Counting the Days Until Christmas

On Sunday morning before I left Harvey and Pooka's house, there was a conversation about the date and how long before Christmas. Shortly after that conversation, Snoozer presented me with this countdown to Christmas. So, in case you were wondering, 27 days until Christmas.

Christmas Scheduling

OK, this post is primarily for my parents and siblings (and anyone else who plans on joining our Frogmorton Christmas at Mom and Dad's). To all of my other adoring fans, feel free to stop reading.

It seems like I've had a number of phone conversations lately that go like this:
"Hey, when are you going to be at Mom and Dad's for Christmas?"
"I don't know. When are you?"
"I don't know."

So, here's the place to see what others are doing and share your plans.
This is what I know so far (or at least what I think I know):
Hermana Daisy and Elder H. won't be in attendance.
Carolioness and Co. will be at Mom and Dad's from Dec. 20-evening of 25.
Marty and I are presently planning to be there Dec. 22-29.
Boss (and I assume Sam, Grace, and Malcom) will be there around the 18th. I don't know about Coach.

What about the rest of ya'll?

Appeasing the Irrational

I know it's irrational, but I'm paranoid about crockpots. I understand that they are made to be turned on and left on all day--even if you aren't home. But, Holy Cow, is that a mental hurdle for me. Turn on crockpot, and leave for the day?--Craziness!

This morning I put things together in the crockpot so it would be ready when I got home to take it straight to my Relief Society activity tonight. I turned it on the lowest setting, and then I went to work.

When I was about a mile away from work my panic attack began. What if something happened, and our house burned down?! Razor and Cher are in the house! They'd be stuck! What a horrible way to die! I'd be consumed with grief and guilt. Heart racing. Hyperventilating.

I nearly turned the car around to go home and check. But I reassured myself that everything was fine. It was simply irrational paranoia. After all, it really hasn't been that long since the last time I used the crock pot, and that went fine.

But the paranoia started working again.... "That was in the apartment. Not this place. What if there's a problem with the wiring in that outlet..."

I got to work, but at noon I decided that even though the rational part of me knew everything was fine, I'd compromise with the irrational part and drive home for lunch. I knew it was a good sign as I approached our street and I passed our next door neighbors. They smiled and waved. They wouldn't have done that if my house had burned down their house.

I drove down to our cul-de-sac, saw our completely fine and unburned house, decided that the irrational had been adequately appeased, turned around and went back to work.

At 6:00 pm when I got home after work, the soup was hot, and all was well. No fire, no smoke. Not at all. Just yummy smelling soup.

Upon hearing my story (and after having a hearty laugh over it), some of my friends have volunteered to babysit my crockpot in the future.