Guest Blogger: LDB!

Here are some humorous updates from LDB, who is otherwise a mature and contributing member of society:

Lizzie and I always fight when we put up Christmas decorations. She thinks a nativity scene should look like a "Jesus campfire." And we usually spend the month of December going behind each other moving the figurines in and out of campfire formation.  One year, we had a huge fight in Garden Ridge because she didn't like the Christmas Tree balls I picked out--they matched the colors of the living room, which she thought was stupid. So get this...Well this year, she was all pissed off because all of our Christmas ornaments don't match.

Her:    "Mom, why can't we have one of those nice matching trees where everything is color coordinated?"

Me: "Because part of the fun of Christmas is putting up the different ornaments and remembering where you got them or who gave them to you. It's nice memories." 

Her: "No it's not."

Her: "Can we move, I hate our house."

Me: (quietly pouring a gin and tonic)

She is a hoot and a half.  I did not get mad at her, because I totally understand.  Women each have their own way of decorating and running a household. Even though I love my G'ma, Mom, Sister, and girlfriends, I wouldn't want them deciding how my house looks or where I put my stuff.  Even the lady who helps me clean my house rearranges stuff to the way she thinks it looks better.  I am really excited to see what kind of house Lizzie will have when she's grown up.  I hope it's something that my grandchildren, Laurie, Maggie and Frank, will love growing up in.  But I am pretty sure Laurie and Maggie will complain at her all the time.  Bitches.

We got Adele’s (LDB’s dog) picture taken with Santa this weekend.  She was a little bit scared of him, but we managed to get it.  Santa is straining with one eye closed to keep her under his arm and she's busy shimmying out the back side.

Went to my Mom's Beer Friday friend's house on Thanksgiving night to drink wine and chit chat after dinner(s).  Someone was complaining about not being able to reliably go "number 2."  It's a common problem for women (as you know, Cliff). The solution, we got out the Miralax and everyone stirred it into their wine, bourbon/coke, etc.... Turns out, it dissolves totally and you can't taste it.  That was a first.

Buddy, my cat, peed on Lizzie's backpack and ruined her French book.  Lizzie asked me to e-mail the teacher and ask her for a new book, but said I should not tell her what happened.  It's embarrassing.  So I emailed the teacher: "Dear Mrs. Hill, Elizabeth's French book got ruined over the holiday.  It's something like the "dog ate it" only much grosser. Can we buy a new one? Sorry for the inconvenience."  Mrs. Hill's response:  "No worries.  A new one is $3." Thanks Mrs. Hill, but I've got some worries, like "when's this peeing cat going to kitty heaven?"

Spent 8 hours on Sunday making a model of a cell in a shoe box with Lizzie.  A plant cell, not a prison cell. It's pretty nice if we do say so ourselves.  Will try to get you a picture.  I know you are dying to see it.