Author: Robyn

Man, I’ve been meaning to say this for the past few days, but congratulations to Melissa and Jessamyn, who both got engaged over the holidays. Congratulations, you two – I can’t wait to hear every detail of the wedding preparations and the wedding itself!

Why, that’s almost as exciting as the fact that my birthday’s in less than a week!

Heh.

Why on earth can’t I find anyone on Kazaa who has Tori’s Silent All These Years?

See? I listen to cool stuff, not just Olivia Newton-John.

Oh, shaddup.

I got gift certificates to Land’s End from my parents and my grandmother for my birthday, and I have no idea what I want to use them for. A sweater? A nightgown? Slippers? No, not slippers, the ones I bought last year are just fine. The best thing about gift certificates is not what you can buy with them, but the anticipation of buying stuff with them… If that makes any sense.

Well. I guess I won’t buy a nightgown, because Land’s Fucking End has decided to no longer offer their long-sleeved nightgowns, and the sleeves on the short-sleeved ones show the annoying flabby spot directly above my elbow WHICH I HATE, and even though no one but Fred and the spud see me in my nightgown, I can see that floopy flabby spot when I look down and I don’t like it.

Damnit.

Survivor‘s tonight! Woohoo! And I read in next week’s TV Guide that next week is the last show. Can that be so? Damn! What the hell am I going to watch on Thursday nights?

Oh yeah – Friends! Duh. Have y’all seen the commercials making it look like Rachel and Joey are going to get together? Those two would make some fine-looking babies…

Okay, that’s it for today. I’ll be back tomorrow with the Friday Five, and my Diarist Award suggestions.

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One more week until the

Biggest!

Event!

Of the year!

My birthday!!!

("Damn, Robyn sure is impressed with herself, isn’t she?")

* * *

So yeah, the site has a whole new look and organization – that’s what I spent all that time off last week doing, going through every single entry and checking links and fixing stuff, and excitingly thrilling stuff like that. I had a lot of fun creating my 404 page (GOD I love that picture of the spud – she was mad because I was taking her picture instead of getting her out of the crib) and my OldLink page. When I was checking the links in my entries, I linked anything that was no longer around to the OldLink page, so that’s what that’s all about.

If you’re on the notify list, you probably didn’t realize the site has a whole new look – check out the front page.

Being a big ol’ copycat (well, except she didn’t KNOW she was being a copycat), Lis redesigned her site as well, and it looks great. God, I love the scaredy mug. You’ve gotta check out the photo gallery and the thrift gallery and the – oh, just check it all out! But don’t forget to come back…

Also being a copycat was Jolene, who gets special points for putting me right there in her personal "Top Five" category.

There were other redesigns, I’m sure – I guess the idea of a new year makes people want to start with a fresh new look – but I’m woefully behind in my journal reading and haven’t gotten around to seeing them yet.

Another thing I did when I wasn’t toiling away on reorganizing the site was read – I read a book a day most days last week. I also came to the conclusion that I don’t care for Faye or Jonathan Kellerman anymore. I used to love them both to death, but I was so bored with Stalker that it was all I could do to finish it, and when I tried reading Dr. Death, directly after I finished Stalker, I got about 30 pages in before I put the book down and had a serious discussion with myself.

"Self," I said sternly. "Life is TOO FUCKING SHORT to waste time reading books that bore the shit out of you!" And so I took Dr. Death, and I took The Forgotten and Flesh and Blood, and I put them downstairs on top of the pile of books I’m sending my sister, and if she finds them as brain-numbing as I did, she can pass them on to some other poor sucker and so on until they land in the lap of someone who’ll love and appreciate them. It’s a little sad saying goodbye to the Kellermans, because I’ve read every one of their books until now, and I don’t know whether I’ve outgrown them or they’re truly gotten suckier, but damn. I just couldn’t take it anymore. When you’re looking at your bookcase of books you haven’t read yet, and your eyes lights upon one of them, and you get kind of a sinking feeling in your stomach at the thought of reading it, you should probably just take it off the shelf, don’tchathink?

Currently, I’m reading A Painted House, and enjoying it a great deal. I also highly recommend Compromising Positions, which I had never read and bought because the book clubs were hyping the fact that Susan Isaacs just wrote a sequel to it, which I’ll probably read after A Painted House.

