This past weekend we hosted our small group’s Christmas party at our home and it was a lovely evening: good company, a table full of tantalizing appetizers, Harry Connick Jr.
So, the new insult in our house is, “Stop being such a Gershwald!”
My goodness. Talk about staying power.
Christmas is nearing. You know how I can tell? The dear church members have been dropping by the office with Christmas gifts for the staff, to show their love and appreciation.
How sweet.
Literally.
So, I’ve been tossing around some baby names. Let’s just say that Steve and I don’t see completely eye to eye about what we should call the baby.
I was chatting on the phone with my ‘rents (doesn’t that take you back to the days of reading YM magazine? “My ‘rents were out of town so I called my crush to come over for a make-out session.
You know how people say that pregnant ladies just “glow”? Well, it’s a lie. Unless they mean that the myriad of pimples on their face gives off an eerie, red, humming aura. Maybe that’s true.