Change: constant.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about change. And how it can be so gradual. Who hasn't felt completely overwhelmed with an event, only to later look back and think, "Why was I so freaked out about that?"

Like being a new parent...I remember thinking what have I gotten myself into? Will I ever feel "normal" again? Will I ever be able to shower? Go out? SLEEP? And guess what....Time passed and I figured out how to shower on a regular basis and time to time actually slept through the night.

But at the moment when the new born was home for the first time, I felt completely out of whack and overwhelmed.

I adapted. I changed.

Or when I moved. I wondered if our new place would ever feel like "home" and then one day I pulled into the driveway after a long day and thought "Home sweet home." How did that happen? My good friend change helped.

Benjamin Franklin said: When you are finished changing, you are finished.

So as I get ready to flip the calendar over to a new year, I will embrace the changes that come in 2011. It proves I'm still ticking.

Am I on candid camera?

Have they decided to relaunch the oh-so-funny show?

So after a long day at work, (which should be it's own blog entry. I realize I haven't given it proper props. Quick summary: working at a local community paper covering lifestyle and culture of the county. I am thrilled to be finally putting my journalism degree to use....and get to meet some interesting and kind people that I otherwise wouldn't have met. I'll write more later.)

ANYWAY....so it's Christmas Eve-Eve and I'm finished with work and stop by the grocery store for a few things and find out they are out of butter. I need butter. I have to make my grandmother's famous potato recipe and it practically uses a stick of butter per serving. How can they be out of butter?

I'm heading home, feeling happy (but yet frustrated with lack of butter) when I receive a call from Brian.

"When are you going to be home?" he asks. I tell him I'm about 5 minutes away.

"Okay," he says. "Don't park in the garage though. The dogs peed all over the presents under the tree and I've stacked them in the garage."

WHAT?? Wait a second....what???

So, yes, I come home to urine soaked gifts in the garage and a mess under the tree. Upon discovering the pee, Brian realized it had soaked under the adjacent rug as well. The dogs (and by dogs I mean Lucy, the repeat offender) must have used this spot for awhile, because there are now LARGE pie-plate size black spots on the wood floor from where her urine sat, unnoticed for days? weeks?

Breathe. Breathe.

Meanwhile, I go to investigate the gift damage. Luckily, most items were wrapped in boxes so the actual contents were okay. I did have to wash a few items of clothing that Brock was receiving. "Merry Christmas! Your gift is in the dryer."

Now, Brian and I have to rewrap the gifts. But do we really? Would it be wrong to traipse in and out of the garage when it's time for another gift?

This morning, probably because they were jealous that the dogs received all the attention for the present fiasco, I woke to cat pee on the mud room floor.

Remind me again why we have pets?

At least the cats had the decency to pee on flooring that is easily cleaned.

Once I cleaned up the early morning pee, I go to get a cup of coffee only to find that the coffee maker isn't working. And the Christmas lights aren't working. And the fridge is off. And gosh it's cold in here. Oh of course! The heat won't turn on.

Okay candid camera. Show your face. Don't ruin any more of my Christmas.

Just incase, I'm bracing myself for the next logical event: the crashing of the Christmas tree.

It's really only a matter of time. The tree we happened to pick out leans a bit (okay a lot) to one side. Straightening it out involved using stacks of magazines and free weights to hold down the base.

Merry Christmas everyone!