It is done.
All done.
At least everything I need to be involved with.
Stephen has outstanding purchases, but those are all to be accomplished sans moi.
Today, of course, I am completely exhausted.
All I have to do is cook the 30 pound turkey.
Have dinner with Mum later today.
Finish the Christmas cards.
Offer still stands: anyone who wants a card, just let me know.
My plan to go to the Superstore to beat the crowds was a plan shared by several, several, several other people.
Making me wonder if the Superstore was this crowded at 8.15 am, what was it going to be like later in the afternoon.
And you know what?
I'll never know because I didn't have to go.
Home, unloaded the groceries and then right back out again to take Keith to work, Em to school for a few minutes so she could hand in that last assignment, and then off downtown to make a purchase and, realizing my blood sugar was dropping at an alarming rate, stop for lunch at M&T Deli with Ms. Emily for some much needed sustenance.
Home again.
Stephen STILL not ready to go so we could finish our Christmas shopping.
He did put all the groceries away.
Not a light feat, given how much I spent and how much I brought home.
But STILL.
I wanted to get the shopping over with and back home again knowing I have done everything I had to do and was now in a moral position to remove myself from the hurly burly of the insane Christmas shoppers.
Nope.
He was having nothing to do with my plans.
Such insubordination will be punished.
So while he finally started taking the necessary steps to move from his unshaven-jammie state to a version of himself that was somewhat more presentable to the public, I did the only thing I could do.
Had a nap.
With Frankie and Jasper.
I must have been tired.
Because I didn't even realize Stephen had showered, shaved, dressed, left the house for the BMO, returned and was gently shaking me awake to participate in the next item on our we've-left-everything-to-the-last-minute-day-before-the-day-before-Christmas-extravaganza.
The tree.
Oh, the tree.
Stephen located a Christmas tree farm on the Northside, about 15 minutes from our house.
We had an address.
A phone number.
And a working knowledge of the Northside.
None of that was enough.
We found ourselves driving on a gravel path which was apparently just for walking.
At a Christmas tree farm which, due to development, is now the backyard to Fredericton's latest subdivision.
Nice back yard.
Lovely trees.
Immediate argument over which tree to get, which resulted in me sitting in the car upon the arrival of the man who actually owned the tree farm.
He was carrying a saw.
Because Stephen wasn't aware that he was in charge of chopping the tree.
Stephen with a saw.
The last time Stephen had a saw, a chainsaw, he was teetering precariously on top of an unstable boulder swinging the electric chainsaw over his head in an attempt to sever a rogue branch.
So you can imagine my excitement at the thought of him engaging in further sawing activities.
But he did it.
As far as I know.
I didn't watch.
But the wet patches on his knees, caused from kneeling in the snow to cut said tree, was empirical evidence that he did, indeed, cut the tree on his own.
And this was the result:
Not as big as I wanted.
But not as small as he wanted.
Compromise, thou art the glue holding together marriages all across the globe.
And he wasn't happy about the picture.
Can you tell?
After the tree, home again, drop off tree, pick up Mer, gas up the car and then, finally, at 5.00 pm, to the mall.
The place I had been trying to get to since the moment I returned from the grocery store at 10.30 that morning.
It wasn't as crazy as I had anticipated.
Not that I'm complaining.
First order, eating.
No shopping on an empty stomach.
It took us about two hours to do all that we had to do.
Details of which must remain secret until after Christmas.
I was home in time to watch Big Bang Theory.
Meaning the mission was a success.
And now, I get to stay home, perhaps mark a few papers, cook the turkey, finish Christmas cards and maybe even decorate the tree.
Nap, perhaps?
I am living large, people.
Living large.
Title Lyric: Axes Swinging by Violent J
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