Every Christmas card I write, every Christmas card I write, has been stolen, has been stolen. . . .

December 23, 2011


Ah. . .a December 23rd in true Dawne fashion.


Marking not done.


Christmas shopping, not done.


Grocery shopping, also not done.


Wrapping, you're kidding, right?


No tree as of this moment.


Christmas cards? Okay, now you're left sane and are dancing in the world of fairies and unicorns.


We've received so many lovely Christmas cards.


And I am planning on sending one to each and every person to whom I usually send Christmas cards, to those people who are new senders to me this year, and to any of my faithful readers who would like a Christmas card from the exciting city of Fredericton.


Send me your address.


I'll send you a card.


You may not get it until after New Years but you'll get it. 


Eventually.


















Fredericton is a city.


I'll accept that premise.


However, it is certainly not a city on the same scale as Montreal, Vancouver and Toronto.


I'll never forgot the first time I walked into a three story Chapters in downtown Montreal and encountered entire sections of books written in Greek, German. Italian. . . .


We have books here in French, so I should have made the assumption that book stores in bigger cities would cater to their population.


But I am a social scientist. 


We don't make assumptions. 


We observe and draw conclusions.


Imagine what happened, then, when in our Fredericton Superstore, on the south side of the city, Stephen encountered a Ukrainian Christmas card.


Whose next door neighbours were Polish and Russian Christmas cards.


He bought it, duh.


Sending it to his parents was one of the greatest delights of this holiday season.


Because one, getting a card from us only a couple of days after Christmas is one thing.


Getting one in Ukrainian?


THAT is something special.


Who knows what'll show up next year in the card racks of our fair city????!!!!!!!


















Today will be a long day.


First item, leaving the house as soon as I've posted this blog and dressed (because NO ONE outside of my immediate family wants to see me scooting through the aisles of the Superstore in my zebra stripped flannel jammies) to dash to the grocery store as it opens in an attempt (hopefully not vain) to beat the maddening crowds.


Most people have to work at least a half day today, so I am hedging my bets that I'll encounter significantly fewer people than if I wait until this afternoon.


Plus it means I can grocery shop alone, as NO ONE in THIS house is even remotely contemplating open their eyes, let alone getting dressed and being cogent enough to maneuver the grocery store before 8.00 am.


Home, put groceries away, and then turn around and run to the mall to drop Keith off for work and finish our Christmas shopping.


This time with Stephen, because he can sleep through groceries, but if I have to bob and weave through the crowds of almost-last-minute-Christmas-shoppers, so. does. he.


Home again, toss our booty in the bedroom and then at 3.00 we are off again to the north side to pick up our hobbit size Christmas tree.


And if that doesn't exhaust every single store of energy I have, it'll be back to marking for me later today.


Which may well be the only peace and quiet I experience today.


















And speaking of hobbits, a treat to look forward to for next December. 


One of my favourite books.


I can't wait!

Title Lyric: Christmas Cards by They Might Be Giants