A Tad Cranky

I've been a bit cranky this weekend. I've had a sinus headache for like 48 hours and I'm definitely turning into my mother with her constant sinus woes. I pulled myself off of the couch last evening to go to one of my school Christmas parties. Of course I forced my husband to pose for a picture. I thought I'd share the evolution of a photo in my house.

First step: pose big girl by her little tree.

Step #2: Retrieve husband. Position him by tree. Set timer on camera. This happens.

Crap! Step #3: Adjust timer. Pose next to husband. Dwarf tree out of photo with our ginormous selves.

I wanted to post this in case anyone thinks I do things smoothly. If you know me, you'd know that thought is completely ridiculous. If you don't know me, you're probably not reading this anyway.

My Christmas card doorway. Once I fill this one, I'll do the other side. I can't quite decide if this looks tacky. If it does, me doth not care. I like it.

Back to my crankiness. We got up this morning and went to 10 a.m. mass. After we left church I said, "I can't believe our priest never called me back this week. I really need to talk to him." Then we headed to the mall for a little Christmas shopping. T and I both bought lots of gifts at Nordstrom. I also got a gift at Loft for my BFF Jamie. When we got in the car I surveyed our bags. "That Nordstrom guy did a crummy job wrapping this bag of gifts. They don't even have a ribbon. The Loft chick stinks too. Jamie's gift fell right out of the gift box into the bag. Doesn't anyone know how to package anything anymore? Geesh!"

Are you noticing a pattern here?

Next stop, Panera. I got into a spat with the manager over points on my Panera card. My comment to him was "You really can't fix this? It doesn't seem that difficult to me. It's not like you have to teach a kid to read each day like me. You just load my sandwich points on this plastic card." I did not say the last two sentences. That would just be my obnoxious inner speech.

Trinity did not respond to any of my negativity all day. I didn't notice I was even being a jerk. When we got home this was what he said to me:

"Bets, you can solve all of your complaints with email. First I want you to email the Pope in Rome and tell him about how our priest won't call you back. Next you can email Bill Nordstrom and Cynthia Loft and tell them that their employees can't wrap presents. Lastly, I want you to email Joyce Panera and tell her to get this point situation taken care of ASAP. How does that sound?"

This is why I married this man. I nearly wet my pants. I loved that he had assigned first names to the head mofos of companies that had totally wronged me. I mean, Joyce Panera? How hilarious is that? Had he known better he would have told me to email Ann Taylor instead of Cynthia Loft, but that's fine. He got his point across. I'm a jerk.