The week before Christmas, I went out and rented Moulin Rouge on dvd, because, well, I wanted to see it. I had to drag Fred to the couch kicking and screaming – well, practically – and he ended up liking it even more than I did. In fact, we had to watch the Elephant Love Medley three or four times, and then the next day, on the way home from his mom’s, we stopped at Wal-Mart so he could buy it. And it was two days before Christmas and Fred hates crowds, so you know he liked it an awful lot.

Oh, here’s a funny story. When Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman were in her room, and he started saying the words to "Your Song", I turned to Fred and said excitedly "That’s "Your Song"!" He listened and shrugged.

"Are you sure? I don’t recognize it…"

"Your Song! Your Song! You MUST know it!" I said.

He shook his head. "Nope, doesn’t sound familiar."

‘Round these parts, when a song comes on that one of us likes, we have the tendency to say "Oh, it’s your song!" And he thought I was referring to a song he liked, rather than the title of the song.

Hee!

Okay, I guess you had to be there.

I was blown away by both Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor’s voices – I had no idea they could sing so well. Of course, my favorite song is "Come What May", because it’s such a pretty song, but all the music in the movie was awesome. That Satine sure had some lung power for someone suffering from the Consumption, didn’t she?

Speaking of music, not only did I spend last week reorganizing the site and reading, but I also spent many hours on Kazaa downloading and listening to mp3s. I was particularly frustrated by the fact that no one seemed to have Olivia Newton-John’s "Changes" (you just shut up. There’s no shame in loving Livvy), but I found it this morning. Whew!

I believe I’ll go snooze on the couch and burn my current favorite candle until Fred gets home. See y’all tomorrow, same bitchy time, same bitchy place.

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That’s right, y’all, it’s January 1st, and if you’ve been reading for the past year, you know what that means.

It’s the month of my birth. Oh, yes. 8 big, bright days until I turn (gulp!) 34! You may begin building your altar of Bitchypoo worship now, so you’ll be done by the Big Day.

Did everyone celebrate New Year’s Eve safely? I hope so. Myself, I sent Fred off to bed around 10 and read until 11:30, and was sound asleep by the time midnight rolled around.

Party animals, we are.

To kick off the new year, I have pictures to share.

After I got all the other Christmas cards hung up in the kitchen and living room, I got an entire assload more of them, so I hung them in the hallway between the foyer and kitchen. In all, I received 115 cards, and considering that I sent out almost 200, that’s pretty damn good, in my opinion.

Miz Poo, bathing in the sun.

I spent more than two hours yesterday cleaning the upstairs – y’see, when you haven’t done any real cleaning in something like a month, it takes a lot longer to clean than if you did it on a regular basis – and taking pictures for the virtual tour of the new house. I’m hoping to get pictures of the downstairs done tomorrow, and the virtual tour done either this weekend or sometime next week.

Everything I do, I do it for youuuuuuu.

If you don’t read the diet journal, you missed this in yesterday’s entry, so I’m going to cut and paste so that you won’t miss out.

Before I go, I have to share with you a perfect illustration of how much Fred has changed since undergoing the whole eating-right-and-exercising thing. I was flipping channels, because of COURSE there was nothing good on, and I happened across American Beauty, which was in it’s last half hour. I left it there, because it was the best thing I’d seen so far in my channel-flipping.

Soon enough, the scene where Kevin Spacey and Mena Suvari were making out came on, and Kevin undid Mena’s blouse, and she laid there in all her perfectly-toned, unsaggy-breasted glory, and I glanced over at Fred, whose eyes were glued to the screen, his mouth hanging open, and I mentally rolled my eyes and thought Men!

Fred turned to me. “She’s got some pretty good lines on those abs!” he said.

Mena Suvari was laying there half-nekkid, and Fred was checking out her abs.

My husband, the perv.

Time for…

Friday Five:

1. What was your biggest accomplishment this year? Training for and completing one day of the 3Day. I’m not done with the 3Day, oh no – I’m going to go back in 2003 and kick it’s ass.

2. What was your biggest disappointment? Twisting my ankle after finishing only one day of the 3Day, after I spent so many months training to do all three days.

