Why Do I Feel Compelled to Post This?

Well, I figured it was time to write a post.

... Only problem, I'm drawing big blanks concerning what to say.  Does this ever happen to you?  Any sane person would think, "That's fine; I just won't blog until I have a topic in mind."  But I'm a different story.  I have this love-hate relationship with my blog, wherein I love to have a forum for all my irrelevant thoughts (I know you love it too), but I hate it that I feel obligated to post on a semi-regular basis.  Worse, actually - I feel guilty if I don't.  (Does this make any sense?  No.  My blog is turning me into a crazy person.)

Unfortunately for you, this probably means that whatever else I write today will have nothing to do with anything.  (You should stop reading now.)

As you can see (hear? read?), we made it back to the States in one piece.  (Three, rather.)  Isaac slept a whopping fifty minutes out of the ten hour flight, and watched Rango three times.  The remaining eternity was like a prolonged tantrum interrupted by frequent visits to the bathroom - not to actually use it but to have an excuse to get out of his seat.  I'm a bit fuzzy on the details, though, because about halfway through the flight I realized there was no limit on the free wine.  And that is how I will be flying from here on out.

We did not get stuck in Toronto overnight.
Also they did not lose our baggage.
The shock almost gave me a heart-attack.

And now we're home, happily surrounded by familiar Christmas decor and music and food ... and family.  The weather is surprisingly mild (I'm wearing a t-shirt dress and ballet flats in December!), and I can hardly contain my joy at seeing the sunshine every morning.  Actual sunshine.  SUNSHINE.  (Hey, you try living in Dark Denmark for a few months and see how you react to light.)  We are still jet-lagged.  We wake up at 4 AM every morning and fall asleep at about 9 PM.  This is unfortunate.

Also (a nice segue into an entirely unrelated topic), I took my Lucky boots in to be fixed.  He has three weeks of back-orders so I may not see them again until January, right before we leave.  I am not handling this news very well.

On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you think it would be if I called him every morning and asked him if he finished my boots yet?  Would a bribe be better?  Or blackmail?  (Or I could just wait my turn, like a responsible adult ... nah.)

I'm going shopping this weekend to find some warm clothes so I don't freeze to death in January.  I might as well admit right now, I have a very hard time buying warm clothes.  Everything I want to buy is meant for summer.  I have no idea how to shop for winter clothing.

This would explain why I own no socks.

I will now abruptly end this post.