Christmas or Bust

Just for fun, here are some of my favorite auto-correct errors I caught before sending the texts last week:

To Kevin: I went to Nordstrom Rack to try on hands. (I meant jeans.)
To McStreamy: Where are you eating your boys tomorrow? (I meant bird.)
To Jnet: You left a bag of white powder at our house at Thanksgiving. (Oh yeah—that wasn’t a typo. That really happened.)

Thanksgiving was fun and loud and crazy. We had 22 people so I bought a 20-pound bird and worried that it wouldn’t be enough. Somehow we ended up with 40 pounds of leftover turkey. Seriously. It made the loaves and fishes thing seem like child’s play.

I wore my best fox-print dress for the occasion.


(Not pregnant; it’s just a full skirt.)

The day after Thanksgiving, we pulled down all the Christmas boxes from the attic. I had a panic attack like I always do, first of all because the rafters will surely collapse one day under the weight of Christmas and second of all because where in heaven’s name I was going to put all this junk??! I promised, as I always do, that someday I will have one single box of Christmas decorations and Kevin said, as he always does, that that will never happen. So box by box I unloaded the entire contents of the attic into one room of our house.






I put the last electric votive in its candle holder and said to Kevin, “There. Now I can just relax and enjoy December.”

You can hear him laughing still.

Tater Tot Casserole (thanks, Kim!)
Pumpkin pie (is it still good?)
Pecan pie

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