It's ALIVE!

Aah, the sweet smell of a laptop! It's back and I'm LOVING it!

The Day of Doom is almost upon us, and the birthdays are tomorrow. I am about as ready as I'm going to get. I have to stack ice cream cakes for the birthdays and umm, something else I can't remember, but mostly, I'm about as ready as I'm going to get. Which may not be as ready as I need to be.

I bailed on the playgroup/cookie exchange this year. It's only supposed to be regular Wednesday playgroup, but the last one before Christmas always turns into a cookie swap. Which I'm never prepared for. So for me, it's more like a cookie grab. Tacky yes. It was a gorgeous day, but I couldn't get anyone to go with me to playgroup, and it seemed pitiful to go alone. If you know what I mean. "I have no children or gifts. Can you give me some? Cookies, not kids?"

The Boy is frantic with anticipation. He is preparing for The Day with a red-hot fervor. His head may spontaneously explode at any moment. He informed me half an hour ago that he can't sleep -- he needs a haircut. I told him to get the heck back in bed before I do something desperate. I swear.

The Girl is taking this all with her usual equanimity. Which translates into, "She doesn't have a clue that she's supposed to be breathlessly anticipating presents and/or the Magic of Christmas." Sad, but helpful. I'm keeping her up to date on what is happening on what day, but she's not in full-on Christmas-present mode, like some people I could name. Boychild.

Funny thing happened today. True story. I got a present/package in the mail that said it was from "PA Shelton". Now, assume that my maiden name is Shelton. What would you think? I thought that was pretty weird, considering my father would never call himself "PA" Shelton. I also thought it was strange because my father had already gotten me to buy the kids' Christmas presents for him. Strange. Hmm. Maybe he's losing his mind and sending me Hickory Farms for no apparent reason. OR. Yeah, or it's from my brother in Pennsylvania -- PA Shelton, as opposed to my father who is FL Shelton. Ooooohhh. The Sheltons in Pennsylvania. My brother.

Now, there's a good chance that you don't find this funny, but when I read the package label to my mother, she was as baffled as I was. My usually-dignified father had started calling himself "PA"? When I finally explained it, she almost peed herself laughing. It was worth the phone call. It may not, however, be worth the summer sausages... For what it's worth, my brother and his wife didn't think it was funny at all. Whatevah.

So I hope everyone has a good, umm, day. I'll be trying to keep the birthday presents in a separate bin from the Christmas ones and trying to manage expectations. Wish me luck.

And just for fun, I'm passing on a really great post that Suburban Correspondent had posted. Enjoy!