Software Renewal: A play in one act

Welcome to Adequate Piece Theater's presentation of "Software Renewal: A play in one act".  Tonight's presentation is brought to you by Houraway.  Houraway: When you don't want to lose an hour of your life you didn't know you would spend on a seemingly simple task.

Tonight's play features a small cast of characters whose rapidly falling careers will be little noted and oft-forgotten.  We have a protagonist...we'll call her..."Me."  The antagonist here is played by several characters, most notably "Renewal Specialist."  Please enjoy tonight's offering of "Software Renewal."

(Electronically-produced, low-budget brass fanfare)

[Stage direction: Protagonist "Me" is seen walking into a store with bright neon signs flashing statements like, "YOU ARE NO LONGER PROTECTED IF WEB BROWSING WITHOUT OUR PRODUCT," and "DOWNLOADS IN ONE MINUTE OR LESS." She is carrying a laptop and looks harried.]
Renewal Specialist: Hello!  How are you today?  What can we do for you?
Me: Hi.  I'd like to -
Second Renewal Specialist: Excuse me - are you protected?  You don't look -
Renewal Specialist: Excuse ME!  I was talking to this nice customer.  Could you please let me -
Second Specialist: But I just wondered
Me: HEY!  PLEASE!  I'd just like to renew my internet security software.
Stunned silence as Specialists stare at each other
Renewal Specialist: Uh...oh!  Sorry!  You said you want to renew your security software?  Wonderful!  Well, you've come to the right place.  First of all, though - do you give us permission to renew your software and make any needed modifications to your computer?
Me: Yes, of course, as long as it's not excessive.
Renewal Specialist, laughing: Excessive?  Of course not!  We will only modify what is absolutely necessary.

[Stage direction: Second Specialist goes in back.  Renewal Specialist takes laptop from Me, boots it up, and begins checking for old software.]

Renewal Specialist: Let's see here...oh, hey!  You have our old software.  Oh dear...you know this is out of date, right?  You are no longer protected.
Me [blinking in surprise]:  Uh, yeah...that's why I came in.  You sent me a coupon and a reminder, and now I'm here.
Renewal Specialist: Great.  OK.  Before we begin, which option would you like?  Option 1: We protect everything, back up your data, nuke any and all viruses within a 50 yard perimeter of your computer, and hide inappropriate web-browsing history from your boss for $$$.  Option 2: We protect your internet browsing when convenient, update virus definitions, and actually clean the virus off your computer after warning you and waiting for you to click buttons for $$.  Option 3: We update your virus definitions with six month old definitions, tell you there is a virus and you'll need to get it fixed, and offer an electronic selection of prayer cards for $.
Me: Prayer cards?  Oh...well, I'll take the option 2 for $$, but I have a coupon which brings it down to $.
Renewal Specialist: You have a coupon?  Umm...[Looks unhappy] Are you sure it's one of ours?  We don't usually offer coupons unless it's to returning customers.
Me [frowning and obviously concerned]: I thought we just covered that...I AM a returning customer.
Renewal Specialist: You are?  Oh, let me check.  [taps computer a few times]  Oh, hey!  You are a returning customer!  I'll bet we've got a coupon for you.
[Me sighs, waiting impatiently as Renewal Specialist searches around for coupon.  Me edges coupon closer to Specialist.]
Renewal Specialist: Here it is!  [Triumphantly holds up Me's coupon].  I knew we had one!  OK, so that will be $.  Although, if you renew for TWO years, it will only cost you half price for the second year.
Me [pausing to consider]: Yeah...OK, that sounds good!
Renewal Specialist: Oh, I'm sorry.  With the coupon you can only have one year.  OK!  That's great, let's get started.
Me [looking confused]: But I...
Renewal Specialist: You DO want me to get started, right?
Me: Uhhh...yes, please...

[Stage direction: Renewal Specialist begins process of updating with lots of mouse clicks, button pressing, followed by long pauses.  After almost two minute, Renewal Specialist turns to Me.]

