8 years old

I have the sense of humor of a 12-year-old boy.  Y’all know this.  It isn’t news.  But when it comes to Christmas, I’m about 8.  From tacky decorations to movies affirming the existence of Santa Claus, I’m a huge fan of yuletide.  My mom and I have done this advent thing since I was a little girl – it’s a long rectangular box filled with little numbered boxes, and every day you pull a box.  Some are filled with things like a tube of chapstick or a pack of gum, but some are bigger.  When I was younger, the big gifts would start with a note inside the box, and each note would lead to a different note, leading me on a scavenger hunt until I found my prize hidden somewhere in the house.  When I was in college and grad school, Mom would send me back to school with the first 2 weeks’ worth of advent boxes after I went home for Thanksgiving.  Now, partially because the kitchen where the advent box usually resides is torn apart, and partially because I’m on the downward slope toward 30 (oh god), the advent boxes aren’t as complex as they used to be.  However, Mom still leaves me little goodies.  (Hopefully this will be the last year I live at home, so I’ve gotta embrace the childhood traditions while I still can).

Over the past few days, I’ve gotten several little melamine dishes from Target “in” my boxes.  I’m a big fan of penguins, so they’re right up my alley!  Here’s one of the pieces:

And my poor penguin covered with lunch.  Turkey and ham with spicy mustard, and a steamed broccoli-cauliflower mix.

Something’s way wrong with me today:  veggies are making me ill.  I tried to choke them down, but they’re just making me feel icky.  Mom was home sick today with food poisoning, so I’m not sure if it was power of suggestion or what, but I’ve just felt gross.  Here’s a salad I tried to scarf down this evening.  I kinda succeeded, but my peppers and celery were really bitter, so that didn’t work out too well.

And finally my cat and my dinner – a leftover pork chop and too few asparagus spears.  I ate like half.  I hope this funk subsides tomorrow, because I really hate having an unhappy tummy. 

Hey, speaking of unhappy…I’ve been working my fingers to the bone on knitting projects over the past few days, and I succeeded at a hat pattern yesterday with a particular type of yarn, so I tried to do it again this evening with a much chunkier yarn and bigger needles.  I’d chalk it up to a giant FAIL.

That’s an unhappy face.  If a 1960s synchronized swimmer mated with a giant 5’6” penis, that hat would get crapped out of one of them.

PS – I’m not bald.