It's been a long time since we lived in Puerto Rico, but I'm pretty sure "Felicidades" means, "Go Fish".
"Do you have this sweater in my mother's size, pleaseohplease say 'yes' because I have exactly one hour to buy it, wrap it, and stand in a post office line that extends halfway to Cuba in hopes of delivering it to her before Christmas?"
So much is happening here it borders on the criminal. Criminally Jolly, that is!
(Oh, my. I've seriously had way too many festive cookies this week. Criminally jolly indeed. Please ignore that one.)
So, a quick update on just how cool it is to be DeNae:
- Item one: Our oldest son, David, has gone and found himself an eternal companion, and managed it all without ever stepping foot on a BYU campus. We couldn't be prouder. He and Karyn are getting married the first week in March at an LDS temple the name of which must remain undisclosed for security purposes. All we can say is, it rhymes with "Croaker Fountain." If you think you've guessed, please report to the nearest federal lockup for a good smacking.
- Item two: Isn't she cute? And guess what? She's a music geek, just like me! Although evidently they're letting five-year olds into college now, because she is actually a student of people I was an undergrad with. And I couldn't possibly be old enough to have friends that old. So she's five. Stands to reason.
- Item three: This of course means I have ten weeks to lose 478 pounds and learn how to do the splits. Otherwise, my special Mother of the Groom Trapeze Extravaganza is just going to look stupid.
- Item four: I accidentally sang in the ward choir program last Sunday and played the organ. No one was harmed, but nine people experienced light-headedness and vomiting, and one had a serious crisis of faith when a meteor didn't hurtle through the roof and fry me crispy before I could launch another assault on "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing."
- Item six: My big kids are home for the holidays, which keeps a smile on my face and Valium in my purse. Being around my daughter Vanessa is like living inside a calliope. Music and laughter and occasional attempts to leap from a moving vehicle - all part of the package with that girl.
- Item seven: I haven't mailed any of the prizes from my giveaway yet. And what's more, I'm not going to until after Christmas. If you were a winner, try to look on the bright side. A lot of people lost.
- Item eight: Kristina, I don't have your address, so I'm donating your prize to the David Hasselhoff Home for Ill-Treated Sharpeis. Because no dog should have to tolerate this:
- Item nine: Ick.
- Item ten: I have written two annual Christmas letters this season, and neither was for my own personal family. So for those of you who are hoping to hear about our ups and downs of 2010 via snail-mail, I have just one thing to say...
THIS is the psycho nut job freak responsible for so much heartache in my ward. It's J.S. Bach,
He also had eleventy billion kids, so he was grumpy a lot of the time.