Christmas at the Small House.

I have been rebuked for not posting, so I will try to catch up.  I’m afraid this will be a long one…

We spent the week before and after Christmas at the Small House.  Packed the van so full we had to take out the center seat.  Looked rather like the Grinch’s sleigh with cake, ham, presents, suitcases, fans, sleeping bags and odd bits and ends of furniture (plus two large rugs) tucked in about the children.
The house was a pleasant suprise- larger than I remembered, freshly painted, and the dreadful ceiling fixed.  Neal left the kitchen for me to arrange, which I did happily for the first two days.  Scrubbed everything thoroughly- nasty black stuff much in evidence.  Neal bleached the moldy refrigerator before I arrived.  He said cleaning it out was a gruesome job and he didn’t want me messing with it.  As Neal is not over-sensitive to dirt, it must have been horrendous.
I could not believe how much cleaning and arranging there was to do considering there were only about four pieces of actual furniture in the house.  Stayed very busy for the entire trip- ripped out the rotten wood under the bath sink, cleaned everything that wasn’t moving.  Bren cleaned the shelf above the hall closet that is the top half of her two-story “bedroom.”  She is quite pleased with it.  She thinks it is as wonderful as an aerie, as mystical as a turret bedroom.  Which is kind of pitiful when I think that she’s been stuffed onto a shelf that is 4 by 6 by 2 1/2 at most.
Donal’s portion isn’t much larger, being half of a utility room.  He will be bunking tightly beside the washer and dryer with just enough room at the foot of his bed to put his dresser.  We splurged on $5o worth of sheet linoleum to cover the holey plywood floor, wiped the spiderwebs off, covered a couple of holes in the wall with plastic and duct tape, and moved him in.
The children are being splendid about the whole thing- Bren loves her “Spider Monkey’s Nest,” and Donal enthusiastically decked his wall with big tin beer signs left by the former owner.  His comment: “I love anything colorful!”
The yard is decent- close to half an acre with trees to hang swings from, sand to dig in, a couple ready-made “forts” in thickets, and a really scary big hole we temporarily covered with window screens held down by chunks of concrete.
Christmas was lovely.  Neal went out late at night and cut down a small pine tree from a vacant lot.  He propped it in a corner and I contrived to decorate it.  Surrounded by presents it looked fairly nice.  The kids were pleased to get some candy in their stockings.  I recieved a music downloader about as big as a cigarette lighter that I am still trying to learn to use.  Also some really nice perfume, so my husband is high in favor.
The last night we were there, as I sat on the end of Neal’s bed brushing out my wet hair, my mind kept racing.  Do we keep visiting for a month and move in on the 1st of February like we planned?  How much will it cost to move enough of our furniture at $60 a trip to gas up Neal’s truck?  And how can I make the house look nice enough to sell when I need to bring so much of the furniture?  Should we buy cheap Salvation Army furniture to get us by and leave the house set up?  How could we- we have no money!  Around and around like a rat on a wheel….
Finally Neal came in and lay down beside me.  We prayed together- a very comforting thing, leaning against his chest and holding hands while praying.  Every time we do it, I can almost feel my trust in him growing larger and larger.  Being married… well, it’s the most wonderful thing in my life.  I love my children with a passion that verges almost on insanity, but most of that love is outward-flowing.  I have to take care of them.  I have to be constantly alert, constantly solving problems.  With my husband, I can rest.  Laying on his shoulder is my safe place.  It’s about the only place I feel safe on earth.
We finally decided that the most sensible thing was to go ahead and let his company pay for our move.  They’re going to pack & move us for free.  So we’ve made a plan for where to put what, shipped a lot of old worn-out stuff to the dump, given some stuff away, and we should be packing to leave by Monday the 7th at the latest.  The movers estimate it will take three days.  I don’t have a definite move date yet, but I’ll post one when I have it.

