To All My Readers: I Wanna Wish You a Merry Christmas...

from the bottom of my heart.

May your holiday season be filled with all the goods thing in life. And much much more.

Our Christmas Tree

I finally got around to taking some pictures of the Christmas tree!

No flash

With flash.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Thanksgiving came and went. Thankfully, without a hitch. Patrick spent his first night at his grandma's house and behaved like the good little boy he is (yeah, right!).

Yesterday, Mike and I ventured out to Target (one of my favorite places in the whole world - next to Disney World, of course) to buy a few things. We thought we might go late at night but instead opted to go around 4 pm. It wasn't even crowded! Next year, I am totally going shopping on Black Friday. I'll even take Patrick with me. Yeah, right.

Last night, we took pictures for our Christmas card. Loads of fun, folks, and I can't wait until people start receiving them. Having a baby is like having a doll sometimes. Seriously. :)

Today we plan to put up our Christmas tree as we attempt to watch the Florida-Florida State game. I feel awful that I haven't cheered on my favorite college team this season. I am going to try to make it up to the Gators today, though.

Now, as I figure out which channel the game will be broadcast from, enjoy this outtake from our Christmas photo shoot:

Questions: how do baby keep that extra bit of milk on their tongues? Don't they know to swallow it? And how, with FOUR people watching him, do we fail to realize that the boy has a booger in his nose? How?

Oh, and... Go Gators!!

The Cold Creeps In

Last night's weather report said that it's finally going to feel like winter in my neck of the woods.

It's about freakin' time. We're talking about lows in the teens and some flurries.

This morning, as I was dressing for work, Mike reminded to wear something warm.

"Of course. Although next year at this time, we might be sitting in weather that is much more tropical. Or, better yet, you might get to experience your very first Noche Buena," I replied.

As the cold arrives in the Northeast, hellish conditions make their way toward a hospital in Havana.

Mele Kalikimaka is the Thing to Say

Mike and I have been having a 'discussion' the past few evenings about whether or not we should have presents under the tree before Christmas Day. I say yes; he says no.

My reasons:

1. We don't have any kids that will see the presents under the tree before Christmas.
2. We have to pack them all up on Christmas Day to deliver them to the family.
3. I want to take a freakin' picture of the tree with all the presents underneath it.

His reasons:

1. Santa doesn't come until Christmas Day.
2. He's stubborn.

What do you, faithful readers, do? Do you put the presents under the tree as you wrap them (the way it should be done)? Or do you keep them sitting on top of the guest bed all wrapped up and occupying space until Christmas Day (like stubborn men like to do)?

Please leave your preference in the comments section.

This afternoon, my office closes until the new year. I'm not sure how often I will be posting while on vacation, as I plan to go to as many movies as possible next week. I also have a zillion errands to run (one of them is getting my license renewed, which means a long long line at the DMV).

And so, I wanted to wish everyone a great holiday. As the Hawaiians say, 'Mele Kalikimaka!' May you, your families, and all those near and dear to you be blessed with joy, love, and health in 2007.

The Year Santa Claus Brought Me a Box of Dirt and a Stick

I'm not sure when I learned there was no Santa Claus - it could have been when I saw pictures of my uncle dressed in a Santa suit, minus the hat and beard or when my two cousins sat me down and told me that Santa was really my mom. Both of those event may have come the same year, but I honestly can't remember.

All I know is that I knew the real truth about Santa at a very very young age.

However, since I was a really smart kid, I knew that I could never let my parents know because that would just ruin all chances of getting really good stuff. So, I never let on that I knew the truth.

In the years that proceeded 'the discovery of no Santa', I managed to figure out where my mom had hidden all my presents. Granted, all the presents were wrapped, but I could always count on finding them under her bed or deep in a closet. One year, I even found presents in the trunk of the car!

Eventually, my mother figured out what I was doing and mentioned it to my father. The following Christmas, I couldn't find a single gift. I searched everywhere - the garage, the basement, the cars, the closets. Nothing.

