According to my nifty little countdown calendar below, there are only seven more days till Christmas.
Bugs sent me the link to this 'true meaning of Christmas' story. Damn it, people, that's just wrong. HILARIOUS, but wrong nonetheless.
There was an article written by a doctor in yesterday's paper about eating healthy over the Christmas season called "Party on Smartly."
One suggestion was to "refill your blood mary's without the vodka and the Coke without the rum."
Whoopee. How in the world does the good doctor expect us to deal
with annoying family members and the stinging disappointment of another year without our Chrissy doll
without the sweet, numbing effect of al-co-hol?
Another suggestion was: "don't trim your tree with anything that looks like food."
Ok, that's a bunch of crap. We make ornaments out of gingerbread, pet food and those little cocktail weineys every year.
Sure I have to yell at the kids for eating the ornaments, and leaving the gingerbread men looking like amputees,
but on the upside, I don't have to cook much during the holidays either.
If they get hungry, I just give them an ornament to munch on. They seem to like the ornaments made out of cat food the best.
Male Offspring #7 is a tad angry with me this morning. He was late in finishing his "wish list"--as in
God, I wish Mom would buy this crap for me--so last night he handed me a copy of the
Toys R Us paper and showed me what he wanted. It was a $119 Sound City Railway Train Table
set from Imaginarium. I said, "Here's twenty bucks, but feel free to imagine yourself with a much more expensive gift."
The local radio station did something a radio station should NEVER do: they had kids call in and talk to Santa.
Anybody with a lick of sense knows that kids and phones mix about as well as kids and magic markers.
The average child sounds like this on the phone, "Santa, I want a mgryzdtuzmnt." You can never understand 'em.
Of course, you could tell instantly when Santa had *no idea* what the child was asking
for because he'd say things like, "Ohh, that sounds nice," or "Oooh, that's a great gift." The kid
could have been asking for a propane torch for all we know, and Santa's sitting there telling him what a great gift it is.
Last night when we were walking, we saw Santa riding around the neighborhood.
I can remember this tradition from when I was a little tyke. We'd hear the music and
all go running outside to wave. At which point, Mom would lock all the doors and we'd be stuck outside for hours. Every once in a while she'd yell, "You keep watching, I'm sure Santa is coming back again."
Santa rides all around the streets of the township, waving and ho ho ho'ing from the back of the fire truck. They put a spotlight on him and play Christmas music through speakers. It's all very 50's and very cool. I loved seeing Santa. Holly, on the other hand, was apparently recalling that "Santa's gonna take your bone" incident at Petco and she went ballistic, straining at her leash. Poor dog was obviously afraid. Or hellbent on revenge. We did, however, finish our walk in record time.