It’s after noon and I still haven’t. Showered that is. I didn’t get out of bed until after nine. If that doesn’t put it into a more acceptable context, I don’t know how I can help you people. For crying out loud, I have been dealing with email and reading your posts and trying to come up with witty replies to your comments on MY posts and converting pics for my post today and dealing with light fixtures tumbling from the ceiling and crumbling plaster and all the while being hugely (“hugely” being the operative word, here) distracted by my Trader Joe’s “bake ‘em yourself” chocolate croissants. I baked ‘em myself. With help from Joe. Can I just say “yumm!”?
Well, anywho, here’s the deal. Whilst going through my photos on my digital camera in an attempt to find one of my Christmas tree that wasn’t blurry or too revealing of its jaunty angle (read: it’s crooked. Way.) (btw, what are the rules of punctuation when you are ignoring some of them? I mean, “way” is not a sentence, yet I have made it thus. So, do I put the period at the end of the word or after the single parenthesis as I would if that were the end of the sentence I started prior to its sister parenthesis? The world may never know) I found some other photos that made me smile. A lot. (The one at the top is of my front door because Kazzy wanted to see. Please do tell me, Kaz, what it says about me. I would put a wreath on it or red foil paper like I used to do (or both) but I paid big moola to have a door with a window in it and I’m not about to obscure it, so toodle-oo. I just had to make a rhyme out of it. My apologies.) So, here we go !!!! (Get ready to smile. A lot.)
MY DAD AND HIS GREAT GRANDDAUGHTER CALLIE ON THANSKGIVING DAY
Sure, the picture is fuzzy and dark (my camera and its photographer are suffering from old age) but the juxtaposition of this 80 plus man with the very black baby on his lap always makes me smile. It reminds me of how far we have come in the last century with regards to race and color (and yes, Callie is adopted--she is very black and very adorable and has the softest, fuzziest head of baby hair I have ever had the pleasure to run my fingers through and no, that is not a white bustier sitting on the table tho I can't say just exactly what it is, actually). 
Look at the cute puppy! Look at that crazy pose! See how tolerant of the Big Guy she is! See how she knows more about hamming it up for the camera than her big brother! (yah, I don’t really like dogs but she has become part of the family. Who knew?) (please ignore the brown chocolate ice cream stain on the sofa--a left over from one of the Big Guy's barfcapades) (I said PLEASE) (Are you ignoring it yet?)
I spent one Christmas in Colorado, the only away from my family in my entire cotton-pickin’ existence (we say cotton-pickin’ in my family tho I don’t know why). When we moved back and showed up at various sisters’ homes for numerous festive events the following Christmas, I saw that everything had changed. EVERYTHING! They all had these incredible gorgeous santas, tall of stature, glittery and with flowing robes. What they were made of was impossible to determine but what I did know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was that I must have one. MUST. HAVE. ONE. I searched high and low but since the sisters had all acquired theirs the Christmas before (when I was in Colorado being poor and pitiful) there was not one of these gorgeous santas to be found. I am ashamed to admit it ruined my entire Christmas. RUINED. IT. And then, several birthdays later, I unwrapped, as a gift from my twin sister, the santa pictured above (she found it at a discount store for ten bucks!--ten bucks!--which was her birthday present budget, so how lucky was I?). Let me just say, this one gift instantly mended a lot of yuckiness, the kind that only twin sisters experience, in one fell santa-swoop which says a lot about how lacking in priciples and utterly and ridiculously materialistic I am.
Need I say more? They (being my Middle Child and Little Guy) even have matching red lips without (without, I say!) the aid of artificial aid whatsoever. They are simply seriously, so blessed! (bwahhaahhaaaaa!)
MY CHRISTMAS TREE
This one makes me smile because it is the least blurry of all the pics I took of my tree (why I do that, I don’t know—it looks exactly the same every year except for the addition of the 12 new ornaments (an average only) I add each Christmas bringing the grand total, this year anyway, to roughly 340 ornaments on said tree) plus it is taken in such a way that it is difficult to discern that the tree is leaning at a jaunty angle (read: it’s crooked. Way.) The fire? Fake. As in a hologram created by the miracle of DVD. Except for the hologram part—I lied about that. Only George Lucas knows how to do holograms. I wonder if he does tours at his house at Christmas. Would be cool, yes?
. . . in an impromptu group hug that defied, eluded and resisted blur-free picture-taking despite the fact they attempted to pose (despite the impromptu-ish-ness of it all) long enough for me to take 12 shots (and did I mention? --not one of them blur free). These guys have rotten balance (it couldn’t be moi as I took ballet as a youngster and clearly I made an impression on my beloved teacher as we still exchange Christmas cards every year). Still, it’s way cute.
MY ONE TRUE CHRISTMASEY MOMENT
I had a sadly Christmas-moment-free Christmas this year. Then, on Christmas morning the Little Guy wrote this on the wall with his madly coveted Bendaroos (that were happily delivered on our doorstep Christmas Eve at 8PM by a devoted Santa’s Helper). BEST. CHRISTMAS. MOMENT. EVER. (the writing on the wall, not the delivery) Where did this child come from? Getting everything he wanted for Christmas (thank goodness his wants are still modest) did not make him spoiled or petulant or demanding. Instead, it filled him with the spirit of love. I just don’t know what I did to deserve this guy. (In case you can’t read his Bendaroo-inspired writing, it says “This is the love house”. Makes me break up crying just typing it esp. since he chose a wall that is amazingly soil-free which means I didn't have to share with you my soilage when sharing this pic.) Now, go give your kids a great big hug!!
What are you still doing here? Well, since it’s New Years and you, apparently, have nothing better to do, go here if you want a last chance to enter for a signed copy of Miss D. Please note, this is not my site, you are going to a different site--you have to explore around a bit to leave your comment. There. Not here. It doesn't count if you leave the comment here. 'Nuff said. I hope.
Go to the comment section of my last post to see what edgy (as in, on the edge of good taste) remark I made in my comment response to Erin. (Do you think she’ll have a heart attack when she reads it? Your opinion needed. Now.)
Go here to nominate me (or some other lucky soul) to be featured on Mormon Mommy Blogs this month.
The chance to win an Amazon gift card from moi is over but there are still other great prizes (books, etc.) to be had at this 12 days of Christmas contest. Woo hoo!
Go here to nominate your fave LDS writer for a Whitney award. I have already been nominated, thanks to a number of really great bloggy friends and family who only required that I pay them a percentage of my royalties (suckas!) and a quart of blood (why do I get the feeling they plan to vote for Stephenie Meyer?)
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