Grown-Up Christmas List

So, Christmas is in eight days. It snuck up on me once again. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be sneeked or snuck or snucked, but we'll go with snuck for now. I am headed to Texas after all.

Christmas is in eight days and happily, I'm sitting in the Oakland airport awaiting my cushy Southwest flight to Houston. (Note: Oakland Int'l Airport has free Wifi y'all. Other airports of the world, watch and learn.) This Christmas is going to be a wee bit different from the others cause the in-laws from Kentucky are also joining us. It's going to be a full house and it's going to be awesome.

Isn't it so funny how Christmas changes as you grow up? I used to get sooo excited about Christmas morning that I literally could not sleep. Or, worse yet, I'd go to bed at like 6 pm and wake my parents at 5 am to open presents. Maybe if they hadn't spoiled me so much, Christmas morning wouldn't have the same thrill factor. Literally, one year--I think I was three--they got me so many presents that I got tired of opening them and refused to open any more. I'm not exactly saying that with pride, folks.

Nevertheless, this year I still made a mental Christmas list. It's changed a bit from Barbie Dream Houses and cell phones and purses. This year, it looked more like food processors, pot holders, cook books, digital cameras, and gift certificates to Lowe's. I am officially old. My Christmas list is more grown-up than ever. But I guess it's all relative.

Here in the airport, they're playing one of my favorite Christmas songs. Not 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer'. Not 'Feliz Navidad'. No, not even 'I'll Be Home For Christmas', although it's a good one.

'Grown-Up Christmas List' has always made me get a little choked up. You probably know what I mean, cause the chorus goes a little like this:

No more lives torn apart,
That wars would never start,
And time would heal all hearts.

That everyone would have a friend,
That right would always win,
And love would never end.
This is my Grown Up Christmas List.

Kinda breaks your heart, doesn't it? Mostly because we all know that such wishes are likely to go unanswered. But wishing, hoping, and trying can always help. I think we all wish for such things. But in the meantime, there's nothing wrong with hoping you'll get an iPhone, or a new pair of boots, or a leather-bound copy of your favorite Austen novel also.

What's on your Christmas lists? Tangible and intangible items alike?

Wedded Bliss, Two Years in the Making

It's been a little quiet here at All Growns Up, nay? I don't know just what has gotten in to me. Wait, yes I do: the Christmas spirit. That's what.

Actually, this is a busy time of year at my house. Thanksgiving. Hubster's birthday. Anniversary. Christmas...what? Anniversary? That's right, two years ago on December 10th, the big J and me were tying the proverbial knot. It was good times, folks, good times. (See left.)

So last night, on the official anniversary date, we were obligated to go to the company Christmas party, which is always a thrill. So instead we're going to head out for a little night on the town on Friday.

But on any anniversary, I think it's only natural to think about how much you love and adore your spouse. You think of all the wonderfully sweet and precious things they've done in the past and you get a warm fuzzy feeling. However, I couldn't help thinking of a recent incident in which my own efforts to share my husband's love of football came to a painful and tragic ending.

It was Monday Night Football, I believe. The game was over and the favored team must have won cause hubs was in a good mood. I was too. In fact, I would go so far as to say I was in a 'great' mood because when hubs suggested that we go outside and 'throw the football', this sounded like a good idea to me.

Now, the football in question was not a softy Nerf egg-shaped variation that lands on the ground with a 'poof'. It was more like an NFL-quality, full-size pig skin around which my little handsies could barely get a grip. And it was dark. And I generally excel in sports like running, or cycling, or yoga.

I'd have to say, I was pretty proud of myself. We got quite a few could passes in. But my finger that normally looks like this:

Looked like this before it was all over:

The things we do for love. It's still a little sore and it's been about three weeks. Love is a battlefield, so they say. Any folks out there have any genuine battle scars from the Love and Marriage scene?

Anywho, Happy Anniversary, hon. Two years down, fifty million to go. You're totally worth having a finger that looks like a sausage.