fridge (frĭj) noun Informal, short for refrigerator. re·frig·er·a·tor (rĭ-frĭjˈə-rāˌtər) noun 1. An appliance, cabinet, or room for storing food or other substances at a low temperature. 2. A magnetic surface used to display artwork, accomplishments, and photographs especially when pertaining to one's own children.
Follow my paper craft obsession on my blog Papercut Kitchen
I had such a wonderful Christmas. The boys are both old enough to get very excited about seeing Santa, looking at lights and getting gifts. We put out treats for Santa this year and told the boys about how he comes down the chimney and brings toys. Our oldest, who is 3.5, was a little creeped out by the thought of a large, bearded man entering our home while he was sleeping, but got over it when we focused more on the toys part!
Santa was very, very good to me and brought me, try not to be jealous all you scrappers and crafters, a QuicKutz Silhouette die cutter. For those of you who are not yet jealous, this is a fantastic machine, about the size of a printer, that hooks up to the computer and will cut out any font or shape in any size without needing to buy cartridges at $60+ a pop. I've been drooling over this bad boy for a year or so and my fantastic hubby got all our family and some friends to pitch in. He definitely scored some major brownie points. I also got a postal scale from my parents, yippeee! Now I can stop cheating myself by charging too low on shipping. Now lets hope the post Christmas sales are as good as pre-Christmas.
Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and enjoys many blessings in the new year!
I have a little confession to make, I LOVE, love, love the post office! I know it's crazy, some people put it right up there with visiting the revenue office, but I can't help myself! I love it that people who seem perfectly happy getting out of their cars in the parking lot are suddenly transformed into an angry mob as soon as they step foot through the doors.
I love the bizarre people and the bizarre lines. It seems it always takes forever to get in and out. The line can be miles long or you can walk in to find only one person in front of you but it's some strange old man with a giant, black garbage bag full of tiny, identical packages that all need some kind of special delivery.
I love listening to everyone grumbling about the post office and yet they're there. I love the fact that the postal workers are unfazed by the grumpiness and are always polite and jolly. I always think they are the kind of people that I could be friends with, they seem strange and interesting and hysterical. When I ask for my package to be stamped "fragile" they pull out an ancient, battered, laminated comic that's been cut from a newspaper. It has an illustration of a package marked fragile that has been mutilated by the post office. I laugh everytime because they think it's brilliant everytime, and so do I! They stamp "spoiled" on my boys hands and laugh "now you can say they've been spoiled by the post office!" I love it when I get to go in by myself and I love it when I have to load my fussy 2 year old into the flimsy umbrella stroller and listen to "Out! Out! Finshed!" and constantly grab his 3 year old brother by the hood of his coat to keep him from socializing his way through the line of customers until he's lost in the crowd. Now that's true love.