lostakasha: (zaza)
No, honestly, Xmas is next Friday, right?

Work is done for the week, finally -- but that's about all. I managed to get the tree last week, but I put it in the stand and haven't gotten around to decorating it. It's in the living room in front of the fireplace, bare. The front door wreath is still on the back porch, gathering frost. Candles in the windows? Not a chance. Never mind outdoor lights.

Want a sugar cookie? I hear the 7-11 stays open late.

It's like Martha Stewart put a pox on the house.

(There will be greetings and tidings of gladness, just timed for New Year's. I've gotten some lovely cards and appreciate them so -- you'll be hearing from me before the decade ends. :::hugs you all:::)

But thanks to [livejournal.com profile] copperwash we have popcorn balls. Sticky, cinnamon-y, dentally menacing spheres of salty-sweet risk, wrapped in tin foil. Tin foil. Every year I beg her to wrap them in plastic wrap or waxed paper, but noooooo...they've got to be exactly as her mom made them, back in the day when Saran wrap was a luxury for the wealthy.

Exposing my choppers to tin foil is right up there with unprotected het sex for me -- strictly verboten. I know biting down on a stray sliver of Reynolds Wrap isn't exactly on the same plane as getting the clap or unwanted impregnation, but it's right up there on my list of avoidable horrors.

Xmas is next week, right? We've been over this.

So now the fun begins. Tree trimming! Baking! Festive dozing by the firezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
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