So through the miracle of time-stamping, I am posting at the Risky Regencies tomorrow. Head on over there if you want to see some banal anyhooness.

Um . . . let’s see. I am very excited to have this new job, very excited to have some time off with my family and okay with the usual things that bother me (for once!).

I’ll likely post again in the New Year and all, but meanwhile, have a great holiday and hope you all find time to do what you like best; for me, that’s reading, sleeping and having nothing to do. I am, indeed, a slug.

Smooches!

Megan

Not precisely doom, but definitely family.

But I am taking a boatload of books with me, the husband that needs to rest like nobody’s business, the wonderful son, and an urgent desire not to get all gloomy and eat too much pie.

(Yes, pie is a trope this week).

So anyhoo, I am doing okay, but wiped out by prep the past few days. I owe the Picky Vegetarian a call (hi!), and will get to that once I stop running.

Have a great holiday, if you celebrate, and please join me again next week for our regularly scheduled bout of neuroses, hawt furriners and the occasional rant.

So I was the Grim Reaper (the makeup was awesome, a wee bit hard to see here):

And the Son was a samurai inspired by the Manga series Naruto, while the Game Husband was 40 year-old Justin Bieber (currently getting stabbed by samurai):

I have SO fallen down on the job. And, lest you think it is because life is full of AMAZING and EXCITING events, let me reassure you: It is not.

I’ve been slogging away at end-of-year stuff, taking a wee break post-middle school apps, and looking forward to not cooking. Oh, and gifts, too. But not cooking is a really big gift; not that I hate cooking, I don’t, but I don’t like having to think of something different every day. And my MIL makes food I just don’t, like big cuts of meat and mashed potatoes and stuff.

So I’ll be sporadic through the rest of the year, but back to the usual sched in 2010. Hopefully next year will bring some joy, as well as some more sleep. And coffee. For me, not an oxymoron.

More later!

Most of you know that the Frampton Household is a Christmas Holiday Bonanza. Those of you who don’t know would likely be surprised at how intensely we get into the holiday. Yes, it is hypocritical for me to believe as I do (or don’t) and be so into Christmas, but I celebrate the joyous festiveness of the season. I think any warm, loving human can do the same and not be hypocritical (at least that’s what I’m hoping).

So I am decorating the house, and except for the golden skin, come-hither look and young, pretty face, this is exactly what I look like right now:

In other words, I am wearing this hat.

It’s been a hard day week month year, so I am searching for little things to bring me joy. Luckily, I pride myself in finding joy in minor events, such as buying a half-priced plastic skull pitcher so the Cocktail-Makin’ Spouse can conjure up some spicy Bloody Marys. Yay!

This is the best pic I could find, sorry it’s small, but it looks like that. And for five dollars! Who knew joy could be bought for a fin?

Last Saturday, we hosted a Holiday Party, tres intime, tres delicieux. The Spouse made his Six-Hour Pork Roast as well as grilling a turkey breast he’d brined for over 24 hours. Oh. My. Lord. That turkey rivaled the Roast, which I thought could never be trumped.

The Alpha Sparkle Dog stopped by on the way to her own shindig, and luckily she documented some of the festivities, since I stink at remembering to bring out the camera. The Super-Smart Lawyer came too, bearing the most amazing faux molten chocolate cake. Not quite flourless, but almost. That’s the S-S L with her wine-savvy boyfriend.

It was fun and low-key, with our neighbors, some old friends and a nice group of kids who watched movies in the family room and raided the grown-ups’ party for snacks every so often.

And of course wine was drunk, in this case by Shoulder Guy, who also donned wine charms in his ears for good measure.

Yesterday, the Spouse took the Nine Year-Old out to do some shopping for Mommy (awww!), so I puttered around the house, eventually settling down to read some Regency Christmas stories from the various Signet anthologies. Happy holidays to me!

Last Saturday night–otherwise known as Megan Escapes From the Shackles of Mother- And Wife-hood Night–the Alpha Sparkle Dog and I went to Chinatown to imbibe in some, duh, Chinese food.

We were crossing Canal St. when we spotted a couple in Santa wear; she had on the cutest white tutu, red and white striped socks and a fetching Santa hat. He looked like a dud, albeit a dud in Santa gear. No big deal, we thought. Until more people dressed as Santa started streaming by, and more, until we were engulfed in what Liz deemed “A flurry of Santas!” (note: An Exaltation of Larks by James Lipton; can I say just how impressed I was by Liz’s explication?) It was the SantaCon! Who knew? (The answer to which, of course, is about 2,000 game New Yorkers. Not me, however. I did not know).

Liz has the live action goods at her place, and here is a snap of some Santas doing some sidewalk belt-shopping:

And then one of our entrees:

I went through the sobbies on Friday, not too many, but still, and Saturday the dreaded Back Spasm appeared, which it usually does the day after a traumatic event (note to Spouse: Do not pick fights with me. You’ll have to be tying my shoes for a week).

But yesterday we got our tree, and had the first snow, and got stuff done, which is always good. Today I am kinda hobbling around, but still able to move things from one place to another.

I am enthused about returning to work on this contemporary thingie I’ve had banging around in my head, and will be doing so at the Alpha Sparkle Dog’s house this Tuesday. Meanwhile, my agent remain on the case, but nobody is buying anything lately these days, and we just gotta wait until after the inauguration, she thinks, for something to happen.

My family talked amongst itself on Friday, and boy, does my family rock. They are tremendous people, and I love them all to bits. Especially my uncle Jon, who hurts more than I do, since at least I have the Nine Year-Old to distract me. And the P-I-C commented here, and the Picky Vegetarian sent me a lovely email, and boy is it great to have such amazing friends.

The 9 y.o. and I went and saw Twilight, which I thought did as best as it could to translate a teenaged girl’s fantasy onto film. Because, of course, each of us have differing fantasies, so how could one universal image ever satisfy? But that Robert Pattinson was a darn good Edward. My only quibble was Jacob, I thought the actor who played him was too young and mushy-looking, but that’s minor. And I’m not a teenaged girl.

Oh, AND, we bought and won a vintage blow-mold Frosty the Snowman, which will be adorning our back deck!! I am beyond thrilled!

More later. Meanwhile, thanks for stopping by.