3. Will you be making any New Year’s resolutions? Well, of course. Not that I really kept up last year’s resolutions, but it’s always a fun exercise. My resolutions for this year are: 1. To floss every day. 2. To use facial moisturizer every day in hopes of staving off those lines that are beginning to form on my forehead (and also to build a time machine, so I can go back and kick Young Robyn’s ass for not using facial moisturizer all along). 3. To answer email in a timely fashion (this one’s just begging to be broken)

4. Where do you wish you were celebrating? Someplace warm. Hawaii, the Bahamas, Virgin Islands, any of those will do. In a perfect world, I’ll win $45 gazillion in the lottery this year, and bring all my favorite people along with me next New Year’s Eve. Imagine the blow-out we could have!

5. What do you plan to do for New Year’s Eve? What I planned and what I did were the exact same thing – to read until 11 or so, and probably be asleep before midnight. Y’all know you’re jealous of my exciting life!

 

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As 2001 comes to a close, all I can think is, What if I hadn’t given up after two days? What if I’d stuck to it like Fred did? I could have lost 100 pounds or more by now…

How was I supposed to know that this time it was for real, for him? That he wouldn’t give up after a day or two like he always did – we always did?

Now he looks incredible, and I’m a fat fucking blob. I think I’ve gained weight, even, but I’m too afraid to get on the scale, because deep down, I don’t want to know the truth, not really.

Sometimes I see how he looks and feels, and I yearn to feel like that, to be able to walk upstairs and not gasp for breath for ten minutes afterward, to be able to shop at normal stores, to wear sizes that aren’t the absolute hugest sizes out there. To wear something pretty instead of oversized t-shirts and stretchy pants. But at the same time I resent and am jealous of him. It seems so easy for him, and I’ve heard his earnest "It is easy, Bessie. You just have to think differently" ten thousand times, and I don’t get it, I don’t understand, I don’t know how to make that happen. How is it that so many people online can draw so much motivation from him, and yet it all goes right the fuck over my head?

All he can talk about is exercising and eating right, and this weight-lifting program or that one, and every time he starts talking about how he thinks he’ll try lifting weights this way, or that he ran longer than he ever has before, I feel like he’s going somewhere I can’t be, and he’s leaving me behind, and I start to withdraw. I know that’s not good, I know it’s not good for our relationship – or our friendship – but I’m helpless to stop. I feel sometimes like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and one day he’s going to look at me and realize how much better he can do, that he deserves a woman who can keep up with him, who won’t sit, a lump of fat, on the couch and read or watch TV, who can actually walk as fast as he can, and he’s going to push me over the cliff and walk away without looking back.

I can’t bring myself to eat junk food in front of him, and so I’ve started hiding Little Debbies and candy bars from him – he never looks in the back of my desk drawer, and so that’s where I keep it all. And I eat and eat and eat while he’s off exercising or taking a bath or gone to sleep, and I feel so fucking guilty, like I’m cheating on him or something.

I’ve started and stopped at least ten diets since last June, and when I talk about starting, he gets so excited and offers to help, and then when I go off my diet after a few days, though he’d never admit it, he’s disappointed as hell, and I just can’t stand seeing that accepting, loving, disappointed look on his face. How can he keep believing that I can ever do what he’s done? And yet, every time I start talking about it, he’s completely there, totally believing that I’ll do it, that this will be the time, that in a year I’ll look like a completely different person.

We went to his parents’ house on Christmas Eve, and his sister and stepsister made a fuss over him, about how good he looks, and their eyes just slid past me like I don’t exist.

I feel like I don’t.

I’m so tired of feeling like this, both physically and emotionally, I just can’t take it anymore. This is it – I have to do this, I have to lose the weight, for myself more than anything. I’m tired of being fat and tired. I have to do it for real this time, I have no choice. There’s no turning back – my life and my marriage depend on it.

I’m going to start January 2nd.

This was written for the December collab. December’s topic was the “sliding doors” premise – inspired by SecraTerri’s September 19th entry. I chose to write this entry as though I had given up on losing weight after only a few days, instead of sticking to it. Which I didn’t, as my 120+ pound weight loss (so far) shows. To clarify: this entry was written as though I had NOT spent the last 18 months working out and eating right. Which I did. —– ]]>

I expect that there won’t be any entries this week – I’m going to take time off from the journal to relax (oh, my stressful life) and try to whip the house into shape. Of course, the notify list will be the first to know when there’s a new entry up.