It has been hard, much harder than I thought, to let go.  I ran into Beverly S. at A.C. Moore.  It is hard to comprehend a world where I will not run into her again.  We’ve never been close friends, but I have loved her since the days when she was the only person in the church my shy toddler daughter would hug.  I still have to say goodbye to Edith, to Betsy, to Beverly R.
We went to our last covenant group meeting at Tex & Ruthie’s tonight.  It hurts.  I have nothing more to say about that, I guess.  It just gol-darned hurts.
I have this persistant impression that no one really likes me- not particularly popular, not on anyone’s party list, etc.  So why, can you tell me WHY, do I let my heart get so sewn up with people?  Maybe I’m just not good at letting people see how much I care about them.  I still have to deliver jars of jelly to P. Abbye and Carolyn, and those will be really hard “last hugs” too.
Feeling very sorry for myself.  Told Neal “It’s hard to move,” and he responded, “Well, I’ve already moved.”  Thought that was rather callous under the circumstances, but it did kind of clear up my priorities.  No matter how many people I love here, my place is with my husband and my husband is already living here.  Time to bite the bullet, old girl.

We visited a new church- Assemblies of God.  They were all nice people.  I liked the sermon, the kids found immediate friends.  It was a nice building, a nice nursery, nice music…. nice nice nice!  But it wasn’t home.  I didn’t know anybody.  I felt like I had more than the normal assortment of knees and elbows and was desperately plagued by my old ailment of wanting to get to know people but not being able to think of anything to say.

Well, in other news…. Webkins are here!  (Whether we want them or not… just kidding.)  Brenna recieved a kitty from Hannah, and the jealously factor was so bad that when I noticed a display of the creatures in my grocery store I immediately bought a koala for Donal and a tree-frog for Mike.  You may notice a decrease in the amount of my postings as I now have to beat my way through a crowd and issue threats to get at my computer.  For the uninitiated (and I can hardly believe there are any) Webkins are stuffed animals that come with a computer access code.  The code allows the child to log on to a site where they can play with their animal, bathe it, feed it, take it gem minining, play arcade games, and build it a house a good deal bigger than the one we’re renting!  Must admit- stifling a desire to possess a Webkins of my own.  I can hardly get my kids to share!

I can download all the Statler Brothers songs I want onto my music doo-hickey.  Spent some time trying to look up old eighties songs.  Anybody out there remember “Electric Blue?”  Hah!   Found They Might Be Giants and had a memory rush of college days and driving all night to a concert that got canceled and nursing a bourbon drunk all the way home.  Now what was that guy’s name?  Hmmm… Oh, and “Raisin in the Sun,” who sang that?  It’s like some kind of  quiz show.  Name that tune…  I also, and this was a REAL nostalgia rush, found Johnny Horton singing The Battle of New Orleans.  I can remember choreographing a dance to that song when I was about eight and Matt was six.  It was our very favorite- that and Snoopy vs. The Red Baron.

Holy smokes, I’m getting old!

Snatches of Grace

Five minutes on my knees,
a quick prayer pacing around the playground,
or a sudden ear to hear while frying onions.
Today the clouds lined up, orderly,
like furrows- the field of the sky ripening
blush pink, then orange, then gold,
and I cried while carpooling, wanting
only you,
                  only you.
It comforts me to think that,
like my husband, you understand
the children’s demands
and don’t mind our stolen intimacies
behind closed doors during Sesame Street,
or confidences whispered over the murmur
of the washer.   Some day
we will have whole days
to speak and read and then be silent,
re-learning one another, joining hands
and coming apart in the intricate dance
of worship.  Then I will again
have time to seek Your face.
For now I am grateful for snatches of grace.

A Household Tip

If you have Play-Doh that’s beginning to dry out, try this tip.  Give it to a 1 1/2 year old to play with.  By the time the child finishes chewing it up like gum and spitting it all over the floor, it will be moist (ew!) and pliable again.

Fact.

Children

       Children are amazing.  Donal, usually the last one to drag out of bed, got up this morning to make hot spiced cranberry juice and sugar cookies.  The two little boys are leaning over the table assisting in their pajamas, and his sister is arguing with him about how much flour to sprinkle on the pastry cloth.  They pre-heated the oven, cracked the eggs into a cup, and just generally gave the impression that they really know what they’re doing.  Isn’t that cool?  I like seeing my children act independant, running loads of laundry, changing diapers, cleaning rooms, decorating, starting slips of succulents, and cooking on their own.  I’m very proud of them.  (If it were up to me, we’d never be baking cookies in our pajamas!)

          Hannah and Greg spent Sunday with us.  Hannah walks into the house and says, “Ooooh- I LOVE your tree!”  Now, she has a perfectly beautiful, huge, bead & ornament-covered tree at home that I have always admired.  Our tree is a scrawny apartment-sized tree designed to take up a minimum amount of floor space.  We only decorated with the non-breakable ornaments this year, and six kids put all the ornaments on.  Donal & Bren did most of the lights, and the little boys keep re-arranging things to suit their own tastes.  To me, it looks like something the cat knocked over.  But Hannah said she loved it, and she was really serious!  Can you beat that?  Kids are funny.

