains milk.

We still have Kentucky license plates.

My baby girl weighs almost 4 pounds more than Cannon did when he turned one. What's up 90th percentile.

Halloween has been approaching forever. Been in the stores since July and it's still days away. So it's taking forever. But then once it's over Christmas will be here in like 2 days.

Speaking of that. The pictures of the ghost costume. Are gonna be amazing. Not to set myself up for failure...

Texas has more than two thousand airports. Go Cardinals.

I made cake balls. They are freaking amazing. They went to work with Dan this morning.

My flash is busted. Not good.

We fought a fever from 2 until 5 this morning. So that's awesome.

And I was just thinking (didn't say it out loud or even type it for fear of jinxing it) that we have not had any sicknesses since we moved down here.

The three year old didn't want to sit in the jogger this morning. So he ran with me. Yep. Still not napping. Didn't run fast enough apparently.

The Best part? I forced myself to jog even though I slept like three hours last night. Then I came home and ate a chicken breast. And three handfulls of peanuts and candy corn. Fail.