christmas stuff (polite word choice) has forced a house-wide re-org.
never got out of jammies today. not in a cozy, sitting around in jam-jams with cocoa sort of a way, but in a never stopped moving stuff around and never managed to get dressed sort of way.
broke THREE bookshelves reshuffling kids' books. what evillll Ikea creature builds hollow-core shelves anyway? they're obviously designed to hold a handful of paperbacks, and not 16 cubic feet of children's hardcovers.
and no, i DON'T have too many books.
there's no such thing.
why yes there ARE books in the dining room, bathroom, and hallway, and yes, i understand that most people don't think of those as book-storing sorts of rooms.
i can stop anytime. really.
p.s.: asked santa for a 'flea' uke. don't think i'm going to get it. also asked for old jawline and new stomach muscles, but then got tired of writing letter to santa and ate a Hershey bar left over from last night's foray into fireside s'mores-making, so I'm guessing abs o' steel are not going to be found under the tree this year either.
Jessica*and I were craving some photobooth fun, and so we picked up the cheeky monkeys and headed over to Hollywood and Highland, mecca of bad architecture and tourist trappiness (but also home to the Lucky Strike bowling alley with its magical magical black and white booth).
We figured we could find ice cream in one of the tacky food court chain places, and we did (Dreyers set us up quite nicely).
But we hadn't planned on the water-jet walk-through fountain still being active in freaking December, and I'm afraid I deeeeeply underestimated its magnetic attraction for Ander. And of course Zaza must try anything Ander seems to be enjoying.
Despite the fact that the sun was over the hills and it was getting chilly.
Despite the fact that I informed them I had no dry clothes in the car.
I left the choice up to them, because really, I'd be running through the thing if I wasn't holding my fancy-pants camera, and running through a fountain in December is just the sort of serendipitous adventure that I LOVELOVELOVE, and what was the worst that could happen? I have a heater in my car. There were dry clothes and hot baths at home. Nobody was going to die of pneumonia.
Miss Kitty stuck to the sidelines, illustrating that she has both a will of steel when it comes to madly giggling peer pressure, and a clear understanding of the discomforts of cold wet tights.
Za had a shriekingly good time, but then was doubly miserable afterwards because she had nobody to blame but herself when she was cold and uncomfortable -- it's not like anybody made her put her entire head into geyser after geyser after geyser...
It was so very worth it.
* She took that last photo. I didn't have photo-worthy lipstick, hence, the turtleneck-mask. Also, that's one of her husband's stripety Spzmlsin the photo with the ice cream. This particular fellow was Ander's payment for taking care of jeks' cat (Witch Baby) whilst jek & her husband were roadtripping.