Thansgiving Dreams… and the Reality, which was pretty funny

The Thanksgiving Plan

I would drive down to the greater Charleston area with Scout Son for a fun-filled family-by-choice “weekend.” I would get there early Tuesday evening, allowing for some writer-only time before the kids all came back from school in New York that night. We’d stay through Sunday noon, or until the end of time, whichever came last.

On Wednesday, after a good night’s sleep, I’d get up early and take my time making Pumpkin Cheesecake with Sour Cream Bourbon topping. We’d all take turns in the kitchen and the pre-event cooking would all be done in a leisurely fashion.

Thursday morning would be bright, shiny and relaxed, as Captain Thanksgiving took care of the turkey, potatoes and gravy.

Then, a weekend of holiday hoopla, online shopping, and torturing each other with family ornament craft time, much gaming, and a lot of eating.

The Thanksgiving Reality

One week before Thanksgiving: Get two-month temp assignment. No one mentions the upcoming holiday, or the belief that anyone would be willing to change travel plans to meet their needs. Work schedule bartering takes place, with me offering the soul of my next born child (I might have neglected to mention an inability for there to be a next born child) in exchange for working as late as necessary to meet a given goal on Tuesday and not being there on Wednesday.

Scout Son and I pack the car up, and seven hours after I planned on leaving, we hit the road. The race is on. Who will get to Charleston first: those of us driving, or the kids flying in from Rochester, NY? According to the Google Maps, we will win by ten minutes. But as every self-respecting speed demon knows, Google underestimates times. I feel good about my odds.

Scout Son drives as far as South Carolina’s Welcome Center. When I take over, something insane happens. Google announces there’s a bit of a backup on I-26 in Columbia, and no lie, I drive for an hour at higher than approved speeds (my Kia is the Millennium Falcon) only to have the Google tell me that I’m now 3.5 hours away instead of 2 hours away. Um, WTF?

For once in my life, I do not ignore the Google when it suggests I might want to consider an alternate route that will save me 1.75 hours, and… it is right. I win the race, but just barely, and not by the “I will be there before you get to the Rochester airport” amount I’d been hoping for.

Wednesday does start out early, as Captain Thanksgiving has to go to work for the morning. Well-rested is not a word that enters our vocabulary as we all had to do the catching up we’d planned to do earlier, and nobody went to bed before 2 a.m. With four-ish hours of sleep, we are now downing pots of life-saving coffee, and completely ignoring the plan.

Thus, at 3:00 that afternoon, there is a mad rush of four cooks into the kitchen because we’ve finally realized if we don’t get our $#@! together (yes, I had an opportunity to swear in the blog and passed it up), there will be no Thanksgiving feast. Oops.

Why have pie when there's cheesecake?
Why have pie when there’s cheesecake?

Kitchen hilarity occurs. Yes, there might have been a wee bit of Jameson’s involved. Some whiskey for the cheesecake (don’t start – yes, I know whiskey and bourbon are different; whiskey’s better), some whiskey for the cooks.

Now, we come to the true holiday crisis. We’ve put together the breakfast casserole, but egads! It has to sit on the counter and “rest” (again, WTF?) for thirty minutes before you can bake it for an hour, and there’s one oven, and one turkey and it’s 24.5 pounds so it’s not going to just cook up in an hour.

Here’s where I make my mistake. I look at my dog. “You know, Princess Cassie of the Weak Bladder always gets up at 6ish to go out. I’m going to be down here anyway, so I could pull the casserole out when I bring her down. Then it’d be ready for cooking when we need it at 7:00.”

Much celebrating in the kitchen, and some more tequila/whiskey/wine, depending on who’s glass you sniff. (Julia Child was a wise woman.). Another late night of games, conversation and hilarity ensues.

