Daily Archives : Page 86 of 110 : Fluid Pudding

Merry Christmalhijrahanukwanzaakah to all.

Every year, Neil puts together the (always amazing) blogger holiday concert.

Every year, I plan on putting together something really outstanding for you.

Every year, it sort of falls through. This year is no exception.

It occurred to me on Friday that I needed to check the date to see when this year’s submission was due. Yep. Due on Monday. I spent Friday evening thumbing through books and banging around on the piano, and growling at my family because nothing was coming together. On Saturday morning, Jeff took the kids to the store, and I recorded this for you.

My tempo is terrible, I lack emotion, and I’m very hard on myself. I know! If you skip straight over to the 2:30 mark, I won’t be offended in the least. (At 2:30, things start smelling like Bach for a few seconds, and that’s never a bad thing.) (In real life, I smell like Tom’s of Maine Lavender Deodorant. I’m assuming Bach’s scent was a bit lighter on the herbs. When he strolled by to take his place on the harpsichord bench, I like to think the ladies looked at each other with raised eyebrows and whispered, “Do you smell turnips and sausage?!”)

The entire Fifth Annual Blogger Christmalhijrahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert may be seen here, and it’s definitely worth your time. Those nutty bloggers are a talented bunch.
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It’s the final Laughing Cow giveaway! Follow this link and talk about food and love and portion control, and you could win a $150 Visa gift card! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It is now in the basement. In a bucket!

When you’re in your goofy teddy bear pajamas and it’s three degrees outside and you call your husband in Philadelphia to ask where the plunger is because it’s not in its normal location in the (very cold) garage and he tells you that he may have hung it on a nail that happens to be something like twelve feet above the ground—meaning you have to take more than five running jumps (with maniacal fist punches that make you look like the most blundering middle-aged ballerina, yeesh) to dislodge it from the nail, and when it DOES finally fall it hits you in the side of the head which causes you to yell the S word right as the next door neighbor’s kid is leaving his house to catch his bus, well, it’s not such a great way to kick off a Tuesday.

Glass Half Full: I started off my day with some exhilarating outdoor exercise. Also, I fixed the toilet and showed the middle school kid next door that I Am Human. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

In my mind, his name is Melchior. (In real life, I believe it’s Chad.)

The temperature in our back yard is currently 4.6 degrees Fahrenheit. If I wasn’t trying so hard to avoid clichés today, I’d burp out something about Bone Chilling! Anyway, the milkman just pulled his truck up to the front of the house, and because I want him to know that He is Not Alone, I met him by the cooler on the sidewalk.

Me: Can I grab the empties for you?

Milkman: Nope. I’ve got it.

Me: It’s such a crappy day out here. I feel for you.

Milkman: It IS a crappy day, but think about it. For each of the crappy days we have, we’re given so many more beautiful days!

Me: Oh! Well. Um. Yeah. I wanted to be crabby, but now I can’t! You’re right!

And then I went back into my (really comfy and heated) home with my (organic free-range ridiculous happy cow) milk, and decided that I’m not going to complain about anything for the rest of the day. (At least that’s the plan.)

Yesterday morning in church, Jeff did the reading about King Herod and the wise men. Less than 24 hours later, a guy kneeled down on my sidewalk and filled my cooler with milk (literally AND figuratively!).

(It’s happening. And it smells like Christmas Spirit, Kurt Cobain!)
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It’s the final Laughing Cow giveaway! Follow this link and talk about food and love and portion control, and you could win a $150 Visa gift card! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Elves and and teachers don’t get paid enough.

Because of our brief blip in believing, The Puddings are now the proud owners of an Elf on the Shelf. (I suppose OWNER is not the best choice of words. One does not really OWN a little helping man. At the same time, we haven’t really gone through the proper channels to say that we’ve adopted him. We have a visitor! A new roommate!) Our elf’s name is Charlie, and every night he flies north to tell Santa what’s going down in our house. If the girls are being good citizens, Santa hears about it from Charlie. If the girls are going ape, you better believe that Santa’s going to hear about it.