On Christmas Eve, two presents magically appeared under the Christmas tree. Naturally, I was excited that I hadn't been 'discovered' and that 'Santa' would be making a grand delivery as usual.

Imagine my surprise on Christmas morning when I opened the presents and found a two by four stick and a shoe box filled with dirt. I was devasted. What a terrible thing to do to a kid, right? But no, my parents were all proud of themselves; my father casually mentioned how children should never try to trick their parents, because parents will always find out.

When my tears had subsided, they presented me with loads of gifts, just like all other Christmases (as an aside, the reason I never found the presents is because my mother gave them to my godmother to hide - very clever!). I guess that's why to this day, more than 25 years later, I don't try to keep things from either one of my parents. I definitely learned my lesson.

My Mom Used to Call Santa Claus

Apparently, when I was a little girl, I used to misbehave. A lot.

And I apparently knew it too because on December 1st I would start asking, "Am I being good? I am being, right?" And my mother would humor me and say, "Oh yes, you are being a very good girl."

At times during December, I would act out and my mother, not knowing how to handle my tantrums, would call Santa Claus. She would pick up the phone, pretend to dial, and proceed to have a conversation with Santa Claus.

"Santa? Santa? It's Annie's mother. She is very very very bad. Very bad girl!"

I would completely freak out and beg her hang up the phone. Then I would try to hang up the phone myself. Then I would get a beating. And it would always end with a promise from me to behave so Santa Claus would leave me presents like he did all the good boys and girls.

This repeated itself throughout the month of December. But in the end, Santa Claus always brought me some cool presents.

Well, except for the year that he left me a box filled with dirt and a stick. But that's a post for another day.

Against my wishes, I am going to Buffalo

It appears I will be going to Buffalo this weekend, no ifs ands or buts.

I shouldn't complain because it's a great opportunity to spend a weekend with Mike, just hanging out without a care in the world.

But all I can think about is the laundry that needs to get done, the Christmas presents that need to be wrapped, the floor that needs to be mopped, and the bathroom that needs to be cleaned.

I don't know why I worry about all of this, it's not like I am having guests over or anything like that. I'm not even hosting Christmas at my house. So why do I worry?

Your guess is as good as mine, but I am going to bet my anxiousness about my house is somehow related to being Cuban.

If I can't figure it out, blame it on the Cuban-ness.

One of Santa's Elves Threw Up in My House

Mike and I spent the entire weekend getting ready for Christmas. I told him, the King of Procrastination, if the tree didn't go up this weekend, not to bother putting it up.

So yesterday, up it went. A million lights and about a thousand red ornament balls later , the tree stands. It's quite lovely.

Then, I hung the stocking by the couch with care (sorry, we have no chimney). And added more lights to the railing that overlooks to my living room.

I set up the Nativity scene, which according to my mother (via telephone) is the most important thing of all. At first, Mike tried to set it up, but he couldn't get Joseph to look at the Baby Jesus just right, so I had to take over. He had the nerve to call me a temperamental artist. What nerve!

I even set up an old Nativity set from my single days in the kitchen. And more lights.

I have so many lights and not even places to put them!

All that and I'm still not in the spirit.

I think I need to rewatch A Charlie Brown Christmas.

Oh yes, and it appears I may have to join Mike on a trip to Buffalo this weekend, but that's another post. For now, I'll just say:

I do not want to go to Buffalo.

Andy Williams in My Heart

Every December, I spend the entire month waiting for Andy Williams' song, Happy Holiday/The Holiday Season, to come on the radio. It's a terrible song. The worst. holiday. song. ever. But I'm hooked. I can't stop singing it...

Here are some of the lyrics:

It's the holiday season

With the whoop-de-do and hickory dock

And don't forget to hang up your sock

Cause just exactly at 12 o'clock

He'll be coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney, down!

In doing a search for the lyrics, I cam across this commentary. I'm glad I'm not alone in my feelings of this song.