We’re on the Farm for the holidays. All week we’ve been hearing snow storm warnings about the big storm that was heading our way. Around the dinner table, the metric unit “shit ton” was brought into play. Last night, it started snowing. This morning, over 10 inches of snow fell. Mom and Dad Milan had to shovel their way to the barn this morning. The brothers Milan are out there right now trying to plow their road. I love this. Not because of the snow, necessarily - this means that they can’t go to church and therefore cannot put Mary Milan and me in the bind of having to turn them down. Yahoo! Snow Day!

Today is also acutally Christmas for us. Since Mary Milan and I are traveling back to Hellay on the 26th and Christmas day around here is already over-programmed as it is, the family moved the big present opening day up a few days. This was a little tricky because Littlest Milan is only 5 and still believes in Santa Claus. We told her that we wrote Santa a letter asking him to come a little earlier. Then Littlest told us about how angels are real, how you can’t talk to them, how they have sparkles on their wings and how they sprinkle the sparkles on their wings on the ground to help make flowers. I kept wanting to tell her that she wasn’t talking about angels, she was talking about bees.

T-minus eight minutes to church and there is no indication as to whether or not anybody is going. Mom Milan said that perhaps the priest might not be able to make it since he lives in Athens. I don’t know why I think that’s so funny but I do. Hilarious, even.

In any event, if we don’t go, then that means it’s time for Christmas breakfast around here: creamy scrambled eggs, cheesy hash browns, pancakes, ham, sausages, and all sorts of pastries. It’s a cornucopia of tasty breakfast foods. I can’t wait.

Merry Christmas, bitches!

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