Last night the girls were having a particularly terrible, dreadful, not-so-good, slightly abhorrent night. Lots of doors were slammed. Lots of tears were shed. Lots of drama, and no stage or playbill—and that’s unacceptable.

Me: You know, Charlie is not going to want to come back from the North Pole tonight.

Meredith: What?!

Me: Would you want to come back? He’s been sitting in that candle holder all evening thinking, “I’m not quite sure what I did to deserve this cruddy situation, but I’m outta heyah.”

(All elves and babies speak with a Jersey accent.)

Just as I predicted, this morning the girls got up and ran around the house looking for Charlie, and he wasn’t there. Oddly enough, they got ready for school with zero fighting. I didn’t have to tell them twice to brush their teeth, get dressed, use the bathroom, etc. Perfect morning.

I just went into my bedroom and found this in the closet.

Apparently, Charlie did NOT stay at the North Pole last night. He returned to our house, slipped a Xanax out of my drawer, and took shelter on top of Jeff’s summer clothes. (I sort of wish I weighed less than two pounds so I could do the same thing.) Anyway, if all goes well this evening, Charlie’s activity will return to normal after tonight’s North Pole visit.

This morning I helped out in Meredith’s classroom. While I was collating book order forms, a student came over and sat next to me to work on a report. Another student sat next to the first student and said, “I don’t mean to say this in a mean or teasing way, but I think it’s really funny that you can’t hit a ball.” She then did a mocky little nyah-nyah laughing thing that really shouldn’t be done if one is over the age of three. The first student was hurt by her words.

What I WANTED to say: What the hell was that?! You don’t mean to say that in a mean or teasing way?! What way did you MEAN for that to sound? Respectful?! Responsible?!

What I DID say: That wasn’t a very nice thing to say. Ooh! You have only twenty minutes to finish your report before recess! You better focus on that if you want to go outside and play!

What I continued to say in my head: If you have an Elf on the Shelf, don’t be surprised if he’s filling out Change of Residency forms when you get home from school this afternoon…
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LESS THAN A WEEK LEFT ON THIS ONE! Come watch me grow larger and leave a comment for a chance to win a $150 Visa gift card! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Really. It’s December.

I have no idea who these women are. What I do know is this: They enjoyed the heck out of the Main Street Electrical Parade, and in my mind, after the last float rolled, they took off their ears and taxied out for Phase Two—an hour spent eating sashimi and bad-mouthing Barry Manilow. Good for them. Good for everyone.

If you’re friends with me on Facebook, you know that I’m once again suffering from a stupid STUPID headache. Anyway, I saw my migraine doctor yesterday, and although I’m still, well, suffering (I don’t have my thesaurus handy, and my adjectives relating to pain lack variety!), I feel like we’ll someday get this all under control. This is more for me than for you: We have discontinued my Maxalt, we’re giving Relpax a whirl, we’re doubling the diclofenac in my cocktail pill, and we’re doubling my anti-seizure medication (Zonisamide). The only reason I’m putting this out there is this: If someone named Judy in Baltimore is going through what I’m going through, and this info could help her, well, you’re welcome, Judy. Similarly, if someone named Padma in Paducah HAS gone through something similar and wants to shout out some encouraging words, here’s your platform, Padma! Anyway. Once again, today I’m feeling really stoned. BUT, this will pass. And if it doesn’t? I own Freedom Rock. (Yes. I do.)

As I was typing that paragraph, Pillsbury sent a birthday e-mail to me. Three Sweet Surprises in celebration of your birthday month! (I was born in May.) Oh, Pillsbury. I’ll let it slide this time. French Silk Pie!

This morning I volunteered in Harper’s classroom. Hanging on the wall outside the classroom were construction paper turkeys made by the kindergarten kids. Each turkey had four tail feathers, and each feather listed something for which the child was thankful. Harper’s four feathers listed Family, God, Jesus, and Literacy.

I haven’t yet found the advent calendar I like to share every year in December. Until I do, I’ll share The Coffee Lady with you.

Edited to Add: Wait. I found it. And I love it as much now as I did five years ago.

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I’m thankful for Ira Glass and Regina Spektor.

