Christmas happened while I was gone. I'll summarize our personal experience by saying that Riley tried to stop after every. single. thing. he opened and wanted to play with it for forty minutes so we had to keep rushing him along to finish opening the five million things he had, and Zee blew off her presents completely in favor of discovering OLD toys laying around the room and sticking them in her mouth.
But what I really wanted to say about Christmas is that I've thought about it, and it's basically the equivalent of a weekend in Vegas. I've never personally been, but I've seen "The Hangover" and CSI so I know all about it. You know a trip to Vegas is coming up; you're amp'd. This is going to be the BEST TRIP EVER. You plan it and think about it and then the day finally comes and you go and spend a TON OF MONEY and GET SO DRUNK and then suddenly the trip's over and you're broke and hungover and have to return to your boring life and know that it will be a long time before you can go back to Vegas, so now you have nothing to look forward to. You try to get drunk on other weekends and make fun of your own around the house, but somehow macaroni rainbows with the kids and cleaning the change from under the couch cushions doesn't compare. That is the reason that I kinda hate Christmas. I have at least fifty pictures I took from Christmas morning but I'm not letting you see any cause I haven't pulled them off my camera yet.
|The true meaning of Christmas.|
In other, other news, I drove in snow. Those who know me on facebook and not on facebook, so everyone at this point, knows this already, but if you know my history with driving than you know this is a big deal for me. There are seasoned drivers that don't drive in snow, and I've only been driving since May. I not only drove in FALLING snow one day, I drove in FALLEN snow the next day. Now, did I at one point or another think "today is the day I am going to die"? Yes. But I think that almost every day (I wish I were joking). There's this one yellow and black striped sign on the road that I pass in the morning, and it's slightly warped probably from having been run into by a car or rabid animal. For some reason, when my headlights shine on it it glows RED like it's soaked with blood, and without fail my response is to think "This is where I am going to die". For the record, I haven't died yet, but if I do? It will probably be because I am too busy staring at that sign to make the sharp turn that it accompanies.
And now, without further ado, my baby in a box:
|What's the return policy?|