I'd Like to Thank the Academy

Praise be, praise be.



The hometown party of Glitch is so very ova.



There should be a top ten list here. Or a ridiculous conversation that takes place in my head between me and my broken feet. Or 14 paragraphs of a silly nature that focus in on something like how much I sweat each time I put on my mother of the groom costume. (Summer weddings = a very sickening sweat reflex. I know, I know, a tad more that you wanted to hear.) moving on: Or pictures. I should have pictures on here. Or a rap song. On the joys of purplishishness. Or something cool that has never been done on a blog, that would delight and excite.



But I just can't muster it up for you. I am pooped. with a very in front of it.



However I'm not too pooped to sing my heartfelt thanks for all the help that came my way. The widow Mommacita received a lot-a lot of help. And gratitude abounds. I have so much gratitude that it overflowed in my heart and I have put the excess in ziplock bags that I have stashed in the dining room, because there are flowers in there, and my gratitude (for you the helpers of the Glitch party), dictates being in a room full of fresh flowers.

So here we go, my list of thanks: (Cue spotlight. On me. Because I'm SO comfortable in it. I'm in a tasteful sparkley gown (for the first and only time because for you, my helpers, I don a sparkley dress). I am not sweating, (for the first and only time, because you, my helpers, deserve to be thanked without sweat), my hair is perfect, my makeup flawless which includes long and fluttery eyelashes that will lay against my cheek when I go to sleep tonight, and the microphone I'm proclaiming my thanks in is just the right decibel level. )



To Keri Sellers Pierson: You are amazing. And thank you for beautifully delivering 12 different flavors of cupcakes on cue. They were darling, tasty, and enjoyed both by the eyes and the lips. I told everyone about you. I can be a reference for you. Expect some calls. There was interest. Pop a cork, the birth of a business has begun



To Stacy who doesn't read this blog and doesn't really know me: The Carmel nutty chocolately pretzel favors were a hit. I personally sat by two people who at theirs at the open house and all I could hear was crunch and ooo-oo and oh my gosh this is good.



To Debbie: The flowers were lovely and tasteful and purplie. You are a master. Thank you for making all of my children's weddings so loverly.



To my quilting girls (Ketti, Carol, Debbie. Cindy, and Joan): I hope you got a lot of compliments on those aprons because you all were quite fetching in them. Yes, I've been single for awhile. Thank you for sewing those puppies up. And thank you for running yourselves ragged all evening long making italian sodas and ice water and serving up fruit and cupcakes and hand dipping chocolate strawberries and calling me alot and asking me if there was anything you could do for me, and really meaning it and picking up table cloths and sandwiches and bringing over cake plates and candlesticks and tables, (your whole houses really) and purple fiestaware vases with pretty purple crystally things in them, and for cleaning it all up and bringing me sodas and drinks while I was greeting guests, and doing it all 2 days before stake girls camp that you are all in charge of. I would kick me out of the group if I were you because I'm too needy.



To Kathy, my 2nd son's mother in law: Thank you for running errands for me. My feet are that much more healed because of not having to run about. You are so thoughtful and GREAT!



To Sheila: How do you thank someone who just shows up with potted plants? with candles? with a husband and crew? with a load of cut up watermelon? with helping hands? with healing hands? I've said it before: Tom's a lucky guy.



To Layne and his boys: Thank you for pickup and delivery of tables and chairs and chaircovers. I've never had more pleasant or wholesome or reliable or nice delivery people.



To the youngsters: Thank you for moving furniture, putting up my house numbers, loaning everything from screwdrivers to ladders, assisting in fixit projects, advice on the tables, calling folks, fixing taco soup, serving taco soup, and that ever ready but highly important listening ear.



To the Dubwaski and Larski: Thanks for laying barkdust, priming, painting, not spilling paint everywhere, airport runs, putting up the newlyweds for a night, setting up, taking down, table decorating, heavy lifting, hugs, kisses, and general familial love



To tgar and yomama(otherwise known as drew&tiffany): OK. I just would have been dead without the two of you fixing, installing, running to Lowes, Michaels, and whereever I felt like sending you. Thank you for installing my new screen door, and for loading, unloading, setting up, setting down, making dip, getting it the perfect shade of purple, wearing an apron, giving birth to deep lunges and unitards so I can read her fantabulous blog, taking me to dinner, protecting my feet OVER and OVER by telling me to sit, wiping up, keeping the crowd happy, smiling at a party where you only knew family, bringing me ice water etc. etc. etc. I could go on and on and on but others would think she's exaggerating no one is that fantastic. I'm here to tell you. Tgar and yomama(otherwise known as drew&tiffany) are just that fantastic. Thank you, and I owe you money.

PS I tried I tried and I tried. I tried to upload pretty pictures of cupcakes and italian sodas and aprons and people painting and arnold swartsenegger's bare muscley chest to symbolize people lifting things, and watermelon, way too much watermelon, but I keep getting the no go from blogspot. There are ERRORS. Thanks for the help blogspot. And that wasn't a real thanks, blogspot, like the one I just gave to all the workers at the party, it was a fake and empty thanks, full of sarcasm and bile. Nasty bitter bile. I mean give me a measly purple flower picture already. This is the ugliest post in the history of this freaking blog all because of YOU blogspot. I'm not saying the word blogspot for 24 hours in protest. You stink. From now on you are known as stinkspot.