Princess Cassie the Liar
Princess Cassie the Liar

6:00 Thanksgiving Morning: Princess Cassie snores on as my alarm goes off. You’ve got to be kidding. The one day I have to get up and she ignores me completely. I strongly consider putting her in a hamster suit and sending her back to the college dorm with Snarky Daughter. Stumble downstairs, pull out casserole, write time on aluminum foil (every minute counts when your casserole is resting), and fall back into bed.

6:33 Princess Cassie stretches, and comes over to nose me awake. Evil Cow from Hell. Fantastic! Now I’m awake – again – so might as well go downstairs, start the coffee, put the well-rested casserole (glad one of us is well-rested) into the oven and work out.

8:34 Captain Thanksgiving is wrestling a turkey in the sink. Bacteria-infused water has sloshed everywhere during the Turkey Tsunami of 2015. Dogs and cats are all about helping clean up the bacteria water, while humans practice their slip and slide skills in the kitchen. Points to the turkey for a last ditch attempt to save itself.

2:15 The table is set. Many platters of holiday goodness have appeared on the table. I am handed the most important bowl of all: the ton of mashed potatoes, now referred to as pota-tons! Yes, we are an amusing group, and no, for once, there wasn’t a large amount of alcohol involved in our humor.

I was told, “Please go put these on the table.” Small problem. There’s no room on the table, which is now listing under the weight of 24 pounds of turkey, five gallons of gravy, and fifteen side dishes. Then, I see it. The perfect empty space… and drop the serving bowl of mashed potatoes on my plate.

Let the mashed potato wars begin. I’m not sure who thought it was a good idea to have me sit next to my arch nemesis Potato Guy, but there it is. He walks in and complains about my perfect potato placement. Silly boy. While everyone else wonders if they’re even going to see a potato, he and I reach a potato détente. Yay! Potatoes for all… but mostly for us. Seriously, eight people at the table, and I believe over ten pounds of mashed potatoes were made.

8:52 Gaming continues. I think we played Dark Moon, but really I’m not too sure. By that time, the exhaustion and the whiskey had kicked in. Also the allergy attack from hell that lasted 18 hours. We still haven’t figured out what triggered that.

craftingI’d fill you in on the Crafting Explosion of 2015 which took place Friday night, and the holiday decorating that involved an English major doing electrical engineering of the Christmas tree, but there are some stories that are best saved for another day.

After all, there are 26 shopping days left, and we’ll all need some extra cheer in the weeks ahead.

Stay tuned for the creating of the St. Lucia’s wreath of fire crafting project!


New Year Resolutions

It’s that time again. When we sit down and determine everything we want to change about ourselves, promise we’re going to do it, and then…don’t. In case you missed it there, I’m not a fan of resolutions. I think it comes from working at the YMCA.

People come in on January 1, all full of I’m going to drop 40 pounds in three weeks because I watch The Biggest Loser enthusiasm, and then find out they have to work. Hard. By Valentine’s Day the majority of those folks have given up because they didn’t give themselves a realistic goal. The worst part is, if they’d just gone another two more weeks, they’d break the barrier. They’d suddenly notice they look different, their clothes fit differently and the numbers on the scale would go down. We warned them that eight weeks is the magic number. But at six weeks, they bail.

And we’re all like that. Nobody ever makes the New Year’s Resolution, This year, I’m going to be nice to myself. I’m going to take it easy. I’m not going to judge myself.

Because I don’t really believe in them, and because I never follow through with them, for several years my resolution was to learn to juggle. Which I can now sort of do. For very short periods of time.

This year, I’m ready for big changes in my life. I want big changes, to the point that I may go nuts if some of them don’t happen. For the past few years I’ve been very passive in living my life, and last fall I realized I was over that. So this year I have one of those huge, scary, never going to actually do it resolutions: become the person I want to be.

For the last few years I’ve put me last. Last as a writer because, hey, I have these kids and they need to be fed and the mortgage needs to be paid, so do everything you have to to get that done. But when I was done doing that at the end of the day, there was no time or energy left for me. Don’t get me wrong. Those things still have to happen, but I’m putting me higher on the list. I don’t think Boy or Girl Scouts is going to be happy when they hear that, but they’ll get over it.

