When the Battery Charger Arrives from Hong Kong, YOU Get to See Pictures

I've got some pictures.

I know. Try to contain yourselves. Please. It's embarrassing how you're carrying on about this. It's just a few pictures.

Way back on Thanksgiving Day, I took a test shot of the kitchen island covered in our traditional all-day goodies. We don't eat Thanksgiving dinner until nighttime, and during the day, we just have a spread of fatty, sugary, and completely bad-for-you foods for snacking. After this picture was taken, Husband became disgusted with the distinct lack of sweet snacks and ran to the store for cookies, candy, and other tooth rotting material. Some of it was put into a spare jar I had in the cupboard, which was the inspiration for Joseph's little container in his previous drawing (see last post).

This is Joseph, age 6. He's got a lot of my side of the family in him.

And this is Little Gary, age 3. He looks a lot like his daddy, and he's just as much of a character.

Saturday morning, our church held a Breakfast with Santa in the gym. Gabrielle, left, wore her pajamas not because it was so early but because her cat, Lincoln, pee-ed all over her other pairs of jeans while we were taking an emergency trip to the vet's the night before. Lincoln had some battle wounds, which were infected and causing a high fever, and I told the vet to just go ahead and neuter him while he was under anesthetic. Poor cat. Anyway, Gabrielle, Joseph, Little Gary, and Elannah wanted to go see Santa and have breakfast at the church. Sophia and Sian elected to stay home, but Husband grabbed a couple extra candy canes for them, too.

Everything is better when there's bacon.

That night was my last choir concert of the season.

 Husband in the front at the microphone. He was the announcer for both the Friday and Saturday concerts, and both nights he made us all laugh hard. On Friday, Husband was cracking everyone up and one of the basses looked at me and said, "Where did you find this guy?"

I wore my heels the second night, though they made my feet numb, because I was always stuck at the back and couldn't see the director very well. I figured with heels, I would add a couple inches to my height and maybe have a better view. It worked pretty well. You'll also be happy to learn that I didn't mess up too badly on my small duet.

Our last song was "The Twelve Days of Christmas," which is kind of like the "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" type of song for the holidays. It just keeps going, and going, and going...

Our version lasted 10 whole minutes. Husband told the audience that the concert was now half over and we would be singing our final song, which took a minute for some people to get but made the choir start laughing immediately. Unfortunately, it was a terrible song for the autistic child in the audience. His mom was telling me that he, as many autistics do, like to know what's going to be happening, so when it was announced that Twelve Days was the last song and then kept going, and going, and going, he got quite upset.