Of Sisters and (Not-So) Secrets.

My sister has a blog! Did I mention that before?

Well, I mention it now because the buyer who was supposed to close on their Utah house just lost financing. SO they are still stuck with 2 houses, and she's having a bad day. Also? Apparently someone in our faux-prudish family busted her for telling the story of how the Angel came to sit atop the Christmas tree. (Personally, I laughed the first time I read it a few years ago... and again when she posted it.)

SO I felt the urge to write her a poem. Because I am just the sort of sister who is helpful that way. I mean, really, what ills exist in life that a silly poem cannot cure? Well, a poem or a bazillion dollars. Since spiders are now nesting in my empty wallet and the bank card audibly whimpered when I paid for gas yesterday (Thank You Christmas) I opted to go the poem route.

For your reading pleasure:

A Poem.

So sorry to hear that your buyer fell through
That sucks more than a Christmas tree up the wazoo
It may be that your humor's a little askew,
But I'm your sister, and mine is, too.
When it comes to warped humor there's one thing that's true
It's not far from the oak tree that we acorns grew.

*******************************************

And now for something completely different!

For weeks I have been planning a surprise getaway with T for tonight. Before the Spinal Injections of Doom, before the Great Appendix Crisis of 2007. I have been telling him I am taking him out to dinner at a surprise location.

In truth, I arranged with the owner of a local B&B (who also happens to be another mom from Jack's preschool class) to get a room at the Inn for an incredible price, as well as have a lovely dinner and breakfast for the 2 of us there.

Now, given that he is my most avid reader, you may be saying "But how is it a surprise if you're writing about it here?" And to that, my friend, I say "Exactly."

You see for the last several months T has always worked from home on Fridays. Like clockwork. Without deviation. But, due to the aforementioned Appendix Crisis and yesterday's Christmas program at Jack's school, he has been working from home a lot lately. And so, yesterday, he announced he would be going into the office tomorrow.

I argued with as much feigned disinterest as possible. I attempted to dissuade him, to cajole him, to be insistent to the point of obnoxious -- all without divulging the secret reason for my objection.

Finally, after losing the argument and starting to panic, I spilled the beans. For which, incidentally, T is very happy. Now he can look forward to our getaway all day today, and has also made arrangements to make his schedule fit for tomorrow. So, while I'm disappointed that I didn't manage to totally blindside him (this time) (2 surprise birthday parties and 1 very arduously-attained signed copy of his favorite childhood novel having been sprung on him without a hitch) I am glad that it doesn't change the fact that we have an entire evening to look forward to. Alone. Together. With our Scrabble board.

That's not a euphemism, by the way. We always play scrabble when we have a night alone. Also, we put together puzzles. Of course we also engage in activities befitting two consenting adults with a king-size bed and a jacuzzi at our disposal, but seriously - we can do that at home. Me? I'm looking forward to the Scrabble and the trash talk over a bottle of Cabernet. That, my friends, is something much more difficult to accomplish with any peace and success at home.

May you all have a romantical-type evening (or at least a relaxing one). 'Tis the season to lose your mind in the whirlwind, after all, and we all deserve a little R&R at a B&B once in a while - or at least a reasonable facsimile.

I mean, you haven't really lived until you've played Strip Scrabble, baby.