Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

In the year of our Lord 2016 decorating the Christmas tree, for some strange reason, went down a little different than any past year I can recall. My husband was here “helping.” Now I get the song God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman! Just go take a nap already!

Last week some thoughtful male in our home brought the Jenny Craig imitation tree into the living room for me. How nice! Except that it didn’t get covered all year from Last Christmas and was filthy. Upon request, a son of mine dragged it to the backyard for me and I gave it quite the shower…. lights and all. I couldn’t remember if the lights actually worked and I knew we had 27 million strings of lights from our daughter’s wedding in the garage. Her wedding wasn’t IN the garage… that’s where the lights were.

A day later an extension cord was also brought to the backyard to see if the shower killed the lights. Surprisingly, they worked! Joy to the World! Back in the house that skinny tree was dragged.

Decorate-the-O-Christmas-Tree day quickly turned into clean-out-the-garage day, much to my chagrin. It all started at 10 a.m. with the typical where-is-the-box-with-the-decorations search and recover mission. Then the shelves got cleaned out and the toilet paper and paper towels were put on the clean shelves. Then we swept the garage floor. Then the camping equipment got put back on the shelves. Then a ton of junk got thrown out. Then I got a big scrape on my arm that produced blood. Then we swept the garage floor again. Then we threw out the dilapidated camping chairs that served their purpose for 11 strong years. (This is how my kids write stories. Every sentence starts with “then.” It really holds the interest of the readers and keeps the story moving along rapidly.) Then we found the bag of sheep’s wool that we will need to study sheep in January. Then we were all hungry. Then the Popsicle man came at the right moment. Then five kids from the youth group showed up and ate tacos at our kitchen table.

Side note: this was a stay-at-home-and-look-ugly day. I hadn’t even brushed my hair. I did brush my teeth because you can only be so gross on a stay-at-home-and-look-ugly day. I was sporting a red t-shirt, grey bally sweat pants that are floods, fuzzy black slippers and a light blue and pink Peter Rabbit apron covered with ruffles. The Popsicle man is probably used to this sort of housewife-dressing-down-deal. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

It was 7:30 p.m. when Nora, our 13-year-old, could not take the suspense any longer and begged to decorate the tree. Okay, Okay! Don’t get pushy! Let’s get this Blue Christmas rolling!

We weren’t ten minutes into our mission when realization hit me that my husband hasn’t really helped hang ornaments on the tree for YEARS! He was not aware of the ornament rules and was breaking the ornament rules faster than I could instruct him in the ways of righteousness. Little ones on top. Big ones on bottom…. but not the last row of branches. Ugly ones in the back. Elvis ones in the back. (I had to make that two rules so Rick didn’t know I think the Elvis ornaments are ugly. Shhhh.) Expensive ones at eye level and next to lights. Sheesh. How hard is it? It was notably NOT a Silent Night!

Here is the front and center of our tree: (Several rules are broken!)

Then he figured since I had rules, he needed to make some rules. “Don’t linger by the ornament box! Just pull out your ornament and move away from the box!” Sheesh! I’ll admit I rolled my eyeballs toward heaven a few times and thanked God that He gave me All I Want for Christmas in this helpful man.

So, It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas at the Crosby homestead! I pray your decorations went up with glee! May your Christmas be merry and bright at this Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

Jury Duty, My Nemesis

Since it’s been 18 months and zero days since my last jury duty, the flimsy white postcard arrived in the mail as scheduled announcing my day(s) off from homeschooling! Yay!

It’s that weird season between Thanksgiving and Christmas when most homeschool mamas are torn between math and cocoa with whipped cream. Grammar and Elf. History and fuzzy socks and a snuggly blanket and a good Christmas storybook. Turning on the heater or playing wii Dance 2 for P.E.

