Shootouts and resolutions.

I awoke this lovely New Year's Eve morning to the sound of guns blasting and people screaming.  I could soon hear the police reading somebody their Miranda rights. 

So, maybe I failed to mention that the blasts were mostly mouthed sounds and the guns were Nerf guns, but either way, I decided to roll out of bed.  With shootings going on the house, I thought it would be best if I was sneaky, so I slid against the dark walls of the bathroom, through the laundry room and then peaked into the living room.  Officer Kyler was putting criminal-Mae into couch-jail as Officer Kenny stood nearby with a gun pointed at her, just in case.  Once she was securely...well, secured, they decided to go look for other criminals.  Kenny said he thought he'd heard one coming from "that direction" (points toward our bedroom) and they took off, Kenny limping from a leg wound he endured when Mae shot him while she resisted arrest. 

As the brave and noble policemen exited the room from the north, I slinked in from the south and committed my very first ever jail break.  Except things didn't go as I planned and I made too much noise as I laughed insanely while abetting my partner in crime.  The two officers were able to shoot me straight in the heart at least three times and I fell to my shocked death (of course, only after seeing Mae make her great escape).  And this is pretty much how every day has gone since I started my 'Staycation' and the kids began their Christmas breaks from school.  Kenny has received many 'surprise' days off of work and we have been having the time of our lives with all of our the kids' new Christmas gifts. 

Being the last day of the year and all, this is typically where I would type out my resolutions for the upcoming year.  I've been thinking and thinking and I just don't have anything major to resolve.  I suppose I resolve to be happy?  And be fair?  And live?  And laugh?  And love?  Just like every day?  Last night, Kenny got on the subject of resolutions and said that maybe this is the year that he will quit smoking (we call this a reoccurring resolution).  So he will "quit" smoking and I will just love him no matter how many times he sneaks out the back door and leaves it hanging wide open for the cold air to filter in.  As the smell of smoke wafts throughout the entire house and fills my lungs (gag), I will remember to be fair.  I used to be a smoker.  I did the same thing.  So there it is.  My resolution is to endure Kenny's soon-to-be failed resolution with kindness and endearment.  (Not that I don't think he can't quit smoking, but he's already started in on the "after this pack" and then "no, after the next pack"...and we have maybe been through this thirteen-thousand times already.