See you next week.

Be safe.

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Lordy. Twenty-three cards in the post office box this morning! Y’all rock, bigtime.

Remember how I was concerned about the fact that I was going to be idiot enough to drive to Sam’s and attempt to do some shopping? Oddly, Sam’s wasn’t so bad, aside from the traffic I had to fight to get there. The problem came when I decided I needed to visit Wal-Mart to buy ribbon from which to hang the aforementioned 23 Christmas cards. The visit started off in a lovely manner, when I had to visit the bathroom. Every one of the fucking stalls was nastified in it’s own special way. Why, tell me please, do people have to PEE ON THE FUCKING SEAT. You know, I understand some people feel the need to hover above the seat so they don’t "catch" something, but if you’re going to pee on the fucking seat, WIPE. IT. OFF. Is that so hard? Gah.

The rest of the visit to Wal-Mart consisted of walking two feet and waiting for someone to get the fuck out of the way. I spent twice as long in Wal-Mart, and travelled half as far. I got my ribbon, though, as well as a space heater for the computer room (more on that later) and some cool stickers.

Then the spud and I went to Applebee’s for lunch – and this time I did NOT get the Oriental Chicken Salad, but rather the Fajita Wrap Thingy, and it was good. Our experience was enhanced by the fact that not two feet away sat a table of college kids, who were loud and obnoxious, but pretty amusing.

After dessert, we went to Hallmark, which was at the other end of the parking lot. For some reason, I’m just helpless to resist that store – I love and adore it beyond all reason. I bought a tart warmer and some buttercream-scented tarts, as well as some blank cards. I also bought something that embarrasses the hell out of me, but I could NOT resist. Maybe Fred needs to take my debit card away. I bought a fiber optic snowman. Yes, it’s totally goofy and corny, but I watched the way the little fiber optic lights changed color, and I had to buy one. HAD. TO.

Shut up. You know you’re jealous. Besides, it was half price.

You know, Temptation Island never fails to piss me off. These couples are put on an island with single people of the opposite sex chosen SPECIFICALLY to break them up, and the couples (especially the guys, in my opinion) act like complete assholes, and then they show the previews for the final shows, which will apparently start in 3 weeks, and all the fucking members of the couples are all teary-eyed and talking about how HARD it is, and sobsobsob. You know, what the fuck did they expect, that they were going to put their relationships on the line and come away unscathed?

It also pisses me off when they show the members of the couples on dates with the singles, and the member of the couple is talking trash about their relationship. I don’t know – I’d think having my significant other whine about how clingy or bossy I am to some slutty HO would be a bigger betrayal than having him grope her.

One of the groups – the couple men and the single women – went white-water rafting on last night’s show, and this asshole said how nice it was, to get away from the tension of the island.

I guess he defines "tension" as "getting drunk and pawing every female in sight."

And this single guy? Creeps me right the fuck out. Something about his eyes is JUST NOT RIGHT, and I shiver every time I look at his freaky face. Plus he’s possessive and bossy. So, for that matter, is this guy. And this single chick was the biggest fucking baby of the bunch, as though one date with someone else’s boyfriend makes it a relationship. Supposedly, she’s 24, but she acted more like a 10 year-old, from what I could see.

Oh, and in the previews for the final shows, Edmundo said that it’s hard for him to see some other guy groping, as he put it, "MY chick." Oh, Edmundo, such a romantic. Also such a hypocrite, since he was slobbering over every damn single chick in sight just about the first instant he got into camp.

Asshole.

And as for Survivor, well, spoilers below:

I think Teresa’s a real jerk for voting against Frank. I feel kind of sorry for him, because he had no real social skills whatsoever, but he had – or thought he had – an alliance with her, and she voted him off in some attempt to save her own ass. I don’t like Lex, but I like Teresa even less at this point.

And I already said this in ThreeWayAction, but when I’m on Survivor 45, I’m going to be all about an all-female alliance and kicking the men off, one by one.

Time for the Friday Five!:

1. What is the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten? I don’t think I eat much weird stuff. I like raw oysters, but that’s not terribly strange. I used to eat peanut butter, mayonnaise, and banana sandwiches on occasion when I was a kid. They’re better than they sound.

