What happens when Paul gets hold of the Christmas baking

Behold! Tarred and feathered gingerbread men! Making Christmases merry for those nearest and dearest to Paul who understand his totally warped sense of humor.

After much discussion on what to use, we quickly determined that melted dark chocolate would be perfect for the "tar" portion. The "feather" part was a little trickier. Coconut flakes seemed like the natural choice but neither Paul nor I like coconut. We finally settled on crushed peppermint candy canes (although, we worried the red might look a little gory.) I will add that this is definitely the most successful of Paul's experiments. We try not to ever mention the horrid attempt at "Biscuit-cheetos", Paul's take on the the traditional NM cookie, the biscochito. (And my participation in these messes is solely to make certain the house doesn't burn down.)

Really, I'm here just to keep things from melting, warping, or flaming.
Paul works on the crushing of the candy canes. To cut down on the red = gore factor, he wanted the candy canes crushed very finely.
Let the tarring of innocent gingerbread men (and women and children--we used Pepperidge Farm's Ginger Family cookies) begin.
The end results--lots and lots of tarred and feathered gingerbread man. We mixed the extra chocolate and crushed candies to make minty lumps of coal. I suggested reindeer poop but Paul said that wasn't nice. So lumps of coals it is.
Paul who was very proud of his creation, which are actually quite tasty.

Day 2: Paul

I don't have many pictures of Paul as a little guy which is unfortunate because he had fabulous hair as a baby. It was always surprised. My mother-in-law said she'd tried to smooth it down but it was standing up again as soon as she'd stop combing. He still gets fabulous bedhead if he even pretends to lie down.

Instead of a view of Paul through the years, I thought I'd post a few little glimpses of How Paul's Brain Works. I've always said that if Paul ever committed murder, his entire defense would consist of "But it's Paul!" and he would be cleared of all charges. Of course, I've threatened murder if I have to hear one more time "He's so cute!" which he is--and very clever and quick and funny and all that-- but sometimes, just sometimes, I'd really like a normal picture.

My mother-in-law gave us some of Paul's old schoolwork that she'd saved. One of them was a journal he had to keep in 2nd grade. Most entries consist of "Today I'm saking (sic) " or "Today I'm buying." It took me a bit to catch on as to what he was writing. I finally understood when it was explained that they wrote in their journals in the morning. He was writing about lunch. Occasionally, he would expand: "Today I'm buying. There is pizza for lunch." He also bought on hamburger days. He did write for about a week about the new kitten the family had gotten, a little white furball originally named Snowball who slept with Paul on his bed. In later life, Snowball became known as Pirate Kitty thanks to a gnarled ear and scar on her face (Snowball was apparently one tough furball and not one to back down from a fight). There is also a week-long story, complete with pictures, that was about space ships and aliens, probably right after parent-teacher conferences. Then he was back to saking (sic) or buying.

(There is some discussion as to when the following papers were done. His mother thinks they were 2nd or 3rd grade but Paul thinks he was older--4th, 5th or 6th grade. Either way, I think it's very clever and very indicative of how my husband's brain still works.)

Paul declares that Richard Scarry is the greatest author of all time. He definitely was inspired by Scarry. For example: The Picklebird from Outer Space. The shape was on the paper and the students had to do something with it. Paul created Picklebird. Of course. Who wouldn't?

The circles were drawn on the paper and Paul had to create things with them. My personal favorite is the rather formal circle man pushing the baby stroller.

An 11-year-old Paul's Rube Goldberg take on a pie-making machine. He's never helped me make a pie--perhaps if we can figure out how to make this machine. . .


And in my never-ending quest to just take a picture of my husband, I present the following proof that it will probably never happen.

Taking it on the chin on the wharf in Monterey, CA. He couldn't just stand there.

Very unhappy about being back home and back to work:

In Chicago at the photo-op spot in the Hancock Building. (The beam is vertical with the photo illusion of looking down behind it.) I had almost the exact same picture but Paul's the one who gets all the glory (and his was better, I admit). His comment was that the eyes were really good but that he should have curled his leg around the beam more. He never stops improving upon his bad pictures.

In Chama at the train depot. Most people just take pictures of the trains but not Paul. That would be too easy. Paul had to set up this whole picture so that he would look like he was getting sucked into the fan--he was trying to figure out if he could look like he was rotating in the fan. There comes a point when I have to refuse to be party to the madness.

This is Paul's personal favorite because "Look at that mouth! I was really convincing about how bad it hurts to have a dinosaur bite your head!" My family might recognize this as one of the dinosaurs in Clayton. Again, too easy to just stand beside it.

But all his goofiness does translate well with our nieces and nephews (and all our friends' children). On one visit, he spent much of the time being corralled into singing on the toddler-karaoke machine with a then 2-year-old Sarah. It was some Wiggles song about ducks say quack, cows say moo, etc. Sarah said "ooooooohhhhhhh" into the microphone the entire time. Paul added his own chorus: "Party people in the back! Say quack, quack, quack!"
So, there it is. A wee little glimpse into life with my husband. It's never dull, I'll give him that.

Paul, on Heaven

We attended church Sunday morning with Amy, David, and my maternal grandparents. The sermon was about Heaven (scripture was Mark 12:18-27).

During one point, discussing marriage and spouses in Heaven, Paul leaned over and said, "You're going to be stuck with my jokes FOREVER."

That is definitely not my idea of Heaven.

Paul, on books

A snippet from a conversation tonight:

Me: So, this book I'm reading now (The Double Bind by Chris Bohjalian) references The Great Gatsby, which I think I read in high school or college. I remember portions but not the whole of the story, like I probably skipped chapters just to get finished with the assignment. I'll probably reread it when I finish this book.

Him: Huh. That was one of the better books I was forced to read.

There you have it. And if that isn't just an overwhelming recommendation for a book, I don't know what is.