The best-laid plans . . .

So, as you may have noticed, Christmas is next week. My parents are flying down and we're going to have Christmas in Provo with Jenny & Ed & The Precii.

There are a few things I'm especially looking forward to:

A phone call from dear coolboy, who is laboring away on the sandy beaches of the Dominican Republic, (missionaries only call home twice a year--usually on Mother's Day and Christmas). Coolboy let us know that last year's Christmas phone call sucked bricks and that we'd better think of better & less boring things to tell him this year. I personally plan to make stuff up. I will begin with my pregnancy scare and end with the grizzly bear that wandered into the University Mall and mauled several Victoria's Secret patrons.

The food. Mom has already called Jen with the grocery list, which includes prime rib, brie, and one of those shrimp cocktail platters from Costco that are the size of my front door. Last time we purchased one of those it was half gone by the time we got it home. I'm going to make crab-stuffed mushrooms, which are tiny little balls of crack-laced goodness. I may or may not let other family members partake.

The Precii. Savvy and Ethan are so sweet and so excited about the whole Christmas thing. I talked with Sav on the phone the other night and told her that I bought her a Christmas present.

Savvy: Why? (This is her response to all statements now, which I think she does just to screw with our minds.)

Me: Because I like you.

Savvy: What is it?

Me: I can't tell, it's a secret.

Savvy: Oh, okay! [drops voice to a whisper] I won't tell anyone!

And then my heart exploded out of my chest.

My present to her, for those of you who love secrets, is a Disney Princess coloring book pack that comes with Disney Princess stickers and pencils and erasers, etc. I could have retrieved a crumpled piece of garbage from the trash and slapped Ariel's face on it and she would have loved it just as much, but I decided to go this other route instead.

You know what's no longer a highlight?

Pictures. I got my hair trimmed and my 4-inch bat poop roots touched up this morning so that when I meet my mom at the airport she doesn't tilt her head and scrunch her eyes and say something like, "So . . . what would you call that, exactly?" Only I shouldn't have even bothered because yesterday my face decided to Freak. the Heck. Out and erupt in zits so massive that Gremlins are probably going to hatch out of them during the night. One of them is up near my hairline and so the stylist kept bumping against it. Which, not necessarily her fault. These things are huge enough that they've possibly affected the existing gravitational force fields, much like planets, and maybe it's not possible to get within 3 feet of me without smacking into one of them, but still. She's just gonna make it mad!