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This Makeout Party with the Dead has been brought to you by Levaquin!

For the past three weeks or so, I’ve had this coughing thing. It has made me sweat, it has made me vomit (Cranberry salad! I thought I was puking blood! But it wasn’t blood, it was cranberries (and grapes)! Enjoy your lunch.), it has kept me up at night, it has made my family hate me, blah, blah, blah. Ten days ago, my doctor gave me another round of antibiotics, as the Zithromax she had originally prescribed didn’t do the trick. When she wrote the prescription for Levaquin, she told me that the only side effect she’s heard of is weird dreams. And the skies opened up, and the angels began to sing, “Pay-YO-teeeeeeeeee!!!”

The past ten nights have been amazing. (And please know that both Dreamed and Dreamt are acceptable as the past tense for Dream. I just looked it up!) Anyway, I dreamed that I belted out Seals and Crofts’ “Diamond Girl” as I chased after a bird with diamond wings in Africa. I dreamt (seriously—both are correct!) that Meredith was on probation at school because she couldn’t eat cake without stabbing it maniacally with a fork and screaming “I am the bride of Jesus!!!” I dreamed of eating toasted ravioli filled with sweet potatoes (and sprinkled with shimmering powdered sugar) while standing in line to ride a purple roller coaster.

I was sort of sad last night as I went to bed. I had taken my final Levaquin, and was getting ready to settle in for the final party in the Land of Nod. AND, that final pill did not disappoint. As Harper sat in a cabin and played with baby alligators (they were totally tame and toothless!), I made out with Heath Ledger (the Very Much Alive version). And holy smokes. That Heath Ledger certainly knows what he’s doing. Especially when it comes to Going Straight for the Neck.

Tonight, medication free, I’ll surely return to my old school dreams—me trying to attend a class that I never signed up for, me taking a shower (I dream it fairly often, and then I wake up sort of disappointed that I still need to take a shower), me accidentally driving a car off the edge of a bridge… Oh. I’m sorry. I believe I just put you to sleep with my simpleton dreams. Here. Let me cover you with a soft blanket and kiss your forehead.

I’ll miss you, sweet Levaquin. And, I heartily recommend you to anyone with a bacterial infection! (And wouldn’t it be great if I now yelled out something like, “And let’s have a giveaway! The fine folks at Levaquin would like to give out some free samples to any of you who are suffering from lung, sinus, skin, or urinary tract infections! Leave a comment below, and three lucky winners will score some dreamy pills!” Sadly, I am not allowed to offer drugs at Fluid Pudding Dot Com. But I AM allowed to offer Little Debbie snacks! And I’ll do that early next week.)

Heath Ledger! Whoosh! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Okay. I promise I’m not becoming one of Those Moms.

Last night Harper asked why Meredith’s video is on the computer but hers isn’t.

Me: Because you’re simply not cute enough.

Harper: But I’ve got that whole doe-eyed thing going on! I’m like the love child of freaking Bambi and Boo!

Me: Okay. Uncle.

So, anyway. Oh! And don’t say anything about the wires. I already know what you’re thinking, and I agree.

You Have Never Seen Me (the Angels We Have Heard on High remix) from Angela D. on Vimeo. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I couldn’t tell her what you really do with it, because I hate the word “insert.”

I tell you the following story with a great deal of hesitance, because it touches on Female Stuff and Whatnot. (Please know that I still have a hard time saying the word Bra out loud, so speaking of The Monthly Event is not something I do lightly. (No pun intended, if there’s one hiding out somewhere in there.))

Anyway.

When it’s That Time Of The Month, I tend to keep a tampon (unused) in the front pocket of my jeans when I’m at home. We don’t have cabinets in our bathrooms, so I find that the pocket method is the safest way to go if I’m in need of a gear switch.

I didn’t realize that Meredith was completely aware of my pocket protection. I also didn’t realize that a five year old could be so in tune with my monthly mood changes. (There are so many things in life for which I was (or am) unaware. For instance, I just learned that orange juice tastes crappy after you brush your teeth because of the sodium lauryl sulfate contained in most toothpastes. Boring, but there you have it.)

Last night I was a bit stressed out about laundry and back to school and freelance projects and Christmas trees and just about anything else you can imagine. During one of my Puking o’ the Uglies, Meredith walked out of the room and returned with a tampon (unused). She reluctantly held it out to me and whispered, “Mommy, I think it’s time for you to eat your medicine.”