Needless to say, I wasn’t super disappointed to be leaving my children unattended for a day or three. (This will be our little secret, k?) My remaining offspring are 13 and 18 and fully self-reliant… with eating and staying alive. Not so resilient with doing school work unsupervised, but hey, it’s December. (Well in three days it’s December, but close enough to already have Christmas cheer!) And lying cozy and warm in your bed reading a fantastic book for hours IS school! Yep!

The day started off with a BANG! From the short walk from the shuttle bus to the front of the court house, I crossed paths with a very angry black woman who spewed, “White supremacists!” to me and my fellow non-assuming, white, middle-aged, minding-our-own-business jurors. Her words literally shocked me. My mouth dropped open. Turning to the lady walking right behind me I shared, “I have never been called that before!” She hadn’t either. Wow! I felt sorry for the name-calling woman. To harbor that much anger must make life horrible! I thought of singing Christmas carols to bring up the Christmas cheer but she walked off too rapidly for my first tune to commence. Joy to the World would have been top of my chart.

Being a returning expert to jury duty, I arrived on time. Signed in and got my sticker badge. Most of my morning was spent reading two months of text messages and trying to figure out who was the other texter. I lost all my contacts on my phone except those who left text messages… but they were nameless numbers. For two hours I READ texts from September 26 to November 28 and tried to remember who I had that conversation with followed by typing in every blinking name. When would I have had time to do that if not for jury duty? Thank you, Madison Court House!

Finally I sat working at a desk until my name was announced. Dang it. I have heard rumors of people getting the notice and sitting in the waiting area ALL DAY. Think of it! ALL DAY pretty much alone to read or look up papier mache Christmas ornaments on Pinterest or make grocery lists or doodle or nap or knit. Sugary bliss! But no.

My juror number this time, out of 40, was 2. Not good. The chances of numbers 30-40 getting selected, in my vast experience, are slim to none. But I was hopeful of being dismissed just by my explanation of what my husband does for work. The trial involved police, so I was sure to mention that Rick flies for Department of Public Safety… the governor, SWAT teams, prisoner transfers and photography… and has for worked for the State of AZ for 17 years. (So the 17 years didn’t always include DPS but I could have clarified if needed.)

This is not my first jury rodeo! (It’s my second.) So I had a much firmer grasp on my emotions as fellow jurors gave feeble attempts at being excused. There was no rolling of my eyes. There were no bursts of laughter like last time. I didn’t even snicker when an elderly gentleman raised his hand and urgently told the judge, “I have to go to the bathroom so bad I can’t think straight!”

The process of jury selection was much quicker this time around and there weren’t sob stories of abuse that we had to endure, thankfully. We returned from lunch and nine jurors were selected just like that. No questioning of any of us from the attorneys. Two minutes after lunch, the rest of us received our Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card. BAM! Civic service done! Bring on the eggnog!

December 2016 I will look for my $23 fuel reimbursement check in the mailbox!

May 2018 I will look for the little, flimsy white postcard in the mailbox announcing my next half day off!  Whoo Hoooo!

The Year of Figgy Pudding

In our family, Christmas cooking was territory mainly reserved for the women. Only those of the manly persuasion who bore confidence beyond the garage would dare to enter the hallowed kitchen at holiday time. My Dad was one such warrior.

As a five year old I remember being impressed that my Dad knew how to make popcorn. This was before hot-air poppers and microwave popcorn… real men used oil, kernels, a pot and a stick of butter. Dad also made Sunday morning breakfast to entice us to get out of bed and get ready for church. Every Sunday we were awakened by him yelling up the stairwell, “Breakfast is now being served in the dining car.” This wasn’t donuts from a box or a choice of Rice Krispies, Cheerios or Trix. Dad perfected Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes, Jimmy Dean sausage and scrambled eggs with tiny pieces of bacon mixed in. We knew Dad could handle himself in the kitchen… at least before 9:00 a.m.

