We are remodeling our house. No, we are not, Stuart and His Guys are. I will likely miss Stuart when this is all over, but I will welcome the dishwasher with open arms and loving kisses. Last night I went to lock the new front door and found that it didn't want to lock. After moaning and swearing I got a screwdriver and took off the strike plate, and then it locked.
Today our interwebs went out. I called Comcast. The Comcast feller was nice, but he didn't solve my problem. I called them again at 9:30 tonight. The guy I got, Bert, was really nice and even funny. But our conversation ended with an apology from Bert to me. Fifteen minutes later I changed a setting and the light on the Apple Express thingy went from flashing yellow to green. I did it. I did. By myself.
This is all to say that when I take the time I can solve the problem. But before I learned that lesson (again) I chose to grab the kids and escape to The Mall to get some inspiration for certain in-demand holiday wish lists and eat dinner and maybe buy myself a pick-me-up gift. I am so sick of washing dishes, I really can't tell you. Like the thought of cleaning wetfoodshit out of that drain catcher one more time makes me want to vomit. Ah, the problems I face, they are insurmountable.
So we escaped to The Mall and went to the Independent Toy Store that rawks even though their web site is hideous, rather than Toys 'R Us, because I can't help it, I'm listening to the 99% and they're getting to me. And we've lost two great indie toy stores in the four and half years we've lived here and that makes me want to weep.
So, in summary, I am hardcorebadass with a Philips and I fixed the Apple Express thingy by accidentally changing a network setting I probably messed up in the first place. I prevailed. And we went out and had some fun tonight.
She wants to wait up for the real deal on Christmas Eve.
I kind of want this. But I think Han wants trains. Or elaborate plastic fantasy figures.
"I love all these!"
This was after Han, terrified, refused to go anywhere near Santa. Not for a candycane. Not for an Altoid. I have a $23 photo of Iona sitting on Santa's lap by herself, and they gave us two horrible flashing plastic snowflakewands.
We ate at Nordstrom. This is the ladies' lounge. Han was dancing to ELO.
And a gratuitous trippy photo from Thanksgiving.
