It's been a constant party for the last eight pounds . . . I mean days. . . heehee. We'll probably be suffering from Post-Christmas Depression. Including the depression that occurs when you can't button your pants.
FM is fatter than he's ever been, topping the scale yesterday at 171. Heinous, eh? It's disgusting. I may have to leave his Fat Ass.
My little brother made the family cry by proposing to his girlyfriend of two years, Amy. A new family member!
FM and I's Christmas present to each other arrives Friday, although we did manage to spend a little money on innocent baubles to exchange on Christmas Day. Our big present is a new front door. And entry light. And doorbell. And garage light as soon as I can find one that doesn't make my stomach roll looking at it. Oh, and house numbers, too (same deal with the rolling stomach).
So, internet, from our family to you and yours, we hope you had as an exciting of a Christmas as we did, minus the extra poundage, and I'm sure we'll talk before the New Year.
Now, I'm sure there's a cinammon roll or two left around here somewhere . . .
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