The short kid went to school today, which was nice. It’s amazing how fast I adjusted to having the day to myself and how I managed to accomplish anything before this past September boggles my mind. Quite frankly, how I kept my sanity without the use of earplugs topped by noise-cancelling headphones boggles my mind.
I just returned from Wal-mart, where I picked up my box of Christmas cards. Yay! Now I have to sign them all and address the envelopes. Not so yay. But they came out pretty good—we tried to pose the boys, but they’re hams by nature and we ended up with an “outtakes” collage. A typical Christmas card? No. A Stacey family Christmas card? Pretty much. Y’all will get to see it on Christmas.
Besides addressing umpteen envelopes, I must also finish editing and then upload my RTB column. I swear I always feel like the Court Jester of RTB and I feel this pressure to be hard-hitting and informative, but there are others who handle the “essay” format so much better than I.
Take for instance, Dear Author’s post on romance needing a makeover. There are many well thought out, well-written and intelligent responses disagreeing.
Who miss the covers from the eighties
I love the man-titty
A good clinch makes me giddy
Pastoral still-lifes I don’t want to see.
Not so much with the hard-hitting opinion piece. But considering how seriously we as a family took the Christmas card photo, I think it just runs in the family. Knowing my children as I do, I’m betting on the short kid being the first of the two to hand in a homework assignment in limerick form.