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HORCHOW, just so you know.

I've been shopping. Web hopping. There is a pot of carcass on the stove. The tree is up in the living room. The tree I ordered a month ago from Balsam Hill. I wanted to tell you when it arrived but for the life of me, the life I want to keep for a bit longer, I was not going to be the messenger of any Christmas tidings. There I said it. Christmas. Our perfect adorable well groomed, OBEDIENT cute little tree...needs a skirt.

Not this one. I don't particularly care for this one, which is pretty peachy keen and it cost $1300.00 usd. So it is a very good thing that I don't particularly care for this one, in particular. Imagine the terror my poor cat has suffered at all the noises I've been making the last 45 minutes. Worse than he lovingly indures on Sunday's when a bonehead shows up on the field and swipes my ball...TOTALLY never intended for him-JERK!

Tree skirts. Good grief.

We had Thanksgiving dinner on Saturday, hence boiling bones today. We will be gone that week as we were last year. Stuffing a turkey into the mix, the tail end of November, so close to the December turkey mix just turns into Honey Baked. They have already contacted me to let me know I could have ham for Thanksgiving. Nice. I was so thrilled to order one last year, delivered on December 23rd and right to my door. Can you even imagine?

Have you done a Honey Baked Ham line? Good grief.

Sounds of the Season, courtesy of Brighthouse, are piped through the house as well today. I was doing Smooth Jazz last week and saw the reminder note at the bottom of the screen and wondered what I had been missing my whole life. What sounds made Thanksgiving? Hmm!

Christmas music! Good grief.

So here I am after pie for breakfast. Pear Pie. Muah, Sir Anthony. Yummy smelly kitchen, wafting thourgh the house. Soft sweet Seasons, trickling down the hall and a partridge in my Christmas tree.

Is that a Partridge? Good grief.