The doorbell rang at 7:30 tonight and Peter and I froze each thinking but no one saying "Who the hell would ring the doorbell at 7:30 at night?"

Peter gave me the "you get it" look and I gave him the "Um, I'm topless, jackass" look. I think I even said "I'm topless, jackass." As we were exchanging looks, I heard the music. Carolers. There were carolers at our door. I was immediately charmed and surprised. Peter quickly grabbed Hadley out of bed and ran to get the door. There stood about 8 kids and a few moms singing Silent Night. Aw. Then they launched into "we wish you a merry Christmas" after Peter opened the door. The whole thing was very wholesome.

Moving on to other irritating discoveries...

I hate the new show "My Boys" on TBS. I watched it after seeing an ad for it on Perez Hilton and it sucked. I heard it was "charming" and "just like Sex and the City". Uh huh. Peter laughed at me as I sighed and grunted my way through not one, but two episodes. I gave it a chance. It sucks. Too many reasons to go into (and I honestly can't remember all of my gripes because I saw it last week). There is no such thing as a bunch of guys who have a girl friend that they hang out with and drink with and no one sleeps with. It's not believeable. She's constantly using sports analogies and metaphors and only has one female friend. I just find the whole "I'm just one of the guys, dude!" schtick tiresome, especially when you're 30 something. You're not just one of the guys. You're a girl. Nay, a woman.

I did something to my back/tailbone last week or even before perhaps but the pain was awful this weekend. Awful. My doctor gave me anti-inflammatories and Vicodin so I spent the whole weekend hopped up on pills and trying to remain flat on my back.  I think it's getting better.

House is on and I must go lay and watch it. Peter has been calling me "House" this weekend because he's desperately afraid that I'm going to get addicted to Vicodin. I suppose I understand his fear but it's not like I've exhibited signs of being a crazy ass addict before. Plus Vicodin makes me all boozy, hazy and Sharon Stone-esque and that's really not me. Much to the shock of everyone I'm sure. There's nothing like it when you're in pain though. Blech.

While I'm popping pain pills my darling HJ has strep throat. I took her in to the doc yesterday because she was complaining of stomach pain and low and behold she has strep. What the? When I put Finn down tonight he was running a fever. Awesome. They have both been woooonderful lately though. So good and sweet and charming. Hadley is still begging for a violin and has become the most dedicated little artist telling me just today she needed more "materials" for her "projects". (read: tape and paint and glue)

I have heard the phrase "rare bird" a lot this year. ELK loves a store called "Rare Bird". I read the phrase in a short story recently and somewhere else...can't remember where. Anyway, I have applied it to Hadley in my head. She is my rare bird. It suits her. She fascinates and astounds me.

Finn is full of it and I have developed a slight complex because everyone who comes in contact with him says "My! He must keep you busy!" Of course what I hear is "Your kid is annoying." He does leave skid marks wherever he goes but he is a most loveable, jubilant boy.  I am grateful for that.

Shoutouts to the following: people who name their diaries something other than "diary", people who dance with JPL, people who nickname coworkers things like "Maple Nut Goodies" (retch), people who get fancy new responsibilites at work, people who ditch work the day after a mammoth baby shower, MFP's mom, and my huzbie, who finally reached the magic boots or whatever it was he was so excited about on WoW.