Apparently 2009 will NOT be the year I refrain from talking about boobs.

We rang in the New Year with a rather mellow family celebration yesterday.  I made a big pot of homemade chili and we watched the movie Flicka (yes, we're a bit behind the times with our Netflix que).  That movie served to remind me that (a) I cannot watch a movie with a horse as the main character without crying buckets of tears, and (b) Tim McGraw is HOT.

Afterwards, we got the kids in bed and settled in for some channel surfing between the ball drop, college football, and the Hooters Best Damn Swimsuit Pageant.  The latter was an eye-opening experience into the world of botched boob jobs.  Egads.  Here's a hint girls: if your doctor's after photos look like he's implanted cantelope halves into his patients, you might want to keep looking. It's also good if they're implanted close enough to actually make cleavage.  A six-inch gap between boobies does not good cleavage make.  At any rate, at the end of the show I was definitely more appreciative of my natural, albeit saggy, chest, thankyouverymuch. 

In an effort to prove that we are not such Old Fogies after all, Mike and I did manage to stay up until midnight, where we toasted with a Snow Cap Ale and our good friend Ryan Seacrest (who did a fantastic impression of a burnt Stay-Puft marshmellow man in his black puffer coat.)

Today's been mellow as well.  We watched the Rose Parade, took down the Christmas tree, and took a few long winter naps.  A good way to start 2009, indeed.  I'll leave you with our Christmas Card (if you didn't get one, it doesn't mean we don't love you.  It just means I'm a lazy slacker who couldn't get her shit together and get them mailed. :) Oh, and a few holiday pages, too.  Happy New Year!!

all supplies by KI Memories

supplies from the Studio Calico kit, Center Stage