If we were having coffee, I’d tell you it’s been a minute since I last posted, and I’d thank you for thinking it’s because I finished my NaNo novel. I did not. Again.
Congratulations to everyone who got winner badges and I’ll just be over here reminding the rest of us that novels aren’t just for November.
If we were having coffee I’d say that in an effort to actually break a bad habit, my Christmas shopping is half done.
Our Annual Hyphenated Christmas Shopping Trip was last weekend. I planned for a few double-barrelled arguments, but there weren’t any.
Although, I did mange to get hit in the face with a random stranger’s bag.
And I did kind of say I would punch Neil in the face. Once.
See, we have this thing where we go around shops just to ‘look first’. Since we aren’t going to ‘get anything, really,’ we don’t pick up a shopping basket.
Then we see an outfit for Isla. No big deal. It has a hanger, I have a hand. Then another outfit, another hand. Then we see the one thing she asked for from Santa that money can actually buy. I have a lap, and a kid that really doesn’t ask for much, so sale. Then there’s a box of chocolates, they have brandy in them. Brandy is nice. I might need brandy. Box goes on top of other box. Still good.
We find a unicorn. Magic. Unicorn perches nicely on top of boxes. Husband is happy we’re working methodically through the list we actually remembered to bring with us this year. Wife does not feel like a bloody pack-horse. Yet. Less than twenty minutes in. And we’re ‘just looking at a few things.’
We head up to the checkout. Two outfits. Two boxes. One unicorn. And I may have picked up a stress ball along the way.
They get you in line. That’s where they line up all the crap you don’t need, to go along with the crap you think you need. Oh, look. Novelty socks. A bobble-head. Those freaking dish-towels with the maps on them. I can’t read maps. Go away.
And I swear to you, my husband says, ‘Oh, look. Wrapping paper. It has penguins.’
This from a man who puts Christmas presents in plastic shopping bags and throws them at you. But, y’know, the wrapping paper had penguins. Of course.
‘If you give me one more thing to hold right now, I’m going to punch you in the face.’
I said that. Out loud.
Remember when I talked about my kid having no inside voice?
Well. She gets that from me. Because my voice carried along the whole line. People laughed. With me, not at me. I hope. Wives jabbed their husbands in the ribs.
A woman ahead of us says, ‘Well, that IS a lot. That’s allowed.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Thank you, though.’
When it was our turn, Neil helped me dump the stuff on the counter.
‘HI. MERRY CHRISTMAS.’
‘Would you like to keep the hangers?’ asks the pleasant ringer-upper.
At lunch, I ordered the cheesiest thing I could find and ate it right in front of my cheese-phobe husband.
I felt light as air.
I thought about day-drinking.
‘DOOD,’ I said. They have Tom Collins. When does that happen?’
‘On your blog?’
And so, I drank one. But not before I Instagrammed it. And the last time I took a picture of a gin was on this road trip over here.
I thought we were done with shopping, but I declared too early.
Because then we went to the toy store.
Imagine me, tipsy in a toy store.
I bet you can.
We strolled through, picking up a puzzle and some board games. I like flat boxes.
‘Shall we start Isla on roller-skates?’
‘No. Too young, yet.’ I said. ‘Can you imagine?’
‘It goes by shoe size, though. And she has my giant feet.’
‘It does go by size, though.’ So said the helpful employee, eavesdropping on our volley. ‘I’ll show you.’
And we follow him. To the skates.
‘THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR HELP,’ I said. ‘HAVE A NICE DAY,’ I said.
‘And no,’ I said to Neil.
And then we go to the bookstore. Which is like my toy store.
We separate. Amongst the books. For awhile.
He comes back not looking, and I’m not looking, and we go read our Christmas presents over coffee.
We tool around and then go for dinner and hear a little too much of a drunken, gossipy girl’s night out at the next table. I’m almost jealous.
But when they’re gone I said, ‘You’re not allowed to tell me my voice carries. Ever again.’
‘Cool with me,’ Neil says.
The next day we stopped by some Christmas village thing, where we vowed to take Isla.
That’s the next road trip.
If we were having coffee, I’d say I’m contemplating Blogmas, even though I’m late already.
But I am also participating in Bridge to The New Year, a series of no-pressure writing prompts to set up for an awesome new year. The prompts are posted in the Bridge to The New Year FB group over here.
The first prompt was to share 10-30 things about ourselves, and for that, please check out 25 things about me over here.
Today’s prompt is to reflect on our Word of the Year for 2018, and declare a word for 2019.
I did have a word for this year. But I’ve forgotten what I was. Might have been AWESOME or FOCUS.
If it was awesome, I did pretty well. If it was focus, well. I um, need improvement.
My word for 2019 is SHENANIGANS.
Who’s with me?
This post links up with #weekendcoffeeshare and #Bridgeto2019.
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