AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I said I love the holidays? I lied. I HATE THEM.

I have two days until seeing the parents, and I am not ready. And I'm not in any mood to GET ready, either.

OG is still in school - and at night, she's wigged out on sugar, some fluctuations in the ADHD medication, and the change of routine. YG is taking advantage of her sensitive sister and bugging the everbejeezus fuck out of her.

I'm bloated from party food, and spending more of my workday than I probably should talking to contractors about doing some closet work (not "secret" work; work done on my closets). The house is a mess, there are already toys covering every square inch of this house; why on earth did I ever think that buying more was a good idea?

After the cookie-making bacchanalia of last week, this week I've been baking Cheery Cranberry Chocolate Chip Bread for several friends, teachers, and co-workers - 7 loaves at last count. It's good; or at least I hope it is - I cannot bear to even taste any more sweets or pastries, can you? (Oh, but if you make it...buy excellent chocolate, like Valhrona or Scharffenberger, for the chocolate chips. And instead of the cocoa glaze, make one out of that really good chocolate, heavy cream, and butter. This tea cake recipe has a great glaze (and is also a really great holiday-party-going treat to make. Christie made some in mini-muffin tins that were fabulous).

Oh, lord, and there are going to be two parents soon. With more fruitcake. And possibly potted cheese. I ask; is it just me? Are you ready? Are you really?

I'm tired. So tired. I can't believe my own partner attacked me!*

*a la Bookhart, five points if you can identify the source of that phrase.