Renewal Specialist: Do you give me permission to get started?
Me [Startled]: What?  Yes, of course.  Please begin -
[Suddenly the door bursts open with a crash, causing both Renewal Specialist and Me to jump.  An Employee from a Rival Product (EFARP) comes rushing in]
EFARP: WAIT!!  YOU HAVE A PROBLEM!  Ask me what it is and I'll tell you!!
Me [shaken and confused]: Wha?  Huh?  What are you talking about
EFARP [looking smug]: You don't have security software.  Do you plan on renewing it?  Because, if not, what I have is free, although it's notoriously unreliable, but you can't beat free!
Me: Well, um, thanks, that's nice, but I'd like to renew with the software I already have.
EFARP [looking surprised]: Really?  That's your choice...Oh, OK.  But if you change your mind I'm over here...

[Stage direction: Renewal Specialist looks at Me.  Me shrugs.  Renewal Specialist returns to process of clicking and pressing, then pauses.]

Renewal Specialist: You are sure you give me permission?
Me [Growing agitated]: YES!!  Would you PLEASE get started?
Renewal Specialist: Of course.  There's no need to get worked up.  Just standard stuff, you know.  OK, now I need to go to the back to get some things, and I'll be right back.
Me: OK, I'll wait.
Renewal Specialist: I'll be back in a jiffy!  You'll never know I'm gone.

[Stage Direction: Renewal Specialist goes through a door, leaving Me standing at the counter.  Canned electronic music plays in background.  Silence ensues, and the audience sees Me looking at her watch, starting to grow frustrated.  Suddenly the door opens, and Renewal Specialist comes back through, carrying a cup of coffee with glasses on his head.]

Renewal Specialist: Now where did I put my glasses...[Catches sight of Me and stops short.]  Oh!  Oh shoot!  I was in the middle of...Oh!  I'll be right back.
[Renewal Specialist sets down coffee, rushes through door, then rushes back to grab coffee, muttering things like, "I forgot what I was doing!  Shoot!"  Then rushes back out of door.  Returns a moment later, sets down coffee, then runs back through door, returning with handful of papers and disks].
Renewal Specialist: Ok, where was I...oh, that's right.  I need permission to -
Me: I ALREADY GAVE IT TO YOU!  WOULD YOU STOP ASKING?
Renewal Specialist, [with mild reproof]: OK, ok, just checking.  Let's see.  Um...OK, since this is a renewal, all I need to do is uninstall the old program, install the new one, and you'll be good to go!
Me: How long is this going to take?
Renewal Specialist [chuckling]: Well, aren't we in a hurry?  Fortunately for you, we specialize in speed!  We'll be done in a flash.
Me [huffing with annoyance]: Good!  This is getting old.  I'd appreciate some speed!
Renewal Specialist: No problem.  I'll just click this here...and type that...insert disk...Perfect!  OK!  We'll see you tomorrow!
Me [nonplussed]: Excuse me?  Tomorrow?  What...do you want me to bring the laptop back so you can check to make sure it all downloaded correctly?
Renewal Specialist [Laughing loudly]: Bring it back to check...HAHA!  No, no, we're closing!  We'll see you tomorrow when we reopen and you can have the laptop back then.  We should be done by then.
Me: WHAT?!?!

[Stage Direction: Security Guard comes from off-stage, stage left, and escorts a confused and angry Me off the stage.  The stage grows dark.  After a moment, the lights return.  We see Me stalking up to the door of the store, furious.  Renewal Specialist is web-surfing on laptop and playing game.  Renewal Specialist does not notice Me until she rings the bell.]

Renewal Specialist: What?  Oh!  Hey there!  Have you played this game, Annoyed Avian Struggle?  It's great.  See, these winged creatures are annoyed -
Me: They aren't the only ones!  Where's my laptop?
Renewal Specialist: And their porcine adversaries are - what?  Oh, laptop...right.  It's right here.  It just needs to finish loading, and then you are all set to take it.
Me: You said it would be done by the time you reopen!  Come on!!  Let's finish this already!!  Your sign says your downloads take less than a minute.
Renewal Specialist [With exaggerated patience]: Well, that's true, but it doesn't mean that ALL parts of it take less than a minute.  Just the end parts after the downloading...and there you go!  All set!