It was a surprise to us, however, when Dad decided one holiday that we were going to have figgy pudding… whether we wanted to or not. I think it was so we could sing with meaning, “Now bring us some figgy pudding. Now bring us some figgy pudding. Now bring us some figgy pudding and bring is right here.” Dad had never contributed to the Christmas dessert smorgasbord with the exception of holding the title Chief Taster of Pumpkin Pie. In fact, figgy pudding had never made the holiday menu at our house. Dad figured that we didn’t know what we were missing, and it was time to find out.

Mid-December, Dad searched the web for figgy pudding recipes finally selecting one that contained a few short cuts. There would be no removal of stems from a pound of dried figs at our house. Instead there would be the sound of cellophane being removed from the Fig Newton cookies. The recipe called for a special glass bowl with a plastic seal-able lid. The week before Christmas while most shoppers were gathering last minute gifts, my father was locating and purchasing the exclusive figgy pudding bowl.

Christmas morning was filled with the traditional stocking opening and cinnamon buns. Shortly after the socks were emptied Dad slipped into the kitchen to start preparing his wonder dessert. As the heavenly aroma of molasses, buttermilk and cinnamon filled the air we began singing, “We won’t go until we get some. We won’t go until we get some. We won’t go until we get some, so bring it right here.” Even with short cuts, it was one of those all-day recipes that had the chef glued to the clock most of the day. Personally, I was salivating by the time dessert rolled around, but my three kids were highly unimpressed with the brown goop that Grandpa had concocted.

The final step before we could indulge in the brown delicacy was the beating of the whipped cream to top off the figgy pudding. As Dad jostled the electric hand mixer, our children began pleading to be excused from Grandpa’s figgy pudding. No way. Everyone at the table would be partaking. It was sort of a bloodline requirement.

Much to our amusement, the hand mixer died mid-whip. Smoke escaped from the slits above the power cord and there were no stiff peaks in sight. If the figgy pudding killed the mixer, what will it do to us? We all wondered in silence. The mixer was thrown in the garbage yet the mission continued.

Not to be defeated, Dad put away the dessert plates and retrieved bowls from the cupboard. He scooped the brown chunky, air-pocketed glop and topped each mound with runny, half-beaten whipped cream and served them with glee.

My children are usually quite fearless when trying new delicacies, but I don’t think Grandpa’s figgy pudding was a contender in that category. In turn, each one took a bite and made the most contorted facial expression possible while trying to swallow without chewing. We laughed until tears dripped off our cheeks into the soupy bowls before us.

My husband, who has a stomach of steel, did finish his serving but profusely refused a second helping… over and over again. My mother wasn’t able to stomach her entire bowl of brown goodness, but smiled sweetly as always. Dad and I were the only ones who LOVED the stuff. We were secretly glad that no one else liked it, all the more for us. For the next five days Dad and I sang together with gusto, “Now bring us some figgy pudding and bring it right here,” as we enjoyed his extraordinary holiday dessert.

Thanks, Dad, for that happy Christmas memory!

Home Alone… but not.

Knowing that adopted children often have abandonment issues, we have been keenly aware of not leaving Nora anywhere alone. Yes, she’s 12 now, and we have left her for 10-15 minutes home alone a few times. But it’s not something I am comfortable with because she’s not comfortable yet.

The first time Nora stayed by herself in our house was for eight minutes while I delivered her brothers and a few friends up to Grandma’s swimming pool. Our tiny car didn’t have room for her too. My parent’s live 1.9 miles away. I even might have sped a little as my insides were queasy for her in sympathy. Upon my return I asked her what she did while alone. Her reply didn’t surprise me. “I stared out the window the whole time because I couldn’t believe you actually left me.”

Okay, maybe we’ve been a tad overprotective.

Today was a gross oversight by many relatives, as Nora and her cousin Luke, age 11, both got dropped off at Grandma’s house to help decorate the Christmas tree. It’s a tradition those two have held strongly for four years. So cute. The only glitch was both cars drove away…. and Grandma and Grandpa weren’t at home…. for 45 minutes. Horror of horrors. Neither kid has a cell phone. They are ALWAYS with someone else. Why would they need a cell phone?

