Monday again
At least I believe it is Monday. I am having trouble keeping track, I know it's been a long time since I have blogged. Oops.
The theme for NaBloPoMo for January is CHANGE, but I think I will skip it this time and just blog when I can.
So far we have had a good holiday season. Christmas was nice.
Hubby and I had our usual Christmas "discussion" centered around whether Santa Claus really exists or not. He says Santa DOES exist because he brings him a "big weenie" every year. I say; "Bosh! The summer sausage that you get every year is from your sister who tries to disguise her sickenly perfect writing on the tag. Besides I saw her bring it in from the car when they brought their gifts down here. There were never any gifts from Santa under my tree when we were kids because our parents were more realistic."
"Ha!" he replies, "You never got gifts from Santa because he doesn't deliver to doubters."
And on and on.
Then on Christmas Eve he tells me triumphantly; "I just heard on the news that Russian radar picked up a flying object over their borders, so Santa IS on his way! I hope he doesn't skip our house because he knows you don't believe in him."
*SIGH*
On Christmas night after he came in from milking he also accused me of being a grinch because I'd already taken down the tree and tossed it out the back door.
I said he'd be a grinch about the tree too if he had to sweep up all the cedar needles all the time.
The theme for NaBloPoMo for January is CHANGE, but I think I will skip it this time and just blog when I can.
So far we have had a good holiday season. Christmas was nice.
Hubby and I had our usual Christmas "discussion" centered around whether Santa Claus really exists or not. He says Santa DOES exist because he brings him a "big weenie" every year. I say; "Bosh! The summer sausage that you get every year is from your sister who tries to disguise her sickenly perfect writing on the tag. Besides I saw her bring it in from the car when they brought their gifts down here. There were never any gifts from Santa under my tree when we were kids because our parents were more realistic."
"Ha!" he replies, "You never got gifts from Santa because he doesn't deliver to doubters."
And on and on.
Then on Christmas Eve he tells me triumphantly; "I just heard on the news that Russian radar picked up a flying object over their borders, so Santa IS on his way! I hope he doesn't skip our house because he knows you don't believe in him."
*SIGH*
On Christmas night after he came in from milking he also accused me of being a grinch because I'd already taken down the tree and tossed it out the back door.
I said he'd be a grinch about the tree too if he had to sweep up all the cedar needles all the time.
Comments