Category: Daily

My big announcement for today: I have boxed up two freelance projects to be returned to their primary editors tomorrow morning. Two (mostly) down, and one to go, and then I can attack Christmas. Relief tastes like a handful of roasted peanuts chased down by another handful of milk chocolate chips mixed with the slight hankering for something carbonated and pomegranate-esque.

We’ve been talking a lot about Christmas trees over here, and I think I need to ask you a question.

Our Christmas tree is a fifteen year old VERY unstable artificial tree that my parents bought for me when I was living in an apartment in the city. (It’s held together with tape!) If you’re into the Major Life Event sort of timeline, this tree has seen me move to Nashville, marry Jeff, and push out two kids! (I didn’t really push the kids out.)

What?! Hey!

As much as I would love to go out to the garage right now and start putting the tree together, this year I have to consider our new roommates.

They’re adorable and I love them, but they will DESTROY my Christmas tree in the same way that they have destroyed our couch and our carpet. (And a few hairbrushes and a TV tray and a Frisbee and our elderly cat’s joy.)

A real tree is not an option, because I’ve seen how they chew on the real trees in our back yard.

What are we to do? If we leave the tree in the box this year, we could hang tinsel and lights around the family room and then decorate the tinsel with ornaments. The kids are willing to deal with that option, as long as the final product looks something like this.

Jeff has suggested that we quickly invent a tree that will spray a bitter dog deterrent every time a quadruped approaches. With less than a month to go before the big day, I really don’t think we have time.

Am I missing an obvious solution? (I tend to miss the obvious solutions.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

During our Thanksgiving celebration, I wandered downstairs into my aunt’s basement and found the most amazing parenting guide. Children in the Family—A Psychological Guide for Parents was written by Florence Powdermaker and Louise Ireland Grimes. It was published in 1940 by Farrar & Rinehart, Inc.

How many times have I walked around the room once or twice saying, “Loose, loose, loose” to all my muscles? Zero times! BUT, it’s not too late to start. Because if I shake or slap my kids, then we have a real fuss.

I’ve always wondered about sissy boys and masculine girls and what happened to make them that way.

I *still* don’t feel secure in my knowledge of how things really are and function. I wonder if I will EVER be ready for fairy tales (especially the classics)?!

Just this morning I sent the girls outside with some rope, a shovel, and rocks. Thank God for Urgent Care.

Suddenly, I know why I’m so screwed up. I went on entirely too many excursions when I was a child. What a preposterous stunt world I have seen! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Last year at this time, we were doing this:

This year at this time? Let’s just say that I’ve eaten my share of sweet potatoes and corn and cranberry salad and rolls and caramel pie, and am getting ready to head to the couch for a few hours before I hit the streets for Black Friday. That’s right. Black Friday.

Please know that I’m not one of Those People. Tempe and I head out mainly to drink coffee and watch people and maybe grab a gift or two. I’ll be back home shortly after the kids roll out of bed, and will spend tomorrow chilling out with a Harry Potter movie and some more sweet potatoes.

Remind me to tell you the story about this afternoon’s schizophrenia accusations and the unlikely bullet holes I found downstairs at my aunt’s house. (THIS is why I love Thanksgiving.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

You guys, I feel like I’m being totally lazy with the NaBloPoMo thing. I promise to give you more actual STUFF next Month. I promise.

Here is the breakdown of my day:

I sent the kids to school this morning.

At 9:15, I drove to school for a quick meeting.

At 9:45, I drove to school AGAIN for a quick meeting.

At 10:10, I started my freelance for the day.

At 11:45, I had lunch with friends at Flavor of India.

At 1:10, I once again pulled out the freelance.

At 4:00, the girls came home from school. I continued to work.

Dinner at 6:00. (They had sloppy joes. I had a few handfuls of peanuts. Don’t judge.)

At 8:45, I stopped the freelance for the day. And, it’s funny, because if you add up the time I was sitting at the computer, it would look like I worked for about eight hours. BUT, because of the frequent ups and downs associated with phone calls and dogs who pee and dinner preparation and talking to kids, I clocked only three hours and forty five minutes. (I use a stopwatch.) BUT, it was a productive 3.75 hours. All is well.

Good news: I received my tunic in the mail, and when I tried it on, it just seemed really BIG. So, because I’m crazy awkward and have no fashion sense, I took a photo of myself and e-mailed it to Ruche with a message that said something like, “Hey. Does this look right, or are tunics supposed to cling a bit more?” They replied with “All tunics vary in fit and style, and this particular tunic is meant to be worn loose. Personally, I think the size you have works great!” They didn’t tell me that *I* look great, but they DID say that the SIZE works great. I have chosen to take that as a compliment. The end.

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On Friday, I sent Meredith to a birthday party wearing only a shirt and tights. (I didn’t realize her legwear wasn’t leggings until she sat down for dinner and I noticed that her “leggings” had a really strong seam up the back side, and that I could see her skin through them.) Party like a rock star, Meredith. Someday I’ll help pay for your therapy.