       Another example- the two kids came to see Imagine Christmas with us that night.  It was fabulous.  We sat in the back row, and the kids sat up on the backs of the chairs so they could see really well.  Donal got so excited a couple of times he almost knocked Greg over.  (When Madison appeared, everybody in our group cheered, and the people in front of us glared so hard I bet their eyeballs hurt the next morning.) 
       When it was over and we had gathered the two little boys from nursery, we had to press our way out of the lobby.  In that kind of situation, little boys are at an advantage, being able to navigate between people’s legs with a speed and agility unreproducible in grownups burdened with diaper bags, coats, and babies.  So we were shoving through the crowd and hollering, “Michael!  Wait for us!”  The path of least reistance led right by the senior pastor.  He was holding court in the middle of the lobby, shaking hands and recieving people’s congratulations. 
       Greg stopped and said, “Excuse me?”  The Pastor turned, all smiles, and greeted him, obviously expecting to hear how much Gregory had enjoyed the lavish spectacle the church had just put on.  Instead, Greg pipes up and says, “I lost the lenses from my sunglasses in the sanctuary.  If you find them, please call me.”  I wanted to burst into laughter at the look on the man’s face.  The bible says God is no respecter of persons, and children aren’t either!  I’ve spent seven years so awed by the senior pastor that I could barely shake hands with him, but Greg thought nothing of walking up the man and asking him to hunt for a lost piece of plastic.  I loved it.

Housework won’t…

 Lisa gave me this for Christmas.  Proof that she knows me for what I really am and still loves me!

That’s better than warm chocolate chip cookies and watching Monk, if you ask me.

New Photos

I took the kids to the Arboretum for a photo shoot.  Well, I’m not Millie Holloman, but I had some really cute models to work with.  Brenna could hit six hot poses in less than a minute, and Patrick is coyly adorable.  Anyhow, check them out in the Photo Gallery page.

Stuff & Nonsense

Wow!  Imagine Christmas was really over-the-top gorgeous.   I couldn’t believe the stage set when I walked in.  (I loved the swirly trees.)  Lots of great things- Coni singing a capella probably topped the list, but the kite dancing guy was really incredible.  So was the snow falling on the Christ Child’s face.  Karen Pray is terrific.  I think the entire team deserves about a month to crash and just be human.  (and notice Carolyn- not once did I use the word “awsome!”)  (oops.)

I really loved the Vinyard Christmas production, too.  The angels were dressed like the FBI, only with a dusting of gold glitter all over their jackets.  And they did the whole story contemporary, so instead of announcing Jesus’ birth to shepards, they showed up at a soup kitchen.  My four-year-old is still going around bouncing and singing that song.  Way cool!  I cried so much my neck got wet over the teen-age Mary and her expressive husband.

Neal just left again, and we’re all sad.  I can hear Brenna crying in her room.  But next weekend we go to stay for the first time at the Small House.  We’ll be there nearly a week on a trial run to see what furniture & stuff we need to move from here to there.  Waiting…waiting for the house to sell…

Neal has now visited four churches there, and will hit at least one more on Wednesday.  I’ll get to visit my first one on Sunday, and possibly another for Christmas Eve services.  I am very nervous.  I’ve never picked a church before.  When I accepted Christ seven years ago, I opened the phone book, pointed and said, “I think we should go here.”  Now we’re a good bit more choosy- we all have a lot of ideas about what we want and what we don’t want.  I wonder how long the search will take, and how will we know?  Will we just walk in and say, “This is it!”  Or will it take longer than that?

I think Donal kind of summed things up in our bedtime talk tonight.  “I feel really wierd,” he said, “and I don’t know why.”  I do too, though I have a pretty good idea why.  We’re not really AT any particular church, not really living in any particular town, floating between two homes, unable to take any kind of lesson or commit to any activity because we’re not really sure what we’re doing after next week!  I feel really wierd, too.

Things to do tomorrow: take the books to the library, bake a lemon poundcake with fruit in it (pretend fruit cake?), make Brenna clean her room, make Donal do his fractions, mail the presents to my grandparents, and do a lot of laundry.  Rah.