[Stage direction: Laptop beeps, and box pops up on screen.]

Me [Reading screen]: "Program is requesting permission to modify certain processes.  Do you want to give this program permission to access these processes?"  YES!  PLEASE!  YES!  FINISH THIS AND LET ME GO HOME!!!
Renewal Specialist [Alarm showing on face]: Uh...here's your laptop.  You just go on home and have a good day, now.  [under breath]  We always get the weirdos...

[Stage Direction: Me closes laptop, grabs it, and storms out of store.  She opens the door to find two more customers standing there.  Looking at Me in surprise and a bit of alarm, they take exaggerated steps back and allow Me to pass.  Fade to dark.]

March with us! March of Dimes

Every year, thousands of babies are born premature.  Some kids, like mine, come out raring to go!  Others spend time in the NICU.  Thanks to the March of Dimes, all babies have a much better fighting chance at life, no matter when they come!  And even if they don't make it, their parents at least have a chance to say goodbye.  Even if your baby wasn't in the NICU, just knowing the research and doctors funded by March of Dimes were standing by takes a little stress out of birthing.

I'm asking you to donate to the March of Dimes walk being hosted in Roswell, GA on April 27, 2013.  Whether you have $1 or $100, anything you give is helpful and wanted!  Please click the link below to help us out!  I'm participating with team Multiple Mayhem through my club, the North Fulton Mothers of Multiples.  March of Dimes has a special place in many of our hearts.  Multiples have a much greater chance at surviving birth thanks to this group!!

http://www.marchforbabies.org/personal_page.asp?pp=4420240&ct=4&w=6132258&u=cqsurette

Attack of the Hot Air Balloons!

It was a year ago this month, on a beautiful weekend like this, that my girls and I were having dinner on our back porch.  Daddy was on his annual pilgrimage to Bristol, TN, a land where children learn such songs as "The Wheels on the Nascar can't make right turns" or "Heads, I got slammed into the shoulder..."  The girls and I were on our own!  We had big plans alright!  Pizza on the newly-cleaned back porch, special dessert (yum - microwave brownies!), and an episode or two of VeggieTales!

As we're sitting outside, enjoying the evening breeze and dwindling sunlight, we hear a rushing sound.  Whoo-OOOSH!  Whoo-OOOSH!  It wasn't so much a loud sound as unknown.  The twins are momentarily paralyzed but then begin freaking out.  What strange creature could be coming our way?  Naturally it has only one thing on it's mind - twin-napping!  The girls start climbing my legs, overcome by the fear of meeting this unnatural apparition.  "Relax," I tell them, "It's just a balloon."  B'oon?  B'oon?  What b'oon makes THAT noise?  "I'll show you!"

A mile or so from our house there is a field by the Ingles where hot air balloons are launched.  Sure enough, we see one of these beasts floating up into the air, accompanied by the afore-mentioned terror-inspiring  sound of the hot air filling the brightly-colored silk of the balloon.  The twins are amazed!  But where is the string?  The girls start crying, thinking of the balloon sailing off into the great unknown, and no one there to rescue it.  With the help of big sister, I explain the concept of sailing balloons into the sky.  WOW! We return to dinner, mystery solved.

As we dine we continue to hear the rushing sound of the hot air.  "Mommy," says my eldest, "That sounds so close."  I agree.  We eat, when suddenly it dawns on me.  Whoo-OOOSH!  WHOO-OOOSH!  Hmm...that DOES sound close...I ask the girls to stay on the back porch and head out front.  Oh my...apparently it sounds close because the balloon is 20 - 30 feet off the ground, blundering it's way up our street.  Well, that's kind of cool...never seen it this close before...hmm...it's lumbering bulk is slowly moving up our street...and then veering...STRAIGHT TOWARDS OUR HOUSE.  Of course this guy is going to turn, right?  I mean, seriously, it's not like he doesn't know there is a house there, right?  Uh...I mean, surely he sees my house...does he see my house?  Oh crap!  He can't miss it, can he?  It's the structure he's about to crash into.  He's now starting to drift up my incredibly short driveway, and I can hear frantic clicking noises.  It's surreal!  This balloon is drifting lower and lower...closer and closer...I mean, can you imagine trying to explain to YOUR insurance carrier that you have damage to your house because some guy hit it with a hot air balloon?!?  "That house came out of NOWHERE, Officer!"

