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“My soul exults the Lord, for He has had regard for the humble state of his bond slave. For behold, from this time on all generations will count me blessed.”[Luke,I, 39-56]
I posted a link to Artcyclopedia’s Advent Calendar they have on the web. It is a beautiful renaissance painting calendar with great daily articles about the Christmas story. Check it out every day to really get the spirit of the season, I know I need a daily dose of it…or hourly 
. This painting is The Visitation by Domenico Ghirlandaio and I think is absolutely gorgeous.
Josh and I went to get our Christmas tree on Sunday. At first we went to a Christmas tree farm because I had this grand idea of picking out the perfect tree and chopping it down ourselves, thereby creating a wonderful Christmas tradition that we can continue with our children someday. Well. That still may be a great tradition to start, but apparently not in Georgia. The trees that grow native to the wonderful Georgian clay (smirk) are not Christmas tree material. At all. They are wimpy little things that wouldn’t hold up a tissue let alone a conglomerate of beautiful gold and silver and red ball ornaments that I currently have in my collection. Seriously flimsy plants you might call them.
But we got our perfect little Douglas fir specially shipped in from the North Carolinan mountains at a perfectly decent little roadside stand off 20. I love it. I love it because I get to decorate it. Josh loves it when I put the lights on myself. But he did help me a whole lot and I thank him since I know that it isn’t his most favorite thing to do. Here’s a picture of our little piece of Christmas magic:
Well I pulled it off. With a lot of help from friends and family, that’s for sure. Thank you to all of you who so admirably held your tongue in the name of self-control. The birthday boy had absolutely NO idea, even when he was flat out told that he was having a surprise birthday party. I think that is just a testament to the fact that I reign SUPREME over all who can keep secrets and not let on even a hint of anything out of the norm. Thank you, thank you, loyal subjects.
For a play by play, please keep reading. The set up was that we were having my aunt and uncle and their family over for dinner on Saturday night. I used this reason for a few reasons, namely, it was all we could come up with that explained me frantically cleaning our house and cooking enough for an army without arousing suspicion. As I was continually bragging, my husband will remember things that happened weeks ago and will bring it up and ask why did I do this, or say this, if something else triggers a similarity between then and now. I went on and on about how he was so good at guessing surprises that I made it my life long ambition to get him on this one.
And then the phone rang. It was Mitch.
Thankfully, Josh didn’t get to answer it right away so the call went to voicemail. I saw that it was Mitch and, I admit, alarm bells went off. Anyone who calls the birthday boy the day, no a few hours before, the big SURPRISE party should arouse alarm bells inside the instigators head. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a chance to steal Josh’s phone and delete the message. I also didn’t have a chance to call Mitch and ask him about the call. My aunt and uncle were arriving and I went out to meet them.
Once we got my Uncle Scott and Josh out of the house to Christmas shop (I know, I know, but it was all we could come up with!), we set to work decorating the house in purple and yellow for the Viking fan. Soon everyone started arriving and we waited. And waited. Actually, they weren’t that late, maybe around 7:10 I ran down to the apartment and announced that I could hear Uncle Scott’s voice overhead. We all waited breathlessly for the door to open. And waited. Here we really were like, uh, ok, where are you? How long does it really take to walk down a flight of steps? Finally…
SURPRISE!
And just let me tell you, I had one surprised boy staring at all the people. I honestly have never seen him look so shocked in his whole life. He just stood there, staring at us. I had to beckon him forward so that everyone could see him. He really enjoyed it.
The phone call, however, was another story. What that phone call said, was, “Hey Josh, sorry I didn’t make it to your surprise party last night, but if it’s tonight, sorry man, act surprised for me, ok?”
Hmm. Josh listened to his voicemail while he was out with Uncle Scott. BEFORE he got home. Apparently, though, my husband is not as good as I have been bragging about picking up on surprises, he is not as good at figuring things out, and he is slightly dim-witted (I love you, babe 
) when it comes to being told flat-out that he was having a surprise party! Either that, or my uncle is exceptionally good at playing it off that Mitch called the wrong person or is just losing his mind. Either way, I’m glad. Happy Birthday, Babe!
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