It's over!

Almost.

We still have New Year's to get through.  But that is relatively painless.  Ish.  I'm not a fan of cold late nights and rampant rookie boozehounding but I think I'll survive.  Knock wood.
I just typoed "knock wookie".
Dave is in the parade again this year and Jake might tag along for a bit.  We'll see.  It's supposed to be near 50 degrees so if he's going to go, this would be the year to do it.

***

Jake and I went to see Santa last week.  The "real" Santa at the downtown Macy's.  Of course, Jake still isn't sold that there really is a Santa Claus, but he did well.  He gave him a hug and sat next to him for pictures.  I love the no-lap Santas.  So much less creepy than the lap variety.  Jake told him he wanted a race car game (which he didn't get) and some more train tracks (which he did) and then totally dimed me out that even though I was a pretty good mom, I didn't always have milk in the house but Jake would be sure that there would be a glass out on Christmas Eve, even if he had to go out and buy it himself.

Ah, Jake and his Christmas zingers.   Although nothing beats last year's "what the heck is this barn baby doing all over the place?".

Oh right.  Jesus.  The barn baby.
Oy.

***

Christmas morning had Jake convinced that Santa really did come, but Christmas afternoon had him doubting again.  I don't want to spend my time convincing him of something that isn't true, so I just ask him what he thinks about the whole thing and he answers that it just doesn't seem possible, magic isn't real, there are so many kids in the world, and even though there are time zones and stuff, blah blah blah, Jakespeak Jakespeak Jakespeak... and I tell him that the real magic is love and sharing, and spending time together, and being thankful for all that is good and stuff, blah blah blah, Loraspeak Loraspeak Loraspeak...

Christmas is hard.
On so many levels.

But good.
On so many more.

***

Christmas Proper was quiet and full of Chinese take out and movies and playing with new toys and staying in pajamas all day.  Just the way it should be.

***

I never did get to card writing this year.  Card buying, yes. 
Maybe I'll do New Year cards.  Or Valentines.  Or nothing.

Oh my gosh, speaking of Christmas cards, my dad.
Are you on his list?  Because if you are, you now a proud owner of a picture of my boobs.  Well, half of my boobs.  The top half. 
My dad, who is a Conservative Christian by the way, wanted a picture of Dave to include in the mailing because most of us went to get our pictures taken at the mall after we buried my grandmother and Dave wasn't there to be in the group shot. 
What?  Your family doesn't have their photos taken after putting a loved one in the ground?  You mean that's not normal?  (ps- the picture looks just like you'd think it would.  We all look like we just lost our best friend.  Well, rather our grandmother/mother.)
So my dad, who is a Conservative Christian by the way, wanted a picture of Dave to include in the mailing because most of us went to get our pictures taken at the mall after we buried my grandmother and Dave wasn't there to be in the group shot.
Now, Dave isn't really a picture guy.  Neither one of us is.  We don't have a lot of pictures of ourselves.  I made a crack about how my dad just wanted to prove to his churchfolk that his daughter did not have a bastard child, as it would appear in the Family Foto.  And we laughed and Dave said that he doesn't have a picture so I suggested to my dad he look on Facebook because I know my stepmom is on there and maybe she could pull one that she liked off of there.
And then I didn't hear anything about it until I got the letter and there it was- they were.  Swaddled in a red dress.  Pressed up against Dave like two Christmas melons. 
Mor
ti
fi
cation.
It took every ounce of maturity that I have not to call my dad and be all "dadohmygod!  what were you thinking now everyone can see my boobs and they're gonna think I dress like that all the time but I didn't pick that dress it was a bridesmaid dress and all your friends are gonna think I'm a total slut but I'm not really and how can I ever show my face anywhere ever again?"
But then I figure that we don't really run in the same circle anyway and since I do have spectacular ones what's the harm anyway?  It's not like there was nipple or anything.
I don't want to hear anything about this in my comments, btw.

***

My brother and his family was supposed to come down over the weekend, but life got in the way of that so we were alone most of the weekend. 

A visit from the inlaws on Christmas day and a party in the suburbs Christmas Eve with lots of friends was fun.  And fishless.  Nothing worse than a fishy Christmas Eve.  Ick.  I like to get out of South Philadelphia on Christmas Eve if at all possible.  Seven Fishes, my ass.
One of the guys dressed up like Santa, but Jake had him pegged within five minutes.  I guess a 6 foot tall Japanese guy with a thick accent might not be the best chance one has at convincing one's child that Santa dropped by a Jewish household.
Jake was good about it though.  He said that sometimes grown ups do stuff like that for fun, and I agreed.  Sometimes we do.

***

And it snowed here.  In not quite catastrophic amounts.  Just a foot or so.  Enough to cause some fights over parking spaces and shoveling techniques.  But the wind is what gets you.  Fifty mile an hour winds managed to work their way into our house so I sealed off the laundry room and the sun room.  With curtains.  And duct tape.  And thumbtacks.  And now nothing swings in the breeze in there anymore.  I didn't know what a problem those two rooms were until they weren't a problem anymore.  They're heated, but poorly insulated.  I'll bet it's 40 degrees in those rooms now that they are standing alone. 

Man I hate being snowed in.  Even just for 24 hours.
You know what I hate more than being snowed in?  Outside when there's snow.

Everybody plays, everybody loses.

***

I got an email from HR explaining the Group Term Life Insurance deduction on our next paycheck.  I guess most people have this deduction, I don't know.  But what I do know is that it shows on our stub as GTL and now that the Jersey Shore has infiltrated into my core I think it's wildly hilarious that GTL shows up as an expense.

***

So now Christmas is past and the New Year is upon us and by this time next year none of us will smoke and we will all be 10 to 50 pounds lighter and closer to being out of debt and we won't swear so much or drink so much or eat junk so much or make anymore bad _____ decisions. 

2011 is going to be the bizzy.  I can feel it.