Little girls, strewn about the place.

Oh, we've just been up to the usual around here. And doesn't my humble abode look so clean in this picture? That's precisely the reason I took a picture. To document such cleanliness. I asked Clara if we could maybe try to keep it tidy for at least 25 minutes. It was a lofty goal, and we did not reach it. But—those roses! Tom Thomas gallantly bestowed those upon our home in honor of our anniversary at the beginning of the month. 4 years!

But what's this business about Thanksgiving being next week? My calendar must have a horrendous typo. I'm pretty sure we celebrated the 4th of July, like, two hours ago.

We ordered a Christmas tree online tonight. Ha! A Christmas tree online?! We are such internet geeks. Actually—the plan was to get one from a store, but apparently I'm the only person left in the world that wants a colored pre-lit tree. I've been tree shopping for weeks now, because I've been so excited to have a large enough space for a BIG tree—and a good, color-lit tree is difficult to come by these days. Way to ruin Christmas, white lights. So anyway. A farewell to our sad, decrepit 2-foot tree that has accompanied our Decembers for the past three years. I can hardly wait to go on an ornament binge through Target.

Oh, and perhaps I should have clarified that it's a fake tree. Obviously. Right? It's just that Tom keeps calling it a "fake Christmas tree" and then we had to have a heart-to-heart about how he doesn't need to label our tree with condescending terms such as "fake." I know some people feel strongly about having a real Christmas tree each year, but shoot—growing up in Las Vegas—a real live Christmas tree basically meant that your house went up in ashes on Christmas Eve. (Not entirely true, but still.)

So, I'm pro fake tree. And that's that. And I can't wait for it to get here. It'll be like Christmas.

Have a merry Thanksgiving, dear blogdom. I mean, it is next week and all. Or at least that's what the calendar says.