Two Parter

1 - I can't believe I haven't told you about my convertible gloves. Ma, the Walden Christmas Shopper, came through like CRAZY and bought me the coziest hand warmers ever. Plus, Oats (my dad) got a matching pair! Can you believe it? It is too special. We walked to the movie theater wearing them. When a friend called, I said, "Oats! Watch how I flip down the mitten part and am better able to click, 'Answer!" And he did watch, and he was impressed. My family is the swellest.

2 - I am going to Pike Place with a friend named Emily AGAIN! This time, though, it is a different Emily. Still, it is weird. It is like finding two rocks with "Kelly Jean Walden" carved into them by the cold, winter wind, except instead of "Kelly Jean Walden" it is "friend named Emily" and instead of "rock shaped by the cold, winter wind" it is "strolling around Pike Place Market."

Regal and handsome, indeed

Nic-Nic-Nicaroo had been building up her Christmas gift for a while. Imagine my delight when I ripped off the paper to find this gem:
Tucker Jobe - my favorite yapping, shaggy Shih Tzu - immortalized(ish). It is a Christmas wish come true.

What happens in my bed, in my brain.

Last night, I fell asleep wondering whether it's "skeptic" or "sceptic." It's "skeptic."

Far from the lousy headlines and the deadlines in between.

I leave for Albuquerque on Monday. My bro just moved there, so he and I have a few excursions planned, namely exploring the Carlsbad Caverns and checking out the White Sands National Monument. I'm also thinking of making a day (or maaaybe overnight) trip to Sante Fe, where I will sing and dance like Jack Kelly:

I especially like the choreographed part in the middle.

Any other Southwesty suggestions?

After reading 19 articles about this video, it's about time I watched it.

Here, we see 1,500 Filipino prisoners reenacting "Thriller" even better than Jennifer Garner did in "13 Going on 30." (Yes, this takes into consideration my wild, animal passion for Mark Ruffalo.)

Other bloggers are better than me, so I steal from them; or, You Better Work

A'holes with weapons and/or names like "Rudy Giuliani."

As you have probably heard, Former Prime Minister of Pakistan, Benazir Bhutto, was assassinated this morning. This was the second major attempt on her life since her return to Pakistan a few months ago, and, unfortunately, this one was successful. (The first one missed her but killed 150 others.)

I'm a little pissed that a woman who, in the words of a generic politician, "represented freedom and democracy" was murdered by a crazy fundamentalist (probably), and that the current Prime Minister (put into power through a coups, though he seems to an all right leader when his feathers aren't ruffled and he's not jailing honest judges and lawyers) didn't seem to do everything he could to protect Bhutto.

Anyway, I want to turn the focus to the statements released by presidential candidates. Please note the ridiculous encouragement of fear in a few of these, most notably in Rudy "Bombs are Da Bomb" Giuliani. ("We must redouble our efforts to win the terrorists' War on Us." Really, Rudes? You want to bring us back to that? And did you honestly capitalize "War on Us"?)

Our lesson? Assassinators are crazy. Fearmongers are crazy (and usually Republican). Obama, Clinton, and Edwards have lovely speech writers. Hooray for not living in the Middle-East. Rest in Peace, Benazir Bhutto.

Bluey Jean.

Once, when my adorable lab got in trouble, Oats asked, "What is Blue's middle name?" Mama answered, "Jean." Then Oats could scold her with, "Bluey Jean Walden!"

It's clever, you see, because my name is Kelly Jean Walden.

She is the happiest animal in the Pacific Northwest.

Edit: Blue is not possessed by demons. However, the flash on my camera phone is. Possessed by demons, I mean. The demon camera distorts eyes. Boo.

I hate you, GAP sale.

I am frugal now. That means I won't buy this sweater, even though it's cashmere, 50% off, and the cutest little thing you ever did see.

Take that, 1st grade report card - "average" on self-control, cadaver.

Holy Morning

I just made a bed with Grandma DoDo. Grandma DoDo is the Master of Clean. Making the bed with Grandma DoDo is like praying with the Pope, decorating with Martha Stewart, and being awesome with me. What an experience!

This would be more fun if you could tell Buster was both growling AND wagging his tail. He is an oxymoron. I intentionally provoke it.

But I'm a muggle in Puyallup.

If I were Harry Potter and you were Ronald Weasley, I'd yell across the Gryffindor Common Room, "Happy Christmas, Ron!" And you'd yell back, "Happy Christmas, Harry!" And we'd be precious and magical and have British accents.