"Hey!  What's going on?"  I yell,  "Are you going to go over my house?"  Do I get the girls out of the back porch.  Do I run for cover?  What the heck do I do?  Where is my husband?  House damage is definitely "man" territory.  My brain is transfixed by the slow-motion train wreck oozing towards me.  One of the people in the basket yells, "Do we jump out?  Why are we so close to that house?!?"  Oh...&#$%...that's not good.  The operator hollers back, "I'm going to try to fly over your house?"  What the?...Why not BETWEEN the houses?  Why not further up the street?  WHY MY ROOF?!?

Suddenly the burners kick in.  No more "whoosh."  Now it's the roar of a jet engine, and the balloon magically shoots into the air.  The operator shouts, "OH THANK GOD!"  You are telling ME?!?  My girls come screaming through the house like bansidhes, certain of imminent danger.  The balloon shoots up and over, barely clearing my roof.  If he was two feet to the left, I still would have lost my chimney.  I can see the people in the basket, relief written all over their faces.  My legs and brain unfreeze, and I shoo the girls back into the house.

It hits me that perhaps I should be documenting this electronically.  I run through the house, grabbing my phone as I go, and pop out of the back porch in time to see the balloon right over my backyard.  I didn't zoom or anything.  This is a picture of the balloon almost directly over my head.

Once again, the jet engines roar, and the menace shoots directly up into the air.  

The danger resolved, the balloon resumes it's peaceful journey into my neighbor's back yard.  "OK," the operator says, "Well, that was a little more eventful than normal..."  Ya think?

The wind continues to drift the roar of the balloon back to us.  We keep a wary eye on our foe, pizza in hand (what, like property damage is a reason to lose one's appetite?).  It bobs majestically out of sight.

As I took this picture it hit me that the balloon was now back over the road...so why the close call over my roof I couldn't say.  For weeks the twins had nightmares of roaring, bulbous monsters attempting to eat them.

We went back inside to get dessert.  The front door was open, sunlight pouring through the glass door.  The twins cuddle on the couch, shaken.  C wanders the family room aimlessly.  Suddenly she streaks to the glass door and starts screaming, "IT'S GONNA CRASH!!!!"  I drop the brownie pan on my foot, batter everywhere, and promptly begin uttering a series of unmentionable obscenities.  Towel and phone in hand, I hop to the door to be greeted by this sight:

A different balloon was floating through the other neighborhood, WELL above the tree tops, although it was hard for C to know that, given our recent encounter.

The night ended with no dessert, a lesson in distance and perspective, the doors and windows TIGHTLY locked, a hysterical call to a howling Daddy (no, I didn't have enough time to change the locks before he came home, wisely bearing flowers), and all three girls super-glued to mommy on the couch attempting to watch VeggieTales...

About a week ago, we saw this in the field:

Gazing thoughtfully at the scene, my eldest muses, "Wouldn't it be cool if they flew over OUR house?  I bet, if we stood on the roof, we could almost touch them..."

You have no idea, kid...

