It's a Wrap

This Christmas was truly one of the most restful I remember. I left work on Wednesday at 3 pm and was able to completely put it out of my mind for the first time in a while.

I always have a weird sense of angst about presents with the Husb, since he’s getting pickier with age. But this year we gave ourselves the gift of a new bedroom floor instead of doing a traditional exchangeroo. It’s made from recycled materials and looks like wood. We love it. Dog loves it. Her nails make a sophisticated clicking sound as she trots across it in irregular patterns while tossing her new plush sheep and orange monkey toys to herself.

D-man is content with a new iPod nano and cell phone. Although…his thumbs are most likely in need of being Baker Acted at this point. On the way to my parents’ house on the east coast of Florida, he passed on a much needed trip to the toilet because he feared a text might come in that he wouldn’t be able to answer in seconds. I’m trying to go with the flow here. You know, be a good, cool mom. But sweet Jesus, that scares the daylights out of me.

So the pride and joy of many folks’ holiday revolves around the kitchen—that grandiose meal to emerge from hours of peeling, boiling, baking, concocting…whatever people do in that room of the house. Since I’m a self-proclaimed (and family-proclaimed) domestically disabled person, I don’t know much about the kitchen. But I will say that Husb prepared a most delightful Tofurkey dinner for me…mmmmm, so appealing…that I dined on while they consumed their pukey animal protein.

It was amazing. Quite unsurprisingly, I had the whole thing all to myself. You can see how difficult it must have been for them to pass on this Soy Wonder. They were lusting after it for sure.

Now one thing is for sure about Flanders. That dog loves, as in LOVES, a present to open. Doesn’t matter what it was. She literally anticipates each second counting down to the unwrapping, just like a kid. Here’s a “before” shot that sufficiently captures her smug confidence at what was to come:

Here’s a “during” shot:

And after she opened her three presents, plus tearing into Husb’s mother’s electric can opener, plus shredding wrapping from each one into minute pieces, here’s an “after” shot:

Ahhh, doesn’t that just make you want to curl up? My sweet street dog of 10.5 years calls it a wrap after being treated to some goodness for all of her selfless love.