So, missing yesterday really wasn’t that bad, was it? It occurred to me this morning that I want to leave something truly delightful on the top of my page since I’ll be away for the next few days. The following video, although made over three and a half years ago, includes Ira Glass discussing vegetarianism and Regina Spektor. (Ira doesn’t discuss Regina. Regina is actually there—at the 5:30 mark! Sometimes sentences can be misleading!)

Anyway, I hope you have a great holiday, if you’re in a place that’s celebrating a holiday. If not, enjoy your day. Carry on.
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I haven’t used the word Desultory in a long time.

A few days ago, my friend and neighbor came over with this.

(Actually, the jar was full when she gave it to me.) Anyway, she told me that she had seen my post about Mihow’s amazing schizophrenic lollipops, and she was inspired to make some of her own hard candy. Using herbs from her garden, she put together lemon-ginger, pepper-clove, and lemon balm-rosemary candy. Absolutely amazing. I stirred one of the lemon-gingers into my hot tea last night. (Sometimes I have really good ideas.) Oh! Because I need to share all of my good ideas: Last week I was sitting at the computer when it occurred to me that a grilled cheese and horseradish sandwich sounded very good, so I made one, and it was. Feel free to take that bit of information and put it into your pretend knapsack as you continue onward through your Saturday journey. (It seems that everyone is talking about their journey lately. I hate that my eyes are starting to roll a bit at Journey. Nothing to hide, believe what I say, Steve Perry.)

One more thing. You guys know that I’m trying to do the whole National Blog Posting Month thing. I think I did it last year. Maybe I did it the year before. I really have no memory. But here. I just put my fork down and made eye contact with you. If we were in a movie you would know that I’m about to say something serious. After today, I’m giving up on my NaBloPoMo JOURNEY. (I added all-caps for emphasis. Eat. Pray. Love.) Disney World is coming up in three days, and I need to make lists and pack. Also, I don’t have a laptop. When we get to Florida, I like to think that the last thing on my mind is going to be updating Fluid Pudding. I did consider writing five posts and scheduling them to go up while we’re gone, but come on. If I did that, who have I become?!

SO, look at us. We made it last for 20 days! AND, it just might stretch out to 22 because of habitual behaviors coupled with the fact that Tempe and I split an 8-pack of lip gloss last night, and if my colors stir me to sing, the internet won’t be able to stop me. By the way, have I thanked you for stopping by lately? I adored all of your answers to my previous post. Elf on the Shelf! Seriously! We could honestly change the world with all of our schemes. (I would like to nominate Grilled Cheese Horseradish Sandwich for my World Changing submission. I would like to nominate Christy for the lemon balm-rosemary candy! Feel free to add your own nomination. You know, if it doesn’t screw up your journey.)
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It’s a marshmallow world with jelly bears and wheeee!!! Let’s change the subject!

Harper came out to the car yesterday with a worried look on her face. When I asked her what was up, she hesitated for a bit—which isn’t her normal style.

Harper: Well, on the way out to the car, a first grader told me that Santa Claus isn’t real.

Me: What?!

Harper: Yeah. First she told me to pet her bear because it was filled with jelly and then she started talking fast about God and Jesus and how God hates Santa Claus.

Me: She was clearly high.

Harper: What?

Me: Harper, do you remember when you thought that marshmallows grew on trees, and we looked it up and discovered that what you had was bad information?

Harper: Yeah. Marshmallows can’t grow on trees.

Me (wishing I could stop time and formulate a coherent thought): Yep. I wish they did, but they don’t. I think sometimes people share what they think they know, even if it’s bad information. That whole bear with the jelly thing sounds sort of crazy.

Harper: What about God and Jesus?

Me: I’m good with God and Jesus.

Harper: Does God hate Santa Claus?

Me: I think God has better things to do than hate Santa Claus.

Harper: She really did have a bear, but it wasn’t filled with jelly.

Me: See what I mean? It was like she was playing Truth and Lies with you!

Harper: I don’t know what you’re saying.

Me: Me neither.

Last week Meredith asked if it’s physically possible for a reindeer to fly. When I stuttered around and said something about magic, she told me that she doesn’t really believe in magic. Argh. I’m not quite ready for my kids to not believe in Santa Claus. With that said, I’m not sure how much longer I can do my marshmallow tree dance.

