We had a Christmas party last night, with our friends. I love parties! I love Christmas! So a party at Christmas is really the best thing ever to me.
I bought and cooked my first ever ham, with help from Peter over the phone. Yum! I'm thinking I'd better stop cooking stuff, or Hubby is going to figure out I really can cook, and then he'll expect me to be all...wifey, and cooking, wearing an apron.
Girl Terror naturally thought the whole party was her party. Her friends, her house, her idea. All about her. It's a good thing we had a second kid, or she would be spoiled even worse than she is now.
Nobody got too drunk, everyone seemed to have fun, and the only sour note was at 3:30 am, when the cat punished me for staying up so late by puking in my bed. Under the blanket. Right next to my shoulder, onto my pillow.
Anyone have a cat on their list for Santa? I know where you can get one, real cheap.
2 comments:
Wait a minute: You said nobody got drunk, and yet the cat.....
I am delurking myself to ask these MOST important question - where you in bed at the time of the puke??
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