Fluid Pudding : Page 76 of 122 : It's the old small talk!

It’s not you, it’s me! Grab a pillow. I’m about to make you very sleepy!

Today is a good day, because the only events for which I need to leave my house are: Get Gas and Take Kids to Piano Lessons. Get Gas is normally paired up with Create Gas Station Cherry Vanilla Diet Dr. Pepper, and Piano Lessons always means One Hour of Knitting. So, despite the fact that I need to put some work into our downstairs office (we’re getting a new water meter tomorrow!), my day will be broken up with good things.

Speaking of knitting, I’m on the edge of starting one of these for myself. The shawl in the photo was knitted by Tempe, and I believe I need one in black. With beads. I’ve been all over the place with knitting lately, mainly because I have less than six things on my For Other People list. I didn’t knit one thing for myself during 2011. I’m going to try to make up for that this year!

My book club is now reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. Have you read it? I really need to spend less time watching Cary Grant movies and more time reading. (I attended our book club meeting yesterday, and had read only 50 pages of the book. I actually had the audacity to blame Cary Grant for my inability to finish it. This is unacceptable.)

Last week I mentioned that I feel a huge wave of introversion coming on, and I received a few messages that offered up some introversion high fives. Thanks for that! To explain a bit further where I’m coming from, we all know that I deal with a bit of anxiety in social situations, and my cocksure shoes can carry me only so far. My introversion is separate from my social anxiety. My introversion nearly always results from me starting to feel a bit flummoxed by others. (I know! If you can’t relate to this, it sounds so ridiculous! I get that!) The gossip bores me. The not-so-genuine laughter tends to affect me the way a perfume counter affects me. I start over-analyzing the intentions of others. I could go on and on (and on! et cetera!). When I start feeling this way, there’s nothing I enjoy more than sitting on my couch by myself and knitting. Or sitting at my computer by myself and pumping out some freelance work. I still shower and wear clean clothes, but I tend to not leave my house or answer the phone, and I’m 100% content to simply be alone. I know. This entire paragraph is sort of bananas. It gets better: I also avoid grocery stores that don’t have self-checkout lanes. AND, I’ve been known to leave a grocery store if the self-checkout lanes aren’t open! If I worked in an office, I would be the lady who cries in the parking lot because she can’t stomach the thought of water cooler banter. (I used to be that lady. Lady. Why does Lady look so odd to me right now? Lady. Lady. Lady.)

I’m hoping that when this particular bout is over, I’ll have a lovely lace scarf to show for it. And a new water meter! Let’s talk about something else!

Oh no! This is no more interesting than that: After one week, I’m 2.5 pounds into my ten pound weight loss gig. How do I do it? I just do it. There’s really no other way. Move more, eat fewer cookies, drink water. Sure, the Weight Watchers notebook comes in handy so I can remember just how many Ritz crackers I’ve eaten (ten is fine. an entire tube is not so great.), but I refuse to actually attend meetings (I do love the meetings) unless I’m at my goal weight. (I’ve given Weight Watchers a lot of money. If I’m at my goal weight, I don’t have to pay.) I realize that sounds sort of backwards, but it works.

Harper had her first basketball game on Saturday, and during the game it really hit me that Harper and I are the same person. For the past several days, I’ve been encouraging her to try harder both at practice and at the game. I’ve said things like, “Don’t worry about making baskets. It’s a team sport! Concentrate on passing and dribbling and blocking the other team! Give it 100% so you can walk away feeling awesome about how your team played!” During the game, she spent most of her court time playing with her hair and distancing herself from everyone. She had the best time sitting on the bench and drinking water. Afterwards, she reported that she was really nervous.

Perhaps I should teach her to knit lace.

Oh no. You’re bored, and it’s my fault. Hrm. I’m looking forward to having Chinese food on Wednesday! Also, I’m going to be watching North by Northwest this evening! (Ack! See Paragraph 3!) AND, I’m going to try making spaghetti squash! (I had some at a friend’s house last week, and it was incredible.) Lace shawls! Lace shawls!!!

Edited to Add: A huge thank you to Robin for sharing this article. It sums it up perfectly. PERFECTLY. I need a shirt that says, “Hell is other people at breakfast.”

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Peter Frampton and Shoes – Peter Frampton + A Touch of Anxiety

When Jeff goes out of town, I tend to be a really great parent for about three days. After the third day, I get tired and cranky and “IF YOU CAN’T HELP YOUR SISTER, THEN I CAN’T HELP YOU!!!” Bedtimes go from 8:00 to 7:45 to 7:30 when Jeff is out of town. Today is Day Five of Jeff being out of town, and I’m spent. He’ll be home tomorrow. He’ll be home tomorrow. He’ll be home tomorrow.

High five to all of the single parents out there. I honestly have no idea how you do it without help from others. It takes a village and all of that, I suppose.

I could sing songs about all of the things that went wrong yesterday, but songs about dogs needing to be lifted over a bad fence and Couch to 5K applications updating unexpectedly and kids fighting instead of practicing the piano? Yep. Those songs don’t travel very far.

I remember being a kid and hearing this song for the first time. I think it’s the very first song that really affected me. (The piano. Ahhh, the piano.) Thirty years later, and the song is still traveling with me. (It has absolutely nothing to do with dogs and fences and kids. Oddly, it has everything to do with practicing the piano.)

Ah, but there was a “scars into stars” moment yesterday evening.