2. Name one (material) thing you can’t live without. My computer, I guess. Unless I can choose something more abstract, and say "books."

3. Name something you’ve always wanted to do but didn’t have time for. The only thing that comes to mind at the moment, is driving from Florida to Maine via US Route 1. I’d also like to do the Appalachian Trail, but I don’t want to do it on my own, and Himself ain’t much for that sort of thing.

4. What outrageous thing do you wish you had the nerve to do? Apply to be on the next Survivor instead of waiting to reach my goal weight.

5. How do you plan to spend your weekend. Aside from hauling a bunch of boxes to a dumpster, and doing a little (VERY little) bit of house-cleaning, I have no plans. We have to be at Fred’s mother’s house Sunday around 11:00 or so, but that’s the only definite thing we have to do. No doubt I’ll think of something I forgot to get for the spud or Fred for Christmas, and make a last-minute run to Wal-Mart or Target.

I don’t know when I’ll be updating again – maybe there’ll be entries Monday and Tuesday, but then again, maybe not – and of course the notify list will be the first to know.

If you’re travelling for the holidays, please be safe, don’t give into the road rage, and I know you know better than to drink and drive. I’d like you all to back here in the New Year, safe and sound.

Happy holidays, to each and every one of you!

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Y’know, I was responding to email earlier today, and I started to notice that I have the tendency to put a freakin’ exclamation point at the end! of! every! sentence! What can I say? Emailing gets me all excited.

I must be nuts. I’m actually contemplating going out shopping tomorrow to Sam’s, which will be packed to the gills with last-minute shoppers. But Fred needs creamer for his coffee, and I need paper towels and sponges, so out to Sam’s I shall go. The spud will be happy about that, since she’s already bored and asking, every five minutes, "Are we going anywhere today? Tomorrow? Saturday?"

Fucking Amazon. I swear to y’all I am NOT shopping Amazon next fucking year. Not only do they ignore it when you say "Ship everything TOGETHER, you stupid assholes", but they also only bill you for each item as they ship it, and so instead of one nice, neat charge of, say, $75, there are 7 or 8 charges, one for each item. Which is all well and good if you’re using your credit card, but if you’re using your debit card and use Quicken to track your finances, it’s pretty fucking difficult to figure out.

Bastards.

Oh, and a word of advice, people. If you’re going to order your bitchy wife a surprise for her stocking, don’t use your debit card, because when the charge to Perfumes America shows up when she checks the checking account online, she’ll know the surprise you got her for her stocking, and therefore, it won’t be a surprise. And she really likes surprises.

Further, STOP forgetting to give her the receipts when you rent movies or get gas, ’cause it’s very annoying.

So, I zoned out last night, watching Bernie Mac (that show sure does crack me up), and forgot to start the vcr in the other room to tape Felicity. Around 8:35, I glanced at the clock and yelled "Oh SHIT!" Since Fred wasn’t interested in watching Titus, I turned to Felicity and watched the rest of it.

You know, I don’t see how Ben can forgive Felicity for cheating with Noel so easily. I mean, it’s only been a few weeks since he found out. Is it because he slept with that chick the other week, so he feels that he’s gotten his revenge and can get past it? That’s one fucked-up relationship they have, there. I mean, I’m glad to see them back together, because I want Felicity to be happy*, but I just don’t get it.

Did anyone (assuming anyone reading this watches Felicity) else notice that when Felicity was doing the crossword puzzle and the clue was “12 letters, really bad show”, that Dawson’s Creek would have fit? And oddly, that was the first show that popped into my mind.

Surviiiiiiiivor tonight, woohoo! (Who needs to get a life? Not ME!)

 

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Thanks to reader Cecelia (who’s breakin’ my heart. You’re shakin’ my cooooonfidence, daaaaily)(bet she’s never heard THAT one before…) who bought Marcia Muller’s Ask the Cards a Question from my wish list. Thank you, Cecelia – an online friend once suggested Marcia Muller’s books to me, and since she has impeccable taste, I look forward to reading it!

Okay, this is just rude and uncalled for. Why must y’all talk about me behind my back, huh? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Don’t you know that gossip like that is the sort of thing no one can keep to themselves?

Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Imagine my horror when I received the following email:

From: grishaman505570@yahoo.com Subject: i heard you got a small penis ! Do you have a small penis like I used to have ? do you wanna learn how to enlarge it ? Do you wanna learn how to attract women ? Do you wanna learn how to convince Girls to cyebrsex with you on the net ? I wrote an article on all of those subjects, please visit the site to read it. http://www.fastadulthosting.com/Other/men-treasure/ let me know what do you think.

Not only are y’all talkin’ trash about my small penis, but you’re talkin’ trash about me to an apparent idiot who doesn’t know that I could get ANY girl to "cyebrsex" with me any damn time I want! That’s right, damnit, I’m a chick magnet!

Hmph.

The spud stumbled home from her exhausting half-day at school where they, I believe, spent the day socializing and drawing pictures, and promptly took a nap on the loveseat. I woke her up after half an hour and told her to go to her room if she was going to nap, because the loveseat’s too short for her, and her head was laying at a funny angle, and I didn’t want her to get a neckache.

Of course, the REAL reason I wanted her outta there is so she wouldn’t be in there snoring when it came time for my 2:30 nap.

Anyway, she stumbled upstairs and, I think, went right back to sleep. She’s got to rest up for that all-night TV fest she has planned for every night between now and the time she goes back to school.

It appears that our lovely 60-degree days are now behind us until the spring, damnit. And I never did get those extra daffodil bulbs planted, and I’m thinking they won’t get planted anytime soon. Who wants to stand out in the soggy back yard and dig a big-ass hole and plant bulbs? Not me, nope. The 30 bulbs I planted (and replanted after we got rid of the dog) will just have to do.

You know, there’s just nothing interesting for me to write about today, so I’m going to say goodnight.

Goodnight!

Oh, wait! I almost forgot reader Renee in Oklahoma emailed to remind me that she DID request a Christmas card, and that I’m a big fat liar for saying Oklahoma doesn’t like the Bitchypoo. I went back through my email and found that she was correct, and sent out a card as fast as I could. So Oklahoma is no longer on the list of States That Don’t Love Me.

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I was thrilled like you wouldn’t believe to wake up and look outside and see actual SUNSHINE, instead of the crappy, overcast, rainy weather we’ve had for the past two weeks. I had started to believe we were in the beginning of a Nuclear Winter, and was poised to take over the world as Queen and Supreme Ruler (it’s really only a matter of time, you know), but I guess I can put THOSE plans on the back burner.

Man, I wish they’d just show an entire season of Felicity, instead of showing a few shows in the fall and then a few in the spring. It’s getting old, people! I want my Felicity when I want it, not when you feel like providing it, damnit!

I still haven’t watched the series premiere episode of Felicity that I got off eBay months ago. I have a bad habit of ordering movies I absolutely MUST have, and then not watching them. I got both My Life’s in Turnaround and If Lucy Fell more than a year ago and haven’t watched either of ’em. I have to save something for my old age, right?

My old age is rapidly approaching. Three weeks, and I turn 34. How did that happen, may I ask?

Today was a slow, boring, nothing day. I went to the post office (all the packages are mailed. Yeehaw!), the movie store (rented Moulin Rouge), and the grocery store (although Fred gets groceries on Saturday, there’s always a mile-long list by Tuesday), skipped my 11:00 meal (because I wasn’t home), had Wendy’s for lunch (grilled chicken sandwich and their new Spring Mix salad with – ahem – blue cheese dressing), sat around after I ate lunch getting cold because the back door was open for most of the day so Themselves could go out and play in the still-wet grass, took a hot bath, read, and made dinner.

The usual excitement.

Stuff that desperately needs to be done, but I didn’t do: Update Quickbooks with all the 1,003 purchases I made whilst Christmas shopping last week, vacuum both the upstairs and downstairs, clear off my desk, work on rearranging the site, write an interesting entry. Heh.

The spud has half a day of school tomorrow – they get out at 11:30 – and then she’s on vacation until January 7th. Isn’t that just the most ridiculous thing? And they get that much time and more every year – this is nothing new. By the third day, she’ll be dying of boredom and I’ll be ready to strangle her. Oh, happy HAPPY holidays. Maybe I’ll take her out for Chinese food for lunch Friday, and to a movie. Maybe not. Depends on how nice I’m feeling.

