empty canvas

The weekend looms before us like a fresh canvas and I stand right beside it, brushes in hand ready to dig in and make a beautiful mess of it. We are home this weekend. We are home and…

… we’re kicking off Friday with The Valentines and the Lobans tackling gingerbread houses with the kids, see also: SQUEAL!!
… paint supplies are being tallied to complete the trim in Mac’s room nearly three years later
… presents that sit naked absolutely freezing their behinds’ off will soon be wrapped up with warm holiday spirit
… we get to see the pocklocks and see little lyla’s real honest to goodness pigtails with our own eyes, in person, in REAL LIFE
… there are nearly four cardiac incident inducing pounds of butter on hand for holiday baking and I plan on using every last stick before the weekend is done

The weekend. Our last weekend home together just us three until the man in the red suit climbs into our tiny chimney and goes through the heat unit into the basement (jeez, Steve, we need a house with a fireplace for several reasons!) to deliver “Red Blocks” to an ecstatic Caroline. He’ll enjoy "cookies & milk" (she didn't go for our suggestion of a cold Sam Adams) himself before bringing the "hot dogs" Caroline wants to leave out for the reindeer back to his sleigh. Hot dogs. You simply cannot make this stuff up.


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