Back from Holiday
Well, I hope everyone had a great holiday and that only a modicum of time will be required for the recuperative process. I just hope and pray that the Christmas lights won't, as they do annually, come to life in my attic and worm themselves into an impossible tangle. Kinda like my hair does during the night. My kids all loved their presents. It was, according to them, the best Christmas ever. One look at the Mastercard bill reminded me that they had no other option but to be thrilled. This year we went for the expensive but durable motif. When they were younger, we could get buy with el cheapo disposable toys, but nine times out of ten they'd be crushed underfoot before I even mustered enough energy to assemble them--309 labels included. If they did survive the first week, it was usually because they were the toys they ignored. My husband bought me a kick ass electric guitar. Only drawback...I actually need to learn how to play it. My commitment is to buy some lesson books and teach myself the basics before hiring a teacher. But I REFUSE--and I mean REFUSE-- to buy any lesson books containing the songs "Buffalo Gals" or "Red River Valley" or "Kumbaya." No way! I did get a pretty cool book called "You Can Learn to Play Guitar, Dammit." My first song is "I Used to Love to Play the Guitar." After a few tries, I thought, 'someone from the family is going to be a smart-ass and say they used to love LISTENING to the guitar. I'm just waiting in the wings, preparing my malicious revenge. I also had knee surgery over the holidays. What the hell i was thinking is beyond me. I guess the idea of squeaking in while some of the deductible was met is part of my reasoning. It also got me out of taking down all the tacky Christmas decorations inside and out. Plus, I can't exercise to my satisfaction with a torn meniscus, so just a glance at Christmas cookies and candy canes makes the cellulite in my thighs giggle and swell in delightful anticipation. Now, I can't do crap. But I do it any way. The doctor told me I was ready to wean off the crutches so I immediately thrust them into a storage closet and spent six minutes mentally saying my farewells to the evil instruments of bondage. I'm not graceful with the suckers and felt a broken tibia was a mere crutch-assisted footstep away. I'm almost healed, but that's just between you and I. I need to get some mileage out of this before things return to the usual crazy and chaotic baseline.