Okay, I’ll bore y’all no more with my boring-ass yammerings. See you tomorrow for more of the same!

 

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Thank you very much to reader Lulu, who sent me Worst Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Travel from my wish list . Thanks also to reader Lianne, who sent me the loveliest sweater – and you know how much I love the sweaters! It’s a size XL, and while I think it’s too tight (yet sexily shows off that spare tire around my midsection), Fred disagrees and thinks that it looks just fine. One of these days, there might even be a picture of me in it. Thank you, beloved readers!

So, here are the Christmas card stats:

Total cards sent out (not including family): 195 (I had guessed about 200)

Number of male readers who requested cards: 4 States receiving 10 or more cards: Illinois (11), Texas (14), Ohio (15), California (18) States who don’t love me and didn’t want a card: Delaware, Mississippi, Montana, Nebraska, New Mexico, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Dakota, Wyoming Other countries receiving cards: Australia (1), Belgium (1), Canada (15), England (4), Germany (1), Ireland (2), Thailand (1). Number of last minute names and addresses received in the last 24 hours before the midnight Dec. 15 deadline: 13 Number of names and addresses received 12 hours after the midnight Dec. 15 deadline: 1 (but I added her to the list anyway, because I’m nice like that) Most often recurring first names: Jennifer (4), Karen (9), Kathy/ Cathy (7), Melissa (5), Susan (6)

Number of cards kicked back because someone wasn’t paying attention when he was helping me out, and didn’t put a stamp on the envelope: 1 (sorry, Teresa B. in Ohio – I stamped it and remailed it today!)

Percentage of probability that I accidentally sent out more than one card to at least one person: 99.999

Was I terribly organized about my card sending this year?: Not

Did I have a lot of fun shopping for funny cards?: You betcha

What I’ll do differently next year: Organize addresses on the label template in Word as they come in, or keep them an Excel spreadsheet

Number of cards I’ve received: 63, which is really awesome! I love seeing the mailbox filled up every time I go to the post office.

So, the cards, they are done. And except for maybe one that went out to Canada today, they should all reach their destinations by Christmas day (I mailed all the international ones first). I had been taping all the cards to the door between the kitchen and the hallway, but it was turning into a large pain, because the tape didn’t want to stick, so I was always picking up and re-taping cards to the door. Finally, when Fred went to Wal-Mart Saturday, I asked him to pick up a couple of rolls of ribbon, and I stapled the cards to the rolls of ribbon, and we hung them up like so:

This is over the doorway between the kitchen and the hallway.

And this is hanging from the trey ceiling between the dining room and living room

There were several cards left over, so I put them on the mantel, and with the 11 cards that arrived in the mail today, I about have enough to start stapling ’em to ribbon again.

The mantel. The mostly-green stocking on the left is Fred’s, the one in the middle is the spud’s, and the one on the right is mine. I’ve had my stocking since I was a kid, and Fred’s stocking belonged to either my brother Randy, or my brother Tracy. I like my Christmas decorations, but I think the mantel could either use a lighted garland, or some bigger decorations to offset the small ones.

Friday night, the spud and I went to Applebee’s for dinner (mmmm, Oriental Chicken Salad, and Apple Chimicheesecakes!), and when we left the restaurant, it was very dark out – it being December, it gets dark pretty damn early, y’know – and we were driving along, minding our own business, and I glanced to my left, and was almost blinded by something in the distance. I had to turn off the main road to go investigate, and there I found the perfect example for y’all of the one and only time it’s okay to mix Christmas lights:

This house, y’all, was just awe-inspiring; these pictures don’t even begin to do it justice. There were at least four fully decked-out Christmas trees – one in each bay window, one on the upstairs porch, and one on the downstairs porch. These people just slapped lights up everywhere, willy-nilly, and threw lighted sculptures on the lawn, and people were driving by in packs, and stopping completely to take it all in.

It was a house that defied all the rules. Not only did the spud and I gape at it for a long time, but I went home and got Fred and the camera, and went back to gape at it some more and take pictures. Then we went back Saturday night with Fred’s father and stepmother to gape yet again.

Like I said, if you’re going to mix lights, go all the way, people.

See a box? Sit on it. It’s much warmer than the cold, cold floor.

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