technically a muscle can't break, just get crushed, so you should call it heart crushed

just spent the eve of christmas eve relaxing in the hot tub, watching for shooting stars, and talking with my dad about life. (yeah, had that reversed. thanks linds. it was really really late, or early in the morning when i wrote this)

we never would have had nights like these in connecticut. as much as i loved growing up on the east coast, i sure love coming home from school to california. for some reason it doesn't feel quite like christmas, and no it's not the lack of white fluffy stuff. i don't miss that one bit. i think it's the lack of christmas music i've listened to since i've been home.  tomorrow will be completely devoted to all our old christmas albums and old christmas home videos. man, i love that tradition. i also love the new tradition of my dad making his very own white fluffy stuff, that's right, homemade marshmallows! yum! dipped in homemade fudge, lovingly made by my darling mother. quite the pair those two are. quite the pair. speaking of which, my sister was going through this old album today my mom put together compiling all the letters and notes sent by my parents to one another while my mother was away at school during their courtship. so mushy. so precious. but still, reeeeaaallllly mushy.
so as they say, "cyk"

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