I’m so glad they were together. Their report of their 45 minute escapade made me chuckle. They looked through all the windows of the whole house. All the lights were off. They went into the backyard and tried the side and back doors. All locked. They decided to stay in the front yard to wait for a rescue vehicle as they realized they were truly abandoned. Left for dead on the sidewalk in front of their grandparent’s home.

When cars would drive by they “acted” like they were playing so they didn’t look like children waiting to be abducted… just normal neighborhood children hanging out in the front yard … with no toys… just rocks and cactus. And Nora is SOOOO good act looking casual in times of distress!

The deserted children thought of walking to our house, as they just had done on Thanksgiving night with Nora’s dad two weeks ago.  But Nora remembered her legs hurt for three whole days last time because they ran a lot of the way down the hill. That was out.

Then the police helicopter started circling the house and Nora secretly hoped it was going to land and save them. No such luck. They devised a plan to knock on a neighbor’s door, ask to use their phone, and took their time analyzing all the houses. They finally decided on the house next door but were working up their courage when Grandpa and Grandma pulled up and saved the day! Whew!

So we had a talk about which neighbors are the safe ones to go to, but this will NEVER happen again, I can guarantee it. At least until she’s 16…. or has a cell phone.

 

Christmas Baking at its Best!

This has been my year of slowing down… giving up control… take ‘er easy, eh!  That extended over into my Christmas baking.  Remembering my baking days of the past…. I had lists for the grocery store… new recipes picked out from Pinterest and printed out…. days marked off the calendar for BAKING ONLY!  No more.

This is how it went down this year…. the slowing down year….  I noticed that none of the five others living in this house were eating up the chunky peanut butter.  This brought on the spontaneous idea of making peanut butter cookies.  You know the ones… with the criss-cross fork marks.  Immediately I broke out the trusted red and white checked Betty Crocker cookbook with stains and spills to tell of my love.  There are plenty of spots on the peanut butter cookie page… bringing comfort to my soul.  So I started making the yummy delicacy… deciding to double the recipe along the way.  I was obviously absentmindedly following the recipe while visions of sugar plums danced in my head.  I remembered an entire bowl of milk and white chocolate Hershey kisses left over from a party three days hitherto.  I decided mid-mix to make the peanut butter cookies with the kisses in the middle.  So yummy!

While all that was going on, I somehow switched which recipe I was following in Betty’s book.  Bummer.  I found myself looking into a bowl of WAY too much sugar and an odd amount of flour for the PB cookies.  I realized I was not making German Chocolate Pinwheels…. so I set that bowl aside, stuck a sticky note over the incorrect recipe, and started the dry ingredients again.  Then I didn’t have enough flour.  A trip across the street to borrow flour commenced.

Fast forward five or six days… the bowl with flour and sugar is still sitting on the counter with a sticky note in it detailing the amounts of ingredients.  The German cookies required far too much effort and time to continue. So today, I decided to pour over Betty’s offerings to see if any recipe called for those measurement of sugar and flour.  YES!  Pumpkin bars did!  Two weeks ago I was in Fry’s grocery store and saw pumpkin on sale… so I bought it.  My sister once told me, “If you buy what you love you’ll always have what you need!”  (It was concerning scrapbooking supplies, but I have applied it to every area of my life.)  Today two huge pans of pumpkin bars were created to perfection.

However, the recipe called for cream cheese frosting.  I did discover a tub of said frosting in the fridge and frosted 1/2 of one pan.  A third of a pan was consumed sans frosting.  Another fourth was eaten with frosting.  I texted my grocery-store-bound husband and asked him to pick up more frosting.  Many people in North Phoenix must be making pumpkin bars with flour and sugar left over from German Chocolate Pinwheels that were supposed to be Peanut Butter Kisses….. there was no cream cheese frosting to be found.  Finally arriving home with bricks of cream cheese…. that now need to be made into frosting…. that’s where we are.  And we will be here until tomorrow as the Grinch that Stole Christmas just started.

