The Peapod before opening her scads of presents Christmas day:

[DELETED PER POPPY’S REQUEST]

(Cat: Couldn’t you just DIE over the shoes?)

and then after:

[ALSO DELETED PER POPPY’S REQUEST]

About a minute later, Peapod started howling in utter despair, and her cousin had to be woken up so she could finish her nap. Note the noodle-like spine that allows her to throw herself forward. I haven’t been able to do that since at least high school. Can’t quite figure out how the hell I was sitting in that picture, though. Whatever I was doing, it looks painful.

So my holiday didn’t suck nearly as bad as I was expecting. Mother wasn’t quite as obnoxious as she could’ve been (she saved that for today), and I got pretty much everything I wanted: A pair of bigger gold hoops, a heavier winter coat, a crock pot, decorative pillows for the couch (I didn’t even think about those) and a Webkinz kitten and slippers from the niece and nefew. Oh, and eye makeup, of which I now have more than I’ll ever use in my lifetime. My brother still owes me something; I hope it wasn’t crushed in the big train derailment over the weekend. (As an aside, check out that story lede—God, JB is a stud. Also a total stud is Scott Bort, our new photog. The shots he took of the wreckage were unbelievable. Wish they would’ve posted them online.)

And with that, I’ve run out of steam.