Bailey's for Breakfast

     Another Christmas, come and gone. And, due to the murky possibilities the near future may bring; the decorations are down and put away for another year. It was sad, to have all signs of Christmas gone, less than 24 hours after the day was over. It was also something of a relief. This was a rough holiday season.


     Christmas Eve and Christmas turned out to be seriously nice days, even without the traditional snow around here. It really felt more like Easter. And, if the weather would like to stay this way indefinitely, I will be completely okay with it.

     Christmas Eve dawned with me whipping up Homemade Bailey's Irish Cream, to be given at my parent's and to a few close friends. After making several pints, there was a few shots leftover, which, without real thought, I poured over ice and sipped, while talking on the phone for 45 minutes. I honestly didn't put much thought into it until I stood up after I hung the phone up. Good Morning! Moriah is sloshed. Nice.
     Shortly after that, my friend Sue's husband stopped over with her traditional Christmas Eve offering of homemade Syllabub. I handed him a pint of Bailey's, as I happily spooned more alcohol into my system. I observed from my happy haze that, I had finally found a good use for the boxes and boxes and boxes of mason jars that Bearded Man had presented me with all summer. I could probably be completely happy canning alcohol. That being said: Bearded Man and the kids were invited by a neighbor yesterday, to go pick carrots from her garden. They came home with a whole bushel of carrots. I imagine that tomorrow, the last of my 5 days off from work, will be spent peeling, chopping, blanching and freezing carrots.
     I told Bearded Man that it could be a fun project for he and the kids to do, while I work this week, and they are at home. But, Bearded Man has a head cold. The most horrible, miserable, terrible, awful head cold EVER in the history of head colds. If the moans, constant sleeping, hacking all over the house, while whimpering how it hurts to: open his eyes, move his eyes, blow his nose, turn his head. We have heard about the color of mucus, is it normal to feel this way? He has never ever felt this way, cannot smell, cannot hear... I don't think Bearded Man will be with us much longer. Which would free up considerable space on the couch, and we will never ever have to watch WWE or the History or Discovery channels again. Trying to stay positive and all that.

     Anyway, back to sloshed Moriah on Christmas Eve morning: I was respectfully sober and alert, when we wandered to church for the annual Christmas Eve pageant before Mass. Now that I am one of the Sunday School teachers, I was sort of obligated to assist with this. Which involved telling the children to arrive at least half an hour early, spending 5 minutes getting them into costume, and 25 minutes wrangling them. 19 children. On Christmas Eve. For 25 minutes. At no point in my life have I ever thought I was heaven bound. However, that had to count for something. I spent most of the 25 minutes between a camel and a cow (called "Camel!" and "Cow!" because I had no idea what their names were), trying to keep them from beating the ever living daylights out of each other. My two biggest accomplishments of Christmas Eve were: NOT being tipsy during the Christmas Eve pageant, and, making sure the camel and the cow weren't placed anywhere near each other during the alter portion of the pageant.
     I am also happy to report that George and Lexi, as Mary and Joseph, from what I could see, behaved beautifully during the proceedings. I wasn't paying too much attention, because, I noticed almost too late that there were lit candles in all the church windows, and I was standing in front of them, while we directed children. I was THIS close to being on fire several times. Memories and stuff.

     Christmas morning dawned, and, snow or no snow, Santa managed to make it here. He even left George presents, after George took several bites out of Santa's cookies. There is a picture of George in the local paper, sitting on Santa's lap. The story behind it being: George had insisted we find a Santa, as he needed to explain that he was on the naughty list, but felt that he had done enough good to be moved onto the nice list. The subject never came up, however, so, he was sweating it out right till the very end.
     We spent the afternoon at my parent's, and several of my brothers were able to make it too. It was a nice afternoon, and the kids were completely exhausted by the end of things.

     The day after Christmas, I stepped on a scale. And was horrified to see I have gained back a little of the weight I worked so darn hard to lose all summer. So, back to working out for this chick! Turbo is so happy, to be going on the super long walks again.

     Speaking of Turbo: Monday is our one year anniversary that he has been with us! Honestly, I love that dog. When I come home from work every night, and everyone greets me with "What's for dinner??!!!"or the laundry list of grievances regarding school, each other, school projects that need to be done, snacks they need by tomorrow, reminders of swim practice/scout meetings.... and there is my dog, just happy to see me.
     I love my job. But, some days, it gets to me. In a day, I could have a suicidal patient, pedophiles, crying patients, angry patients, non compliant patients, PTSD, alcohol abuse, infected wounds, dementia, anxiety, terminal diagnosis, sleep patients, providers that need as much care and patience as the patients do, constant phone calls, emails.... the mental and emotional stress is a lot sometimes.
     So. On those days that I need a break, there is Turbo, the dog that was supposed to be Joe's, but I think ended up as mine. He is quiet, and loyal, and is near me almost always when I am at home. Sometimes, it's nice to snap the leash on him, and walk for miles and miles and clear the cobwebs out of my brain. Since getting Turbo, I have lost almost 25lbs, he's been great for stress relief for me, and made me honestly a better nurse, and I genuinely love that creature. I never thought I would be one of "Those" people, who adored their dogs, but, as much as I love Buster too, Turbo has kind of become my buddy. Sort of a therapy dog for me. And, I am so very very happy that somehow he landed here. I heard after we brought him home, that there was a very long list of people who wanted to adopt one of the rescued "Hannibal Huskies". I was not on the list. Within the first few months of having him, we fought over potty training, I literally caught pneumonia, standing outside with him day and night on a leash, during of the coldest winters I can ever recall. Like, EVER, and there were times I thought "Seriously. This isn't going to work" HA! Now I have this big fluffy beast that loves to snuggle in my lap just as much now, as he did when he was a baby. Who has also learned how to open the bathroom door, so he can be near me when I shower in the morning. He even lies on my feet while I get ready for work every day. Happy Anniversary to Turbo!

     Now that the holidays are winding down, I imagine we will be trying to get back into something of a routine around here. The kids are all pretty content with their Christmas gifts, and the nice weather to be able to play outside the last few days. It has really helped, not having the cabin fever that we had last year around this time! Hopefully everyone in the household doesn't catch Bearded Man's cold, and things can start to get back on track. Happy New Year, everyone! Celebrate safely!