I know, I'm an ass and haven't posted, but I think of the blog often. And then I say, "Meh. I'm drinking right now." (NOTE TO MY MOTHER: No Mom, I'm not drinking all the time. I don't have a problem. And perhaps I'm drinking Diet Coke? I never said it was booze. Who has the problem NOW? Take a look at yourself. What's in your hand? That's what I thought.)
Really, I've meant to post, and I have a few great things to share, but I can't find my cord to download photos off of my Blackberry. And then I can't find my charger. And then I can't find my phone. In the past week I've lost keys, gifts, eyeliner, a Starbucks gift card, $1400 in credit card receipts for a hooker convention, a red sweater, and my favorite jeans. Just now, I helped Youngest Daughter through a lost DS emergency, and then I couldn't find my Mike's Hard Lemonade. I can't find the receipt for the custom door we ordered for Current Husband's office now that we need to pick it up, and I'm losing my mind! WTF, Universe? I know there are people in the world battling cancer and depression and oppression and erosion, so I know I need a perspective check, but seriously, WHERE THE HELL IS MY BLACKBERRY CORD?
We had a great Christmas here in Wiferville. It was all awesomeness and unicorns and ponies. The kids were great, we had a wonderful bunker-down weekend, Christmas Eve Mass was uncharacteristically short, we sat behind a cute baby, the weather was great and we didn't run out of Gruet or cheesy potato casserole and no major appliances broke or malfunctioned in any way.
Downside? I may have undercooked portions of the ham and therefore my family may or may not have trichinosis. Also? I got my period four days early and had to go to Walgreens on Christmas Day to buy 60 Super Plus tampons and 48 Super tampons and 48 super maxi pads and a box of Dots and Aleve and a handgun, because honestly it was a Ten Year Period and it's a miracle I didn't need a transfusion or Depends. The checkout girl said, "How is your Christmas going?" and I looked down at my 108 tampons that were getting me through the next 48 hours and said, "Yeah. It's shaping up really well right now" and she looked at me in a pityingly way and said, "But you have the Dots!" and then I felt bad because at least I was hemorrhaging to death at home and in flannel sock monkey pajamas and not doing it at Walgreens on duty. So I said, "It's great, I'm so glad you were open, thanks for working on Christmas!" and she smiled and probably thought, "Yeah, thanks for rubbing it in. Go eat some more of that Death Ham, bitch."
I have to find that cord because I have a photo on my phone of one of my best Christmas presents EVER. I'll get right on it. Side note - super big scare tonight with George the Superpet - my kids called me at work at 4:10, yelling that I need to come home RIGHT NOW because George wasn't using his back leg, was walking like he was drunk, and threw up yellow stuff and then laid down on the floor. I walked out of the office, freaking out, and on the way home called and told the kids to call the vet that I was bringing him in and I thought, "Dear God, Do NOT let me come home to a dead dog." I screeched up to the house, threw open the back of the swagga wagon, and tried to figure out how I was going to get a catatonic stroking-out 107 lb poodle in the back by myself, and when I opened the door he came trotting around the corner smiling and wagging and miraculously all better.
As an FYI, when I lose George the Superpet, I will NOT. COPE. WELL. He is only 5, so this kind of behavior is ridonkulous and I won't stand for it. We've been watching him all night and he is acting perfectly normal, but of course I'm hearing the Voice of Unreason in the back of my head. I can lose Blackberry cords and eyeliner and Starbucks cards, but the one non-human thing I can't lose right now is my dog. CH, you have been demoted. George gets the bed tonight. Poor little poochie-pie.