So yes, my resolution is huge because being that person means writing more books, selling a house, potentially moving across the country, it’s serious change. But all of it is so that I can be nice to myself. And since nobody else is going to tell you this, let me: you have permission to be nice to yourself too.

Happy New Year!


A Sinful 4th

Yes, it’s summer. Yes, I have a new day job. And yes, I have been ignoring you all completely. Sorry about that. To be fair, I doubt you want to hear about how much fun I’m having going to work early, working through lunch and staying late. Then I come home and work on freelance stuff.

See? I told you it wasn’t fun. Actually, I like the job a lot, so it’s not bad, but it’s keeping me from the blog and the book. But last week, a wonderful thing happened. It turns out, we’re supposed to have 9 paid holidays, but somehow we missed one this year. So someone at work suggested earlier this year that we get Thursday and Friday off for the 4th. A moment of brilliance there, let me tell you.

So I took my first vacation in forever. Sure, I bop on down to South Carolina regularly and hang with Regan Black. But it’s always a crap shoot as to whether or not we’ll actually leave her house.  Because we’re, you know, really. exciting. writers.

At the news that I could have four days off in a row, I made plans. Snarky Daughter and I took off for the beach on Wednesday night after she got off work. Which means we got to the coast at 1am. For those wondering, Scout Son was at Scout Camp learning to sail. We do not pity him, although he remains jealous.

Now, here’s where it got sinful… because driving 9 hours round trip for 36 hours at the beach wasn’t sinful enough. We went out to the beach and read. Books. We ignored phones, email, wheat-free dining and life in general. Snarky Daughter and I both read two books while we were down there.

Heaven with a hint of sunburn. Took several hundred photos, but haven’t downloaded them yet, so just trust me when I say that Beaufort, North Carolina is wonderfully relaxing. Parts of it were also the inspiration for the town of Blakely in The Heiress and Her Fake Fiance.

I’ve been home for five days now. Is it too soon to go back on vacation? This time I’ll work on the book. I promise!


And on the Second Bucket of Margaritas, We Moved the Refrigerator.

OK, no we didn’t. We talked about it because Regan Black’s cats keep hiding stuff under there. But we didn’t really have a second bucket… or motivation. If the cats are dumb enough to put their toys under the fridge, they don’t really need them.

The Hip and Edgy Writer's Group
The Hip and Edgy Writer’s Group

For all of you currently scratching your heads, it’s Writer’s Weekend. That wonderful weekend when I get together with my best friends and we talk writing, and eat and drink, and get caught up on everything, and eat and drink, and cackle and spew coffee on the laptops, and eat and drink, and you get the idea.

These women don’t freak out when they find out I’ve never done a tequila shot. The give me a silent look of “what rock did you crawl out from under,” grab a lime and another shot glass and that’s that.

I’m fairly sure this is what sorority sisters do when they get together. Maybe not. We talk A. Lot. about writing. We talk about our characters as if they’re real people, we lust after Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, and a bunch of other hot men, and we all eat things we shouldn’t. For me, that’s pretty much every food on the planet, including the two donuts I had for breakfast.

Leave me alone. If you can’t have Iron Man for breakfast, donuts are a close second.

This morning I got up and Regan looked at me and said, “When are you giving up the fight and walking on the beach. You know you’ll feel better.” Which is just one of the many reasons I love these women. They get me.

Normally, I don’t fight the call of the beach. But it’s Memorial. Day. Weekend. And the beach is 30 minutes away. So going to the beach is a production. Unless it’s 8:15 am. Then it’s really easy to park in the parking meter area, walk the beach for an hour and leave before you have a sunburn and when everyone on the beach is still happy.

Isle of Palms before the crowds hit
Isle of Palms before the crowds hit

Anyway, she was right. I walked on the beach and now it’s all good. When I win the lottery, you’ll find me living on the South Carolina coast. With three other writers and a large company of imaginary friends, er, characters.