Flipple

We were trying to get ready for our annual club Valentine Day party when Twin B suddenly announces, "Mommy, we're going to play flipple."
"Flipple, huh?"  I say quizzically.  "What is flipple."
"It's played outside.  Basketball is played inside.  This is not Basketball.  It is Flipple.  Me and Twin A will play it.  You will watch.  You will watch on TV."
"Oh...OK...um, how do you play?"
"I will have a purple shirt.  It will have the letter B on it.  It will have a big number on the back."
"What number, honey?"
"Number 3 1/2.  Twin A will have a pink shirt.  It will have an A on it."
"OK...will it have a number?"
"Of COURSE, Mommy.  It will have the same number!"  DUH MOM!
"Oh, well, yes...that's nice.  And we'll watch this on TV?"
"Yes.  During the Super Bowl."
OHHHHHHH, OK, I get it...
"What is the Super Bowl?"  Now I'm just busting her buttons.
"It's where you eat SOUP," she says with a touch of asperity in her voice.  "We will play.  If we do good, there will be funny shows.  If we don't do good...you'll be bored."
"Shows?  You mean commercials?"
"Yes!  'Mershels.  Funny ones are for when we are doing good."
"I hope you always do good.  Are you the only ones who play?"
"No...C will play.  She will wear blue.  Her number will be 7 1/2."
"Cool!  Can I play?"
"No...you have ta eat soup....Daddy will play.  He will wear green."
"Does he have a number?"
If she was a teenager she would have been rolling her eyes by now...
"Ye-ES!  It's 10!"
"Who will win?"
Silence...this had not been part of the original equation...
"The dragon."
???

We've all had it happen (or will at some point).  You hear suspicious noises, check out the garage/attic/crawl space, etc.  Oh crap!  We have a squirrel!  I love squirrels.  Anyone who knows me knows that I love to watch them.  In fact, in college, I scared off a record number of hawks to protect "my squirrels."  Yes, I'm a nut.  But here's the thing - if you get into my house, all bets are off.  So how do you get rid of the squirrel.  Of course, I'm the sort who wants to give him a chance initially - trap him and let him go somewhere FAR, FAR AWAY from my house.  But some squirrels just don't want to play nice...hmm, then what?  Traps?  Poison?  A strange electrical device purchased off late night TV?  Not me!  I say if the bugger isn't smart enough to take a hint, it's garage door time!

I'm pulling into my parents' house when I notice a bar across the garage door window.  I open the other door and go to investigate...oh, it's just a piece off the screen door which my dad stores in the garage.  I grab it...crunch...what's that?  A piece of a terracotta pot.  Uh-oh, doesn't bode well.  I start investigating my mom's side of the garage...what are all those tiny black rubber pieces?  More broken crockery?  Checking out my mom's car (just seconds before putting my hand on the trunk) I realize that something has peed all over it.  Yup, no questions here - we have a rodent.  There's bits of eaten bulbs all over the place.  Part of the weather stripping inside the garage door is totally chewed off.  The garage door ain't looking that great, for that matter.  I get a broom, have the girls sit down, and start sweeping.  I'm making banging noises, too, in the hopes that I can scare the sucker out.  

I have to open my mom's garage door to sweep everything (biodegradable) out.  I then go to close the door...what the?  It bounces back up!  So I check the area to make sure nothing is in the way, then I press the button again.  This time it goes down, but it won't seat properly.  These garage doors rails are 25 years old, and the garage doors aren't exactly spring chickens.  Sometimes they get off track a bit.  I ask the next door neighbor to come over and hopefully help me re-seat the garage door so it doesn't have a crack at the bottom.  Bad enough I cleaned up for ONE squirrel.  "Hey guys - look!  Squirrel Ho-Jo!"

Did I mention my dad has spent hours, days...weeks...MONTHS trying to get squirrels out of his attic?  One particularly determined squirrel caused him a lot of grief.  At this point we are no longer trying to promote the squirrel population around his house.  It's important I mention this.  

So the next door neighbor and I start investigating and realize that there is something caught in the top of the door.  My dad has carpet padding that he has rolled up and stored over the top of the garage door.  This padding (which you keep because "you never know when it will be useful," especially if you were hoping to have a massive allergy attack by using dusty, mite-infested padding) is  wrapped in black plastic garbage bags.  One of the garbage bags is hanging down and caught in the door.  It has a small lump in it, but given the deteriorated condition of the carpet padding, it's entirely possible it's just foam.  So the neighbor says, "I'll get a stool.  You open and close the door, and I'll grab it and shove it through."  No sweat!  The girls are getting INCREDIBLY bored by now.  Let's get this show on the road so we can move on to our next activity!

