My secret life of crime

I really don't have time to be spending on my blog. My Christmas shopping has had to be condensed into a couple of days since I took off all of last week, the week before that was spent getting ready for last week, and by my calculations Tuesday is the worst time for a Christmas to fall, because: one never wants to go out shopping on the weekend before Christmas (nightmare), which starts this Friday evening; Friday happens to be my birthday, and I'm sorry but fighting crowds is not my idea of a good day; Sunday is out for me anyway, even if it weren't a horrible day for shopping; Monday is Christmas Eve and one should really be done by then anyway; which leaves TODAY as my last shopping day! Yikes! And I only got started yesterday! And I have five kids! (ok, four if you don't count my missionary who has his gifts, but five if you count my son-in-law. Six if you count my dog. which I don't, but some do. But only dog extremists.) Anyway, the point is I shouldn't be HERE. Oh, did I mention that I have to help in my son's third-grade class with his Christmas party today? Yikes. Anyway, my dear brother forced my hand by mentioning a letter that I haven't had time to write about. I've been dying to anyway, so I'll make it short.

I just happened to be in Cancun last week. Just dropped in. And if you've been following my blog you might remember that my son is near there. Ok, he is there. It was my 25-year anniversary (thank you, thank you. Yes, we're considering cemetary plots for our Christmas gifts.) And we planned this trip long before he arrived, or we knew he would even be there. But he was.

And if you know anything about mormon missionaries, you know that contact is restricted, in order to keep the missionary focused. As in, emails or letters once a week and phone calls twice a year. That's it.

So I tried really hard not to see him. Really I did. But it is Christmas time, so I brought a Christmas package for him - much more logical than sending it by mail. And I made numerous attempts to get it to him without physically going there. Really I did. But none of them worked out. And when my son finally had to call me (a kind man who was supposed to come pick up the package thought his errand was done when he picked up a letter that told him how to find us. My son got the letter, which fortunately told him how to find us) and told me to just bring it, and that his mission president wouldn't care, well, I did what any person in the world would have done!

Isn't he beautiful? Whatever happens in the next few days, I've already had a wonderful Christmas!

More later - for now I've got to get to the mall!

(Oh and Vic - your crime was SOOO much worse!)