I'll be home for Christmas. Actually, tomorrow.

I'm very busy here not packing. There's a Blazer game on (one of those rare occasions where it's nationally broadcast, hooray) and frankly, I feel like procrastinating the pack. I usually do. I tell myself some lame little reason that makes me smile, like the longer I wait, the less wrinkled everything will be.

I'm thinking about fun things. Like seeing both of my families- the one I was lucky enough to be given and the one I was lucky enough to marry into, anticipating lots of yummy food and big comfy sweaters that disguise the physical result of consuming said yummy food, how to break it to Landon that I've had his Christmas shopping done for two months and have been secretly hiding his presents, and when I get to have more apple pie (nevermind that I ate half a pie earlier this week).

I love Christmas shopping. I'm very proud of the attention to detail and the personal ideal of my gifts. And for most people, I find things that just fit the person and it's over and done. However, my dad is one of the hardest people to shop for on the planet. So it is with him in mind that I pay close attention to all those commercials that tout their product/store as the perfect solution for that hard-to-shop-for friend/family member. According to these overly-confident companies, Dad will be receiving an "edible arrangement" and something from a fishing pro shop. Maybe a gift card.

For those of you that don't know my dad, trust me, that's funny.