A few hours later, Meredith wrote a song. Sort of. And because I love it so much (you know, because I’m her mother or something), I think she should come out with a series of life lessons put to music that the five year olds would dig.

An Apple A Day from Angela D. on Vimeo.

And now I jump onto a completely different horse. I’m doing another giveaway thinger dinger in a few days, and it’s food! And it’s good! So keep in touch! (And eat your medicine.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Resolution, Schmesolution.

So, it seems that every year I think about my goals for the following year, and then I immediately go all blah, blah, blah “I want to read more books and knit more socks for others and make falafel and scare myself a bit and so on! Bring it! Indian food!”

This year I’m keeping it simple. Three things.

I’m going to try my hardest to treat others the way I would like to be treated. I know. Golden Rule and mashed potatoes and all of that. We all know how thin-skinned I am, so this boils down to fluffy words like generosity and compassion.

I’m also going to try to treat myself the way I would like others to treat me. I’ve often been told that I’m entirely too hard on myself, which I find difficult to accept. Maybe I’m really NOT such a terrible mom/wife/friend/etc. (Also, this goal could be stretched and molded a bit to include the occasional purchase of silk yarn and/or custard pie. Because I would like others to purchase silk yarn and/or custard pie for me, and I now want to treat myself the way I would like others to treat me. See how that works? Easy! Silk and pie, my friends!)

Finally, and most importantly, my loftiest goal seems to be wearing a pair of This One is Simple pants, but those pants are mighty deceiving. I plan to Listen. Instead of losing my patience with my kids, I’m going to try to really Listen to them. Maybe there really IS a reason why Harper needs to get out of bed and eat a few Tostitos at 10:30 at night. Maybe Meredith really DOES need to count to 100 again and again (and again). Maybe Jeff has a need to sing The Hold Steady songs in the morning when I’m trying to put my day together. Listening! Kindness! All of that! Bring it!

In a nutshell: Brotherly Love, Soft Core Narcissism, and All Ears.

Have a Happy New Year. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The pumpkin head is for the feast of Stephen, Sire!

If you know me at all, you know that the inside of my car is a disaster. I believe our entire CD collection is on the floor of the car, along with every gas station receipt and candy bar wrapper we’ve accumulated over the past two years. There are many tissues. Some are unused. Others are not. (I know!) I think there’s a wrench set in there somewhere. Also, several barrettes. (Just in case.) I’m missing a can of Lentil soup. I’m sure it’s in the car.

A few weeks back, I found myself driving to the grocery store in desperate need of the ingredients for punch. (When you’re attending a late night yarn store party, it’s sort of silly to NOT fill a gigantic punch bowl with pineapple juice and frozen fruit and whatnot, right? You know it!) Anyway, I scored a front row spot, made my way into the store, grabbed my punch stuff, and carried my bags out to the car.

Please know that it was a windy day. Super windy. Blustery, even. (And I don’t throw “blustery” around very often, my friends.) When I opened up the back of the car, a (mostly empty) pumpkin head from Halloween got caught in the wind and flew out. And because my reflexes are spot on (seriously—throw a basketball at my head sometime and see how fast I duck!), I quickly brought my leg up with the lofty intention of kicking the head back into the car. (Because I’m doing it all for Slobo Ilijevski these days. And in my mind, I’m a lot more athletic than I am in your real world.)

As you probably guessed, the pumpkin head did not make its way back into the car. In fact, I kicked the goofy (now empty) thing UNDER the car, where it slowly rolled to a stop dead center—out of my reach from all angles. As I finished packing groceries into the car (and picking up the stale boxes of Milk Duds from the parking lot), I hoped that the wind would somehow catch the head and blow it out. No luck.

It was then that a really perfect thing happened. The Salvation Army Red Can Christmas Man showed up for his bell ringing shift. And as he set up his station and started singing (Yep. He’s one of THOSE Salvation Army Red Can Christmas Men.), I slowly closed down the back of the car and put my keys and iPod in the front seat.

“Good King Wenceslas looked out on the feast of Stephen! When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even!”

(This is where I dropped to my knees on the driver side of my car.)

“Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel, when a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fyoo-oo-el.”