How has your Christmas baking gone???

Am I Turning into Scrooge???

Sorry, but I am not excited about gift giving this year.  Yes, I love to bless those around me, but I’m starting to realize that maybe my spiritual gift is not gifts.  I would rather spend time doing some family/bonding/memory/making activity that will last in my children’s minds forever!  Seriously, what did we buy them last year that they are still using? The question is semi-unfair as we went to our homeland, Canada, last year for Christmas.  Being in the desert in the Southwest, we had to buy warm clothes, long pants and shoes for the kids and we kept telling them the vacation to another country WAS their gift.  :o)

See?!  What a great memory!

Our then 9-year-old daughter was DYING to get this set/book where she could draw outfits for dolls.  She LOVED it to death… I think it took about 21 days.  I haven’t seen it in almost a year.  We also got her a fat, purple and pink sparkly piggy bank that she spied in Walmart.  She was DYING to have a place to put her money…. AND would accentuate her pretty bedroom. I’m fairly certain the pig has been vacationing with the naked dolls that still need dresses since late February.  If the Popsicle man ever comes by in July/August and my wallet is empty, I need to remember to look for that pig.

My then 16-year-old son was DYING to have this totally overpriced black with lime green stripe cooler-than-cool jacket.  It is a close fitting, non-waterproof, zip-up, and being in Arizona I’m giving him a bit more grace than his little sister for not using it A LOT.  I did see the lime green coolness trying to peek out from a pile of clothes on the floor in his room.  I’m not sure if he wore it or if it fell off the hanger?  Then Dec. 16th, we crossed over the Sierra Nevadas in a snow storm…  pulled into the first ROSS we found and bought him a more suitable winter jacket.  Jacket #2 has been in the winter clothing box in the garage since January 2nd.

My then 14-year-son, who was DYING for concert tickets or iTunes gift-cards, got a mountain bike.  My husband bought it hoping for father-son bonding times, which did happen a few times last January and February.  Now, said son HAS used the bike and he does take care of the bike, but he rides his longboard 9 out of 10 days of the week.  Recently I asked him what we got him for Christmas last year… long pause… “Concert tickets or something?”  Um, no, but we probably should have.

My then 19-year-old got the most useful, but not necessarily fun gift…. an orange suitcase of her very own.  She was leaving for college in January and it turned into a necessity as I realized if I didn’t buy her one, she would be taking one of mine.  All that said, she LOVES orange and LOVED it…. AND she took one of mine anyway.  She also opened a brand new shiny pair of Nike tennis shoes, as some sort of athletic course at school was in her near future.  I’m positive that the Nikes won the “Most Used” Christmas gift of 2012.

Rick and I got a nice shiny red van for Christmas… that I crashed three months later.  Boooo Hissssss.  At least I remember what we received!!!

Do you remember what you bought everyone last year?  Do you remember what you received?

January 16, 2013…. the year begins…. tardily…

This is the longest hiatus I have ever had from MSJ.  I am astonished that you faithful readers keep coming back and reading in my absence.  Hopefully something I wrote somewhere along this journey gave you something to smile about!  At this point, headlines would not even fit the bill for the last two months of craziness in the Crosby household.

We had the Great Computer Crash of 2012 which began with a mystery download from an unnamed son (who knows better) which slowed our computer to a snail’s pace, but gave us a nice icon of Jesus wearing red head phones.  So, off the tower went to Howard, the other savior (little s).  THEN, the plug-in dealie on my laptop broke… broke right off the board (whatever that means).  We are still in denial about having to pay the same cost as buying a new laptop to have it repaired. So we have been internetless since December10th…. until yesterday.