And I get to stay for another whole day. That’s one more potential walk on the beach before I have to go back to reality.


2013 Resolutions

Before I get to the real post, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for making me an Amazon Best Seller! A Season For Romance topped the charts as the #4 Best Selling Short Story Collection. We hit #2 in Germany!

And now, on to our regularly scheduled blog…

Hi, my name is Kim and I’m a Hallmark Channel Christmas movie addict.

It’s normal to watch the same Hallmark movies over and over, right? I mean, you’re all doing it too, right? Looking at each one and saying things like, Oh, it’s The Shop Around the Corner meets Shall We Dance? Right?!!?

I never used to do this. But this weekend I’ve read two Regency romance novels (thanks Sabrina Jeffries, for the lack of sleep) and tonight alone I’ve watched two Hallmark specials.

I’d say I need to step away from the remote, but the fact is, I’m sitting down in the morning and figuring out my next characters and plotting their story. So I’m immersing myself in romance.

I’m also plotting my own life. For the past several months I’ve been putting my life on hold while I tried to figure out where I wanted to settle down. But the thing is, that’s nine months I could have been doing things. And didn’t.

So, although my life is still up in the air, I’m not waiting any more.

Seems like the perfect time to go back and look at the 2012 resolutions and see how I did. If this were the Hallmark Channel, there would be happy music and a guy would wander into my living room, looking lovingly at me. Alas… anyway, here’s the list:

Lose 15 pounds: I gained 10. On the other hand, I’ve lost 10.5 inches overall in the past eight weeks because I finally found a workout that my back can handle. Special thanks to Regan Black for leading me to DDP Yoga. I was losing weight in December, but then went to California for Christmas, and I’m pretty sure I drank my weight in wine while I was there. So, losing weight, or at least getting into better shape remains on the list, but I feel better than I have in forever with this workout, so I’m on the road to success.

Getting more active on social media. Build a following. Adding pages to the website. Writing a book or two: I wrote a holiday novella and published a new book. I go with fits and spurts on social media. I figure if I don’t have much to say, I should keep quiet and not clutter your Facebook/Twitter/Pinterest/blog feeds.

Conquer Italian: Not so much. I go back and forth with it, working at it for a few days and then getting caught up in life. Can’t decide if this one is carrying over into this year or not. I just can’t decide how important it is to me right now, which I guess says a lot.

So, for 2013:

Write books. Yes, multiple books.

Continue getting in shape and lose some of the weight. I’m not putting a number up here because the reality is if I dropped a clothing size, I’d be really happy and a healthy size. And since I’m working on building muscle (which weighs more than fat), I’m not sure what the number on the scale should be right now.

Get out more. Last year I joined a trivia team, which has been fun. I look forward to getting out of the house on Tuesday nights. But I need more going on in my world, so I’m going to try to find different groups to try activities with, one a month. We’ll see how that goes since I live in really small town America.

Either land a day job I love or become a communications strategy consultant. One way of the other, I need some steady income, because in case you hadn’t heard, the income stream of an author is not steady. It’s a check every six month sort of thing, which is hard to budget on.

So, those are my thoughts for 2013. 2012 was tough on a lot of us, but I choose to believe 2013 is my year. And yours too! So, what are you resolving to do next year?


Christmas in California

Special thanks to WordPress and their update for delaying this post.

I can’t even begin to tell you how wonderful it was to spend Christmas back home in the Bay Area with my family. Interspersed with wrapping all the presents I had shipped directly there (yes, I’m aware Amazon wraps, and had I thought about it, I would have had them do it), supervising my son baking gingerbread, and running errands with my dad, we also did tourist stuff.

We were supposed to go up to San Francisco while we were here and ride the trolleys, because although the kids have ridden the trolleys up and down the hills and smelled the wooden brakes burning, they were not old enough to have that momentary fear of what-if-this-time-the-breaks-are-too-thin-and-we-careen-to-our-deaths. Yes, I really do have those thoughts.

