What? You say you don’t want to hear my blood-churning, spittle-spraying pinko exhortations to hate hate hate? Okay, fine, then you’re getting…
KUTE KRISTMAS PIKTURES!!!!!!!
First up, Lucy hangs with Jack Bowen at the Nutcracker. She had the outfit picked out for weeks beforehand, and god knows she loves visiting the world’s great cities with Jack. By the way, the Arabian Dance was even better than last year:
As I’ve oft bored my readership, I pick a random skill set to learn each year, some “talent” or craft with which I have no previous experience. 2010 was “ice skating”, which coincided with Tessa resurgence in the sport, and Lucy’s lessons. So we brought our skates 3,000 miles to the famous rink at Rockefeller Center, but it was 10 degrees, and the line was an hour and a half long:
Not to be defeated, I planned to make a backyard ice rink up at the farm, since water always floods our yard and freezes anyway. To our astonishment, nature had taken care of it, leaving a beautiful little rink for the ladies:
My pregonaut sister Michelle and I pondered the Christmas tree farm:
…while Tessa wrapped packages courtesy of Michelle’s new business (Lily standing guard, as usual):
I like my Waffle House hash browns scattered, smothered and covered, but I like my family studying, dreaming, mothering, tickling and pontificating (in that order):
Our staircase is running out of room, wonderfully, thanks to little sweetieboots like Marlena, in Tessa’s arms:
I tried to make sure… *ahem*, I mean Santa tried to make sure everyone was surprised with a Pillow Pet, which is a product I confess to liking far out of measure:
Tessa got these Xmas-themed jammies a few years ago, and they are pretty comfortable. Even the dog has one, which is not something I condone AT ALL, mind you:
The storm that hit after Christmas was theatrical, to say the very least. Parts of the farm were under 6-foot snow drifts, others were passable by Lucy, with Lily following her tracks like a coal cart in a mine:
Our annual Arcticular party for New Year’s Eve turned the barn into the parlor game hootenanny it was always meant to be (note GFWD’s Carolina pool table light):
Seth, Ehren, Tammy and Salem prepare to taste a scotch as old as Salem and I are. This 43-year-old Glenfarclas was absolutely wonderful, though it is getting very hard (and expensive) to find whiskies aged like us:
And there’s always the quiet times when you can introduce your daughter to the Rankin-Bass claymation Christmas specials:
Anyway, from all of us to all of you, we hope your winter is going wonderfully!