Good thing there was a three week road trip in there!  It wasn’t our original plan, but it worked in our favor to drive up and down the western states and into Canada using our friends’ and relatives’ computers.  The Crosby Canadian Christmas Adventure was cold but quite enjoyable spending time in British Columbia… by the fire place and eating hot soup and sipping warm cocoa.  Rick and the older kids went to a spin class several times, but also took in: swimming, ice skating, paint ball, pickle ball, a glow-in-the-dark ping pong tournament, snowboarding and skiing.  The kids haven’t seen their Uncle Glen in 10 years!  Hopefully it won’t be that long next time!

Thirty-six hours after we returned from the west coast road trip, we embarked on our southwest road trip to take Larisa (our firstborn, first graduate, first everything) to Oral Roberts University in Tulsa, OK.  If you haven’t been to ORU  (or to the 1960s in a while), it is a trippy scene….. I’ve never seen so many buildings made of gold and sidewalks that are diagonal.  Seriously, if you are a film producer and need a 1960s set, DON’T BUILD ONE!  Go to Tulsa; it’s all there for your 1960s dreams to come true.

We did have a successful first launch of a child from the nest.  Rick and I had plenty of reflection time (due to him mistakenly taking three extra days off work) as we drove from OK through KS, CO and NM on our way home to AZ.  My conclusion to our happy send off is that we have no regrets.  We feel like we did what the Lord called us to do with homeschooling and pouring our lives into raising our kids.  (Not that we are done, by any stretch of the imagination…. nine more years.) Most importantly, I am thrilled that Larisa gets to go to a school still based on the foundation is started on….. Jesus Christ.  I’m so blessed knowing that she is surrounded by other kids who are sold out to the Lord and are striving to learn to be more like Him.  ORU is unusual in today’s world and it is the perfect place for our girl right now. (The JB posters were a joke…. thank GOD!)

Yes, I still accidentally set six places at the table on the first night home, but there were no tears.  Only smiles of joy and gladness.  And I can blog again.  My world is right-side up, despite a choppy start to 2013.  Happy New Year!

ROAD TRIP to Canada Day #1

Every five years, our family makes the trek north to our homeland Canada where we met and fell in love with starry eyes and warm hearts.  Crosby Family Christmas was occurring in Abbotsford, B.C. at my brother and sister-in-law’s house.  Three out of the four siblings arrived with kids in tow along with Rick’s folks…. 15 of us in all.

We never leave on time for road trips.  Various circumstances contribute to this, mostly, however, is my dear husband’s tendency toward tardiness.  Day #1 had 12 hours of driving on the agenda, but there was not an impending arrival time that we were aiming at.  This was a godsend because my great aunt and uncle are staying in our house for us and watching the doggies…. which translates to the house needing to be spotless… way beyond the normal “leaving on vacation” level of cleanliness…. causing three of my four children to roll their eye balls at their mother.

Soooooooo, departure time was chosen for 7:00 a.m.  At 9:15 a.m. dusting and mirror cleaning were still in progress.  We pulled out of the driveway at 9:38 a.m. BUT there were three scheduled stops before we could leave town.  Rick had some checks to drop off, his work truck to take to the mechanic and we still needed gas for the trip.  At 10:27 we pulled into Circle K in downtown Phoenix and Rick announced to his wife and four children, “Everyone go to the bathroom because we’re not stopping for a long time!”   Into the gas station we obediently traipsed.

11:01 a.m. we officially left Phoenix and began our trek westbound.  At 11:18 a.m. Rick mousily squeaked from the middle row of the van that he needed to go to the bathroom….. so we turned into another Circle K in Buckeye, AZ!  And thus began our 3,400 mile ROAD TRIP to the Great White North….  only 3+ hours behind our scheduled departure.  Not bad.

Christmas Creativity

My sister asked me to make an apron for her in April or May.  She sent me a picture of what she wanted…. black with tiny polka-dots and a few faint ruffles on the bottom edge.  Black didn’t seem practical for baking…. flour, butter and sugar will show up like a fly in the milk.  But black and pink are so cute together! I’ve been wanting an apron myself for quite some time, so the idea appealed to me.  My sister-in-law, Jennie, came for a visit in March and brought me beautiful Beatrix Potter Benjamin Bunny fabric…. perfect for an apron for a Miss Potter super-fan!