Favorite Book of the Moment: I’m enjoying the Nero Wolfe novels- I think I’m falling for Archie Goodwin.  Fortunately, I don’t think it’s mutual, because I’m already taken.   Very good to snuggle with my husband again.  I did my best to be fetching this weekend.  Have to remind the fellow of why he bothers to come home!

Slaying Dragons

Here’s a thought I’ve never thinked before:

 I was having a little heart-to-heart with my eldest at bedtime on the subject of work.  “You need to attack your work with gusto,” I told him.  “If there were a dragon in your room that you had to fight, and you went up to him hanging your head and stomping and muttering ‘I hate to fight dragons.  I always have to fight the dragon.  This is boring and lousy and why do I have to do it?’ you wouldn’t get very far.”
        “How can I enjoy work when I hate it so much?” he protested.
        “I didn’t say you had to enjoy it.  I said you had to attack it.  Really go after it.  Because if you don’t, not only do you not feel good about your work, you end up feeling lousy about yourself, too.”  Which is true.  Sloppy work makes you feel crummy.
        After I kissed him goodnight and prayed for him, I kept pondering that thought while I picked up the kitchen.  Why does sloppy work make you feel bad about yourself? 
        Perhaps because when you whine and complain about doing something, you de-value it.  Then even if you do accomplish something, you don’t feel good about it.  Yeah, you slayed the dragon, but who wanted to slay the stupid thing, anyway?
         I always assumed the bible’s command to do everything without complaining or arguing was to spare the ears of those around you.  But perhaps it’s to spare your self-image, too.  Anything well done brings a certain satisfaction with it.  It makes sense that the reverse is true also.
          ”Do everything as unto the Lord…”  Good advice.  It was one of those rare times when I felt like God provided me with something to say that penetrated right to Donal’s heart.  Unfortunately (ouch!) it penetrated mine, too.

I guess this means I have to stop complaining about housework. 

A life-time supply of housework

I have been cleaning my house all week and I think I am becoming mental about it.  I just can’t stand to go down there right now and clean the kitchen again and fold another load of laundry.  I know there are women who can do it.  But I can’t.  

It’s the labors of Tantalus.  It’s like spending your life picking up an apple and putting it back on a sloped shelf so it can roll off again.  At least when I write something it stays written.  I put it in my file and maybe I finish it and maybe I don’t.  But it stays there.  It stays put.

Nothing in my life is staying put right now.  I’m just waiting.  I’m waiting for the house to sell.  I’m waiting to move.  The children have no toys, or hardly any at all.  They toys are packed up so we can show the house.  The games are packed up.  All my doll stuff is packed up.  I spend all my days trying to keep the kids from wrecking the house, cleaning the house, serving the house, worshipping the bloody house!!!

 If something doesn’t happen soon I’m going to crack.  Nothing is moving in straight lines.  It’s all going around in circles.  Cook and eat and wash and cook and eat and wash and cook…  Wear and wash and fold and put away and wear….  For five months I’ve cleaned and watched my children grow taller, my plants grow larger, the weather grow cooler, and my husband and I look strained and old and too fat because we both eat when we’re stressed.

Neal, at least, has had the outlet of fixing up the house.  Some of his work has stuck.  Mine has been watching a lot of extra children.  I can’t do any work, because I can’t leave the children.  I can’t paint a picture or write a story or practice a piano piece because I have to sit on the front step and watch the children.  I have to go to the park and watch the children.  I have to get out paints and watch the children paint.  Even now that the extra children have gone home, I still have to watch the children take a bath.  Watch the children eat a peanut butter sandwich.  Watch the children bake cookies.  Watch the children run around in the yard.

As an alternative, I can arrange for a baby sitter and go out.  I can go to AC Moore and wander around.  I can go sit at Starbucks and use part of Pastor Abbye’s gift card.  I can walk around the bookstore.  Maybe I could even buy something.  But that’s all.  I can’t do anything.  I can’t make anything.  I can’t change anything. 

 Sometimes I feel like an alien dropped on earth by accident and expected to cope.  I find myself listening to other people’s conversations and trying to learn how to speak and respond.  I study their reactions and try to copy them.  I am a camoflage human, trying to blend in.  Trying not to make people notice me.  Trying not to stick out, not to let anyone see that I’m alien among them.  And sentenced to a life-time supply of housework. 

Long boring post about our week- suitable only for relatives.

