Christmas Eve already?!

The past few weeks have just whooshed by what with being back on the book after a very cozy vacation in November. I haven't got nearly all the things I wanted to do done for the holiday, the dining room table is covered in craft supplies that were intended for some cool card ideas but there hasn't been any time. Work, work, work. Gah.

Some urgent wedding plan mix ups presented themselves making it oh so much fun to deal with on top of all these deadlines, both holiday and work related.

The cats had some unexpected troubles leading to some whopper vet bills. I am such a sucky cat mom. Should have attended to this sooner.

And then there's the general grumpiness this season brings. Word to parents out there who want their kids' respect to last into adulthood: never announce your divorce on Christmas morning. Kinda messes up the day for the rest of their lives.

Holding it together okay. If you haven't heard from us yet, not to worry, we'll get to y'all all soon enough.

Merry Christmas.

The hazards of working in a male dominated profession: The Company Christmas Gift.

Every year DC gives out a little prezzie to its staff and creators and some years the item is dead useful, like last's year's travel bag which every recipient (myself included), sings its praises up and down "It holds everything I need for a weekend trip but is still small enough to take on a plane!", "It's got a laundry pouch! Wow!". The year before it was a sleek travel clock which every frazzled artist (myself included) instantly thought was a veiled threat saying "MEET YOUR DEADLINES OR ELSE!" But still, a pleasant and useful item that you could put a picture in if you liked.

This year it was a beautiful wristwatch.

A man's wristwatch

Big. Heavy. Shiny. A manly man's watch. Aristotle Onassis would look at this watch and go "Hey, now there's a time piece!". Christopher Walken's character in Pulp Fiction would look at this watch and say "Now, wait just a minute- uh, I know a promise is a promise but- seriously?"

I'd have to work out in order to wear it, and even now I'm having some difficulty typing due to its mass dragging my arm down towards earth's center of gravity (or maybe it's pulling earth towards it I'm not quite sure). I have to take breaks after every sentence. Like so.

Phew.

I'll see if I can get it re-sized though I can see the chuckles I'll be getting at the jewelry store as I clean and jerk this item onto their counter top.

It is nice to feel like one of the guys this holiday season.

*g*