(This is where I dropped my head down to the ground and began slithering snakelike under the car—slowly inching toward the pumpkin head and trying my hardest to not get my coat all dirty. Hey wait. You do remember that I’m parked in the front row, right? Yep. Right in front of the Salvation Army Red Can Christmas Man. As I’m typing this for you, he’s probably sitting around with his family telling his side of the story. “And all I could see were too legs sticking out from under that car! Woo hoo! Gold!”)

“Hither, page, and stand by me, if thou know’st it, telling, Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?”

(Yeah. I’m still over here squirming around under the car in the style of the yonder peasant. I’m still five inches away from this damned pumpkin head! My cheek is rubbing against the parking lot, which is just as good as microderm abrasion, right? I’m crabby, yet I know that this entire scene is my own fault!)

“Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain; Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes’ fountain.”

(Got it!!! I got the pumpkin head! And now I’m doing the backward army crawl on my elbows with my arms tightly wrapped around it! I will NEVER let my car get this cluttered again! Do you hear that, 2009?!)

“‘Bring me flesh, and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither: Thou and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither.’ Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together; Through the rude wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.”

(And, victory! I bounced up and lifted the pumpkin head over my head Stanley Cup style for the Salvation Army Red Can Christmas Man to see! And he looked a bit relieved, because he really HAD been watching my feet jerking around from under the car. And he kept singing, because when you know all of the stinkin’ words to Good King Wenceslas, you really DO keep on singing them, because that’s quite a thing, don’t you think? (Personally, I’m Wikipedia-ing the heck out of those lyrics right now!) Before jumping into my car and driving away, I yelled something ridiculous like, “I got it! This pumpkin head! Mine! A-HA!” (I don’t remember my exact words, because they were so cringe-worthy that my brain is helping me block them. Lingering humiliation and whatnot, you know…)

And I know you want to know if the pumpkin head is still in my car.

Of course it’s not.

(Yes. It is. I know.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Shoes and Delhi’s Chaat and Drake Bell and Pork!

First off and most importantly? Merry Christmas from The Puddings.

Our day has been filled with stuffed animals that whimper, a Drake Bell concert DVD, both sets of grandparents, a little of this, a lot more of that, Danskos, a two hour nap (for everyone!), and Gokul. It really doesn’t get much better.

AND, this afternoon the Random Number Generator spit this out:

In other words, Alli is the winner of the hat! And I have contacted her, and she is thrilled, and HOORAY! I really should do knitted giveaways more often.

I hope your day was as peaceful as ours. (And that unlike me, you didn’t have terrible dreams about your husband dropping your kids off at a stranger’s home just so he could enjoy a $4.99 plate of BBQ pork with a questionable woman.)

Dry rubbed pork plate in excelsis deo!

And on Earth, peace, good will toward men. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It’s beginning to look a lot like a bucket hat giveaway!

One of my knitting goals for 2009 is to become comfortable with stranded knitting. To kick off that goal one week early, I sat down on Friday and started my version of this hat. Yesterday afternoon? I finished it. I am not yet done with Christmas shopping, nor have I sent out all of my Christmas cards. I have baked no cookies. I haven’t made out a grocery list. However, unto us this day in the city of St. Louis, a hat which is way too big was born.

Okay. People always say things to me like, “With that short hair of yours, I bet you look good in hats!” And, up until yesterday, I sort of (reluctantly) agreed. However, this “I Really Should Have Been Christmas Shopping Instead” hat definitely does not look good on me.

Evidence:

So, anyway. I want to give you the hat. It really is fairly lovely for a First Time at Colorwork attempt. It’s 30% silk and 70% Extrafine Merino Wool, which means it’s definitely a handwash only sort of thing. It would look especially nice on someone who has a large noggin or lots of hair adorning their normal-sized noggin.

Leave a Happy Holidays Christmas Hatty sort of comment (or something similar, or not so similar at all), and on Christmas Day I’ll pull out the old randomizer and: Free Fluid Pudding Knitted Silk/Wool Hat to Someone Out There! Because it’s Christmas! And happy holidays to you! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

She’s crafty, and she’s just my type!

So, you’ve signed on to help a bunch of little kids get crafty for the holidays, and you’re out of ideas.

You’ve come to the right place, Shirley!

Take a tube sock and fill it halfway with rice. Now fold the top down and roll it a bit to make the snowman hat. With yarn, tie off the top so your rice doesn’t spill. With more yarn, tie a few bows around the neck. With fabric paint, apply eyes, nose, mouth, and buttons, and you’re set. Done. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

These are my final complaints of the year. Probably. (Maybe.)

