Admitting you have a problem...

It's time that I came right out and admitted my problem. After all, that's the first step isn't it? Admitting that you have a problem?

Well, I guess if we get technical, I have quite a few problems. But we won't get technical. We'll just talk about the one big problem...I'm an addict. I am addicted to Diet Coke.

Now, this may seem like no big whoop to you guys. But the truth is, my habit had me up to (at least) a 2 liter a day. That's a lot of soda. And if I didn't have any Diet Coke in the house, my addiction would have me walking the streets, knocking on the doors in the middle of the night, wondering where I would be getting my next fix.

Well, actually it would just have me running to the store at all hours. But you get my drift.

So I'm addicted, and seeing that I generally feel like crap, I thought to myself..."Self, if Diet Coke can clean the acid off of car batteries, think about what it's doing to your innards."

Sometimes I have conversations with myself. I actually find myself quite interesting once I get to know me.

So I've been off my DC for about a week and I suffered from the DTs for a bit of that. But now that the DTs are no longer around I have to admit....

I feel absolutely no difference.

Doesn't that just suck?

But I'm not giving up. I'm banking on the fact that it takes a while for it all to work out of my system. I'm banking on waking up one of these days feeling like a new woman.

That's my goal. I want to be a new woman. Preferably a 22 year old.

In my quest, I went to the gym today and took an hour long power walk tonight. But instead of making me feel like a new woman, it just made my legs so sore that I walk like Fred Sanford.



Now Fred Sanford, he had problems. A bad heart and a freeloading son. Compared to that, I guess my problems could be worse.

Speaking of freeloaders, here are ours....

I call these photos Happy Feet



and Happy Place



And boy do they have problems.

Peace out,
A

Hoppy Easter...Kinda Sorta!

As usual I'm a bit late. It's actually Easter Monday here on our side of the world. A day late and a dollar short...the road to hell is paved with good intentions...better late than never...etc etc.

Happy Easter to Everyone!

Here's our Easter family picture!



I say that like there are any other Easter family pictures floating around out there. Or Christmas family pictures for that matter. Or President's Day, Groundhog Day, April Fool's Day or National Walk to Work Day family pictures. It's rare that our entire family ends up in front of the camera. It's even more rare to have a photo where everyone is smiling and looking at the camera.

Seeing as this is so rare, I'll let it slide that I look like a poo with my hair all pulled back. But it's all around more convenient when you're being doused with water in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. It worked well.

So yes, I'm now officially in the club. They taught me the secret handshake and everything.

Other than the family photo, I thought I would share with you a bit of Australian oddity today. And I don't mean oddity in a bad way. Just in an odd way.

Did you know that rabbits were introduced in Australia by European settlers? No? Yes. At least that's what I've read. They were brought here to provide food in the dry plains. Problem is, those rabbits are pretty hearty creatures and masters of reproduction (not a lot unlike Jason and I). Their population exploded all across Australia...the boom resulting in the destruction of lots of vegetation. This is bad for all the other animals in Australia - pushing a few to the brink of extinction.

This is a bilby.



The bilby is one of those creatures that's close to gone for good.

Boy those rabbits sure can eat. And multiply.

So what does this all mean? Why the Australian rabbit history lesson? Why, of all things exciting in the happenings of our life, is this what I've chosen to write about today?

Well because of this...



That's a chocolate bilby.

And this...



And, to make it official, here is a book about the tired old Easter Bunny handing over his basket and officially relinquishing his Australian Easter duties to the bilby.



Doesn't the Easter Bunny look tired? And old? Aptly stated the "tired old Easter Bunny". Or should I say "ole". Sounds a bit better.

My question for you is...if these guys are so close to extinction, wouldn't you want to let that sucker rest up a bit? Reserve his energy store. Why have an Easter Bilby running around the entire country tossing out eggs and goodies to all the children? And what if some kid woke up and saw that scary assed thing?

But that's just me.

Regardless of the bunny ban, we had a special visit from the Easter Bunny himself.



That's Cole in the background. Rushing to snatch eggs from under the noses of the smaller children. But I was very proud of him because he gave some of his eggs to munchkins who didn't get many.



I guess we've done something right. It's nice to know we haven't totally screwed him up.


Now this one...this one we've totally screwed up.



However, despite the fact that I was shamed by her total disregard for others in her quest to possess all things sweet...



I took pride in the fact that my girl runs a mean sack race!



And what do you say about this one?



She had a little trouble at the start of her race.




But Cavanaghs don't quit. Well, at least this one didn't.



See those people in the background? Those people who have already finished the race? The ones who have already gotten out of their sack and are picking their prize? They may have beat my baby but they'll never have her heart, her determination!



Or her fondness of filth.

Happy Easter all!!
A

Random

B is for Brady Bug. I didn't exactly go for the '70s photo effect here. It just ended up that way.



B is for Basketball. Cole played basketball for one season before we left the states. He cried every game for the first 3/4 of the season. When he didn't cry during the last 1/4 of the games, we praised him for all he's worth.

That's all Cole can remember of the experience...therefore he thinks he's the basketball king. Baseball stunk to Cole. Golf was boring. No sport could ever measure up to the superb basketball experience Cole carries in his head.



B is for Beauty. P, of course, would be for "puffy eyes"...but we'll have none of that around here!





B is for Baseball. Phew, glad that's over. B is also for Bitching. Which is what we did all season. Q, of course, is for "Quitters"...which is what we all wished we were about midway through the season.









B is for Big Girl. Her first tooth. Sniff Sniff.




Ok. I'm over it. Bring on University!!!

B is (once again) for Beauty. Or maybe Beast. If it's Beast...just keep me in the dark. Repeat after me..."Angie, you look gorgeous in that picture.".



Thank you.

I have a fragile ego.

B is for Bear. Which is what Cole is officially now that he's earned his Cub Scout Wolf Badge. Here he is pinning his Mom. That's what they do. They pin their Mother. Does it matter that their Mother didn't do nearly as much as the Father did to earn all those badges? Nope. Doesn't matter. We get pinned just because.



Deep down I think it's just to show their appreciation for putting up with boys. And we deserve it.

They have attitude and they smell funny.



Girls rule. Boys drool.


A