I am bummed. My son Eric is in the kitchen, cutting up onions and trying to make soup, while wearing ski goggles, but that's not why I'm bummed. . He thought that his eyes wouldn't water I he wore eye protection. The fumes are stinging my eyes from here.
Anyway, I'm a little down because Christmas is already over. We took the tree down yesterday, and it's not there now, sparkling in the window, when we drive up to the house. . . And it's not there when we walk in the door, reminding us of all things wonderful, and it's not there, glowing comfortingly at night from the living room when I get up to get a drink of water. . . . Ugh. Lame, lame, lame. . . Sigh. Our boys moved the furniture back into place a little too expeditiously, if you ask me. . . . and now we have to wait . . for an entire year, before Christmas is here again. Bleck.
If we didn't have 3 birthdays in the family, I would just hate January. Boy, aren't I a barrel o' laughs. . . .
"Honey, did you get crazy bread?" yells Charlie from the kitchen, where he's distributing our pathetic dinner from Shleazer's.
"Yeah, a little bit." I respond lethargically.
"Ya sure?" he called back. . .
"Yeah, I'm good." Blah, blah, blah. Mid-winter survival. We're taking it easy tonight. I feel like a shlep. I really should transition better from the glittering Holidays, into the bleakness of January. . . but I'm just not good at it.
Looks like we're gonna watch Jefferson's favorite movie, Cars, for the one billionth time. I suppose it is pretty cute. . . He wants to sit on my lap. Deep sigh. : ) So all is not lost.
Christmas will come again.
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