My first 1001 in 101 challenge has been completed! So #41 on my 1001 in 101 list was a modest challenge, but something I certainly wanted to do sooner rather than later: organize all my photos in iPhoto.

I got a Mac last spring when my sister-in-law was selling hers. Its a couple years old, but at $450 it was a perfect way to dip my toes into the Mac pond and see how the water felt. As it turns out, I’m a fan. Over the summer I worked on moving everything from my old PC to the Mac- and its done!

Now I’m not overly familiar with iPhoto, but like so many Apple products its pretty instinctive to use. Once I moved my 3k pictures (yes I seriously had 3000 pictures, not including my wedding pictures which I think is another 1000) it was very simple to sort by date and put photos into Events. And voila!

This is definitely going to make #’s 45, 46, 47, and 48 (scrapbooks for 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013) easier!

• Husband announces that he will be starting the Couch to 5K program, and downloads an app.
• Not to be outdone, you also announce that you will starting the Couch to 5K program and be kicking his ass.
• Spend two hours evaluating C25K apps on iTunes.
• Buy Get Running for $1.99 and position on the front page of your iPhone.
• Spend $10.32 on new music for your Tunes to Run By playlist.
• Come home from work and eat a bowl of sesame chicken and fried rice.
• Get online and research new shoes, workout gear, and headphones.
• Pin some fitness motivation quotes on Pinterest.
• Look for headphones in work bag, purse, junk drawer, and bedside table. Give up and steal husband’s headphones.
• Go downstairs looking for tennis shoes- find them in the basement in the Goodwill box.
• Put on workout pants, which were worn as pajamas the night before.
• Unfold treadmill from storage position in master bedroom, dust it thoroughly.
• Attempt to plug it in, and then go back to the junk drawer for the three-prong to two-prong adapter.
• All the upstairs-downstairs routine has necessitated a trip to the bathroom to clear ones GI system.
• Lay on the bed to recover from bathroom trip and read half of a Shape magazine.
• Finally get on the damn treadmill, and complete Week 1 Run 1 of C25K.
• Brag about accomplishment in Facebook status update.
• Add running to Facebook hobbies.
• Husband comes home from work, gets into pajamas and eats chips and salsa on the couch. He says he’ll start C25K tomorrow.

Dear Honey, this is your Mother speaking.

Your father started a game of “Tit for Tat” with me once. Sadly it ended with him having all the crotches cut out of his underwear.

He discovered his dilemma while dressing for work, not enough time to hit the store for a new pair.  Hmmmm???  My bright boy decided to use safety pins to piece a pair back together for the day.  Being a safety conscious sort of fellow he took the extra precaution of using a pliers to squeeze the heads securely shut so there would be no chance of having to explain a puncture wound to his bad boys in the emergency room.  Off to work he went.  “Ha-ha, very funny!” he quipped as he headed out the door.

“Tit” came later in the morning as he bent over to adjust lumbar position on his office chair.  Apparently, a small portion of his scrotum got pinched in the spring portion of the safety pin.  I am told that he screamed like a woman possessed, jumped out of his chair (sending it flying across the room), grabbed his privates (in front of two nurses, one other Doctor and the Hospital Administrator) and ran from the clinic with tears running down his face, in the general direction of the men’s room.

Smart enough to graduate from medical school, but stupid enough to try to play Tit for Tat with Queen B - hah!

When he recovered, your 57 year old father headed to Wal-Mart – “commando” – to buy a cheap package of Fruit of the Looms to get him through the rest of the day.

Then came “Tat”.   Did you know that unwashed underwear have some sort of fabric starch on them when they arrive here from China?  Either did he! Unfortunately your father found that the skin in his private region reacted negatively to this Chinese starch.  Another visit to the Men’s room, and an in-depth self examination followed. He had completely broken out in an itchy, seeping rash by early afternoon.  Convinced that his cut from the morning was now infected with what we like to call the “Chinese starchy terminal testicular infection” he headed to the office of one of his Medical colleagues. Presumably, in the Infectious Disease Department.

Love from your Mother,

Queen B.

Dear Mother, this is your Daughter speaking.

Apology? And groveling?! What kind of saintly mother do you think you were, Mother Teresa?

Ok, you know you started this blog advice business, by calling me out on my professions of organic-ness, because I had a freezer full of the totally un-organic Toaster Strudels. Yep, you called me out.

So Mom, I must inform you that prior to the Infamous Bunnies post, I have in fact been holding back on the blog. Because I was under the Other Pact, which is the Mother-Daughter Pact, in which I don’t talk about all the things that happened in my childhood that you don’t want to see in print.

But, the Other Pact is null and void when Tit for Tat has been invoked. Now if you want to play Tit for Tat, remember I learned from the best.

Love you!

Honey B.

Dear Honey, this is your Mother speaking.

Actually this is your Mother not speaking – as in not speaking to you. I know this will come as a shock to you but I have not been speaking to you for over a week! I thought that you would have the courtesy to notice, but you haven’t, so I am now writing to inform you that I am no longer speaking to you. Why? Well let me explain this to you my dear Honey.

Over family life there is a veil of silence that cannot, and/or should not be broken. This veil requires all members of the family to share only touching stories, sweet and cheerful memories, and positive teachable moments from their childhood with anyone to whom you are not related. (Note: This rule also extends to your Grandmothers who at your birth both grew a judgmental bone the size of a large horn right out the top of their heads. Not to worry Honey I am almost completely sure that this will never happen to me.)

{Do the crowns hide the horns?}

This rule is called the Family Confidentiality Pact. The Pact, as I will call it, is put in place to protect the parents from being humiliated with stories of the insane lengths they have had to stoop to in order to raise you up to be the upstanding citizens that you now are. The Pact is also in place to protect you children from being yanked from our cozy little unbalanced home by Social Services when the story of …let’s see, oh yes… The Bunnies become public knowledge. The Pact cannot and/or should not be broken until the Mother and Father, both Grandmothers, any childless Aunts who never liked us, are all in fact dead.

So my dear Honey – There has been a Security Breach in La Familia. This cannot ever happen again. If this does ever happen again I will be forced to steps things up to the dreaded Tit for Tat game. (Note: Let me just say at this point that I have knowledge, Mother knowledge, from your youth, that you probably don’t want shared with the public. Eye witness accounts, pictures, and yes, even video.) Looking forward to your apology, preferably served up with a hefty helping of groveling. Oh how I love the groveling.

Love from your Mother,

Queen B.