Can you believe Christmas is a week from today?

Am I alone in feeling a slight sense of panic that I’m not quite prepared?

Perhaps it was the early start on Christmas shopping, and getting the tree and decorations up prior to Thanksgiving that gave me a false sense of security. Since accomplishing those things, I’ve had one or two other shopping spurts, but find myself in the “home stretch” without having sent out my Christmas cards or completing my shopping! Yikes!

Unlike teachers who are now (in most cases) free from their jobs to attend to these details, I must juggle the job, tackling the details, and making sure the little darlings who are out of school don’t get too bored and turn on each other.

My Lily will get her braces this week, bless her heart. Only days before Christmas — what timing! Dad, can you please make a batch of fudge — without nuts?

Hubby dearest’s latest hunting expedition this last week resulted in him deciding to hang up deer hunting for the remainder of this year. In his quest to bag a buck or doe, he ventured into one of our beautiful national forests. As he decided to return home, he thought he’d take just one more dirt road in hopes of spotting something. Alas, his pickup high-centered on a slightly muddy road, and try as he might, he could not un-stick it. The only casualty of his trying alone to free the pickup was the top button of his pants — which freed itself from the pants.

John Paul took off hiking toward the highway, with one hand firmly holding up his britches. Once there, most of the passing motorists were not driving anything heavy or stout enough to pull him out. He attempted to wave someone down with only one hand (not a good time to turn loose of the pants), but it took some time for a vehicle to stop. I pictured him out there, clutching his camo-pants, and waving at each set of headlights, until he could see the make and model of car — then waving them on if it was an Escort or a Volkswagen.

Finally, a pair of redneck oilfield-worker type fellows in a rugged pickup took pity on him. They all went to the site of the stranded Chevrolet, and promptly spun their tires and nearly got stuck themselves. After fishing out a large chain from the back of his truck, getting the thing out of the mud, and bidding farewell to his “cavalry,” my darling split the crotch out of said pants, and was then basically clad in a pair of very-ventilated “wind” pants.

Disgusted, he headed for home, deciding to give up on bagging a deer this season. To add insult to this most recent “injury,” JP found out a friend from Blooming Grove had a similar incident, but with different results. Apparently said friend had attempted for days to shoot a deer, and in the last few remaining hours of the hunt, decided to relieve himself in the woods, as nature was calling. While accomplishing this project, he spotted a deer running toward him. He let go of his pants — which dropped around his ankles — grabbed his gun, and shot the deer.

I hope my husband will have a very Merry Christmas, in spite of his less-than-stellar deer season. We are very excited, and looking forward to our first Christmas together as a family.

I just hope I get my shopping finished in time!

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Deanna Plemons is a Daily Sun staff writer. Her column appears Sundays. She may be contacted via e-mail at deannap@corsicanadailysun.com.

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