Last night was the kids' holiday program at school. And by "holiday program," I of course mean "Santa-centric Christmas show," because this is the south and apparently here they don't feel the need to so much as nod to Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or anything else. Politically correct, schmolitically bereft. Praise Jesus, pass the eggnog, and bless your heart if you're not a church-going Christian, darlin'. Anyway. This children have been talking about this for MONTHS. I am not exaggerating. (I mean, I am ALWAYS exaggerating, just not about this particular thing.) Chickadee is in chorus, which is...
A few years ago I was getting new glasses for Chickadee---whose ocular health I attend to with a smothering level of unwavering attention, owing to the pediatric ophthalmologist who saw her when she was a wee tot and assured me that it was good we were there, otherwise she MIGHT HAVE GONE BLIND in that one wonky eye of hers---and it occurred to me that MY glasses were sort of old. So I browsed around and found some frames I liked and when the optician asked if I had a current prescription I said---because my health is important, y'all---"Well, I can see okay out of these ones I'm wearing...
Woo! My weekend simply flew by, because that is what happens when you have an active social schedule the way that I do. It's not easy being a socialite, but somehow I manage it. Come to think of it, I suspect this weekend was a year's worth of weekend excitement, owing to the fact that most of the time I consider it a busy weekend if I get up off the couch long enough to look for more snacks. Anyway, I bid farewell to my usual level of sloth these last few days and was VERY BUSY and as a result, I now need a weekend to recover from my weekend. Um. Hmmm. Seems like this could be a problem,...
I joke about how I work in my pajamas all the time, but actually it's not a joke. I'm a sloth. Sorry. Also, I have very comfortable pajamas. So this morning I sent the kids and Otto on their merry way, and sat down (in my jammies) to start working, and I was about a paragraph into my first project of the day when KABLAM! something, um, blew up outside. And everything in my house turned off! And the answering machine started clicking and beeping, which Otto tells me in device parlance means MY! BACKUP! BATTERIES! ARE! DYING! I am not an electrical expert, or anything, but it seemed bad. After...
Wednesdays and Thursdays are the killer part of my week, possibly because I never work hard enough on Monday and Tuesday, and because it is against my religion to work too hard on Fridays. Yesterday smacked me down hard and today isn't looking much better, so instead of blathering on about nothing I will instead turn over to you the most pressing matter currently on my mind where you might actually be of assistance. (I mean, unless you want to write a couple of articles for me.) (Do you? Want to write a couple of articles for me? Lord, I am tired.) It all started yesterday when we got into a...
Once upon a time, when I was in high school, I was hanging out at a friend's house. Said friend had been growing out her bangs for a number of months, and they now reached to about her chin and she commented that she should really get a haircut and just get it all cut off to that length so it wouldn't look weird anymore. I don't remember if I volunteered or if it was her idea, but we decided I'd cut her hair. She got a pair of scissors and... I cut it. I didn't do too bad of a job, though that didn't stop her mother from being absolutely furious with me when she got home. I cut another...
I have never been big on the whole "mall Santa" thing, for various reasons. I mean, yes---we've done it a couple of times, but on the whole, it's not like I search it out every year as an essential part of the Christmas season. (Frankly, the fact that some man is being paid to sit little kids on his lap all day long disturbs me in a way I'd rather not even verbalize.) Regardless, in spite of the fact that the kids are on the cusp of being too old for such a thing---and really, if we're being honest, I strongly suspect that Chickadee's suspension of disbelief about the guy in the red suit has...
I don't really know what happened; one day Otto was all, "I dunno, I guess everyone already has plans" and I despaired while our new dining room set was languishing with only the jigsaw puzzle Chickadee and I are working on to keep it company, and then the next week it was "well, we have one couple coming" and a few days later it was "someone else RSVPed" and then just as I was figuring out seating and starting to bake it became "so-and-so's plans fell through" and "I just got an email wanting to know if we could have one more?" So. Ten for Thanksgiving! Ask and ye shall receive. Or---more...
I love Christmas. I love everything about it. This is what happens when you grow up Jewish and realize that accepting Christ into your heart means pretty shiny ornaments on a twinkling tree and stockings hung by the chimney with care. Overdone commercialism aside (can we put that aside? can we pretend to, at least?), I love the whole season of anticipation. Plus, we already know that I love to shop, so what better way to indulge my love of a good bargain hunt than to go searching for goodies for all of my loved ones? It's a little slice of heaven. (And just in case there was any doubt at all...
