MY HUSBAND. SAFE AND SOUND. AND PREFERABLY IN THE SAME ROOM AS ME.
Why is this all I want for Christmas? Because Alice and I are currently enveloped in the love, warmth, and SNOW that is Utah and my parents' house. Because Chip is NOT here with us. He is Elsewhere, making his way HERE. Because he just might not make it HERE due to snow and ice and other nasty weather conditions that make travel nigh near impossible. Or impassable, as the case may be here.
Chip is driving, accompanied by my very-much-missed laptop-- traveling through the wildlands of Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and eventually - eventually UTAH. We don't know if he's going to make it in time, but I can hope and hope and hope....
So I've been husbandless and laptopless, which is why you really haven't heard much from me except for these here Laws of Cream, which I dutifully wrote and scheduled before we left Seattle last week. Tricksy, I know! Am sitting on dad's computer right now as he holds The Creamiest Little Girl in the World on his lap. She is thoroughly enjoying all the attention.
Now let's get a little interaction going, my friends, because I MISS you. So tell me what type of cream you deem yourself to be. And if I hear any of you saying that you're cottage cheese, there will be TROUBLE. And perhaps, if you play your cards right, an INTERVENTION.
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2 comments:
Mmmmm. I dub myself Chocolate Milk from Maple View Farms. It's a local dairy round about these parts and that milk might as well be CREAM! It's the full fat stuff and mixed with chocolate it tastes like a milkshake that's been melted down for consumption.
That, or whole milk yogurt--because I'm creamy but also kind of TART sometimes.
I miss you horribly. I hope Chip makes it there...I will send creamy prayers up into heaven for this Christmas miracle for you. Love you much, Friend. Merry Christmas.
I think I'm cheese..... I started out as cream and have aged for so long and spun around so long that I am now a Fine Cheese (all cheeses think highly of themselves... thus the cost. I figure that the Mr must be crackers... we go so well (I think cabin fever is getting to my brain) "}
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