Feliz Navidad.

Saturday, my lover and I ventured out for the 3rd annual Jeffedith Christmas Shopping Trip. The weird thing: we needed nothing at South Coast Plaza, so we didn't go. I have, all my life, Christmas shopped at this particular mall, and one of our major family traditions was birthed and played out there, so the mecca of materialism found at 3333 Bristol in Costa Mesa just will have to remain one of the season ringer-inners, and I'll find a reason to go there another day.

As it was, we were such strategic planners and some things were more cost-effectively bought on the world wide web, so we just needed to drop in at the Spectrum. Done and done. And still, by the end, with Jeff in his recovery-mode from sick state, and me in my there's-a-baby-in-my-tummy-absorbing-all-my-energy state, we were pooped and bee-lined home to crash on the couch.

Christmas shopping, home decorating, and present wrapping under our belts, we have only to finish our debate over whether or not we're doing a Christmas card this year (only time will tell!), I need to figure out what I'm doing wrong with the candy I'm attempting without losing my patience and confidence as a Woman of the Kitchen (I've won the Fudge battle but there's something funky going on with my English Toffee and Vanilla Nut Fudge), and we need to know when we're going to be able to escape up to the Highlands of Utah for my first white Christmas.

As the Beatles sang, Christmas time is here again (repeat 20 times).