It was even seven in the morning yet and still I had eaten a hand full of chocolate, had a few icepick migraines, and spoke to the carpet cleaners. I hope this isn't a foreshadowing for the day to come. It's not even eight thirty now and I'm already exhausted. I hate having problems I can't solve the minute they show up. It's like a proverbial chocolate carrot tied to my back and hanging directly out of reach. Oh please just let it be the weekend already.
Last night Boomer and I wrapped all the puppy presents, though it was more of a marathon than anything. I would wrap as fast as I could before Boomer could unwrap, and then the rest of the night was spent keeping him from snooping about the tree. Which is what he is doing as we speak. You would think a full twelve inches of bull pizzle would put him off the treats for awhile. Guess not.
Wrapping presents is one of my favorite parts of Christmas, but not my favorite favorite part. I'm not much of a present girl, though I do appreciate the thought very much. Honestly, I hope that someday we can phase out the present. I thought that making the gifts this year would alleviate a lot of the stress, but there is always the one immediate family member that completely alludes you. No, my absolute favorite part of Christmas morning is the stockings. Mom is the best (past, present, future) stocking stuffer to have ever lived. A mom stocking is like coming across Blackbeard's treasure. A guaranteed supply of chocolate, cosmetics, and socks that I need but never got around to buying. Opening a stocking holds the same feeling as winning the lottery. Ever since I was little, I've been far more preoccupied with the stocking than much of anything else.
Being married though and away from the Jedi Master Stocking stuffer, I'm not so sure if it'll happen this year. That's ok. But dear husband, if you'd like to know, I wouldn't mind having a few things in a sock on Christmas. (Though if you do read this blog, I can tell you exactly what I wouldn't mind having. In fact, it's right here. This is so I never ever have to worry about my wedding ring taking an adventure through the plumbing. Pretty sure I wear I size 5.5. You could have it shipped to my parents house. See? I'm so easy!)
That's all for the morning. Time to face the day.
Last night Boomer and I wrapped all the puppy presents, though it was more of a marathon than anything. I would wrap as fast as I could before Boomer could unwrap, and then the rest of the night was spent keeping him from snooping about the tree. Which is what he is doing as we speak. You would think a full twelve inches of bull pizzle would put him off the treats for awhile. Guess not.
Wrapping presents is one of my favorite parts of Christmas, but not my favorite favorite part. I'm not much of a present girl, though I do appreciate the thought very much. Honestly, I hope that someday we can phase out the present. I thought that making the gifts this year would alleviate a lot of the stress, but there is always the one immediate family member that completely alludes you. No, my absolute favorite part of Christmas morning is the stockings. Mom is the best (past, present, future) stocking stuffer to have ever lived. A mom stocking is like coming across Blackbeard's treasure. A guaranteed supply of chocolate, cosmetics, and socks that I need but never got around to buying. Opening a stocking holds the same feeling as winning the lottery. Ever since I was little, I've been far more preoccupied with the stocking than much of anything else.
Being married though and away from the Jedi Master Stocking stuffer, I'm not so sure if it'll happen this year. That's ok. But dear husband, if you'd like to know, I wouldn't mind having a few things in a sock on Christmas. (Though if you do read this blog, I can tell you exactly what I wouldn't mind having. In fact, it's right here. This is so I never ever have to worry about my wedding ring taking an adventure through the plumbing. Pretty sure I wear I size 5.5. You could have it shipped to my parents house. See? I'm so easy!)
That's all for the morning. Time to face the day.
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