June rolled around and we were off to a cabin for vacation.  Before we left I gathered fabric, ric-rac, ribbon, thread and I found a pattern that looked fairly straight forward.  The creative juices were flowing…. but sewing time didn’t present itself at the cabin.  Bummer. 

December rolled around and my sister was coming for Christmas!  I had great expectations, but I didn’t actually get the apron sewn before gift giving commenced.  It was more of a last day of December gift.  She loved it and so did I.  I just had to share how cute it turned out.  Now hopefully I’ll get mine done before next Christmas baking season!

HELLO! and come in for some hot cocoa!

Many disturbances in the force have contributed to my blogging absence… including, but not limited to, Christmas, my sister and her family visiting from Washington, Christmas Eve service, an Elvis Dinner Theater double date, Jesus’ Birthday party, cookie decorating, shopping, wrapping, Chelsea (Larisa’s friend) visiting for a week, and an Amazon gift wrapping experience that made me appreciate my life. (That warranted a blog all by itself!) Oh, and I almost forgot the most important reason I have not been on MSJ…. my laptop got a virus and wouldn’t let me get online.  It’s all better now, thanks to Howard.

Many Christmas blessings transpired which I have been eager to share.  #1 (and most important) I got a text from my friend Jill on Dec. 22nd near midnight that read “A friend has two free baby wiener dogs. Did you get Larisa a gift yet?”  That was it.  I was ruined.  Have you seen dachshund puppies?  They are irresistible… even if you have sworn by the Virgin Mother and the baby Jesus child that you will never go through puppy-raising a second time in your entire life.  My 18-year-old daughter has wanted a wiener dog for years.  She has a dog.  But she wanted a wiener dog.  I’ve said NO for years.  She has taped pictures of wiener dogs on my bedroom door.  She has posted wiener dog pictures on my facebook page.  She even doggy-sits wiener dogs… and brings them over to show me how adorable they are.  I finally broke down and told her I would buy a wiener dog for her as a wedding gift.  (She doesn’t even have a love interest at the moment… and as I said previously, she’s only 18.)  I thought it was a great compromise.  Then came the text.  I didn’t say anything, I simply showed the text to my husband.  We both raised our eyebrows and shook our heads.  We were thinking the same thing….. FREE…. and our little Colombian princess would love to have a puppy to play with.  It could be a doggy for both of our girls to share.  Then when Larisa goes to college, Nora is still here to clean up the back yard of doggy doodoo.  Perfect.

I called another friend who received a baby wiener dog for Christmas last year…. and didn’t keep it.  I wanted to know why.  Her answer didn’t help me.  She didn’t have time to train him.  Well, I’m home all the time… with nothing to do.  Perfect.  I started to list off all the things we would need to purchase for the puppy…. doggy door, crate, gate, etc.  She piped in with a FREE doggy door and crate.  Perfect.

Christmas Eve at approximately 11:59 and 1/2 Rick gave his blessing for the acquisition of the baby wiener dog.  Oh, were our girls going to be thrilled.  A few glitches have occurred.  It took us so long to decide, the puppy missed ride #1 from California to Phoenix.  Ride #2 is on Jan. 3rd.  At least that gives us a week before we start school again!  Here are the girls when they heard the new puppy news:

Shocked and amazed.  It was priceless.  We only have a few blurry pictures from which to choose a new family pet… and they are from a cell phone.  We don’t have a name chosen yet, and Larisa is leaning toward the bigger brown puppy not the smaller black puppy.  I’ll keep you posted and hopefully get some blog-worthy photos.

I’ll save #2 and #3 Christmas blessings for other blogs.  Needless to say… not much else could beat a Christmas puppy… and it isn’t even home yet.  (I’m seeing this as my ticket to new carpet… in a year!)