We are not in Chile or New Zealand. It is not winter here. Not even close. And our toilets flush clockwise! Okay, so do theirs…but still, my point stands.
In twelve days time (the 12 Days of Christmas in July, you guys!!) I will drag the extension cord around front, from the shed way in the back of the house, its summer home, if you will, and reconnect the multi-colored lights I never bothered to take down in January. Because when you get them to form a perfect tight line across the gutter facing the street, you don’t muss with it. Ever.
I will bake chocolate chip cookies and eat too many with bottomless pints of ice cold 1% milk.
We will watch Arthur Christmas and find it as hilarious as ever.
And there will gifts
I just found a little “It’s So Fluffy” Despicable Me unicorn at Target today, on clearance already (talk about a short lifespan on the shelf?!), that will definitely not be sinking into the bottom of a stocking, because I’ve been told that I’m not allowed to hang the stockings from the chimney with care in the middle of the summer. Hmph.
I could easily get out of control with this mid-year Christmas thing, buying wheelbarrows full of presents for the Bear and Mouse, two children who, I have no problem admitting, do not need a single solitary thing. Nothing. And I know this full well. They have so much, too much, but I have spoiler genes from my dad (not my fault!) so I always want to shower my daughters with stuff to make them smile, laugh, play, and be merry. Thankfully, I am married to someone who hates childhood and never wants anyone to have fun is more sensible than I and keeps me shackled and away from Target in check more often than not. She is a cold-hearted and evil lovely and level-headed woman, and I hate love her so much!
Merry sorta 1/2 Christmas or something!!
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