Friday, December 18, 2015

Tis the Season…to be Busted

Lest you think from my very scarf-heavy Christmas pictures earlier,

 that I have a whole Pinterest-perfect thing going on here,

let me summarize my last few weeks.

I put up the most dismally weak, BLUE, manic solar lights ever on the trees in front of our house.

So I took them all down and decided to put up bright, WHITE lights to somehow rectify 
the short period of time that we were, to quote Ellie, 

“The embarrassment of our street."

I underestimated how many strands of lights it would take to wrap a DWARF lilac tree and three small shrubs.

4 boxes of lights in, I realized I needed MORE lights.

I just popped in the house, 
grabbed my keys and purse
and left for the store.

It wasn’t until I was actually IN the store that I realized I had a pretty significant twig stuck in my hair.

My hair was pulled back into a pony tail 
so it had to be pretty obvious.

To everyone but me, of course.

I also found a long chunk of hair that should’ve been pulled back into my pony tail,

no longer was.

I am pretty confident I looked like 
I slept under a bridge.

I’m not totally sure 
because I hadn’t bothered
 to check in a mirror.

I tossed the twig in the Christmas light aisle and tried to kick it out of sight

and did my best to tuck the stray chunk of hair behind my ear in what I hoped was a whimsical, wind-swept totally not, I CAME FROM UNDER A BRIDGE kind of hair style.

The line was 30 deep.

Plenty of time to feel the judgement of others.

I wanted to yell,

“You think I look bad?!
There was a  TWIG in my hair 
not 3 minutes ago! 
Go check the Christmas light aisle 
if you don’t believe me!"

I do think the lights turned out great, though.

My neighbor texted me the other night,

“Love your palm tree!”


She said to look at the dwarf lilac all lit up from her perspective.

I did.


Palm tree.

I just tossed the lights over and across the top of the tree, forming, what I didn’t realize, was the perfect shape of palm leaves.

Hey, works for me!

I’d put our nativity scene right under it 
but it’s metal and Joseph’s face got bent in storage 
and his face cracked and fell off.

Moving on…

Monte and I went to a party for Young Life leaders and supporters, Friday night. I knew to bring a side dish but failed somehow to read the part of the invitation that said to bring one White Elephant gift per person.

Nothing beats the Christmas Spirit out of me faster 
than not being prepared.

And I LOVE White Elephant gift exchanges!

Luckily, I’d been shopping that day with my friend, Beth, and we’d bought some funny gifts.

I texted McDaniel to grab one of the gifts, throw it in a grocery sack, 
slap some washi tape on it and drive it over to us pronto!

She did. 

I LOVE having another driver in our house!

That covered one gift.

Monte had the idea of taking a $10 bill from his wallet and scrounging around the host’s basement for a box, and just sticking the money in it.

It ended up being a very popular gift with all the college kids in attendance.

But the stress of that exhausted me.

Monte and I are morning people.

The next morning we got up and for whatever reason, ate breakfast in our pajamas.

Then we watched Game Day still in our pj’s.

That is so not normal for us.

We are not lounge around in our pajamas type of people.

We get WAY too many pop-in visitors and it’s also hard for me to be productive in pajamas.

Which is precisely why they are called lounge wear.

Monte and I aren’t great at lounging.

But Monte had been traveling for two weeks and I was still reeling from the “We were supposed to bring presents?!” realization.

I was enjoying my second cup of coffee on the couch when the door bell rang.

I ran for the basement and left Monte to answer the door in his bright orange plaid pajama pants.

Thank goodness it was just Julie.

She was suspicious though.

Earlier this week, I hosted a brunch for my bible study.

I was rushing around trying to get everything done at once and in record speed when I opened the pantry door on my face.

My cheekbone, to be exact.

It hurt.
And swelled quickly.

I covered it up with makeup and forgot about it.

Later that night, Monte looked at me for a long time and asked,

“What’s wrong with your face?”

Words every wife wants 
to hear from her husband.

Just this morning, I made the uncharacteristic move and stayed in my pajamas while I did bible study homework, started laundry and scrubbed the toilets and bathtub.

Of course, the doorbell rang.

I had forgotten to tell all the ladies 
that prayer group was cancelled this week.

Busted in my jammies again.

So now, as I type this with hot wax hardening on my lip and chin,

I fully expect to hear the doorbell ring again.

This time it will be someone with a camera crew offering me a giant check and some balloons 

or someone from a brand new TV show asking if they can give me a makeover.

Tipped off by my friends, no less.

The friends that keep catching me in my pjs.

But the answer is still yes.

For the love of Pete,


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