We had a busy week- got Neal launched off to the new town on Sunday.  I ran his glasses into Lenscrafters for much-needed repairs & the kids bought my presents from Yankee Candle Co!  Cool.
Sunday night I tried WilmingtonYardSales.com for the first time.  I found someone who was interested in adopting homeless and unwanted chickens.  I thought getting rid of 12 laying hens was going to be a big deal- instead I had three people calling me begging to come and get them!
So first thing Monday morning we kissed the chickens goodbye (figuratively, of course.  No one in their right mind would kiss a chicken.)  The man also took the nesting boxes, the concrete blocks from under them, the feed, the feed trays, the crushed shell stuff, the water bowls, the left-over wire, a book on chickens, and the DOORS off the pens!  He tried to take the roosts, but decided it was impractical.  I think if I had had a little more time, he would have deconstructed the chicken pens and taken the whole thing.
I got very hot and sweaty chasing chickens and prying staples loose from the wire.
We had to clean up in a hurry for an 11am appointment to pick up a microwave I found on the e-yardsales site.  On Masonboro Loop Road, for pete’s sake.  Drove back up home furiously to reach the Pharmacy- trying to get Neal’s meds transferred because he forgot ALL his prescriptions.
Went home to try and find a pharmacy where Neal is without a phone book or a map.  Left the kids in the car thinking this would take about ten minutes.  Realized they were probably roasting to death half-an-hour later & took them to Greenfield park to recuperate.  (Lunch on the road!)
Greenfield Lake was more beautiful than I have ever seen it.  The cypress trees were shedding their needles.  They floated down in great golden clouds with every breath of wind.  The park was carpeted in reddish brown duff that made all our voices sound soft.  The sun was flashing across the water and the ducks and the seagulls were amazing.  Everything was so beautiful I could hardly breathe.
A nice man with a toddler a little younger than Patrick shared his bread and the two boys fed the ducks.  The ducks, who are usually glutted and indiferent, were in fine appetite.  There must have been nearly 100 of them crowding around us preening and pushing and talking and flashing their colors.  The seagulls did daring swoops right above the boys’ heads.  One goose nearly caught a seagull in it’s mouth when it was grabbing for bread.  Pat’s laughter was as golden as the sun.
After the lake I drug four unwilling children to the Habitat Home Store to look for furniture for Neal’s new rental house.  Much crying and climbing on unsuitable objects.  At one point a man asked me. “Ma’am, are those your little cherubs banging on the piano?”
“Yes, if you want to call them that,” I admitted reluctantly.
“Can you get them to stop climbing on the furniture?”  I rolled my eyes at him and sent the kids outside.  When I heard hollering later I ignored it.  Purchased a leather recliner, a green brocade upholstered settee, a braided area rug in dark browns and reds, an iron wine rack, two lamps, and a set of botanical collection dishes that are incredibly beautiful.  Cost: $112.00.  Played on the man’s sympathy to get them to hold it until Friday when I could come back with the truck.
Donal bribed the little ones back into the car with lollipops and we headed for the next store.  Hand-Me-Downs wanted $200.oo for a “walnut” bookcase made of veneered plywood.  I declined, even though we desperately need another bookcase.  Hand-Me-Downs used to be a fantastic store until it changed hands.  The woman who runs it now is trying too hard to be upscale, but the furniture isn’t really any better than Goodwill’s.
Goodwill was next, where I purchased a trunk, a mohogany-stained printer table, and a really comfortable wooden chair.  The children were unbelievably whiny and exhausted.  I promised them pizza and movies, dropped Donal off at Blockbuster with cash and my card (Oh help!) and let Brenna hold my watch.  She timed me at 11 minutes to get in and out of Lowe’s Foods with frozen pizza, root beer, bread, milk, and two more nights worth of mac & cheese and canned ravioli.  I was smokin’!
I returned email while they watched Over The Hedge.  Tried to get a trundle bed & missed.  Did get the mattresses.  Made final arrangements to pick up a set of fire tools the next day between 10 & 6pm.  Tried to make arrangements about the mattresses & failed.  Picked up a message from Kaye saying we had a SHOWING on Thursday and completely freaked out.
Who looks for houses during Christmas hollidays?  I thought we were going to have the month of December off!  Began furiously calling around for a baby sitter.   We were supposed to leave for Myrtle Beach to see the in-laws Wednesday morning, so that gave me a little over 36 hours to clean the house, wash the clothes, do the yard, pick up the last of the furniture, pack and finish decorating for Christmas.  Felt like having a nervous breakdown but didn’t have time.
