Ah, I see you are back...

So, I couldn't help but notice that you're checking out my new blog header. . . I know it's nice, but try to control your excitement. The neighbors may begin to talk.

But, hey, as long as you're here, why don't you take a look at few of my favorite shots from our graduation (what!?) announcement photo shoot. Obviously, I can't show you all the shots, because I want you waiting with bated breath until our announcements come out, but here's just a little taste:

The Fam.

My boys. L-O-V-E this picture; it's totally each of their personalities caught on film.

Me and my man. I can't believe that he's graduating!

Even more still, I can't believe that he's survived being married to a neurotic nut like me for nearly 8 years!

Sloan. Love this picture; again personality caught on film.

Doing a little celebrating... we still got it!

A very talented lady we know (and love!) here took them, and she did a great job! My boys are always hard to get good shots of, but she was amazing!

Check out Chelsea at Hazlebury Photography! She really is the best! Thanks again, Chelsea!

Domestic Diva though I am...

Today I am wishing that I had more refined sewing skills. Don't get me wrong, I know how to sew, I'm just not proficient at it.

I bought the supplies to make floor cushions for my boys, oh, 8 (?) months ago, and have not started on them for nothing short of fear. I'm afraid that I'm going to cut all of the fabric up, and ruin them, therefore ruining the fabric as well. And so, in my closet sits a bag full of by-the-yard canvas and heavy-duty zippers, as a monument to what could have been.

I ripped the zipper out of my favorite dress the other day before church out of frustration. Why do they make zippers that cannot be pulled past a seam, anyway? For the record, it's always been that way; it's not a recent development. I went down to Jo-Ann's and got a replacement zipper that was sure to be more durable, and thought it to be an easy fix to resurrect my dress. That is, until yesterday when I opened the zipper and looked at the instructions. Do they purposely make sewing instructions hard to understand? I was top of my class in 7th and 8th grade Home Economics, and yet, translating these ancient runes seems to be something way beyond me. What is an invisible zipper presser foot, anyway?

But none of this prepared me for my depression this morning. As I was perusing a super-cute fabric shop on Etsy, looking for fabric for a very simple, non-sewing project, I came across this:

Never ever have I wanted to make something more than this. An argyle pieced quilt. Genius! Too bad that should I endeavor to undertake this project, the supplies would sit in the same closet-rotting bag with the rest of my projects.

My craft shortcomings have never hurt me more.

Now, who wants to make me three of these?

May be small...

... but at least it's something.

Obviously, it's been a while since I posted anything. I have no good excuse, other than that I have been busy. Lame. I know...

Here's what the Gaileys have been up to:

Contained our excitement over Mom's lunchtime selections.

Wore brother's soccer socks to church because we all know that the devil makes off with your black socks on Saturday night...

Lost a tooth or two...

Had strep throat... twice.

Discovered Ethan's allergy to Amoxicillin...

As well as the other boys' vulnerabilities towards it.

Signed a lease on this little beauty!

Oklahoma, we hope you're ready... 'cause the Gaileys sure are!

Welcome Home

Yep. Don't know much about it, but I reckon' I will soon enough...

"We know we belong to the land

And the land we belong to is grand!

And when we say

Yeeow! Ayipioeeay!

We're only sayin'

You're doin' fine, Oklahoma!

Oklahoma O.K."

Oklahoma, O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A!

Shock.

I've been crying all morning. I found out this morning where Josh will be stationed for his 1-year AEGD (Army "Advanced Education in General Dentistry" Residency). I'm not telling, as I am in complete shock and need time to let it sink in. Suffice it to say that I never thought that I would ever live in that state.

It's not that I have a problem with the state, exactly. Actually, on the contrary, I know nothing about it. I hear that it's even a really great place to live, though people may only be trying to console me. It just wasn't supposed to happen this way. How it was supposed to happen, I don't really know, either. Just not this way.

Maybe I'll be excited in a few days and I'll let you know then.

When I'm done crying.

Man Cave

"A man cave (also sometimes mantuary^[1]) is a male sanctuary,^[2] such as a specially equipped garage,^[3] spare bedroom,^[2] media room,^[4] den,^[5] or basement.^[5][6]"

^{I can see the beauty of a man cave. My oldest child, however, seems to have taken the term quite literally. I frequently avoid the closet under the stairs since it's their toy storage/man cave and I allow them a certain amount of leeway in the cleanliness of it. Roughly once every 3-4 months my OCD gets the better of me and I purge the closet of any and all destroyed items and force organization to return. Though it had not been long since my last purging, it was necessary for me the other day to dive head-first into the closet to find the baby's hat on a particularly chilly morning for our walk to the school. This is what I found:}

Apparently, my 6-year-old wishes to return to his neanderthal roots and show his talent in cave painting. Too bad his mother has failed to grasp the beauty of paleolithic art.

Christmas with the Gaileys

Last year, we started a new tradition with our children: The Gingerbread House. For a family night, we brought out a kit I had purchased at Michael's Craft Store and had a good time putting it together. At Sloan's request, we even made characters to live in the house, based on his new favorite movie, "Frosty the Snowman". Apparently, this movie affected him more than we even knew and as luck would have it, the house proved completely inedible.

A fact the children refused to accept.

So, sit back, and enjoy as we introduce you to "Sister Frinkle" and the rest of the Frosty Gang courtesy of our very Gailey Christmas; sans pants.