Last week was very difficult. I had a bunch of hard stuff I absolutely had to do at work that I absolutely didn't want to do because hard stuff is hard. Plus it was the short week before Christmas and the days were sunny and shiny but short, and by short I mean I watched the sun rise from my office at 10.30a and then watched the sun set from my office at 3.30p.
None of which helps me want to be at work. Actually, all of that made me want to lie down and sleep for the entire three day weekend. But Steve had heard about Marian Call's victorious tour-of-all-50-states concert and since Marian Call is lovely we decided to go. And by decided I mean:
"So did you want to go to that thing tonight?"
"Well, I guess. I mean, it sounds okay, and if you want to go..."
"Sure if you're up for it."
"We could eat at Yak & Yeti!"
So we went and I am so, so glad we did because great stuff happened, like curry from Yak & Yeti. And I got to see old friends, meet new friends, and tweetjack a local celebrity (!). And then I'm pretty sure I grabbed a new friend's boobs, grabbed a local celebrity's butt, met Jesus, had my butt grabbed by a local celebrity, and gained approximately 400 new twitter followers.
It was all quite awesome and I wish you all were there. But it didn't help me get up Christmas Eve morning for the early pilates class, ohhh no. I slept in and Steve made breakfast, which pretty much made up for skipping pilates and gave me the strength I needed to brave last minute Christmas shopping even though I had already done approximately 0% of my required Christmas shopping.
I made it home in one piece and set out to make chocolate cinnamon ice cream by mixing warm cream and cocoa and then steeping cinnamon sticks in cream and sugar for an hour. And in one moment of terrific miscalculation I dumped ice water into the cinnamon-infused custard. I fixed it by first crying and second starting over with the custard and third making pizza.
We ate pizza and watched Muppet Christmas Carol and I sang along with the songs while nibbling on a cinnamon stick. It was probably a good 30 minutes before Steve noticed and acted all disgusted that I would chew on a cinnamon stick like that. I think he was just upset he hadn't thought of it first.
Christmas morning was all about waffles and watching the dog open up her gifts, which is the funniest thing ever:
We got presentable (meaning: put on pants) and went to Steve's brother's for dinner with a quick detour to the dog park to run the poop out of the dog. I wore a black skirt with black sweater tights from Target which are the best thing ever to put on my legs in the winter. Seriously they are fantastic, everyone needs a pair.
We had a lovely time and ate turkey and ham and potatoes and played Zombies!!! and ate ice cream and wore ourselves plumb tuckered out. A very merry Christmas.