Merry Kisses, Intarwebs.
If my grammar went off the rails one or two run-on sentences ago, you’ll forgive it as a little known side-effect of scoliosis/sciatica. What happens is this: crooked spine puts too much pressure on a set of (saucily) humungous hips. Nerves get pinched, muscles spasm, and a level of pain ensues that should- given sufficient health insurance- be followed by a hearty bottle of opiates or muscle relaxants. In the absence of such health care our patient, displaying much moxie and innovation, decides to seek babysitting from the grandies and heads to bed with a bottle of rum in one hand and a bottle of Coke in the oth- OK, the other bottle’s on the night stand but I’m going for universal appeal so let’s imagine I’m double fisting it. And so, yes: poor grammar = drunk blogging = pain management.
Be assured, though, that the family fest of prezzies was very enjoyable. My back didn’t seize up into a fiery ball of furious evil until this afternoon- after the Bird had her Santa time. The Eve with the grandies was very nice. I had a successful first attempt at cheesecakery and the (Mormon but way hospitable) in-laws even brewed a nummy pot of actual coffee for us heathens!
The Boue is floating on a happy cloud of Baby Emma (giant, plastic, um, HUGE), a toy kitchen, and a wicked groovy rockin’ horse. Sorry- the ‘g’ felt all wrong there. After a coupla drinks I’m physically incapable of twang-supression. Even in type... weirdest thing...
She mostly ignored miss Elizabeth Tweets (handmade Etsy find extraordinaire) but I'd prepared myself for that. I think she's the cutest thing ever ever ever. The toddler'll come around after the euphoria of mass-gift receiving has settled.
So, the hubz is off to hang with