It's been another month since I wrote anything here. Pretty soon this whole damn blog will just be laments about not writing on the whole damn blog.

Anyway, we're off on a weird Christmas adventure, locked down in our home as so many others are. Inspired by a colleague, I asked the children a week or two ago about what fun events in which they might want to engage.

They arched their eyebrows and sneered in response to this query. "What are you talking about?" one of them asked.

"Like maybe we can drive through a Christmas light display on the State Fairgrounds?" One of my third graders had told me about this diversion. She was awed by it. Of course, it's worth remembering that she is eight years old.

Still, the kids agreed to the lights, although without much enthusiasm. "Okay," they said. I did some quick research and discovered that the only available tickets were for tours that began after 9:45pm. I mean, I like fun, but I also have a bedtime.

So, I canned that particular light idea. Luckily, a colleague mentioned another fun tour where you get to tune into a radio station and Christmas music syncs to the holiday display! I booked a ticket for 6:30pm this evening. It would be early enough that we'd make it home for my 9pm retiring.

"We will be going to the Severs' Corn Maze Light Display!" I announced to the family with militant cheer.

Everyone feigned excitement. Or, at least everyone reserved their bellyaching. I promised drive-thru Chik-fil-A as a bonus. And then guess what happened? Our brown Christmas has been thwarted by the season's first big blizzard. It's happening this very evening at the same time as my light tour. We're getting between 5 and 15 inches with 2-4 foot drifts on top of the glaze ice that will form after a morning of rain and 40-degree temps. By the time I tuck myself in, the temperature will be below zero with fifty-degree wind gusts. 

So, the moral of the story is, don't plan any family fun. It won't happen, and your kids will just be in a position to tell you they told you so. You're welcome.

• We put up the tree and all of the ornaments. All of them. Even though every year I remind the family that we don't need every single one. "We do," they say, even though there aren't enough spaces and not all of them are very attractive.
• We planned a holiday outing. However talented the dancers in The Nutcracker undoubtedly were, it was not particularly enjoyable, as you can see above. All tippy-toes; no talking. Lots of leaps; loose storyline. I don't know. It just wasn't for us. Dan liked it okay.
• I finished my shopping at the last minute, visiting the Mall of America, Target, and Dick's Sporting Goods on Christmas Eve Eve. I didn't even hyperventilate at any of these locations.
• We baked cookies and decorated them. They taste good, and I ate lots of dough and broken pieces.
• Teddy, for his part, ate 8 oz of dark chocolate and cheerfully vomited in the back room of the emergency vet's office to the tune of 227 dollars. He's so dumb, but it looks like he'll live for another Nativity.

Here's an unfortunate fact about me: I'm not a very good gift-giver. Every once in a while, I'll straight-up steal a half-decent idea from someone else about what to buy for someone I dearly love. Most of the time, though, I walk into one of the same half-dozen stores I always go to and pick something that the recipient might think is just fine. Just fine, but not usually delightful.

I wish I were better at this, but I'm just not.

This year, Dan has some specific requests for Christmas gifts. One of them is a quarter-zip pull-over. Before I go any further, I want you to know that Dan has about fourteen quarter-zip pullovers already in his closet. I pointed this out.

"I'd like one that isn't blue," he said. It's true that at least six of the pull-overs--the only ones he actually wears--are blue.

"But I've purchased you purple and green ones, and you never wear them," I argued.

"On the green one, the sleeves are too short."

"What about the purple one?"

Dan went to his closet and pulled out the purple. "Well, the collar is just outrageous. It's too tall! And, plus, it's boxy." I asked for proof of these assertions, so he modeled the sweater for me. To be honest, I could see what he was saying, but I disagreed that those two points made the sweater unwearable.

"It's okay if you can't find the perfect quarter-zip," Dan said. I think he began to realize that he was sounding a little Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally. "I could also use some, like, regular sweaters. Maybe a cable knit."

First of all, I don't think he has any idea what cable-knit is. He definitely doesn't like it. He only likes tight stitches.

"I liked those v-necks you got me that one year," he went on, "but, I didn't like how deep the Vs were. Like, I don't like it when any part of the second button of my shirt shows in the V."

I raised my eyebrow here, I'm pretty sure, and Dan started to look sheepish. He might have giggled. "And also," he added, "those were a little too short." There's another black quarter-zip that he has, incidentally, that's a little too long.

 I think all readers can see my predicament.

"Just get me a sweater," Dan said, finally.

I wrote this directive down in my bullet journal. "I'll do my best to get you a sweater. But not a crew neck, not a deep V, and if it's a quarter-zip, I'll be sure it's neither too short, too long, and also doesn't have a tall collar or a boxy fit."

Should be easy. Luckily I'm such a good gift-giver.