Because nothing says Christmas like a flying pig.
Muchas gracias to the most fabulous evilducky for the festive new décor. I said, "Do you think it would be possible to make a banner using that photo I took of my pig ornament?" and like fifteen minutes later, she emailed me four different pig banners to choose from, all awesome. As a bonus, only one is overtly Christmas-ey, so I can use the wintery one after Christmas and save the other two for later. So happy Christmas, everyone! Consider these halls decked!
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All shook up.
Last night I was en route to meet Danger for chai when my mom called. "My poor little car!" she cried as soon as I answered. "My front fender is all smashed up!" She's okay, my sister is okay...the car will be okay. They were driving home from shopping, down a busy four-lane street that is pretty notorious for accidents. Mom & Little Sis were in the right lane in Mom's little Cavalier. Some college guy in a big SUV was in the left lane and turned right to park in some angled spots along the side of the street, and pretty much turned right on top of Mom because he didn't check his blind spot and she was in it. After it happened, he tried to sort of insinuate that she'd come up on him from behind after he'd started turning, and then to say he was straddling the lane line, that he'd just swung wide to park when she'd hit him. Except Mom's skidmarks showed that she'd been squarely in her lane when the accident occured, and it was pretty obvious that he'd hit her and pushed her car around at an angle as he turned.
Everyone was okay and the guy wasn't an ass about it other than not wanting to admit what he did and the cops came and observed the skidmarks and could tell what happened. Mom vented and we laughed about it and everything was fine. On the way home from the bookstore where Danger and I get coffee, I always go right through the intersection where the accident happened. I saw the skidmarks, and even though I knew my family was okay, seeing the marks and knowing that my Mom's car had made them felt like a punch to the chest. I guess it hit me for a second just how quick something potentially tragic can happen. Obviously we can't go around every day thinking about all the bad things that could happen to our loved ones at any point, or we'd be such neurotic messes that everyone would have to stay home with their heads under the covers. I don't really know where I'm going with this, other than to say maybe it's not a bad idea to phone your mom and tell her you love her, double-check your blind spot, and watch out for other drivers...just in case.
what's new, pussycat?
I Heart Farms
Reading: Neil Gaiman's Fragile Things, still
Playing: blues mixes & Christmas music