So I open the door.  He gets on the stool.  I close the door.  He reaches for the lump.  "AAAUGH!  IT'S DEAD!  IT'S DEAD!  IT'S DEAD!!!!!" he screams.  I jump.  The girls stare at him in fascination, all thoughts of the box they've been playing with lost.  I hit the button to stop the door, and say, "Oh no...is that..."  He looks at me in shock.  A piece of....grey...fuzzy...body part...drops to the floor...ICK!  Oh, seriously????  It must have gotten tangled in the garbage bag when it went up there to sleep.  

He looks at me and says, "So, um...how good is your husband with dead squirrel?"  At that moment, liquid drips out of the bag.  I stare at him in shock.  "Did I kill it with the garage door?"  He peers warily at the item in question, then says, "I think so...critters usually lose their bowels right after..."  He beats a hasty retreat.  O...M...G...do you mean to tell me that after all those weeks and months of killing squirrels all it took was a GARAGE DOOR?!?  

Did you ever take one of those tests in high school to help you figure out which career would be a good fit for you?  One of my many suggestions was "bug and rodent extermination."  

FYI:  DH stood outside the garage and held the ziploc for it to drop into.  I stood inside the garage and had to cut the garbage bag, cursing that stupid squirrel at every instance.  It was kind of stuck in the middle.  It involved a lot of whacking the garage door button.  

And for the record, my husband says that it was probably dead shortly before I got to the house.  But I like to think it was justice...and there are squirrels out there very afraid of my parents' house...

Still good to know I have more to learn about him...

You are driving down the highway, peacefully anticipating the outing ahead.  When suddenly:

"Oh...no..."

Those two simple sounds...yet, when uttered in that tone, suddenly you are filled with dread.

"What?"  You ask, hoping for yet fearing the answer.

He sits in silence, overwhelmed by the shock and terror of his thoughts.  Your mind races.  What could this possibly be?  Is it your imagination, or does his face seem to grow more pensive, more petrified, more horrified...He's mentioned some stress at work, a possible health problem...could there be more he's been too afraid to share?

You try to await his answer, but it is so long in coming.  "What?!?"  You ask again, imploring his answer.

Yet he sits silent, driving the car, alone with his trepidation...

"Mommy?"  A voice calls from the back seat.  "Why does this book have a funny mark here?"

It's the back seat?  How can you possibly see in the back seat?  More importantly, what does this have to do with the situation developing in the front seat?  "Honey, I don't know.  Let's check it out when we get there."

"Crap."  It's the first syllable he's uttered since beginning this stressful odyssey.  Perhaps he's finally ready share?  Does he seem slightly less catatonic?  

"But it's just right there, Mommy.  Haven't you read this book before?"

Yes, and I've memorized every mark on every page throughout.  Wait until you see the one on page 17...it's a doozy!  "No, honey."  You reply, frayed nerves jangling, "I mean, yes, I've read the book, but I don't know-"

"Mama!  Mama!"  Another child interjects, "Look!  What was that?"  She gestures to the entire world whizzing past her window, confident you know EXACTLY to which "that" she refers.  You want to respond, but your husband sighs, rubs his lip, and looks distraught, shifting slightly in his seat.

"I DON'T KNOW," you shriek hysterically.  "CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING TO TALK TO YOUR FATHER?!?"

Silent, chastened, your children retreat to their seats.  Anxiously you return to your husband.  "WHAT?!?  WHAT?!?  WHY DID YOU SAY UH-OH?!?"

"Huh?"  He says absently, turning to look at you.  "What do you mean?"

Now he's giving you that slightly alarmed "Is-she-losing-it" look.  Taking a deep breath, and fighting for calm, you say, "Earlier you said, 'oh....no' with great concern.  What is going on?!???"

"Oh," he says, "That.  Nothing.  Just thinking about whether or not I put my new pants in the laundry.  I think I forgot to do that."

You blank...what the?  Seriously?!?  "Oh, well, the way you said, 'oh...no..." I thought..."

"Oh, that's not my serious tone," he replies.  "Don't worry...you'll know when it's serious."