Any tips/words of wisdom? (AND, although I know I just asked for tips and words of wisdom, I also know that at least three of you firmly believe that FANTASY KILLS and it’s Terrible Parenting 101 to allow your children to believe in things like fairies and old men who deliver gifts from the North Pole. If you’re one of those three, please feel free to sit this one out. (I still think you’re pretty.)) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I just saved Harper from spending her elementary career in prison.

The girls are getting super SUPER excited about the Disney World trip next week. Although I’ve talked to them about the dangers of tooting horns and I constantly perform my Bragging is Ugly song (sung to the tune of The Reflex by Duran Duran!), I have a funny feeling they’ve been spending a lot of time talking about the trip at school.

Harper: My teacher said she wants us to pack her in my suitcase so she can go to Disney World!

Meredith: Mrs. O said that she wants to go, too!

Me: It would be pretty awesome if we could take the teachers, wouldn’t it? Hrm. I don’t think our suitcases are big enough!

Meredith: We would need a suitcase the same size as the hall closet. And the teachers would have to stay silent until we got to the hotel.

Me: What?

Harper: I have an idea. Mombo told me that we can put anything that doesn’t fit in our suitcases into the trunk of her car. We can surprise Miss B by picking her up at her house, putting her in the trunk of Mombo’s car, and driving her to Disney World!

Me: Okay. I’m not completely up on crime classification, but I’m pretty sure kidnapping your teacher and transporting her to Florida in the trunk of a car would be a federal offense—even if we would be taking her to The Happiest Place on Earth. We would have to skip Disney World and go to jail instead!

Harper: Maybe we’ll just buy her a postcard.

Me: I think that’s a much wiser choice.
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Add “Big Fat Pillow Hat” to my List of Needs.

As you know, I picked my glasses up last Tuesday. Everything was fine until last Friday when I noticed that the frames were embedding themselves into the back of the left side of my skull. I went back to the glasses shop, where the woman who originally helped me choose the frames adjusted them for me. Excellent.

Over the weekend, I noticed that I was spending a lot of time sticking my middle finger up to push the glasses to the top of my nose. Also, the At Rest position for the frames was super crooked. I told myself that everything requires adjustment, and because the glasses had already taken their turn, perhaps it was my level of What I Can Accept that needed a bit of tweaking.

I lived with the crooked slippy glasses for four days before I couldn’t stand it anymore. This morning I went back to the store, where the same woman was working.

Me: You know, I don’t want you to think that I’m going to be The Lady Who Needs Constant Adjustments.

Nice Glasses Shop Lady (NGSL): No! You’re fine. I just adjusted mine this morning. Plastic frames move around!

Me: Pretty soon you’ll make a drinking game out of me showing up here. Ah! Here she is AGAIN! For the third time today! I’m so wasted!!!

NGSL: Really. Don’t hesitate to come in.

She adjusted the glasses, placed them onto my head, made sure they weren’t loose or crooked, and sent me on my way.

With a bounce in my step (you know how I am!), I walked out to the car, pressed the unlock button on my key thing, reached for the handle, and—not realizing just how robust I can be on Wednesdays—yanked the door right into the side of my head.

Me (alone on the parking lot, wearing tan corduroy pants and feeling red-faced): Oh! Ha! Okay then! That hurt!

Because I had scored a prime parking spot outside of the glasses shop, and because I had been the only customer in the store, there is a 28% chance that the NGSL had seen the entire parking lot mishap. (The good news? I am not built, nor do I move in a manner that stirs up that whole “Watch me as I walk away” sort of action. This fact mostly works to my advantage.) Anyway, I will be purchasing an eyeglass repair kit later this afternoon. (I’ve already watched three YouTube videos showing me how to adjust my frames, meaning I’m now 100% qualified to perform this task. (I also watched a video on appendectomy! This may come in handy if I need to score extra cash during the holiday season. My bathtub is very clean.) Similarly, I watched a video telling me how important it is to not skimp on makeup when you are a wearer of glasses. Eyes? Lined. You can thank me later.)
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