We made it into the city one day for a Girls Day of Culture, seeing the San Francisco Ballet’s version of The Nutcracker. If you ever get a chance to enjoy the ballet there, do it. Especially if your Not Wicked Step-Mother has taken the time and money to purchase box seats, and a bottle of champagne. The only thing missing from our Pretty Woman moment was Richard Gere. Who could have been there somewhere, but I wouldn’t have noticed because when not watching the dancing, I was checking out the French Horn section.

Photo of kids at Monterrey Bay Aquarium
Snarky Daughter and Scout Son take time to pose after checking out the wild otters.

So, anyway, we were supposed to go back up to the city with everyone, but that morning, we woke up to huge rainstorms. Which was actually fantastic because that meant we could lounge around the house and wrap 1,453,267 gifts (which are all now residing in an extra suitcase in the belly of the beast we’re waiting to board).

While we missed out on trolleys and Pier 39, and the really tacky touristy stuff of San Francisco, our first day in town was beautiful, exactly what winter in CA should look like, and we wandered around the Monterrey Bay Aquarium. This is a great aquarium. Among otters, sea turtles and a fantastic jelly fish exhibit, you’ll also find a sea horse exhibit (way cooler than you think), and penguins. Yes, penguins.

Photo of Monterrey Bay Aquarium Penguins
They’re not native to Northern California, but I love visiting them.

I don’t really know why the penguins are there since I haven’t seen the penguin feeding show in about 10 years. I just show up and watch them play. The funny thing about the penguins is, that they’re all tagged. To which you immediately think, where do they expect the birds to go? It’s not like they’re going to wander into the coral reef exhibit and not be noticed. But if you look closely at the tags, you learn they’re nametags. Of all the penguin names, the only one I can remember is Bee. Bee the penguin. She was hanging out with Penguin I Can’t Remember the Name Of, and they were having a lot of fun.

Then, there was the ultimate in touristy, walking on Carmel Beach at sunset. In addition to not remembering the trolleys, the kids also don’t remember that I dipped them in the Pacific at an early age. We ended up chasing Scout Son around the beach, trying to get him wet since he was avoiding the water’s edge.

Whatever. We had a wonderful time in CA, partying with family and playing with dogs. We can’t wait to come back, hopefully for good. In the meantime, I’ll be writing on the plane. As soon as they’re sure my laptop isn’t a threat to our ability to fly.

Really, we’re still thinking that’s a possibility during take off?


A Season for Romance Free this Weekend

A Season for Romance Book Cover
They say home is where the heart is…

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. And he’s brought you a free copy of A Season for Romance, today through Sunday! It’s currently #12 on Amazon’s Short Story Best Sellers list! Download your copy this weekend and enjoy it on Christmas after all the other presents have been unwrapped. Or if you have a little down time leading in to the big day.

This is our Christmas gift to you. Happy Holidays!


Posting at 30,000 Feet

So, we’re in flight, on our way to California. At least, we were when I wrote this. The plane has Wi-Fi. My computer is showing a happy little Wi-Fi sign. But can I post this blog when it’s written? That would be a big, fat no.

Damned if I know why. I think it’s because everyone around me is streaming movies on their various technologies. Apparently I decided to get online too late in the game. Which wouldn’t bother me if we had an in-flight movie. But no, apparently we’d rather pack a couple hundred people onto a plane for six hours and provide no entertainment.

Yeah, I know. See previous statement about all the people streaming around me. But that’s them, not me. How am I supposed to tell you about anything if I can’t get online? And yes, I am the last person on the planet to not have a tablet of some sort. Until this moment, I didn’t think I needed one. And if even one of you points out something like tablets don’t need Wi-Fi to connect, I’m going to scream. The guy two rows back is watching Animal House. The guy across from me is watching some sort of news. What’s up with that?

