It’s officially one week ’til Christmas. Whoa.
So, as I sit here frantically ordering Christmas presents on Amazon and trying to figure out who is going to puppy-sit my crazy dog when we go out of town next week, I thought it would be best if we eased some of the frenetic energy with COOKIES. Lots of cookies. I have some pretty talented cookie loving blogger friends. We’ve got you covered. […]
This week. Let’s talk about it.
It started off with the glaring realization Christmas is hurling itself towards my face with lots of velocity, force, mass and all of those other science-y terms.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Christmas comes every single year. It even comes on the same day every single year. Yet I still find myself in an anxious and stressed out state of Christmas denial EVERY SINGLE YEAR. Note to self: Breathe. Calm down. Go watch Sister Act 2 for the third time this week. It helps. Something about that dude wearing overall jean shorts while singing (nay, rapping) Joyful Joyful never fails to turn your frown upside down. […]
Note: This post was written under the influence of a Cinnamon Maple Bourbon Sour. Although delicious, they may influence you to write an open and loving dialogue directly to Bourbon itself. I just thought you should know. I apologize if you feel awkward. I know I do. Carry on…
Hello, Bourbon.
Funny to run into you here. We just keep on meeting like this, don’t we? I’m into it. I’d much rather run into you than say, Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I ran into that dude a lot in college. He was a real headache. So, what I’m trying to say is… It’s nice to see you.
It’s no secret you’re one of my favorites. I’ve infused you with apples and you helped me celebrate my birthday. I’ve poured you over muddled raspberries in the summertime. I’ve mixed you with champagne in times of celebration. We’ve been through a lot together. I sometimes just keep it simple and sip you straight up. After all, you’re just as pretty without all that makeup (I hear flattery gets you everywhere–is it working?). […]
Okay, I’m just going to be honest with you.
I’ve been sitting here trying to write this blog post for the last twenty minutes or so. The things I typed out onto the page are suspicious at best. There was this whole bit about a Sailor appearing out of nowhere and taking us to Margaritaville. A boozy nautical kidnapping if you will. There was an entire paragraph where I described what this margarita would be wearing if it were a super hero. For some reason it had a sombrero made of limes. There were tights. There was a cape. His super powers included staining your clothes and getting you drunk. I don’t even know anymore. This week has been a doozy.
Somewhere between starting this post and the last string of deleted sailor and superhero metaphors, my spirited Golden Retriever managed to find her first mud pit of the season. She usually never comes inside when I want her to, but of course, today, with pride in her eyes and paws full of mud, she charged me. She ran puppy laps around the couch. There were expletives. There were paw prints. There was me, on my knees, scrubbing a carpet and carefully removing chunks of earth from it’s fibers. There was a guilty puppy face. There will be a Friday night steam cleaning party. […]