1. I don’t mind Christmas shopping. However, when everyone in the family suddenly pretends to have never met my kids and I end up having to do Everyone’s Christmas Shopping, well, I get tired. And then I lose my bubbling Christmas spirit. And suddenly, when Amy Grant’s Christmas CD comes on, I find myself thinking, “Suck it, Amy. I’m trying to make 42 To Do lists over here.” This happens Every Single Year, and I hate it because I Am Known For My Holiday Spirit. (Not really. But I *could* be if I didn’t have all of these damned lists to make for everyone!)

2. If I had time to construct a pie chart to show you The Things I Hate, screenings and assessments would fill roughly 63% of that chart. Two weeks ago, Jeff and I participated in a social and emotional screening to try to get a grip on Harper’s tantrums. The outcome? “She scored a 65, and the Ideal Child scores below a 59.”

Me: Okay. Now we’re getting somewhere. How do we move forward?

Screener: Oh. Well, I’ll have to get back with you sometime on that, won’t I? See you in January!

(65 Crickets are chirping. Only 59 are supposed to be chirping.)

I suppose I now need to make Harper a shirt that says 65 and just assume that Everyone Will Get It. Except I don’t get it. So, on to the next Thing, yet back to where we started and on and on. (Are you smelling something that sort of stinks like an unclever blend of patchouli and horseradish? That’s my discouragement with assessments and screenings!)

3. I’m having a hard time finding parents who are able to attend the kindergarten holiday party next week. (I know. Life is good when I have time to complain about these ridiculous things, right? I know!) And I’m fine with that because I know that everyone is busy and everyone works and so on. However, I hate that I take every single No (not to mention every unreturned phone call) personally. Because that’s silly. People aren’t saying No because I’m sort of socially inept, are they? No. (Are they?) But, anyway. I just need to find someone who is willing to pour rice into 16 tube socks and then tie them off with yarn. Tube Sock Snowman! Anybody?! I promise not to make awkward eye contact with you! Actually, no promises. Suck it, Amy.

Wait. Let’s end this with something good. Kara recently listed her Christmas stockings at Etsy, and I love them. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I’m simply mollycoddled!

Internet Friends, I am lucky.

In the past year, because of Fluid Pudding Dot Com:

I was able to share 60 boxes of M&Ms with you.
I was able to do that whole Bedroom Makeover thing.
I funded a trip to BlogHer in San Francisco by selling handknit socks and sock ornaments. (AND, Ornament Friends? I’m 1.5 ornaments away from sending out packages! I’ll be in touch with you sometime in the next week!)

And that’s just the Stuff part of it. To risk sounding all drippy and kissy-faced, I really can’t put into words just how amazing FPdotCom has been in regard to Community and Friendships and Goodwill and Whatnot. I know I’ve been guilty of being all, “Blah blah blah I QUIT! Here’s a Jeff Buckley video for you to prove just how much of a quitter I really am!!!” in the past. Right now? I’m at a Fluid Pudding Happy level of 9.6! (And you know who you are, Person Who Recently Brought Me Down By Four-Tenths of a Point!)

Anyway. A few weeks back I asked you guys to visit Secret Agent Josephine and enter my name in her monthly banner drawing because I’m nothing but a disaster at banners and I’ve always admired her work. (Yep. Check out those coffee cards. Is it wrong to be so in love with a set of cards?! Also, I have four words for you: Pockets the Lumpy Cat. Please adopt Pockets and then come right back here and tell me about the nice home you’re going to give him. Because I love that stinkin’ cat.) And you visited her. And she visited me. And now? Well, look at my banner. (Wait a second. Just looking at that banner shot me right back up to a 10! 10.4, even! Take THAT, PWRBMDBF-ToaP!)

And that’s not all. After I wrote that post, I was contacted by an old college friend who took time out of her day to design some sample banners for me! And look at how cute they are.

So fun. So cute! It’s a cross-eyed cat! (AND, if you’re interested in contacting Linda for a possible banner and her schedule has room for some freelance work, shoot an e-mail my way (angela at fluidpudding dot com), and I’ll forward your request on to her!)

Anyway. The phrase Embarrassment of Riches comes to mind a lot these days. And for that? I thank you. And you. (But not YOU, PWRBMDBF-ToaP. I’m a huge grudge holder, you know.)

Pockets the Lumpy Cat! Go get him! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>