FringeMan received his first Christmas gift of the season.
FringeBoy either has ice in his veins or he is determined to get frostbite this winter. I’ve never seen cheeks more red than his.
FringeKid claims to have mastered the hoola dance, a tidbit FringeMan will probably not share while in the pulpit.
Without so many words, she also told me what she bought me at the ‘Santa Sale’ in school. Trying her best not to use her voice, she pantomimed a slap bracelet. The only thing that remains a mystery is whether it is striped or leopard print.
FringeKid cannot keep a secret for more than thirty-two seconds. You don’t even need to press her for information. Shine a spotlight in her eyes and none of us would have a smidgen of pride intact.
Mrs. Wack, the stray cat that my daughter loves, is once again living under my porch and drinking my milk.
FringePup ate my only good potholder and I am in love with a woodstove. No other inanimate object has ever brought me more pleasure.
The blizzard hitting the mid-atlantic states is the sole responsibility of FringeMom. She decided to fly to Florida to go visit my brother and family. I’ve never known her to fly on a day when there wasn’t a catastrophe in the sky, in the airport, or on the plane. In the past, I’ve said that I would NEVER get on the same plane with her, but I’ve reconsidered. I will never even fly on the same day as her.
I say this with great love; however, I am all about self-preservation and she’s like a magnet for aviation trouble. Once we went to the airport three times in the same day to pick her up. I advised her to bring a snuggie and a pillow and to be prepared to spend Christmas in the airport. She remains hopeful.
UPDATE: This is a public and possibly premature apology. My mother is NOT the SOLE source of aviational doom as some daughter may have once said. It appears she WILL fly today. Enjoy Florida Mom!