Speaking of which, I started physical therapy this morning. My current goal is to do a five minute walk with zero swelling. After that? A ten minute walk. When I work up to a thirty minute walk, I’m good to start running a bit. (This could take months.) In the meantime? Exercises! Some of which involve big yellow rubberbands and writing the alphabet in the air with my feet!

In other words, it’s time to stick a Ding Dong on a martini glass and roll around in some 1994.

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As you know, I started running on September 7th. I used a Couch to 5K program, and as much as I hated it, I also sort of loved it. (Honesty: I loved when the little voice in my iPod told me that the workout was over. That felt good.)

On Monday, September 19th, also known as Week Three, Day One, I took a tiny stumble. It was just a blip. No pain. I kept on running. Later that night I found that my ankle was all swollen and sore.

Tomorrow marks the eight week anniversary of that stumble, and believe it or not: My ankle STILL feels too weak to run. It still swells up at night. It still wakes me up when I roll over onto my left side.

Funny, but not really so funny: Heather Armstrong started running in August. She messed up her ankle in October. She ran a marathon a few weeks back. Also, we have the same running shoes, although I haven’t yet worn mine to run. (I ordered them a a few weeks after the ankle thing happened.)

All of this to say, Heather is a stud, and I’m starting physical therapy tomorrow morning at 9:00. My goal is to be running again before the start of the new year.

One more thing. Although I wanted to order this, I ordered this instead. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The thing about the dogs is that although they’re ready for bed at 10:00 (and so am I), they tend to want to take a break from their crates sometime between 2:00 and 4:00 in the morning to go outside and do their business. More often than not, they will then return to their crates and sleep until it’s time for the rest of us to get up.

If I get up for their middle of the night bathroom break, I cannot get back to sleep. Jeff has slightly better luck with this.

Here is the current problem: Jeff is out of town.

Last night the dogs and I went to bed at 10:00. At 4:32, they asked if I would take them outside for a quick breath of fresh air. I obliged.

The minute Henry stepped into the back yard, he went batty and started barking like a 25 pound puppy with a man dog voice. Because that’s what he is. I’m horrified at the thought of the dogs waking the neighbors, so I did what anyone in my position would do. I stepped outside and began “scream whispering.”

Me (in pajamas, which is really just a t-shirt and sweats): HENry. HENry. Bananas! Bananas! Puppy treats! Stop! Stop! HENry!

The barking continued. I ran back into the house, grabbed a bag of puppy bones (the treats he isn’t allowed to have because of the food trial), ran BACK out to the yard, and frantically started shaking my bag of bones (literally and figuratively) as I danced around trying to avoid the fresh piles of dog crap.

It seemed like we were outside for at least twenty minutes. When the dogs came in and went back to their crates, I looked at the clock. 4:38.

I’ve been up since 4:38. I’m now within 15 pages of finishing The Marriage Plot, and I’m hesitating to finish it because I don’t want it to end. I have a definite picture in my mind of each of the characters, and I actually CARE about at least two of them, which doesn’t happen very often for me.

Question: How on earth does a family of four afford to see Beauty and the Beast at the Fox Theater? It occurred to me a few months back that my kids would love going to the Fox. When I saw that Beauty and the Beast would be there around Christmas, it seemed like the obvious time to go. Sure, I could go for the $25 tickets that actually cost $29, meaning I would pay roughly $120 for us to go. BUT, Meredith wouldn’t be able to see very well from those seats. For Meredith to actually see what was happening, we would probably need to go with the $52 or $66 seats, which actually cost $60 and $76. (It’s cute how the service charge goes up along with the ticket prices.) During the holiday season (or any other season, if I’m totally honest with you), I don’t have $240 or $304 to spend on an afternoon at the theater. AND, I know that I could go with a local community theater and get the same show for something like 1/10th of the cost, but I want my kids to see a show at The Fox. (Some people want their kids to have at least one hot meal every day. Please know that I know how ridiculous I’m being right now.)

I just ate a pint of blackberries. My second huge cup of coffee is in the microwave. I’m going to take some time today to think about everyone I know who falls into the category of Veteran. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

This morning Meredith presented me with a class selection sheet from which she was supposed to choose three classes she is interested in taking during the second half of the school year.

Here is the description of her first choice:

It’s Your Thing: Are you more artist or engineer? – poet or scientist? – writer or naturalist? Maybe you’re a Renaissance person like Leonardo da Vinci, and you can do it all! Find out and have fun exercising both sides of your brain just like da Vinci did as you fill your own journal / sketchbook with insights, questions, sketches, and things you wonder about while you investigate all kinds of topics from Rube Goldberg machines and juggling to music making and water painting. Select projects that pique your interest because… it’s your thing.

If they offered this class to adults, I would be there. Wearing an owl skirt, perhaps.

(Her second choice involves building robots using an RCX unit and LEGOs. Third choice? Chemistry! Fourth: Greek and Roman Studies. Fifth: Native Americans.)

((By the way, I love that the Native American class is titled They Were Here First. Because, you know, they were.))

This is completely unrelated, but you know how I am: I went down to get the mail today, and there I found the Ben Folds and WASO: Live from Perth DVD. As you read this shoddy update, please know that I’m probably sitting on the couch with a big smile on my face. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>