Bikes in the Street.

I'm getting paid to play with angels.

Three fair-skinned children from Chicago.

Madeleine (7), Peter (4), and Andrew (1).

Madeleine reminds me of Dakota Fanning. Peter has the best little dimples. And Andrew giggles uncontrollably when I wrestle him on the bed.

The family is here in Santa Barbara for a wedding. Peter is the ring bearer. Madeleine is the flower girl. And Andrew is attached to my hip.

I love my line of work.

I bought Anthony an awesome bike as an early Christmas present. Yes, it's used and rather rusty, but it has character.

I also bought one for myself.

I got them for super cheap from a kid out at UCSB and I was all excited to get them home...and then they fell off my car. While I was driving. In the middle of an intersection.

I knew that when I strapped them on it would be an impending disaster, and yet I risked it. I took the back roads (and when I say back road, I suppose I really mean main thoroughfare considering State Street literally cuts the town in half), but I avoided the highway so as not to endanger anyone's life. I'd rather just injure them in a 40mph hour crash vs. end their life tragically in a 75mph hour crash.

So I'm putzing along State St. and then I have to stop rather abruptly because of a foolish driver in front of me, and there they go. Right off the back. At a stoplight. Luckily I was hasty enough to get the bikes out of the road and get back in my car before the light turned green. It was like a warped game of Chinese fire drill played with inanimate objects. I then spent a humiliating 7 1/2 minutes untangling the bikes from the rack and then putting them all back on my car.

I made it home without anymore traumatic events after that. That's enough bruises on my ego for one day.

Oh, I never announced that Anthony COMPLETED THE MASTER CLEANSE!!

And then he gorged himself on what was probably about 10,000 calories in one sitting. Definitely defeated the entire purpose. He claims to have lost a "legit" 8 lbs though so that's cool. I'm going to attempt the cleanse again, in January...because December is test month for me and I can't be taking no GRE, CSET, or CBEST with no sustenance. Bad news bears.

In other news, I love my delivery job, except for when I can't find the house and have to wander around aimlessly in the dark with only my cell phone to light the path. I spent no less than half an hour the other night searching for one house. I called to ask for better directions. No answer. No call back. I couldn't find it so I ended up taking the old lady's food home and storing it in my refrigerator until I could give it a go the next day. I spent the evening in a pool of anxiety worrying about this poor woman and how she wasn't going to be able to eat that night because I'm a failure as a delivery driver. When I finally found the house and dropped the food off the next day, I called the old lady to tell her I had successfully made the delivery and she proceeded to yell at me, asking "Why are you guys delivering food to me?!" I apologized profusely with the feeble explanation of "I'm just the delivery girl, and I do what I'm told."

I'm just the delivery girl.

I love saying that. It's so silly.

My softball team is in first place. I've been doing an incredible job defensively but as far as my bat is concerned, I think it's broken.

Anthony and I are hosting my family for Thanksgiving at my tiny apartment. Should be quite the adventure.

I'm really into zombie shows now thanks to my boyfriend. The Walking Dead is the new weekly DVR.

My piano progress is pitiful.

I started reading The Hunger Games series to Anthony before bed.

I finally beat the first boss on Donkey Kong on the wii. It only took about 72 lives.

My friend Emily did a photo shoot for Adeline the other day and she wore her birthday suit. No, not Emily, Adeline. And no, not that birthday suit, a really cute, pink, frilly one with a fluffy party hat and patent leather shoes. It was the epitome of precious. She turns 1 tomorrow!

I picked up another babysitting job and I start on Monday. Children are named Zola and Enzo. Stoked.

I finally went to my old house to pick up the mail that hasn't been forwarded. There were about 13 magazines, 7 bills, 11 pieces of junk mail, a couple credit card bills, and a check on the refrigerator for my portion of the television.

Life is good. The new Starbucks Christmas CD is decent. And the book I'm gobbling up currently is called The Elegance of the Hedgehog. Buy it. Read it. Increase your vocabulary.

Off to try and beat my high score on text twist while the tiny child slumbers. Andrew, I'm talking about Andrew. He's sleeping and the other two are off getting ready for the wedding.

And my high score is somewhere around 150,000. To use my brother's favorite word, "CHEA!"(I'm not kidding. He had it tattooed on his fingernail).

Ok byyyyee.