Frankly, I'm surprised this hasn't happened sooner.

A flummoxed G walked into the kitchen this morning holding the remains of his iTouch. He shrugged when asked the inevitable question, "How did it happen?" Apparently he just found it this way.

I wish that excuse worked for me.

I don't always make cupcakes and frosting from scratch...

...but when I do, I make a godawful mess.

Apparently I also use too much milk in the frosting. But nasty looking toppings are hardly a defense against this family or ravenous chocolate hounds.

All hail Nipplethorp!

Happy day to my well-maintained wife, who deserves much better present-givers in her life.

Frugal wives rule.

The world's shoemakers are not idiots. They design shoes that kids are crazy for, then make sure to manufacture them with materials that last almost as long as one of my resolutions to quit French Fries.
This is a roundabout way of admitting that between the stains on their shirts, the tears in their jeans and now the holes in their shoes, my kids often trudge off to school resembling soot-faced orphans from a Charles Dickens novel.

But Nipplethorp is not one to bow to the Nikes and Osiruses of the world. No, with just a little patchwork, those damn shoes are going to last a few weeks longer. Of course, it takes a while for the cement on those patches to dry, so this is the site that awaited me when I tried to find room to place my plate of toast this morning:

It's nice to see L's school books being put to some good use, too. Not to mention the dumbell that has never been once been used for its intended purpose.

"God bless us everyone."

If there is a bright side to the receding hairline that is G's fate, it's the fact that he loves to wear hats.

This morning he broke out the Santa hat and merely added it to the skater lid he was already wearing. Protection from the sun and the cold. Brilliant.

The G-man proudly wore the combo to school, ample evidence that the Christmas spirit is alive and well with this one. As are head lice.

Family portrait.

Nipplethorp and the kids picked out new ornaments for this year's tree. I'll leave you to guess who is who. Hint: the striped thing in the middle is a strip of bacon.

Stick time in Oaktown.

Today marked a historical day in the annals of Fenby Family history. For the first time, L and I took the ice together for a stick time session at Oakland Ice. It wasn't always pretty but then neither is making sausage. And I like a good bratwurst almost as much as I like receiving a laser-guided pass from my teenager right on the tape.

It should be noted, also, that two sets of hockey equipment really dials up the stink factor on the front porch. No wonder the Jehovah's Witnesses skip our house.