So I made it through another one. And it’s back to normal, boring, no-more-excuse-to-celebrate life. And I’m perfectly fine with that. So now for a basic recap of my holiday:
- A very underwhelming Christmas. Santa brought some stupid target game thing and a board game called “Beat the Parents” for the RK, either of which he hasn’t even opened yet. I know he will eventually, and they’ll probably be a ton of fun, but still…no jumping for joy, no “Just what I wanted!”. Then again, he’s never been a real overly-exhuberant one. The IB got a Magna Doodle, which was a homerun. The only thing, though, is that the little triangle piece is missing its magnet. MagnaDoodle is apparently made by OhioArt (makers of the rockin’ Etch-A-Sketch), but when I go to OhioArt’s website, there’s no sign of MagnaDoodle. I made sure to write down the Consumer Services number before I threw the box out, though. Here’s hoping they can just pop a triangle with magnet into a little envelope, slap a label on it, and drop it in the mail just like I do for loupe-parts at work. Kinda weird, though…if you google “Magna Doodle” or any variation thereof, the only things that pop up are sites that sell it. Even the Wikipedia site is extremely small and uninformative. The IX got the RK a Star Wars game for his Wii that he’s been having a ball with, as well as a new Star Wars Legos set which he put together in about as much time as it takes me just to get the damn box open. Amongst all the stupid little stuff the boys got at their dad’s, I found a gift card from the homewrecker’s dad and stepmom. It was signed, “Merry Christmas [RK] and [IB]! From Grandpa M and Grandma R”. They live far away, and met the RK when we were all still friends and all went to Missouri together on vacation, and I don’t even think they’ve seen him since, or met the IB. So that card went right in the trash. Not a single soul in this house will ever give it a second thought.
- Never did bake the cookies or make the fudge with the RK like I had wanted to. But I’m proclaiming right here and now that holiday baking and fudge-making can legally be carried over into the first days of the New Year so we can get it done this weekend. And to all of you whose resolution was to start losing weight…well, you’re screwed. Just give it up now, and go bake something with us.
- I’ve finally fallen victim to the obsession that is Facebook. I distracted myself with getting it set up over Thanksgiving, and have already amassed a pretty good group of friends since then. Some who have friended me I didn’t even think would remember me, and…well, amazingly, I found my oldest friend on there. She and I met when we could still be considered toddlers, and we grew up into pre-teens together. Same private school, same dance classes, sleepovers, trips down to the lake, and page after page of pictures of the two of us doing all these things in my mom’s photo albums back in Texas. We went our separate ways towards the end of elementary school and as we went to different junior high schools. Until now. We’ve been sending novel-worthy emails back and forth getting caught up with everything that’s happened in the last 20 years, and I’ve spilled my sordid story to her in nauseating detail. In fact, I even let her in on this very secret of mine. She will be known on here as Miss Thang, because as it turns out, she got her PhD! I’m so proud! Miss Thang, I love ya, girl.
I’ve been emailing with so many others from my past through Facebook, too. It is a dangerous, debilitating addiction, and frankly, I’m expecting to see A&E do episodes of “Intervention” on it very soon. With pale, fat addicts who wear Depends so they don’t have to get up to use the bathroom and can type 100wpm as the intervention-ee, and all the family members — crying, blubbering, reading their letters about what Facebook has destroyed in their codependent lives, begging their loved one to head to one of the Facebook rehabs out in the sticks where there is absolutely no internet service available, and no signal for their iPhone or Blackberry…
…only to learn at the end of the show that once they completed the program and came back to civilization, the relapse was swift and immediate.
- Santa brought me a slow cooker for Christmas, which I broke in yesterday with a beef stew. I learned my first lesson when I came home for lunch to check on it, by discovering that you can’t fill that thing to the top. I had the beginnings (luckily) of quite a mess to clean up, and when it was all said and done, I had to clean out the heating unit with a scrubby-thing to get all the burnt crap out of it. I LOVED the stew, but the boys….not so much. The RK didn’t like that I had put tomatoes and celery in it, nor did he like the from-scratch cornbread I made. The IB just drank a little of the broth, and that was about it. It’s pretty much all he could get into his spoon, anyway. So next time, the RK and I agreed that I’ll make biscuits instead of cornbread, I’ll leave the tomatoes out, and he can pick the celery out.
- New Year’s Eve. Finagled my way out of having the kids (quite by accident, actually), and found myself partying, dancing, and drinking with a bunch of gay men. It was FABULOUS. I got to see an old friend I haven’t seen since before the shit hit the fan in my life, and meet his incredible friends as well. Finally. And it was hilarious to watch them go crazy over the DJ playing “Material Girl.” I told my friend that when the time comes that I have a little extra spending money, I’m totally going “Queer Eye” on him and taking him shopping with me. Best New Year’s I’ve had in a quite a while.
So that’s gonna be it for now. Turns out I’ve had enough going on to warrant breaking it up over two posts! WOW! I’ve got some extra-meaty post ideas rattling around the gray matter, too…stay tuned!