They used to make fun of my cooking, but now, I’m the one doing most of it.
Perhaps it’s because cooking is less important. I tried to keep everything warm, but everyone but me and mom was diddling at something other than eating.
The turkey was good, but didn’t get the ooooo-aaaah that I had hoped for, so next year is a straight turkey. No fancy British crap.
My brother pulled off the Santa thing in a big way this year — he put together a trampoline and hid it from my nieces until morning — fighting wind and cold rain. He’s a great dad.
The long trial of whether I could come through with the book my middle niece (and kindred spirit) came to an end today. I and her sister insured her worry over whether I had secured it for weeks. Today she opened it first. I have to admit that the books she likes encourage her to write, and I think that she has the imagination to do it. She was also the only one to get skates — her dad told me she is the only one co-ordinated enough to handle them. I told her the secret to skating — I had thought I might donate my skates, but I might keep them to skate with her.
Little one got a baby that eats and drinks and poops and pees. I guess this is a step forward for all of us. At four she knows how to take care of a baby. Sort of. That damn doll is sure to give me nightmares.
And while my Christmas was good, I know that there are people out there whose Christmas was not so happy. There are people in hospitals, people without much to eat, people braving the freezing temps tonight. My thoughts and hope go out to them. It sucks. At some point Christmas may not be so happy for me, but not this year. And when it isn’t, I won’t be whining about it. I will just tell it like it is.
This year was a good year and I don’t mind saying it.
Does that make me a conservative?