This Post Brought To You By THREE Peanut Butter And Honey Sandwiches And Yes I Do Mean THREE

For your enjoyment, here is my Sunday in review.

Church was only one hour long today, on account of the "creche" that was going on all day in the cultural hall. Do you know what a creche is? Creche creche creche. If you are living in our house then you are finding as many excuses to say "creche" during the day as possible. "Creche" is French for "I Live In Idaho But I Am Still Cultured So Don't Call It A Nativity." Only but when you are living in Idaho it is important that you pronounce it "crush," otherwise nobody will believe that you really are living in Idaho, and wouldn't that be a shame.

This is the part of my blog post where I type about how there is lady in my ward who has three hundred nativities. THREE HUNDRED!  I can now die in peace having seen exactly what 300 nativities looks like in one living room, as Betsy the Flying Potato and I were tasked with bringing them from her home on Seventh to the church on Blaine on a Tuesday afternoon.

And anyway, one-hour church is an idea I can get behind. If you know what I mean.

After church Andy Carman stopped by to graciously lend his artistic eye to our 2009 Christmas Portrait. This was attempt number three at getting a decent picture for a Christmas card. You'd think that with just two of us in this majestic family that the chances of a good shot of both of us would be pretty good, but we have been foiled time and time again.

Sudden Subject Change!

During sleep-times I am like a sun with canine orbitals. At night in bed I am sandwiched by dogs and during the Sunday 3:00-5:00 nap hour if I so much as yawn while I sit next to the space heater I am suddenly sporting puppy saddlebags. There is something weird about these dogs and their need to be pillow-like.

This afternoon I snuggled up to Barnaby, we really spooned, I had him in a head-lock, and he lay there patiently like a stuffed teddy bear, like in actuality I was causing for all his little puppy dreams to come true. His head always smells like grape jelly. Peter Pan had the consolation prize that is the between-the-legs nest. When I woke up I literally could not move for puppy bodily interference. It was as if they needed me to stay there so they could sleep on top of me and thus fulfill the measure of their creation. But I had Peanut Butter and Honey Round One to attend to, and unfortunately they were very much out of luck. But like I said, when I sleep I am a dog magnet.

Tonight the student stake put on a rendition of selections of the Messiah. I am generally opposed to the married student wards on account of they have too many babies and that hurts my feelings, but I decided that Christmas cheer might be worth a it, so we got all dressed up. We braved the snowy roads. (Brandon braved them, driving like a maniac.) I surprised myself by crying all through it.

But which Christmas card photo should we send? Your options are:

(a)

involves bikinis + snow

circa 2008

(b)

involves a wise man + an angel

in a stable all forlorn

(c)

involves the snow + my house + the ghost of my sister-wife

also: poopy dogs