So day before yesterday I am in the toy department of a national merchant pretending that I am Santa’s Helper of Sock Fillers (you’d have to read an earlier post to fully receive the meaning and I would link to it here if I knew how) when I randomly picked up an 8-ball.  I did what any person familiar with an 8-ball would do, I shook it around upside down, of course, and asked it if we would have a peaceful family Christmas celebration this year (my previous post explained that the reason I was at the national merchant was to flee a family fracas and turn Santa’s sleigh around to Merry again), flipped the ball over and read “doubtful.” 

Then like most people who don’t like the 8-ball’s answer, I asked a clarifying question of would there be a family fight at Christmas, answer “most likely.”  Then I did what a person should not do ~ ever, I laughed in the 8-ball’s face, shook it around some more and put it back on the merchant’s shelf.  I then called my daughter, urrr I mean Santa’s Other Helper of Sock Fillers, and told her my questions and 8’s answers, and then OMG are you ready?  We both laughed ~ out loud. 

Okay, fast forward to night before last.  Big fight.  Big fight between sisters.  Big fight between sisters at Christmas. 

It looks like Big Old 8-Ball had the last laugh.  But wait, Christmas isn’t over yet…  OMG!  Run for cover is all I am a sayin’.

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