I get knocked down, but I get up again

I am a good mother. A healer, if you will. Me and my magic friend, the PediaCare nightlight with Soothing Vaportasticness. Norah's feeling much better, and as a result I no longer want to plug my ears with whatever substance is available, crawl into my closet, and die. You wouldn't think a stuffed-up kid could cry that loud, but then YOU WOULD BE WRONG.

Anyway. Days until Christmas = 12! Days I have off between now and then = 4! Number of days of work I need in order to afford unpurchased Christmas presents = 43! I'm getting nervous. Last year at this time, I was finished with the shopping and even 99% finished with the wrapping. This year, I have managed to buy things for four of my eleventeen recipients and to prevent the baby from eating an entire roll of Scotch tape. Other than that, I have had neither the time nor the funding. Some of you may be receiving ornaments made out of wax paper.

Must go eat coffee ice cream, pretend it's caffeinated, and stay up until midnight working on various projects. Bet you wish you were here, don't you?


  1. Well, I KNOW you don't wish you were here, Annie. SB gave me the address just so I can write that the place misses you. And soon we'll miss SB, too. Hey, have you noticed that the princess looks like you, said Obvious Woman!

  2. Crying babies have been known to reach decibel levels not surpassed by even the horn on a freight train. : ^ )

    Happy Holidays to you, Norah and Rob.

  3. A-kins, just give people framed pictures of the princess. If they really love you, it'll be the perfect gift. And if they don't, they still won't complain for fear of being immediately recognized as the long-lost half-cousin of the Grinch. :)Li