It Goes Right to My Gut

Wednesday marked the real end to Christmas. After Christmas Eve and Christmas Day get-togethers with my family and John's, we did the extended Greco family Christmas dinner yesterday. As expected, a week of festivities included a lot of treats and though I tried to be pretty good, I did indulge in some delicious desserts.

Last night, after we got home from my parents' house I went to change into pajamas. I happened to look down and spot some sort of mark on my stomach. It was a brownish spot roughly the size and shape of a dried apricot right above my belly button. It looked some kind of bruise and really freaked me out. I had no idea what it could be or how it had gotten there; did I not remember walking into something, belly first? Was it a sign of a tape worm? A misplaced stigmata?

I went over to John in the other room and showed him. "What the hell is that?" he asked. He seemed disturbed by it too, which only fueled my fear. But I touched it and it didn't hurt. Then I touched it again and realized that it smeared.

"Wait a second," I said, and went into the bathroom. I dampened a paper towel and rubbed it across the mark. It came off. I smelled it.

Chocolate.

Yup, a significant piece of chocolate fell down my shirt and melted against my belly and I had no idea.

Merry Christmas.

You Better Watch Out

In a preview to becoming Mrs.Gogarty, I got to spend a couple days as Mrs. Claus to John's Santa this weekend.

John has dressed up as Santa for years to visit the kids of friends and family. We got down to the wire on getting my costume but Party City came through on Thursday night.

We suited up on Saturday morning, I tried to put eye make-up on John, but he wasn't having it, and we were on our way.

Driving around Morristown as Santa and Mrs. Claus in an Audi convertible with the top down might be one of the most fun experiences ever. We'd honk as we passed kids on the street and waved when we'd hear grown men yell "SANTA!!!" from across the street.



We wound our way around New Jersey and Pennsylvania, delighting and terrifying children of various ages and reveling in Christmas cheer. One of my favorite parts may have been the way parents could laugh at how completely horrified their children were of Santa, giggling and taking pictures while the kids screamed and reached for them- I can't wait for the kids to look back on those pictures one day and know the parents did the right thing.

Being Mrs. Claus was so much fun, I can't imagine how great being Mrs. Gogarty is going to be.