(no subject)
Greetings from Up Country, peeps. I didn't pack a sweater because I packed my kid's sweaters instead plus also my MIL accidentally gave the grey wool one I kept here to Goodwill. I have some long underwear but for fuck's sake IT'S MINUS EIGHT DEGREES OUTSIDE so the waffle-knits only go so far. Yes, my MIL has heat but there's this awful portal of ass-coldedness that connects the guest bedroom with everything else useful for activities other than sleeping (eg, the toilet) and I am seriously considering passing out on the couch because I am too chicken to deal with the ice cold ice of going upstairs.
Or going to the bathroom at 5:30AM. More on that later, though.
Not that the stay has even been suck-ass otherwise in the remotest. My BIL cooked the festive Christmas Eve meal for us, which was (vegetarians please skip to the next paragraph now) five grouses (grice?) that he shot especially for us. And I have to say, this was pretty much one of the best meals I have eaten in calendar year 2011. It probably helped knowing that the grouse eats grouseberries and apples and tender grains and such - the back story just made it all the more delicious. Then, with a nod toward the French-Canadian leg of the family, he also made pork-and-potato pies, which we shall have for Christmas breakfast before opening presents.
Yeah, I know, get a load of the bat mitzvah girl herself ovah heah. Happy Hanukkah, indeed. Although we've been Jewing it up a bit too, with the menorah and little gifties for the kiddo. Watching "Shalom Sesame Street" together counts, right?
Anyway.
'Twas the night before Xmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring. Not even a mouse.
That's probably because Wiglet killed it. Anxious to show off his mad mousing skillz, he left us a pressie in the middle of the living room carpet our first night here and I STEPPED ON IT coming out of the bathroom in the wee hours. Ew. According to my MIL, he did not bring it in from outside, which means MOUSE IN THE HOUSE. Ahh, country living.
Note to self: wear glasses 24 hours for the duration of this trip, or learn to tie it in a knot until sunrise.
And on that note? Ciao, my lovelies.
Or going to the bathroom at 5:30AM. More on that later, though.
Not that the stay has even been suck-ass otherwise in the remotest. My BIL cooked the festive Christmas Eve meal for us, which was (vegetarians please skip to the next paragraph now) five grouses (grice?) that he shot especially for us. And I have to say, this was pretty much one of the best meals I have eaten in calendar year 2011. It probably helped knowing that the grouse eats grouseberries and apples and tender grains and such - the back story just made it all the more delicious. Then, with a nod toward the French-Canadian leg of the family, he also made pork-and-potato pies, which we shall have for Christmas breakfast before opening presents.
Yeah, I know, get a load of the bat mitzvah girl herself ovah heah. Happy Hanukkah, indeed. Although we've been Jewing it up a bit too, with the menorah and little gifties for the kiddo. Watching "Shalom Sesame Street" together counts, right?
Anyway.
'Twas the night before Xmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring. Not even a mouse.
That's probably because Wiglet killed it. Anxious to show off his mad mousing skillz, he left us a pressie in the middle of the living room carpet our first night here and I STEPPED ON IT coming out of the bathroom in the wee hours. Ew. According to my MIL, he did not bring it in from outside, which means MOUSE IN THE HOUSE. Ahh, country living.
Note to self: wear glasses 24 hours for the duration of this trip, or learn to tie it in a knot until sunrise.
And on that note? Ciao, my lovelies.