gold stars

dad was snoozin between hands of our card game.  his head would dip towards his chest but his eyes would pop open when nudged and then he'd play trump and take the trick.

mom survived a large scale lasagne attack when she opened the freezer door and the 3 lasagnas she had stuffed in there against a day (or 3) of lasagna need, rebelled and pounced on her all at once.  dad could hear the clatter and commotion of the battle from tbe bedroom. "but i was laying there helpless!" said dad, reliving the drama. "did you hear me whimpering?" asked mom, who said she sustained injuries but when pressed refused to name the location of said injury. ("it was for her bum!" muttered sarah to herself and giggled)

and me? i washed my hair. gold stars all around.

tomorrow is the great and dreadful day of the pathways christmas party. survival is the goal. that and fabbness.