Dear Santa, I'd Like Tens and Twenties

In the weeks since I've last updated, much has happened. We had a birthday party for my now six year old. I turned (gulp) 37, and my husband, uncharacteristically gave me the most thoughtful gift ever. He had my blog published. Into a book. And I am now the owner of the only copy available. He wrote a wickedly funny about the author, and made up silly quotes from people like the New York Times, Dog Fancy and Christian Science Monitor. He had me laughing and doing the ugly cry all at once.

My kid wrote a letter to Santa in her kindergarten class. She asked him for money, and slippers. She's trying to use more adjectives, so she specified shiny quarters, a $2 bill and purple slippers. It's like we're acting out our own version of "Charlie Brown Christmas." (remember when Sally dictates to Charlie that she wants tens and twenties?)

I'm co-hosting a cookie exchange with my neighbor, and my kid's kindergarten teacher is coming. That means I can't go hog wild on the egg nog- like I did 2 years ago with my buddies in Houston. I wound up entertaining myself in a corner by laughing about the "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" episode involving a nudist, some hummus, and a certain appendage waving over the pita bread basket.

I am hosting Christmas Eve here at my house, and must figure out what I can serve that won't kill everyone the next day. I was going to repeat the lobster corn chowder we made last year, but that seems to have food poisoning written all over it. Maybe I'll just give everyone a prescription for Compazine in their stocking and call it a day. Funny anecdote: Compazine apparently is not only used for nausea, but schizophrenia as well. The day after my stomach issues, I felt like Parent of the Year. Now I know it was a residual after effect of the medication, and my kids are unhappy to report that I'm back to my Polish Washwoman ways of screaming like a banshee. Yes folks, the Christmas spirit is alive and well.