Starting Christmas early

It's 12:40am, which is technically Christmas morning. However, I don't think it's Christmas until I wake up wide-eyed (READ: bleary-eyed) and race (READ: stumble) down the stairs in search of presents.

Now that I'm older, I've discovered that Christmas Eve is less exciting and more of just a normal day. Since it was a normal day, I went for a run around the city. My route took me by my college roommate Tina's new condo, and I seriously considered stopping and screaming "Tina Chern-face hobag!" until she came out to see me. Fortunately, we were both saved this embarrassment because as I ran by her condo, I happened to see her butt sticking out the passenger side of her car. (Apparently, she was rooting around getting her groceries out of the back seat.) We talked some, and I pretended to stretch by banging my outstretched foot against the pavement a few times. Tina's such a fancy runner now; I wish I could be as fast as she is!

The rest of my run was okay. It was somehow in the high 50's when I went out for my run (Sorry, Dan), but stupidly, I wore plenty of technical gear and capri-length tights. I was fairly sweaty by the time I got back to the house, which the boyfriend made of point of telling me. ("Ew! You're so sweaty. I don't know how you get so sweaty!") Whatever. I smell great after runs, fo' sho'. They should bottle my sweat and make it into a perfume, or rather, an eau de parfum. 

I did some last-minute Christmas shopping for Mom, and then I got my hair cut. I have been talking about this damned haircut for several days now, but I only get it done about twice a year, so it's a big deal. I usually go and ask for something fairly conservative and easy, and somehow, the stylist screws it up. Then I come home and stomp around, yelling about incompetent hairdressers and swearing that I will never get my "f*cking hair" cut ever again.

...Fortunately, this didn't happen today. I had a great stylist who did exactly what I wanted--gave me a good haircut. She also didn't force me into a lot of needlessly chatty conversation, which worked well with my misanthropic demeanor.

Tonight, I had dinner with all my parents: Mom, Dad, stepmom Pat, and Mom's boyfriend Steve. It was good fun with plenty of tasty food. (Fortunately, no Christmas cookies were present.) After dinner, we drove around the city looking at all the pretty Christmas decorations and enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. I'm so very lucky to have divorced parents who don't hate each other. It makes holidays much easier and much more enjoyable. 

I'm also very lucky that Dad and Pat read my blog. We exchanged some gifts tonight, and I am the proud new owner of a Garmin and cute running gear. I'm very excited. Thanks, Dad & Pat!

Another really great Christmas gift came via the Interweb tonight: an A- in Old French. Thank goodness. I was seriously thrilled to see that grade considering the quality of my final paper. As they would say in epic poems of the 12th century, cil oisel chantoient lur joie! ("The little birds sang their joy!") And by little, epic demonstrative birds, I really mean myself.

Okay, I better head to bed so Santa will show up. Hopefully, he'll bring me a hammer with lots of tacks. 

 My stinky dog Gryphon and I wish you a very merry (blurry?) Christmas!