Tuesday was cleaning, cleaning, and still more cleaning.  The sitter arrived at 11:45 and I could have kissed her.  She was really terrific.  Brenna clung to her & refused to let her leave!  Donal spent most of the morning re-planting the back flower bed with 10 flats of pansies.  I got 3/4 of the house done, some laundry washed, and reserved a truck to drive to the new town on Friday.  Realized the moving truck has only three seats.  Panicked, and began calling friends to see who could keep two of my kids overnight on Friday.
When the sitter left, we had to rush back into the car.  Donal and I removed the middle seat and we went to pick up the recliner, settee, and wine rack.  On the second trip we got the fire tools, trunk & wooden chair.  (Dinner Out- Children beginning to groan and whine at the sight of the McDonalds sign.)  Tried to finish cleaning while they watched Over the Hedge (Yes- AGAIN!  Poor little TV addicts) and couldn’t.  Collapsed & watched with them & then sort of flung them all in bed and finished packing the suitcases.
Wednesday morning dawned sulky and bad-tempered.  We were supposed to leave at 10, but everyone seemed to be moving through mush except for me.  I had consumed so much caffeine my head was buzzing.  At eleven I threw a screaming tantrum and announced that I was sick of working my fanny off to take four little lie-abouts on vacation at the beach and if they wanted to go they’d better get up off their you-know-whats and help me.  Felt like a terrible ogre as I watched the older two cleaning and crying at the same time.  Even Patrick tried to help by throwing things we really needed in the trash and unwrapping two more Christmas presents.
By twelve, we were finally completely exhausted and mostly done.  Stuffed the children in the car hungry and informed them that we had to eat out again.  Had to put down a small rebellion, and drove to the post office while listening to more crying in the back seat.
We got really lost on the way to Myrtle beach.
Staying at my in-law’s condo thingy there was really nice.  For the first time in days I could sit down.  Doris took the kids to the playground and I collapsed for a nap.  The days would have been really perfect if I hadn’t forgotten Patrick’s diapers, Donal’s water-proof sheeting, and a couple more miscellaneous items.  I had to keep asking Richard to go back to the store.  Then Neal called and told me my bank account was empty, and there was no money to rent the house with so the move was off.
We stayed an extra day at the Condo, went to Ripley’s aquarium and I petted a sting ray!  And I took some really incredible movies of the kids going through the tunnel under the big shark tank.  It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.  Patrick learned the word “fish” and “shark”.  Mike was the champion ray petter.  Every time one surfaced he sprinted across the room and had his hand on it before it could submerge.  He looked like he’d been spray-washed by the time we were done.
We came home early Friday thinking we were going to get to collapse and found out we had another showing Saturday morning and that the agent hadn’t been able to get in touch with us to correct some things on our property diclosure.  More problems.  Had to drive to Leland to pick up the mattresses, which meant the car seats had to be taken out and in again.  While I was removing the car seats, a whole slew of cops pulled up on the corner sirens wailing.  They blockaded the road.  A neighbor went & talked to them & came back & told me to keep the kids off the street.  There was a crazy man with a gun holed up in one of the nearby houses!   Had to wait till things died down to go to Leland as I didn’t want to leave the older kids home alone & couldn’t fit all four plus mattresses in the car.
Neal made a flying trip home later to try & finish the den bannister (see “Bannister Blues” below.)   Unfortunately, when Neal had left on Monday, he’d left the shop locked.  We needed to get in to get the chicken supplies, so we’d broken in through a window.  One of the children apparently messed with his tools.  Neal came charging in to where I was slowly folding my way through a laundry mountain literally four feet tall and yelled about the kids touching his tools.  And I went off like a lit firecracker.  We spent the rest of Friday avoiding each other.  I went out and bought some groceries Friday night.  Michael inisisted on pushing the grocery cart and knocked down two displays.
Saturday (today) we got up and cleaned the house again.  Ate lunch out (again) because the showing went half-an-our over time.  I bought Neal a toaster at a yard sale while we were waiting.  Helped Mike buy his Christmas presents at the dollar store.  Made up with my husband.  Raked the yard.   Folded more laundry.
I have decided that all I want for Christmas is a week off!