Still a child

It's day four, and he still hasn't wrapped my Christmas present.

On Thursday morning, a package arrived that was addressed to Tyler, and I knew it was my present. I shook it, listened to the quiet thump it made against the sides of the box, analyzed the weight and stared at the size. But that was all. OK, maybe I kinda brainstormed how I could open and seal the box without him knowing, but since I didn't have any brown packaging tape, I quickly aborted that idea.

He came home that night, took it into the guest room to verify the order, and then left it OPEN on the desk. All he did to close the box was to put other to-be-wrapped family present on top of it.

Now most of you know I am one of the nosiest people on the face of the Earth. I don't even realize I'm being intrusive half the time. My friend and old co-worker Chad constantly made fun of me for it because most of my inquisitive sentences to others included: What are you talking about? Huh? Hey, what happened (imagine A Mighty Wind)? And that's just putting my problem mildly.

Which brings me to my current plight. Tyler just left for work, and I am here alone for three more hours until I need to be at the restaurant. In the mean time, the opened package is taunting me from the back room — beckoning me to take just a little peak.

My inner child is struggling with my adult persona. They are tussling back and forth, and at this moment the child is winning. The adult in me can only fight off my weaknesses for so long.

And like a child, I will blame Tyler for not wrapping my present if I cave. After all, he should've known better.

A not-so Christmas dinner

Since we will be working during the holidays, we cooked our Christmas dinner on Wednesday so we could enjoy a nice meal with Quinn and Kent. We still had some Sand Hill Crane left from when my parents stopped by, and thought that was the perfect main course for our dinner.

We prepped all the side dishes, had a buttermilk pie in the oven, and were ready to cook the crane. Tyler had the breasts seasoned on a plate, and stepped away from the kitchen for just a moment, but that's all it took. In a flash the game bird was gone, and the only thing left was Moses licking his jowls. Tyler did manage to save Christmas by running to the store and returning with prime rib. Dinner was a little delayed, but it was still delicious.

Moses endured our wrath that we unleashed upon him, but ultimately our punishment was yet to come in the form of "the crane express" — a term coined by Kent. So far the aftermath hasn't been terrible, but I'm sure going to be happy when this train leaves the station.

Quinn's quarantined visit

Quinn arrived for a short snowboard trip on Monday night, just in time to beat the storm. After riding all day on Tuesday, and hanging out at the local bar that night, his fun vacation caught up with him in the form of a cold Wednesday morning. Instead of shredding Beaver Creek, we had a lazy day at the house watching A Christmas Story and the new series Amish Mafia. He took a nap, and tried to recover as fast as his Theraflu, green tea and citron vodka concoction would let him.

He kept apologizing for being sick, but we didn't mind at all. It actually reminded me of living together in Tahoe when we'd just hang out around the house after work. And that's the nice thing about good friends — it doesn't matter how long you've been away from each other, you can always pick up right where you left off. In sickness and health, it's always enjoyable to spend time with friends during the holidays.

Feel better soon Quinn.

Christmas hunting

As usual this time of year, we went and hunted a Christmas tree up around Vail Pass. We took our saw into the woods, but were able to trim it with our early present back at the truck (thanks for the Husqvarna Mom and Dad). It's a Thompson family tradition to trim a tree with a chainsaw.

After toting the tree back to our apartment, Tyler helped me decorate the tree — which he hasn't been able to do in years past because of work. We draped the lights around the tree, and then busted into the ornaments.

He couldn't believe how many ornaments we had; and I couldn't believe how excited he was to hang all of them. My mother has sent us some of my old ornaments, as well as two new ones for us every year we've been together. I've also inherited all the old ornaments I loved hanging on my grandmothers' trees in years past. From the painted glass balls with Alaska wildlife scenes, to the glass and gold angels with bells, he was an enthusiastic tree trimmer. He even was happy to declare that we had so many different ornaments, that there wasn't room for the unoriginal plastic ones we bought at the dollar store in Tahoe six years ago.

We may not have the holidays off, and our apartment may be too small for Tyler's perfect tree — but I'm happy to say it's ours, and that I'm looking forward to celebrating this time with my husband whenever we have a chance with our sparse days off. Merry Christmas, hon.

Balloons

I had to buy balloons at the grocery for a Christmas present I was making for somebody (I can't write more, otherwise it would ruin the surprise for some followers) and I had some spares left over. After finishing a game of 10,000 with Kent, Tyler suggested we create our own balloon animals to spice up the evening.

As you can see from the visual documentation that the boys unleashed their inner children. Sure we followed the instructions on how to make giraffes, dogs, flowers and party hats — but then we went rogue on our own custom designs: