Several years ago while visiting his Granny’s house, Monkey Boy complimented her on her choice tp. Apparently I don’t buy “the good stuff.” My Mother took pity on the poor boy and now buys the Monkey his own tp every year for his birthday and Christmas.
We played our annual game of 31. My family lost, but my 13-year-old niece went home with a cache of $135 in gift cards to local merchants.
Santa must have found my copy of the Seed Savers Exchange catalog on my nightstand and ordered every seed variety I had circled. It’s quite apparent Santa is not a farmer, as he ordered rather large quantities of some seeds and not enough of others.
I am especially excited to plant the 1,000 Mongolian Giant sunflower seeds. Holy crack. The Handsome Husband going to freak out when our backyard starts to look like a Hare Krishna commune next summer. But who am I to complain? Free seeds.
The Girl woke up Christmas morning to find her very own Creme Brulee set under the tree.
And the Handsome Husband? Coal. All Santa brought him was coal. Hmm. I guess it’s true. Santa does see everything.
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