'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring...
Wellll, maybe one creature was stirring. ;) I am sitting at the dining room table with my iBook as my family dreams of sugar plums. As I stare at my mom's perfectly symmetrical tree, I realize how unperfect my tree is back in San Antonio (see above). From its non-triangular shape to its strange offshoots to its refusal to display the star straight, it is far from the classic specimen. Yet I'll always remember this tree fondly as the first tree I ever bought and my first tree with the hobbit. I may even shed a solitary tear as I eighty-six it into the dumpster come New Year's.
The boy and I celebrated Christmas on Wednesday before we both left town:
Here is the hobbit with almost all of his gifts (he got the rest on Friday).
Admire the lovely pleather duct-taped couch.
Here I am with my (much larger) haul and loads of chocolate.
I am doing my best impersonation of Freddy Krueger when he
was raking his nails on each side of the hallway walls, remember
And here is an early Christmas gift from my sister-in-law (thanks, Robin!) that I found in my mailbox as I was leaving town:
Notice the love and affection that my brother doodled on there.
I was traumatized as a child by being dubbed the "Dooker" by my
older brothers (my best friend then was "Eeker"). And, in case you can't
read it, he wrote, "Dook, dook, dook, dook of oil." Yes, the dorkiness is
in my genes.
My Christmas Eve gift. With more Dooker.