Just, like, 80 cookies. nbd.

Sunday December 21. 10(ish)pm.

I gave my mom the night off because I was standing right next to her at 10pm. Guess what we were doing? Visiting. You know, the verb. As (I believe) previously mentioned, my mother considers visiting a verb. This action-word also involves some other nouns such as cookies, plates, decaf coffee, and/or questions about my career trajectory. Join the club.

I also got some sweet shots of what will become the special Holicraze edition of momWHATareyoudoing due out TO-fucking-MORROW. That’s right, kids. Mañana. AND there will be, for the first time ever, PICTURES on this fine blog of ours. Now you can tell 90 percent of your other friends to come look since they don’t read books without pictures (one of my personal rules as well). Otherwise We had a fine night of decorating christmas cookies with my brother and eating dinner with the sis. The whole friggin family was there snarfing their faces together.

Until tomorrow.

Its a Christmas sweater WITH bells, probably.

Friday December 19. 10:45pm

“Helping party guests find their coats & washing out dishes so they can take their food home or have it shared with us to keep!”

‘Twas the weekend before christmas, and all through the house. All the staff members were drinking, some got on their blouse. All the mattresses have been juggled in the bedrooms with care in hopes that Berta’s mailed presents soon will be there. And my mom in her sparkly christmas sweater and I in my fleece-lined cap have made up a little ditty, a very short rap. The decorations are up, so its time to get doown. And to add to the melee, my bro is in town.

“Church staff party, what WHAT! Let’s do this shit.”

–probably what my mom said to welcome her guests.