I was supposed to meet up with a book club tonight to discuss my book. They read it and wanted to talk to me about it. But too many sick kids decimated their numbers and the event was rescheduled.

So here we are at home. After a family hot tub, I started drinking Wicked’s Baked Apple Cider. Then we started a puzzle. Then we started the Christmas Carols, which by the way we sing loudly and as off key as possible. My husband was complaining that the songs never have the emphasis, the passion, the drama that they should.

So every so often I say what about this one? And he has some complaint about it. Finally I tell him he’s a picky bastard. And he says…

Why do you think I was single until I met you?

Awww.

Hope you have someone at home who understands, embraces, and participates in your weird.