Returning to a blank screen after seven days is like coming home from an exhausting vacation. Your couch and your pillows and your dog jumping as if on springs, sometimes home feels like the tightest, awesomest hug.
It isn’t like seven days, one actual week, is all that long. But for someone who writes just to maintain some semblance of something that might look like inner peace if you flip it on its head, a week is like eternity and I have been LOSING IT.
Christmas was most excellent. Like most people I totally get off on giving gifts, especially good ones. I was so hyped up on the excitement of watching Kiddo open a few specific goodies and watching Ree open her little human rights spinner ring and hoping she liked it as much as I did, I risked bursting out, “IT’S A S’MORE MAKER!” before the paper was torn.
Speaking of paper, this is the kind of wrapping you can expect when we become friends, which we WILL:
Yes, that’s newspaper
featuring Big Foot. (Does Mr. Foot prefer two words? Or is it all one first name and no last, like Madonna?)
Because if it is in the realm of arts and crafts, I check out immediately. You can imagine my poor daughter’s future with a mother that will refuse to help with projects. Building a mission for the fourth grade? Go talk to your father, I want no part in this.
I paid my sister to wrap the rest of my gifts in actual festive wrapping paper that I totally stole from Ree because I am a needy and unprepared jerk and you want to be my friend.
Among my awesome new tools (yes, TOOLS! Finally!) and perfume and shoes and clothes, I am one handy, nicely-scented, purple Chuck clad chick.
For Christmas Eve, my mostly non-traditional family continued with what began last year as our Christmas Eve staple: junk food, cocktails and movies. Christmas morning has a year-old tradition too, of hiding presents and giving my siblings clues to find them. One of my gifts was in the freezer with a clue that read, party time! where’s the vodka?
Hopefully all your week has been just as fun as mine.
-CJ
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