Zombie Progression

If you read my last post, you may know I have a zombie in a bowl on my kitchen counter growing a little bit more every day. Some of you asked to see the zombie once it got six hundred times its original size. I rather doubt that will happen, but I have taken some pictures.

What else have I been doing besides watching a pale green zombie grow and googling articles on how to stop binge eating? Well, two days after I saw my entire extended family, I got to see them again. We drove over two hours to the city where two of my siblings live. My 91 year old aunt was visiting from Saskatchewan and a cousin I haven't seen in 30 years was also going to be there. It was nice. I also embarrassingly called a different cousin by her sister's name. She kindly corrected me and I thought, "Oh my god, I'm becoming my mother." My mother messed up my name on a pretty regular basis. My grandmother did the same. And now, so am I. At least with my own two children I don't interchange their names and perhaps that is only because one is a girl and the other is a boy.

My 91 year old aunt looks pretty much like my grandmother (her own mother), as did my own mother at the end of her life. I turned to my sister and asked, "Is that how we are going to end up, too?" Maybe that is the way of things. Maybe in our family, you know you are at the end of your life here on earth when you start to look like Emma.

We did some 'big city shopping' because our son has the misfortune of having a birthday that is quite close to Christmas, so he now knows what he is getting for his birthday because he picked it out and tried it on already. My two children are a bit different with their clothes. My daughter is not necessarily a slave to the "brand" of clothes. She can usually purchase a few items, maybe even find some bargains with the money she has. My son, on the other hand, prefers certain brands and gets a small amount of key items that he wears frequently. Each method seems to work for them.

I have not yet started deconstructing Christmas and packing up the twelve boxes of Christmas. I would like to start, but I feel that maybe I should wait until our daughter goes back to university on the 2nd. I kind of dread it. It is such a pain to repack everything. I've written on the big Rubbermaid bins what the contents are, so I am obligated to repack them the same way, as opposed to just chucking stuff in random boxes as I take it off shelves and table tops.

This post continues on to the next day. I was woken this morning by the sound of the Indy 500 snowplow driver, and again by our "snowblower guy" who comes with his tractor and snowblower to clear our lane and our neighbour's lane, and then once again by a tail-less fluffy black and white creature who meowed in my face and stood on my pillow. So, I'm up now, even though I don't have to be and I shall read your blogs to find out what you've been doing and if Christmas is completely over in your homes.