So I thought I’d hook myself up with a little TNT and watch last night’s Leverage. Alas, that’s not happening. Actually, now it could happen, if I’m willing to cough up $10 for an hour. The problem is if I cough up the cash, I’m going to post this blog because now I’m thinking about writing, so I won’t be able to watch the whole episode.

What I should be doing is plotting the next book. But I’m tired. Like all of you, I’ve been going all day and my brain fried itself somewhere in the security checkpoint. During which something popped up on my ankle. I’m still trying to figure out what that was all about and fear a doctor left something in my foot during surgery years ago.

The Billionaire Bachelor's Revenge Book CoverAnd in a moment of total stupidity, I agreed to guest blog today at Do not get me wrong. I’m all about an opportunity to talk to folks about Billionaire Bachelor’s Revenge. Or, in this case, what their favorite thing is about the holidays, and share holiday recipes (Butterscotch Shortbread!). But when I picked the day, it obviously didn’t click that I’d be basically incommunicado because I’d be packing 8,543 cookies in our carryon luggage, or traipsing through an airport. Oops. I’m a little ticked about that because it’s a great group over there and they’d make this trip more interesting.

Then I had Snarky Daughter flipping out because she wanted to download a book onto her Kindle. Totally shocked that she could do that without the use of my computer. Duh! I have done this in front of her. Not sure why this came as a shock. Anyway, turn the Kindle on. Immediately get a low power warning. Climb over all the bodies packed around the outlets to add one more plug, and charge said Kindle. Load the book while waiting in line to get on the plane.

Finally on plane, eating really boring airport wrap. It claimed to have chipotle in it, but I found no spices. Flight attendant asks me what I’d like to drink. I had seriously been considering this for about fifteen minutes. Brought out the In-Flight Beverage Menu and everything. One drink will cost about the same as 50 minutes of Wi-Fi. And what with the bathrooms being miles away, I’m sticking with water.

And that, my friends, is my rambling from 30,000 feet. Hope you’re having fun today. Stop by and see what’s up. I really am going to shell out some cash so I can get online and chat with folks for an hour. It is, after all, a business expense. Oh, and I’m giving away one copy of Billionaire Bachelor’s Revenge to someone who comments over there — NOT here, over there — so come on over!


Reading = Housecleaning

So I was supposed to spend the weekend cleaning the house, addressing Christmas cards, knitting a Christmas gift and probably baking some more because after 15 batches of cookies (really don’t think I’m exaggerating) who doesn’t need to bake some more?

Instead, I read Faking It by Jenny Crusie for the 1,345,253 time. Maybe there won’t be a happy ending this time. OK, so yes, I need some new reading material, and no, I have no idea what author to try next. I’m open to suggestions as long as you understand that I like Light. And. Fluffy.

Last weekend, while knitting and writing and laying out the annual Christmas letter, I spent Saturday night and some of Sunday watching all those romantic Christmas specials on the Hallmark Channel. The living room was a little insipid by the end. But I balanced that out with the “oh no, I’m still without a day job and what am I going to do with my life” thoughts, so I think it was pretty much situation normal around here.

Last night, still wanting some Christmas cheer, and something funny to make me forget the horror of this week, I thought, “hey, I caught some of The Family Stone last weekend, that was pretty funny.” And it has Dermot Mulroney in it, and his photo was pinned up next to my computer while I wrote The Billionaire Bachelor’s Revenge, so yummy and funny. Sounded good.

The scene I caught was the spilling of the strata in the kitchen, which is, it turns out, pretty much the only funny scene in the movie. Oops. Spoiler alert (although why you’d need one since this movie has been out forever is beyond me): The. Mother. Dies.

Not so much on the Christmas cheer. I tried to go back to the Hallmark Channel after that in hopes I could cheer myself up, but it was no use. I watched this week’s Grey’s Anatomy instead. I was batting 0 for 3 last night.

