It's Almost Christmas - - - - - -

So it's almost Christmas, and school is over!  Yes!  Good for you Ashley, you totes rocked those classes!  AAAnd you found Christmas Ale?!??!  Things might finally be looking up here in the snake to Ann Arbor's mongoose, Ypsilanti...so I will continue to make your showldabooone laugh with inside jokes that I don't remember enough to write about, haha...

Have we done the Kermit yet this season for reals???  Also, I need to hang those lights up...it doesn't matter how late I put them up, cuuuz I'm gonna tell you right now - they're not coming back down.  Until we move.  Which we're ABSOLUTELY going to do when this year is up.  Haha.

Enjoy your NINE DAYS at home!  I'm so glad you're actually gonna get to go home and spend time with your family!  You BETTER say hi to Zeppewin for me and give him a good 'ol pat for me!  Zeppperrrrinnnnn...
 
So I conclude this post with a poem, it's not a Christmas poem, but your favorite poem of mine that I've written.  I don't know why I'm doing this, I thought it was a good idea but what the hell do I know!  Go to this one if you don't like my poem!  (Also, if you go to the link, I think that poem isn't about what I thought it was about - it's much nicer : ))

I love youuuuU!

A House by the Sea

A house by the sea

A hopeful mother

An adoptive idea

A cloud covered sun

Sky tide blue

with love in her eyes

A rolling wave of blue

sprays gray under the early sun.

The land warms with the rise

and wakes the hopeful mother.

What it is yet she cannot see -

awake with one adoptive idea.

She waits in her house by the sea

following the arc of the sun.

She has forgotten the idea

of hours.  She counts the blue

waves that crash far from her eyes.

Never forget to be a mother.

Once cried; twice promised a son -

a promise from some to some other.

A biting wind blew

treacherous on the sensitive sea.

A sight that would make lesser eyes

flee an adoptive idea.

Where he may be the mother

will never know.  With each rise

of the relentless deceiving sun

she keeps her gaze on the sea:

her nose on the scent of the wind that blew

through the window of her adoptive idea.

Ages pass; ageless as the sun

weathers the eternal sea

tears at the endless land with timeless blue.

As long as the sky stands the mother

stays land locked to her adoptive idea.

The only escape from the House is her eyes.

The blue sea will crash, and the sun will rise precious

for some other - and forget the mother… who will forever see an adoptive idea
the wind blew away like the sure eyes of a son.