Dogs washed, chicken salad and eggplant casserole made, presents wrapped.
Hen house de-poopified. Some laundry done and put away.
Husband home and he has some sort of gastric thing going on so chicken soup made. It'll either kill him or cure him. Or...neither. He looks a little peaked to me.
But he just did this:
He strung lights up out front.
I love that man.
He apologized for being so late with it this year. I told him I didn't care. We could leave 'em up all year for all I care. I'd like that. I do love a colorful display which looks not unlike a juke joint. I am not being sarcastic here. I really do.
And tomorrow the kids will come out and we'll have eggnog (and I really worry that this is a bad idea, being as how eggnog is so delicious and so lethal) and then we'll eat all sorts of holiday foods including ham which I normally do not allow myself to buy or cook because I love it so much that I will eat it and eat it and eat it and then there's the ten-thousand cookie assortment AND the Costco fruitcake.
Just please, god, don't let anyone puke. That is my true and sincere Christmas wish.
Hank and May will be spending the night and then on Christmas morning we'll drive to town and pick up my mother and go to Lily and Jason's house for breakfast and presents with the babies. We're going to have to take the damn trailer to haul all this shit there. I wrapped presents for three hours. And I did not take my time and do a good job, either. I was a Christmas-present-wrapping machine.
And then, and THEN, on Thursday, Jessie and Vergil will be coming. I miss them so much it hurts. I am so glad they're coming.
Christmas. I may have thrown myself into it this year but I will tell you one thing- I have not yet nor will I voluntarily listen (or is it listened?) to a damn Christmas carol.
And I mean it.