Busy, busy, busy

You have to say that title like the bad magician in Frosty the Snowman. It makes it much funnier and seasonal to boot.

My Dad and his wife, Donna, were here most of the week thus my lack of posts. When people are staying at our house I don't post as often because our basement is transformed into a guest bedroom and our computer is located right beside the bed. At least, that's my excuse anyway.

It was a whirlwind of activity around here. As usual, Donna tackled all kinds of house projects: fixing our leaking laundry tap, fixing a leaking shower stall, replacing a toilet seat, playing with Emily in the snow and reading lots of books. My dad did his share too: he put up two new light fixtures and read to Emily until the cows came home (or until he was hoarse at least). It was a lot of fun and really nice to see them since I haven't seen them since August before they travelled to Australia.

Donna bought for us a great new sled for tobogganing this winter (no, it does not have a porsche symbol on the front). Emily had her first ride across the monumental amount of snow we have and only dumped twice.

I'm sad to say that I failed at something this year that I take pride in doing every single year in early December. Since 1991 my good friend Tamara and I have been exchanging Boot Day gifts. What is Boot Day, you ask? Well, it's our name for St. Nicholas Day, which is December 6. In Germany, kids leave out boots on December 6 and St. Nicholas fills them with gifts and treats. Tamara, being half German, got sent a St. Nicholas Day gift by her Oma during our first semester as roommates at university. Then we each left out a boot for each other when the day actually came, renamed it Boot Day and ever since with only a few misses (usually by me). Even if we're half way around the world, we send Boot Day gifts to each other. I failed this year. No Boot Day gift is currently in the mail. I still have hope though that I'll get it done in the next week. Sometimes St. Nick is a little behind. I hate to be the one to break the tradition but I figure having two kids buys me a bit of leniency. At least I know what is going to go into the boot. I just have to finish it all. I'm going home-made this year, which can go one of two ways: either people are wowed by my skills or people say "Oh, it's homemade!"

As I sit here half-dressed, listening to the kids getting wound up upstairs, I realize I should probably join the party and get us all out of the house. Pants are probably in order first.