This morning I rode a recumbent bike with my dad and his cycling cronies. It's comfy on the tush, for sure. Probable highlight other than the exercise: The cronies and Dad frequent a bike store where 30-something Heather works. They flirt, one nabbed some coffee, it was cute. They just wanted to wish Heather and the gang a Merry Christmas. Ah.

One grandma headed to the hospital, the other was granted a short reprieve from the nursing home. We stuffed her in the trunk (ok, skillfully wheeled her into the back of the van) and brought her home. She had a nice time and it was so good to see her out. She's such a cute grandma. I've got the biggest soft spot when it comes to Grandmas.

My family rocked out to 88 Fingers Louie's version of "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." You've never lived 'till you've bounced wildly to Christmas punk rock. I'm feeling a new tradition coming on. This one is going to be bigger than my last one which involved saying "Happy ____" after dinner then convulsing and screaming "Poison!" and falling to the floor.
Merry Christmas. I hope Santa visits you no matter what you're celebrating.