Merry Christmas 2012

Merry Christmas one and all!  Just a quick blog today.  I got a netbook for Christmas!  Hooray!!  I also got an Ipod touch - I'm a lucky woman.  My favorite gift, I must admit, though, is the plush red angry bird that shrieks in victory when you push the button.  WHOOHOO-HOO!  I am a lucky woman.

This was a big Christmas for the girls.  If you asked the kids what they wanted from Santa, they would reply as follows:

A: I want marshmallows, candy canes, cookies, and a piano.
B: I want marshmallows, candy canes, cookies, and a xylophone
C: I want more furniture for my doll house, Barbie Dolls, Angry Birds for my DSi...and a guitar.
A: Oh, and a drum
B: Yeah, a drum

See a pattern?  It's a musical Christmas this year!  The problem with kid's musical instruments is that they are rarely in tune/tunable.  I don't have perfect pitch by any means, but I'm pretty good at knowing what is in tune (and vice versa).  It can be physically painful to hear that sour note(s).  On the other hand, the problem with real musical instruments is size, cost, maintenance and care...

Well, that solves that one.

So Christmas day dawns, and Santa proves that (s)he is, once again, the (wo)man.  As per tradition, it starts with Santa leaving a path of candy canes down the hall and to the family room, where the unwrapped Santa toys await.  The girls get into the doorway of the family room, and Twin A stops dead in her tracks.  There it sits.  A shiny black child's piano, complete with stool and music stand.  The other girls come barreling in, but she's stock-still in shock.  It lasts all of 30 seconds, but definitely long enough to let us know that Santa did a good job.  Finally she says, "A piano...look...a piano..."  It seems like underwhelm, but the complete withdraw lets us know the exact opposite.  She can barely take it in.  The crowning glory is the small bag of marshmallows and cookies on top...with a candy cane peeking out...

Twin B, meanwhile, zeros right in on that xylophone.  It's just one of those little kid ones, but she's in heaven...for about 15 seconds, and then she zooms over to the dollhouse.  The dollhouse was not an anticipated gift.  Our chiropractor's daughter was giving it away, and he offered it to us for free, because he's that kind of wonderful, sweet, generous person.  It came complete with some pre-mussed Barbie dolls and a few pieces of furniture.  It has a small chip on the top, but the girls haven't even seen that yet.  And check out that couch!  Perfect place to stash a bag of marshmallows, cookies, and...

C has the smallest of the piles.  She actually went straight past it to the dollhouse.  When she found out it wasn't for her, she was disappointed.  She has one at Gama's house,  though, and she was assured her sisters would give her a chance to check it out.  She turns dejectedly to her pile...and shrieks with joy over the mini-guitar sitting on her pile.  WHOOHOO!  Then she takes a good look, and realizes it's a Barbie and Dollhouse furniture kind of Christmas!  Life is good!  A minivan for the dollhouse AND a car for Barbie?  WHOA!

It took almost two hours for the girls to see anything outside of the piano, xylophone, guitar, and percussive instruments (the guitar was part of a set that came with a bongo drum, tambourine, wood block/zither, egg-shaped maracas, and finger cymbals).  It was a...er...musical...I guess...Christmas?  They are banging away, shouting, "I'm playing MUSIC!"  All I could think is, "If you become punk musicians I may have to disown you..."  The DVDs, Pigeon Books, dress up clothes, etc. are NOTHING compared to these wonderful gifts.  The piano and guitar especially.  Mommy knitted cool sparkly ruffle scarves.  Whatever!  Do they sing?  Make music?  Drive mommy incredibly insane?  Then what good is some dumb fashionable scarf?

It has been proven that men are far better than women at selective hearing and ignoring certain sound ranges...I am desperate to learn this trick...but very happy at how happy the girls are with their gifts.  Now to figure out where the heck to put all of this stuff!  We need a new house just for the toys!!

Daddy?  Oh, he got a blue-ray player, windows 8, gift cards, boxers...and I framed some of his old photos.  He's hard at work putting together Barbie sets and cussing at small plastic tabs that refuse to slide into slot A...

Merry Christmas!