As you know, Pope Francis is TIME Magazine’s Person of the Year. I’m pleased to report that I voted for him last week when I heard that Miley Cyrus was winning. (Not that Miley doesn’t deserve to win. I talked about her more this past year than I talked about, say, Henry Winkler or Joey Fatone. BUT, that doesn’t mean she’s worthy of a magazine cover beyond maybe Cosmopolitan or Why Won’t People Just Let Her Do Her (Admittedly, Sometimes Strange) Thing?) Anyway, I always feel a bit of a thrill when the person I voted for wins.
The Only Time I Didn’t Feel So Good About Voting for The Winner: When I was in the fifth grade, we had a weird family fun night event during which every classroom voted for a girl and a boy to represent them at the King and Queen ceremony. (Welcome to 1980. I still have no idea what was happening.) Anyway, I somehow ended up winning my classroom queen rep position, and when all of the fifth graders then voted for their overall queen rep, I once again won. I did NOT vote for myself for the classroom queen position, but I *did* vote for myself during the fifth grade overall queen gig. (I was really itching to wear a long dress. You know how it goes.) Anyway, even though it was a secret ballot, my teacher figured out that I voted for myself, and she announced the fact to the class more than once. 33 years have passed, and I still feel weird.
Here’s something that everyone needs to know. If I’m unable to use Oreos as a fallback option, I’m unable to participate in your bake sale or cookie drive or pot luck or whatever it is that you’re doing. There is a good chance that I will want to jump in and bake something amazing, but knowing that I can’t cover up any potential catastrophes with Oreos counts me out. This will never not be true.
Here’s something else that you need to know: I’m cranky. Like, SUPER much so. I like working from a list and right now I’m slammed with things that are spontaneous and not on the list. I know everyone is going through this and everyone is super busy. I do! I wish I handled it better, because when I’m feeling ruffled it feels like I can’t really accomplish anything correctly. (I send lots of e-mails with attachments that aren’t attached. I underbake cookies and then have to throw them away. I take weird opportunities to raise my voice about classroom parties and silly things that Really Don’t Matter and I make myself look and feel like a jerk. I schedule a trip to pick up an ornament immediately after I drop my kids off at school, and then I discover that the store doesn’t open for another hour and I’ve already been driving for thirty minutes, so damnit. All of this happened today along with some freelance, some dog drama, and a fork that is wedged in a weird place and it’s Harper’s favorite fork and I’m already regretting starting this sentence and so are you. The good thing about today? A friend I hadn’t seen in several months met me for lunch at an Indian place and we were able to catch up. Always Good: Friends and Indian Food.)
I have milk boiling on the stove for pies. We have an orchestra concert in 90 minutes. Tomorrow is a half day at school, and then we have a piano recital, and Henry will be groomed on Saturday morning right before a three hour Christmas pageant rehearsal at church.
On Sunday, I get to stand in front of the congregation and say, “I’m naked.” (Maybe someday I’ll tell you about the time I may have lost a job by muttering those exact words.)
Last year I volunteered to read the verse about not being a virgin.