Snail Male

 

In case you’ve ever wondered what sort of head case I am: when planning for Offspring’s departure I realized we wouldn’t be able to speak on the phone often or at all so letters would be the thing—which has turned out to be true—but then I started overthinking it.  How does one address such a letter?  How often should I write?  What should I write about?

 

Now, I could have brought these questions and concerns to Husband or Offspring, but that would have exposed my inadequacies and, frankly, my level of crazy.  I’m only comfortable showing you my crazy. 

 

So I googled it.

exhausted man at cluttered desk; desk placard identifies him as Google (from "If Google was a guy" videos)

 

Extensively.

 

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Ah, Faaaaaamily

 

‘Tis the season, friends.

 

'Tis the season for balls (brainlesstales.com)

Well, yes.  But also…

 

I’m writing to you from my favorite spot in the whole house—three and a half feet from a tree that looks like it stepped out of a Macy’s window to spend the season with us—wearing jingle bell earrings and a jingle bell bracelet and a jingle bell necklace,* because if you don’t jingle all the way you’re not Christmassing hard enough and you don’t get eggnog shakes with cookie dough vodka in. 

 

cookie dough vodka

Yas plz.

 

Them’s the rules.

 

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Notes From a Food Coma

 

We all have our holiday traditions—eyerolling, drinking, overeating, and vowing next year will be different somehow are popular ones—but looking back, I seem to have acquired a new Thanksgiving tradition: blogging the recap.

 

Hey, life of a blogger = no secrets, right?  Well, I’m not going to give you the blow-by-blow, but there were some… moments.

 

cornucopia centerpiece

I keep thinking I’ll do one of these, but then I remember my Thanksgiving rule: the table is for FOOD.

 

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