Hence, picking up Faking It again. I’d picked it up the other night because I wanted something I wouldn’t fall into. It’s not like I can’t recite the story by heart at this point. So I figured I’d be able to put it down any time and do housework.

Yes, I totally lied to myself. I was able to put it down a lot, but I found myself taking very long meals so I could read while I ate. Or ignore my empty plate for an hour and read. It’s now 10:45, I’ve been up for three hours, and the only thing that’s been cleaned in the house is me.

But that’s OK because I have the house to myself. Just me, three cats, a dog and a fish until this evening. And during the holiday season, I think it’s important to have a little down time for ourselves. Don’t you agree? Besides, now I can put the book back on the bookshelf. That counts as housecleaning, right?


The Tree: Final Update and Miscellaneous Holiday Junk

Quite the title, I know.

photo of kitten stealing Christmas ornament
That’s Athena, stealing one of my favorite ornaments that my mom made 30 years ago.

So, you waited and wondered about the Tree vs. Kitten Saga and how the tree has fared. When last I shared, Rex was eating the ten year old plastic tree from Michael’s. I have to say, this tree still looks really good for ten years, and so far the kittens have not managed to rip off any of it. Although there was one small piece that fell off during the building process and Athena thinks that’s the Best. Toy. Ever. Since she’s keeping it under the couch, I really don’t care.

After a week, the cats have mostly given up on stealing the ornaments, because they have discovered curling ribbon. And they love them some curling ribbon. Don’t freak. They’re not eating it. Athena just pulls it off the gifts one piece at a time and lays it at my feet. Which is almost as cute (in a can I kill you now, that took hours sort of way) as when she took the bow of MY gift and brought it to the dog. Who immediately told her quite loudly where she could stick that bow. And I don’t think it was back on my present.

kitten with christmas light in his mouth
Yes, as soon as I took the photo I got the lights out of his mouth. You can’t really tell, but his mouth was glowing.

But by far, the best holiday memory so far with these two has got to be when I looked up and Rex’s mouth was glowing yellow because, yes, he was eating the Christmas tree lights. Rex, in case you’ve forgotten, only has three legs because when he was a few weeks old, be apparently decided he needed to investigate an outdoor folding chair and got caught in it. By the time someone found him (this was pre-me, so no bad pet owner letters, please), it was too late to save his leg.

You’d think that would be a learning experience and he wouldn’t continue investigating everything. But no. He’s currently plotting his escape back into the out of doors to catch a bird. Yes, I did put the cat tree right in front of the bird feeder so the cats would have entertainment. And so would I.

In other Christmas news, I am finally able to prove that the space-time continuum is messed up in Wal-Mart. When I walked in this morning to get a $5 Dirty Santa gift (seriously guys, $5?) for a Boy Scout dinner… OK, now I have to explain the Dirty Santa thing because otherwise this sounds really bad. You know the game where you can keep your gift or steal someone else’s? It has a name. Dirty Santa. I did not name it.

I digress. So, I walk in to Wal-Mart and they have some XX days til Christmas light up sign going. This must be for men because there isn’t a woman in the world who doesn’t know how many days she has left to pull the perfect holiday off again this year. SO, in I go. 16 Days til Christmas. Now that seems off to me, but it’s 8something AM, and I’m grumbling about being unemployed and still having to get up at 6:30 each day, and we’re lucky I know it’s Tuesday, let alone what the date is. I mean yesterday I posted something for the school that happens THIS Thursday and listed a date from last week.

OK, so 16. Seems off. I walk by a few minutes later, and now it’s 13 Days Til Christmas. Which also seems wrong and now I’m doing the math because I swear I’ve only been wandering around the store for ten minutes looking for a cheap gift someone would actually want. But this does prove that time has no meaning in Wal-Mart. And when I left, yes, some good soul had actually fixed the sign and we were at 14 days.

14 Days of Baking, Knitting, Christmas letter writing, baking, eating, singing carols…

Happy Holidays! Hope you’re staying sane as you face the season.