Our holiday was mild, which is the way I like it. I especially liked the part about being off for four consecutive days. Friday I was run-run-Rudolph, indeed. I had a hair appointment at 8 (what? You think I’m competent enough to keep myself this perfect red? I can barely apply blush). A pleasant surprise was a Krispy Kreme doughnut as I processed. Then a quick elf run to my cousin’s house to drop her off a thank-you-for-helping-with-my-blog/ Christmas gift. Then, as is common for me, I had to come back by the house to pick up Robin’s gift because I’d had plans to meet her for lunch for a solid week. I hurriedly washed dishes while I was here so they would stop mocking me. They’d only been there for fourteen hours…which sounds like a long time when I think about it, considering they typically don’t last more than thirty minutes. I digress. I also collected a helping of éclair cake because the heathens at the Co-op hadn’t thought to save her a morsel of theirs. I had my own personal one delivered to the shop by both the Newmans! I skirted by the dump, then by the Co-op to drop the dessert so it wouldn’t acquire E.coli while I ran my other errands before lunch. I darted by the library to exchange books but they were closed (duh) then made my way to the bank. And then I dropped by my favorite boutique to drop off her Christmas card. I prefer hand delivered cards, anyway…and this had happened:

Notice how by the time my poor postman got to Tracy, he had given up. Surely to goodness he realizes it was a mistake. I didn’t expect him to decipher my handwriting (a feat in itself), seek out my friends by first name only, and supply the postage. Although Lorie had a point when she said they should have figured on the favorite boutique part. I mean, duh.

And I here thought I had been doing really good, making them out whilst watching American Pickers. My bubble had been burst the day before, when one of my good friends thanked me on Facebook for the best Christmas card ever=the reusable kind.

Sigh.

The people who did receive cards from the Johnsons that were properly addressed and had signatures thoroughly enjoyed the trademark wax seal.

I dropped it off and the girls squealed with excitement when they realized they’d scored a seal (not everybody gets one, only the people who gush over them, because they’re a bit of a headache to apply). I warned them the card was chintzy, though. I vaguely recall buying them a couple of weeks past Christmas last year. Not a great selection. Hmm. I should probably get to huntin’ some for next year.

I popped by my other friend Lorie’s work to pick up a cleverly wrapped bottle of wine and drop off her present (a gift card to the Co-op with explicit instructions to spend it on herself) then I shot across the road to a recently opened boutique. I bought a manly flannel blanket and pillow for Shug to replace the ugly Aztec print in “his” bedroom that makes me slightly nauseated every time it’s visible.

Christmas Eve started with watching Sixteen Candles, then Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (with the fabulous Marilyn Monroe). Johnny abandoned me just as Breakfast at Tiffany’s began. He said he’d already had breakfast at the Johnson’s.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s would find him having dinner and supper there, if we were speaking literally.

Anyhoo. Christmas it is. Just how I like it.