December 8/0 words
I don't have the minutes to watch time fly. It's zooming right past and I can't keep up.
Since my last post, I have: cleaned the house from top to bottom (avoiding children's rooms and bath, because you know, first a nameless child would have to pick her clothes up off the floor), gotten a tree up and decorated, along with the house, practicedpracticedpracticed with the kids for the Christmas program, practicedpracticedpracticed with my own music for the Advent concert which was Saturday, got my last issue of Ideomancer, and collapsed in heaps multiple times. Usually about 8P, which means I'm in bed and asleep before most of the world I know.
However, a clean!shiny! house makes me happy, so this weekend's labors were worth it.
The concert went off well--a friend told me we sounded like a barbershop quarter, but with five instead of four voices. It's all about the harmonies, and Love Came Down at Christmas is a wonderful song to sing as we meandered from a single to two to three to four parts. I'm still dealing with stage fright at times, which sucks my ability to judge my own singing, let alone how I blend with anyone else. But we're done until Lent when we do it all over again.
Upcoming events include that kindergarten program. It'll only last about fifteen minutes, but it takes buckets of time to prepare. Getting kids on and off the stage without anyone falling off is a big deal.
It's also craft season from hell. This week are reindeer hats, Christmas wreaths, Christmas trees, and the frames for Moms' and Dads' photos are on the agenda, too.
Thinking about it all makes me tired.
But there will be cookies! and baking! as a reward (I think) next weekend. Provided I finish the Christmas shopping and get those critical gifts in the mail.
My Christmas wish list reads: Naps. Lots of naps. And dozing by the fire (provided the temperatures here sink below 80°.)
December 11/0 words
There are two good things about today:
a. The Christmas show is over. Only one kid fell off the risers in the middle of it all, and he picked himself up and climbed back on.
b. There are brownies in my future. The scent of chocolate is wafting through the house right now. (No, I did not bake them this morning; the Spousling chose to utilize his time that way, since I needed them for school today and gave him 48 hours notice.
It's a lovely smell to wake up to. Almost as good as overnight barbecued pork.
The program was about what I expected. One or two kids swiping at their noses, a few who pay absolutely no attention to the audience and face the side or the back of the stage. Kids this age forget the words, forget the little steps, are out of sync--it's all great. My favorite bit this year was when we got one of my grandpas to dress up as Santa as we sang "Must Be Santa." He's a firemen, so certainly well used to dressing in a hurry (because the song moves!) and the kids throw bits of his costume at him. If they remember.
Which was the problem last night. The suit kid didn't respond to suit, and he was on the other side of Santa. I didn't remember quite who had what, so I tapped the wrong kid, and the hat came flying past Santa's nose. He had to turn around and get the suit from its keeper on his own.
But since it's a small town, and everyone knows him--and his day job--he got a lot of laughs.
I'm still shopping for the out-of-towner Christmas gifts. One box went off yesterday. And thank heavens. I have three more to send, though, and it's frustrating that I can't find what I want or get the suggestions that I need.
In other news, and Kelly may laugh at this one, the Spousling may very well take a position as project manager for the company who did our bathroom.
I can't help but snicker at how they knew to contact him.
Oh! Three good things! The eldest offspring sold the truck that has been here since last spring. The money he made from that sale should just about cover the cost of his current car repairs. And thank heavens for that.
Finally, I am thinking about my stories again. Not the novel, mind you, but it's a start.
December 20/0 words
Dear Diary,
We are monster sitting. In order to monster sit, one must first ascertain that all doors are shut, nothing remains on the floor that one doesn't mind chewed, and that we leave.
When we return, the monster is there, and one child is missing. Since this is the child that will cost three 6K payments for college over the next three months, I am not horribly distraught.
Until the monster attempts to devour a table leg.
Currently, the monster is sleeping, so things are quiet. However, the monster will reawaken momentarily, and chaos will resume.
To reach the state of chaos, one must have three dogs of varying sizes all willing to play simultaneously.
We have attained this state multiple times in the last twenty-five minutes, which does much to explain why the monster is sleeping.
The children will not return for another ten hours.
Save me.
And while you're at it, could you please cure me of the addiction to snowflakes I have acquired? Drugs are perfectly okay since I strained a back muscle while pushing classroom tables around yesterday.
Also, someone must make more tamales. I am open to suggestions as long as they do not invoke my name.
Going back to bed for two seconds (or until the monster awakes and realizes I am gone).
Love,
Me
Here. Have a novel counter. I've got to keep myself honest.
