A bunch of gifts mysteriously appeared under my tree today. A happy surprise, yes, but not a single one of those packages is TiVo or Wii or Johan Santana shaped, which means that there had damn well better be a pony hidden in the garage somewhere.
Just sayin'.
My gifts have all been bought and wrapped, the cookies are baked, and snow is finally in the forecast. Enough with the prep work already. Bring on the Christmas.
The first of the sister-cousins, Shanna, arrived home yesterday. Tiffany, who thankfully was not blown away or crushed by falling trees during the recent killer windstorm in Seattle (she also assures me that Cupcake Royale is safe, and thank heaven for that), is due in on Saturday, and preparations for the second-annual flirtini party are well underway. This year's theme is "Little House on the Prairie Meets Sex and the City."
The invitation pointed out that there were four Ingalls daughters, there were four girlfriends who regularly met at that coffee shop in Manhattan, and there are four sister cousins in each of our two families. And that cannot be mere concidence.
We have been instructed to wear our best sunbonnets and Manolos, and I'm told the menu will include salt pork, corn bread, and Chinese takeout.
I'm sure it will all make perfect sense once we've had a flirtini or two.
P.S. For those of you who have been up nights wondering if the Goddess is a real or artificial tree person, please note the needles on the carpet.
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