I have next week off so I can take care of my older two kids. We’ll see how that goes. At least I should be able to sleep in a bit, even if the rest of the week isn’t so relaxing.

*   *   *

Right after last Christmas I decided that we were changing our Christmas decorations for next year. The last three years or so have been red and copper. But I’m ready for something cooler. So I’ve decided it’s green and white, with a little bit of blue.

So I’ve purchased some antique green glass bottles off ebay. They should be on their way.

But also, I told Ian that I wanted some pinecone decorations on the tree. He pointed out a bunch of pinecones in our neighbourhood, but our neighbourhood had only the trees that produce long soft pinecones with overlapping scales. I want the short, rounded, really woody ones. On Monday, I dropped the girls off with him right as he got off work so I could get to my drum lesson on time. And when I got home, there were a couple of giant, rounded, woody pinecones on the sideboard. He and Rachel had spotted them on the walk across campus to the explorer and they brought a couple home for me. I was delighted with them, so then Thursday, when he met me on Broadway to get Hannah from me before my dance class, he had brought a whole grocery bag full of them.

This seems like… I don’t know, WAY more romantic than fresh-picked flowers. An off-hand remark from a couple of months ago that I have to start looking for good pinecones and he’s remembered, been on the lookout for them, and brought me a veritable bouquet of them. He’s fantastic.

*   *   *

Hannah’s rotten-sick. She has a horrific barking cough, a sore throat and a perpetually runny nose. Last night she had a little bit of a fever.

Ian and his dad have gone to the car show that’s on this weekend. Normally I like to go along. And I know they like to stay longer than my feet like and certainly longer than Hannah would tolerate, so in recent years when I go along, I take my own car so that I can take Hannah home when she gets tired.

But since Hannah’s sick, we put her down for a nap right before Ian’s dad arrived to pick him up and I was going to stay home with Hannah.

“Well Megan,” Ian’s dad said to me, thinking he was being cute, “I bet you’re awfully jealous because whatever you’re doing won’t be as fun as what we’re doing.” Because he thinks it’s a given that I don’t care about cars.

Refusing to play along with the “This is teasing because you obviously wouldn’t be jealous because this is OUR thing not YOUR thing,” I replied flatly, “I actually was going to come along, but since Hannah’s sick, I’ll be staying home with her.”

“Oh you wouldn’t want to come with US,” he said, “We’ll be taking forever. And we’ll be stopping to talk to people about their cars.”

Still flatly, “I know. I’ve gone with you other years.” (Every year for the last five, I’m pretty sure.)

“Oh really? Have you gone with us for four hours?!”

I was going to reply, “Yes. I actually have. But I suppose if something doesn’t coincide with your narrow, stereotyped perception of reality you can’t possibly be expected to remember it ever happened.” But I didn’t.

I did, however stoop to a peevish, “whatever. You can think of my interests whatever’s easiest for you.” And returned my attention to the computer.

Fuckwad.

*   *   *

I was going to take pictures of the pinecones to accompany this post, but I see Ian’s taken the camera to the car show. Maybe when the camera’s home, I’ll come back and update the post to include a picture of a Mustang. Hah, won’t that be perfect.