This is really a story of something that happened to my sister yesterday. I should probably describe my sister first, as to give the full effect of the story. This is not a small woman, not physically and not personality wise. She's loud and proud and funny as hell. She lives in the country, big ole' dumb country girl, and yesterday as she walked down her hall she heard what she described as "a wolfman scratching on the heater door". She immediately grabbed her 4 yr old and left. She called my uncle, who we all call when we have critter issues which makes no sense because his reaction was "yeah, there is definitely something in there" thank God she called him right? Anyway, he confirmed the presence of a squirrel. Apparently a squirrel and a wolfman sound the same behind closed doors. I don't know.

So she asks him if he got it, again, why do we call him? He said no. She went home and called her husband to come home and release the squirrel/wolfman from the heater closet. He said "I need to go and get some leather gloves and bring Donnie home". She, of course, replied "I thought we were talking about getting rid of the squirrel" which I totally got, her husband only said "I am!" He didn't get the underlying homosexual joke there, how do you spell Loser?  But I digress. Her MIL, who she refers to as "bootstrap Hamilton" is apparently a hillbilly squirrel rassler because all 85 lbs of her grabbed the door and shoo'ed the squirrel out of the heater closet and right into my sisters path. She stood in the dining room, staring down this squirrel (who she claims was 10ft tall and bullletproof), her only protection being one of the many beach towels that my Nana has gotten her for her summer birthday over the years. She and the squirrel locked eyes, and she said "get the f*** out squirrel" and the squirrel said "show me the way b***h", he ran to the patio door, which was open, and ran right into the unopened part. I think he sort of freaked out then and ran around with her shoo'ing him with the beach towel, the MIL with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth telling my sister to calm down and stop scaring the bastard squirrel.

Finally the squirrel figured it out. He ran out and looked back, she looked at him, both somewhat in awe of the other, with an unspoken understanding that he would not again attempt to enter her house. And he would make sure all his little squirrely friends would get the message. It's the stuff that legends are made of.

We had a good christmas this year. We really enjoyed ourselves. Of course we spent it with my family, and while I love them all dearly, I am not ashamed to admit that they are batshit crazy.

My aunt, God love her, proceeded to once again tell the story of how before I met my husband I sat in my Nana's living room and cried and told everyone how very very lonely I was. This never happened, of course, but she feels the need to tell this story at every family gathering. I no longer argue with her, I just say "yeah, I was a sad, sad, trainwreck wasn't I?" First of all, even if I had been lonely, I would have never admitted it. Second of all, I just don't recall ever being lonely. She's killing me with that story man. KILLING ME. 

Christmas day was a joy to behold, we went for dinner and half the family was on Xanax while the other half was sneaking into the back yard to drink 6pt beer my uncle went down to Texas to get. Oklahoma just sucks so bad. We had a great dinner though, you know, nothing cures the drunk munchies like a big ass meal. It hit the spot. Yesterday we woke up to a beautiful snow, it was just one day too late. My husband came home late last night and took my nearly asleep 4 yr old outside to make a snowman. I love him.

Speaking of the snow. My mother. Ugh. I took her home because I went to my Nanas to have some leftovers. I pulled up to her house and told her to hop out. She said she couldn't walk and I knew I'd get stuck in that nightmare of a driveway. She swore I wouldn't...I did. I was not happy. I asked her later if she felt bad that I did get stuck and she said "No, I just figured I'd have to drive your car out because your dumb ass wasn't doing it right". Nice, huh?

Someone is pregnant and I know it's not me. But everyone in our family has dreamt of death in the past week. I know for a fact that I have had some horrible ones. I wish whoever it is would suck it up and fess up. My cousin got engaged to a future doctor this weekend (gag). I hope it's her, she's too friggin' perfect, she needs to fuck up like the rest of us.

New Years eve is on it's way. Last year I spent midnight sitting on the floor holding my Jack while he heaved and shook. I hope this year it's a little more fun. I'm going out this time, only to a friends who also has kids my age but by gosh I'm not staying  home. Here's to hoping that 2008 is a banner year for Mel. She needs it.

Today was Jack's Christmas party, and I had everything all planned. I was going to doll myself up and volunteer in the morning and then help with the party this afternoon. I also had these fabulous gifts planned for the teachers. I had these perfect little tins, and I was going to wrap them, and put popcorn, movie candy, and some other stuff in there with a card.

What actually happened was, I managed to get him to school and then come home and pass out on the couch because I'm sick and my stupid back is out. I realized how late it was and started to get the tins together and realized that it just wasn't going to work. I jumped in the shower (I shaved my legs yesterday btw, it wasn't pretty), and got ready. I had to look semi good because I didn't want to embarrass my boy and have his mommy be the jacked up one. Then I hauled ass to Starbucks for gift cards. But they didn't have the little card holders and I didn't have any cards on me. I wasn't about to go to Walmart and fight them because I was already late, so I went to my moms and stole some cards from her.

As it turns out, the teachers loved the gift cards, probably much more than they would have a tin full of popcorn and candy. Jack finished his first semester of school meeting all his goals. He signed the cards himself, which would have made me cry if I wasn't so thoroughly confused at the time. So once again, even though things didn't go as planned, my bliss kicked in and I pulled another one out of my ass.

Meanwhile, my back is killing me so I got some Vicoden from my mom. I had some at home but I wasn't at home and I was dying. I took it and sat on my Nanas recliner holding my little Samuel and we both slept it off. I think I know why people get addicted to Vicoden, I friggin' loved everyone, even those that weren't there. Maybe tomorrow the doctor will give me a prescription to get me through the holidays. I know that's wrong, but whatever.