A smidgen of narcissism.

So yes.  Three posts in one evening.  I know, it's exhausting for me, too.  The thing is... I would do this tomorrow but THREE TIMES TONIGHT I have forgotten what the hell I was going to write about.  I mean, I knew it was something (that most people aren't interested in) but then forgot everytime I was struck with a new stimuli... ohhhhhhhhhhh glass of wine, ohhhhhhhhh UPS guy with my computer and G's new child sized broom, ohhhhhhhhh Modern Family, OHhhhhhhh glass of wine AND a frozen pizza.  (Dude, I live it up BIG when Ben is gone.  Tomorrow I might have cereal.  Or cheese.  Depending if I make it to the store--which probably won't.)

Anywho.  So I made our Christmas cards this year through picnic editing stuffs.  they are by no means a high quality christmas card you would order from anywhere.  I also decided, in my sense of frugality to make them into a postcard.  It both saves the environment from some envelopes and the postage is cheaper.  Epic fail.  So the picture I chose didn't really fit on the normal card so it suggested the "large" card.  Sure.  It's a postcard, whatevs.  no.  no.  NO.  I opened them and was astonished.  I left them on the counter for Ben to find.  Here's the conversation we had at work.

B:  Hey, so I saw we got our Christmas cards.  They're nice.  (He's encouraging like that)
Me:  Yah, so you like them?
B:  I do.  They are really big.  I didn't realize how big they would be.
Me:  I was kind of hoping no one would notice.  Sigh.

They are huge.  Embarrassingly huge.  If you are to put it on your fridge or whatever other sort of decorator that pinterest has suggested it will take up the entire space.  We are that impressed with ourselves.  I did put a disclaimer on some of the cards... but for most of them I just had to take a silent jab wound to the jugular.  So you may not have gotten yours yet (some went out today... others have yet to be addressed.)  Don't judge me openly.  Only to friends we don't have and never will have in common.  Like you, Brooke.  You can complain.

Other tone of my narcissistic tendencies.  Everytime I get an email I'm like YAYYYYYYYY someone is emailing me.  EVEN THOUGH I JUST POSTED A COMMENT ON SOMEONE ELSE'S blog.  This means, that I'm getting emails from myself.  You win this time psyche.  You win.