A couple of days ago, I wrote this post about a series of bad Christmases. Apparently, I was testing fate and offering a challenge, for which I forgot to knock on wood.

Fate heard my petty complaints and chuckled. "Oh, you think I've sent you some shit in the past?! Well!!"

And then it sent projectile illness, if you know what I mean. And Fate laughed, "Oho, not done yet, sister."

Then it sent an ice storm and snatched the electricity and heat from my house. We're working on day four of no power.  Fate turned off the lights at Wal-mart and Kohls, consequently closing them up and crashed the computers at Meijer. "Oh, you thought you'd finish up your Christmas shopping in time? Think again, lady!"

Then Fate bit the big one. "You want a bad Christmas to write about, little girl? Let's see what I can do!"  And it aimed below the belt. Fate turned my puppy loose and for the first time ever, my runaway puppy didn't come directly home. Five hours later, on the eve of Christmas Eve,  after driving through my neighborhood a hundred times, circling the nearby highway, and running through stranger's snowy backyard, I sat in my car and sobbed. My pup was gone.

I guess Fate decided it'd punished me too hard. It decided to throw me a bone (pun intended). An hour later, true story, my dog appeared on the 6 o'clock news. Really! A Christmas miracle!

Anyway, to zip this thing up and move on to Christmas festivities -- amidst the worst Christmas luck I've ever had -- I'm safe. I'm warm. My husband is safe and warm and healthy and here. We have a Grandma who has power and she graciously invited us to sleep in her livingroom. She has a Christmas tree and it twinkles so dang brightly. We are together with much of our family in thankful sleepover.

And my puppy is safely home after a night in puppy jail (he stayed at the animal shelter for the evening).

And so, all is well. Merry Christmas from Ryan and I and our psycho puppies --
So much love this holiday season, The Hodges