The Day After

It's the "day after Christmas" which means it's my birthday. Whenever I am asked when my birthday is, that is my reply, "It's the day after Christmas." Let's be honest, it is not the greatest day for having a birthday. (Especially, in my family when all the birthdays were bunched into the month of December, by the time my birthday rolled around, everyone was tired of celebrating this and that). Perhaps that is why when asked what I want to do for my birthday...I draw a blank.

I have absolutely no plans aside from shredding the mound of papers my husband dumped by the shredder. M is off to 1/2 day hockey camp. H is parked on the couch watching some sort of animated thing and I just caught up on email. Being me, I probably should make a cuppa tea so I can live up to my "Tea Snob" moniker. I should probably do this in the next few minutes, maybe have a slice of peanut butter toast, and meander off the gym to combat the tightening waistband of my jeans. I "should" but will I? I guess I should appreciate the fact that my only dilemma in life is getting myself to the gym.

Okay, I took a break from writing, shredded the papers, made me tea and toast...I think I'll add a picture to this post, and actually go to the gym...rather than ponder the idea of going to the gym...then I will figure out what to do for my birthday...

(This picture was taken after one of Hannah's skating lessons last week, Santa just popped up out of the blue. You just never know where the Jolly Old Man will be in the Christmas Season)