I came across an online ad for something called a VoiceQuilt, and the name piqued my interest just because I thought it must be some kind of goofy, cheesy, grandma gift.

Well, it is a grandma gift, but it's actually pretty cool. If you're imagining homemade quilts with pictures drawn by the kids all sewn up with love -- like I pictured -- that is so not what this is. The VoiceQuilt isn't a quilt at all. And rather than try to explain the concept, I'll just share the video from the company:

I think this is a great idea for families spread across the globe. I'm fortunate in that my girls are relatively close (despite my constant whining about the 819 miles between me and my Bubby!) but I know there are some readers who have kids and grandkids scattered in far reaches of the world. And those kids should really consider pooling their dollars and creating one of these nifty keepsakes for Mom.

It's also a good idea for extended families with lots of little ones because the sound of a grandchild's voice (when it's not screaming or crying or complaining or whining!) is the sweetest music to a grandma's ear.

And it's an awesome gift for weddings, graduations, birthdays -- especially those milestone birthdays.

Prices aren't bad, ranging from $16 to $200. If you're interested, you can find more info on the VoiceQuilt website.

Two notes: I have no affiliation whatsoever with VoiceQuilt; I just thought it was a cool idea ... and one folks need to get a start on now in order to give it for Christmas. AND, a note specifically to my daughters: Yes, this is a cool gift, but it honestly is not one I want ... at least not this year!

Seems that Bubby likely has asthma.

The sleep-time coughs and morning wheezing are getting worse.

Megan's scheduling a doctor appointment to confirm.

Apparently asthma runs rampant in Preston's family, so it's not too surprising it's reared its head in Bubby.

Jim starts his new job today. Woo-hoo! Hallelujah! Amen!

(On a side note: Apparently about the same time Jim was being told he got the job, my sister's significant other -- a good, hardworking, kind guy -- was being told he was losing his. Will we ever all be out of the woods?)

I love King Soopers. I got my 23.76-pound turkey there over the weekend for TEN DOLLARS! That's a savings of $20.65. (And it wasn't even the store brand!) So I bought a second turkey, for the freezer: another $10 for a 19.69-pound turkey. Yay, King Soopers!

I had a scary episode last night -- technical term: "cognitive dysfunction" -- and seriously worry that MS is making Swiss cheese of my brain, despite the $1,800-per-month meds I shoot into my body daily. (Thank God for health insurance!!) It left me crying and Jim and Brianna trying to console me with 101 other possible reasons for my idiocy. I appreciate the effort, but I don't believe them. So I hereby promise to cease blogging if I become a blathering idiot so as to not distress my readers. But I'll leave an explanatory post so you won't wonder where the heck I am.

I wish an explanatory post had been left at Finding Trinity. One of my favorite bloggers is MIA and my e-mails have gone unanswered. I miss her musings ... and worry about her. If anyone knows what's up, please share.

I'm heading to the big city in less than an hour for brunch with my baby girl.

I'm looking forward to it.

She always makes me laugh.

I could use a good laugh!

Here's to a laugh-filled Monday for all of us!

November is Aviation History Month. Hooray!

WHAT?

Well, Aviation History Month may not be a big deal for most folks, but to me it's a reason to celebrate ... or at least a reason to send Bubby something in recognition of yet another oddball monthly designation.

I sent him maracas for Happiness Happens Month, a rockin' squawkin' chicken for National Chicken Month and a really stupid and poor choice charming book for Squirrel Awareness Month. (The squirrel book was such a disappointment to me -- and probably to Bubby -- that I refuse to document the experience with a photo.)

So with November being Aviation History Month, Bubby gets, naturally, an airplane! Yep, I've purchased an airplane for my precious little grandbaby. It's how Grandma and Grandpa travel to visit him, so why not invest in one just for him. Jim and I have the big bucks to fork out for a plane for our favorite grandson.

At least when it's a Fisher Price plane.

I think the Aviation History Month goodie has gone over the best of all the monthly gifts so far. What do you think?

Clearly a "Smile for Grandma!" moment!

(Megan: love-love for sharing the pictures!)

I often say in my postings that I'm unemployed. That's incorrect. I'm not really unemployed. As of this past August, I'm simply underemployed. I have a job -- a part-time job working for the local Children's Literacy Center as a site coordinator at a local elementary school. I just don't really think of it as a job; partially because it came about as an off-shoot of volunteer work I'd been doing since my layoff, partially because it's only 10 hours a week, and partially because I enjoy it so much that it just doesn't seem like a job.

One of the things I enjoy about the job -- in addition to the wonderful women who volunteer to tutor some really great kids -- is that I get to read kids' books, including picture books. I love picture books. I write picture books! None I've written have been published yet, but I have had a few close calls: personal letters from editors and agents, an honorable mention in the Writer's Digest Annual Writing Competition. I know that one day I will be published. It's just that I'm still in the phase of accumulating rejections, tweaking as each editor or agent suggests, only to be rejected again.

It's this continual rejection that makes me wonder how the hell one of the books among those in the small "library" I have for my tutors and students to choose from was ever published ... and mine aren't.

The book, "The Carp in the Bathtub" by Barbara Cohen, is one of the oddest stories for kids that I've ever read. It's Ms. Cohen's first book (written in 1972), so I'll forgive her a little, but I simply don't understand how she -- or a publisher -- could have seen this story line as something kids would enjoy.

Here's a bit of back story, then I'll share the parts that really floor me. The story is a first-person account from a young girl's point of view, telling about how her mom makes the best gefilte fish for Passover of anyone in town. The carp she uses for her fantastic recipe each year is housed in the family bathtub. The young girl and her brother, Harry, get attached to the fish -- and are devastated when Mom beats the poor carp to death and puts it in the meat grinder!

Here, take a look:

The kids loved the little carp. Now read what Mom does to their beloved pet (first page):

One year the kids kidnap the fish and hide it in the neighbor's bathtub. They get busted by Dad, they have to return the carp to Mom, who then clubs it to death, just like all the others. This is the conversation when the young girl asks Harry what happened:

That last sentence just floors me. This was traumatic! So traumatic that the writer, who obviously went through this as a child, was so deeply affected that she wrote a darn book about it!

But hey, Dad feels bad for his traumatized kiddos, so he brings home a stray cat for them:

A stray cat who CHASES THE RATS OUT OF THE KITCHEN! What kind of life were these children living? Sounds more like "The Glass Castle" than something kids should be reading!

I truly don't understand how "The Carp in the Bathtub" has made it into the hands of unsuspecting children ... and my "Hot Chocolate and Javelinas" still awaits acceptance.