Maybe this Christmas

My Christmas starts tomorrow and doesn't end until January 10th. Lucky? Yes. How come? I get to go home tomorrow. Not only do I get to go home tomorrow, but I also get to go home with my Chicken, whom I love. Love, being the smallest of words with the most meaning in the whole of the world. I am lucky. I also love my mom, and she will be there, too. I love my life.
I'll be flying back home for six days. Once I get back, there is New Year's to look forward to (in which I also spent with my Chicken last year, and it turned out to be something that you would watch in a movie, or maybe the first season New Year's episode from the OC), and then I leave for Mexico. December 22nd-January 10th would be my Christmas. And it makes me swell up inside. Not the bloated swelling up (thank goodness, uh-huh), but the kind of swelling that squishes all of your insides together, including your heart, which ultimately makes you want to gush or throw up tears of happiness -- but you don't. Clinically diagnosed as the one of the Bliss Factors. -- Seriously, I looked it up.
Sadly, I'll be leaving my second family, which includes my two adopted sisters (which being a girl growing up, I always wanted -- I'm sure you can relate) and Chicken's Momma and Daddy-Bear. I've grown attatched. Also, the McPuppies whom are all sleeping at my feet at this very moment. Although they pretend to be homeless doggers living on the streets, whom are starving and proceed to beg at the dinner table nightly, I'll also be missing them. Especially McPretty.
If that is the least of my worries, I sure am a blessed young lady.
See you at home!
I'm going to have a merry little Christmas.
Love, Snowflake Sally
xo

Black and White Insite

If life in general was black and white it would be boring. But, just look at this picture. Is it boring? No. It's vivid with it's expression and internal passion radiating outward. Some black and white pictures are so classical and immortalizing, that they can't lock away their color. It fills the eye of the spectator with pigments that pauses one's thoughts, and expands them at the same time. Yeah, this all could totally be a load of crap. Plus, I'm biased because I'm a huge fan of those two in the picture. On the other hand though, I could be right.
When, for instance, a girl friend of yours (girl friend being your best girl, whom is your friend) confides in you a wish in which she wants her boyfriend to be more black and white, what she is really implying is that she's would rather opt for a boyfriend who says what he means and when he means it. Black and white. Imagine if all of life was life that, though? Boo-oring. Yes, it would be easier. "Hey, am I going to get this job that I've so humbly applied for and after such a successful interview?" -- "No, I hired the girl with the bigger boobs." For example. Harsh, but hey, it's to the point. It wouldn't just be rude like that all the time anyways. "Hunny, which picture frame do you like better? Black, brown, or white?" -- "Even though I'd rather be watching the hockey game at home on the couch with a beer in hand, and a remote in the other, I'm going to tell you what I think because I love you AND I want to go home as soon as possible. I like the brown one, sweetheart." See? Although this sounds humorous to those who don't live in a black and white world (for those who do, please go see an eye doctor, or psychiatrist, quickly. No, seriously, get up off your chair and get someone to drive you immediately), would you agree that that would take the mystery out of life and ultimately become dull and slit-your-writs boring? Yeah, I thought as much. So, as a result, I think we should all live with more color. No, I'm not saying layer on the makeup, tan until your skin is crocodile leather, or dress like your and African in the 80's. The message that I'm trying to enlighten you with is that one should appreciate the gift of not knowing everything. It would be seriously boring black and white all the time, trust me.
I don't want to know what I'm getting for Christmas anyways, Mom.
Think PINK,
Love Brittany