Playful, elegant, and not above the judicious use of the word “shit."

Christmas With Cascade

Because we didn’t have enough room next to the refrigerator in our living room for a Christmas tree, the only festive decoration in our house this year has been a 10-foot string of white lights. I know it may surprise some of you that even though Jon and I don’t practice an official religion, aside from occasionally worshipping at the alter of Satan, we actually participate in Christmas related activities and have missed having the house littered with boxy wrapped presents and shiny ornaments. We’re so into Christmas, even, that I wrapped my dog in that lone 10-foot string of white lights just to prove to you how motherfucking festive this family really is:

Yesterday was sort of the official last day The Armstrong Kitchen Remodeling Disaster, and I say sort of because we’re still waiting for the new refrigerator to be delivered, and there are still a few gaping holes in the walls that need to be addressed. We spent several hours last night patching a hole in the ceiling and painting tiny divets in the walls left as presents from the three blonde kids who installed the new cabinetry. I think they might have been distracted by my belly because all three of them COULDN’T. STOP. STARING. AT. IT. I wanted to say to them JESUS! This is UTAH, the Pregant Belly Capitol of the World. Like you’ve never seen a pregnant woman before! And then I realized that they were probably staring at the nakedness of the belly and the absence of Heavenly Underwear, and that they were probably secretly praying for the welfare of my unborn, innocent child about to be born into a non-Heavenly Underwear wearing family. If they only knew the wicked things I plan on teaching my daughter.

It’s been one hell of a week, a week I thought would never end, a week following a week following a week I thought would never end. But last night at 10:30pm, Jon and I bought our first box of Cascade together — the first box of Cascade to be bought in my adult life, a box of Cascade to be used in Our New Dishwasher, the first dishwasher of my adult life — and as we were about to walk out of the grocery store with that new box of Cascade I said to the lady at the check-out line, “You’re witnessing my first adult purchase of Cascade.” And she just looked at me blankly, unmoved, and mumbled, “I’m honored.” But I knew she was lying. She had no idea the significance of the occasion, that starting today I would be able to drink orange juice from a non-plastic beverage container and eat cereal with a real live living spoon for the first time in four weeks. I plan on spending the next several hours licking the inside surface of Our New Dishwasher. It’s time to start living like a proper spoiled American.

I hope you have a happy holiday, however you choose to spend it. And remember Dooce’s two rules for the season: 1) Forgive your family, and 2) drink lots of whiskey. This year, drink some extra for me since I can’t have any.

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