Christmas greetings from the Beverley Hillbillies to you all, wherever you may be.
The day has passed peacefully and gently, Beverley style. We have stayed put, eaten far too much, will be drinking far too much later and have rested during the middle of the day. I am in no pain as I have consumed my first two glasses of eggnog. Bliss.
This morning started with the usual complaint from Madam Cat demanding to be let in. First photo opportunity. I snapped the pile of loot and the Christmas tree before the beginning of the attack. Stockings were opened; tea and coffee were drunk. Then it was on for young and old.
I scored exceptionally well. Beauty products for my hair, body and feet were revealed. Is my family trying to tell me something? One of the lovely little books by Bradley Trevor Grieve entitled "Tomorrow" which advises readers how to remain sane in a world of change, conflict, confusion and seeming madness. Right up my alley.
DVDs, a Dymocks book voucher (yay) and enough little jams to have on toast all year. Earrings, of course, and a candle. My mum and dad sent me gardening gloves (in pink) and a ginger grater. Oh, happy day.
Michael is cheerfully munching his way through his Christmas pack of black jellybeans (Ewwww) with a beer. He's had a wonderful day, not going to Toodyay, not having to sit with a fake smile on his face, not having to put up with his son's behaviour whilst the rest of the family stay silent. This is where we belong.
No Christmas would be complete without a family member being sick. Pip chundered gleefully on the living room floor this morning, right in front of Michael's ottoman. Methinks it may have had something to do with the gluttonous amount of leftovers consumed by the Three Stooges last evening. Needless to say, it was my responsibility to clean up.
We retired to bed in the early afternoon and slept for a couple of hours. Vanessa followed soon after, tired after her marathon cooking effort last night. We have enough food to feed the Fifth Battalion. She had been woken by Santa on the Volunteer Fire Truck this morning and had been exceedingly displeased. An afternoon nap did not immediately improve her mood. However, she has been restored to a more positive disposition after discovering my load of washing is covered with glitter from a previously sticky Christmas stocking...
Callum and his delightful lady Bronwyn are arriving tomorrow for a couple of sleepovers. Then, Alex, our autistic superstar will arrive on his charger (aka Trans WA bus) and stay until New Year's Eve. Vanessa will return to Civilisation in due course. She does not do Dirt or Heat.
She has taken photos of Michael and me in our element - on Facebook together around the dining table. She has declined to have her own photo taken. I shall have to remedy this situation before she roars back to the Big Smoke.
Best. Christmas Day. Ever.
Let me in or I'll slash your throat...
Merry Christmas (note the slightly lopsided star at the top)...
The big fella has arrived...
Michael in his element this afternoon (still life with Beer)
Big dog...
Alert as ever after a good spew, Pip?
Any food?
Happy Christmas from the Three Stooges (note Ruby with ribbon malfunction)
The blogger at work...
And us...
Merry Christmas from us to you.
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