The UPS guy stopped by with a box from Zappos! This is definitely my new favorite pair of shoes. (They take the place of my favorite pair that I purchased a few months back, which replaced the favorite pair I purchased last year. Here’s my analogy: Gymnastics in 2012 are totally different than gymnastics in 1976. The flips are wilder. The beam routines are more dangerous. Gymnastics in 2042 are going to be preposterous. There is no time for laziness or backstepping. I cannot jump over a horse or bend myself into unnatural angles in order to fly onto a high bar. Therefore, I try to seek out cute shoes that I feel won’t trick me into falling down, and then I outshoe myself. Are you with me?)

Best of all, with green Mary Janes on my feet, my soles will be bouncing.

This is vital right now, as I feel a HUGE wave of introversion coming on. (It always hits in January.) With a bouncing sole, I won’t feel quite so guilty about staying home.

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The Hodge and the Podge

The worst paper cuts come from pizza boxes. I know this because Jeff is out of town, and when Jeff goes out of town, we tend to indulge. When there’s a fresh pizza in the house, I often cannot open that box quickly enough. (I’m currently sporting a Donald Duck Band-Aid on my right middle finger.)

This morning I finished up my first redo week of Couch to 5K, and I’m hating it just as much as I hated it three months ago. My goal is to run a 5K sometime around my 42nd birthday, which is in May. 42 is one of my favorite numbers, so I’m feeling fairly confident that the birthday 5K won’t kill me. (I don’t believe in irony.)

This evening for dinner I grilled a portobello mushroom with some fresh spinach and plopped them onto an English muffin with some Colby Jack cheese and horseradish mustard. It was the best thing I’ve eaten in quite some time, and it added up to only seven points. Yes. I’m doing the Weight Watchers thing again. I love/hate it, and it always works for me when I do it the right way.

I’m knitting my first project from my handspun yarn.

It will eventually be a pair of fingerless mitts.

I’ll keep you updated. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Guacamole Funna Do

I don’t make resolutions. I toy with plans.

When 2012 hits, I’m going to toy with the following:

1. Wear these shoes. (Okay. I ordered them last night. I plan on matching them up with skirts in the spring.)

2. Knit something or other, spin something or other, and take on more freelance projects.

3. Dance like someone’s watching.

4. Cry when Drew Barrymore cries.

5. Drink just as much water as coffee. I want two cups of coffee? Okay then, as long as it’s followed with two cups of water! Live long and prosper, kidneys.

6. Run. Or walk. Or just do something. Less time behind the computer. More time outside.

7. See what this whole Foster the People thing is all about.

8. Lose ten pounds. (I always do this in January. I have no self-control in November and December.)

9. Donate and/or toss enough stuff to help us reach the “Yes. Our house can now go on the market.” stage of moving forward.

10. Learn to say No when I want to say No instead of kicking myself for NOT saying No.

11. Choose two of the following three: Read More, Write More, Do More Math.

12. Dim Sum?

13. Go to the gym at least ten times OR bake biscotti twice.

14. Vote for whomever Matt Damon tells me to vote for. (Vote for whomever Matt Damon tells me for whom to vote.)

EDITED TO ADD: Oh! Wait. I would also like to hold a baby monkey. I have no idea how to make that happen. Does anyone out there have a baby monkey I could hold? Does Matt Damon have a baby monkey? Because: Killing two birds with one stone and all. (Figuratively.) Happy New Year to you. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I was going to make a Chernobyl joke, but it’s still too soon.

I’ve been doing a lot of this lately:

In the past five days, I’ve watched four Cary Grant movies. I started out with An Affair to Remember, next up was People Will Talk, then The Grass is Greener, and Walk, Don’t Run. I started Charade last night and will probably finish it this evening. The bowl you see in front of the screen isn’t for ice cream or coffee (or circus peanuts or cubes of cheese or Swedish Fish or wasabi peas). It’s a bowl that Gina made (she’s a potter!), and it keeps my yarn from falling off of the computer stand. It’s brilliant. Let me show it to you.

The side of the bowl has a spiral slit. You pass the yarn through the slit, and that allows the ball of yarn to spin and flop all over inside the bowl, but it never pops out onto the floor!

(I’m currently working with brown alpaca yarn. I’m making one of these hats for the sister of the lady who cuts my hair. Crazy, am I right? I’m not! I am.)

Anyway, when Gina first asked what I thought of yarn bowls, I mentioned that one of the local yarn stores carried them and although I really liked them, I couldn’t quite get past the cutesy sheep painted in the center of their bowls.

When Gina’s bowl arrived, she included something awesome just for me.

Once again, I love (all but one of) the people who stop by Fluid Pudding. (Don’t worry. It’s not you. And it’s not ewe, either! Ha ha Ha HA HA!!! (I’ve been drinking.) ((No I haven’t.)))

By the way, as soon as the hat is finished, I’m going to get started on this sweater. For myself! In that same exact color! (Do you think I should add three or four inches to the length, or should I focus more on losing five or ten pounds? I really love the Trader Joe’s Milk Chocolate Covered Potato Chips!) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The Stimulatory Effects of Caffeine and Dog Pajamas

Well, hello there!

This morning we’ll be attending our fifth (and final) Christmas celebration. There will be turkey, but not for me. (There will be green bean casserole and mashed potatoes for me. Also, granola made by my sister, which happens to be the greatest granola anyone has ever eaten.)

The theme for this Christmas has definitely been Caffeination. I received a Keurig Home-Brewing System on Sunday, and have been drinking entirely too much coffee for the past two days. Yesterday I received an IngenuiTEA, so I spent the evening watching The Grass is Greener, knitting a hat, and drinking jasmine tea. As a result of the madness, I’m a bit jittery and the skin on my face has taken on the appearance of tectonic plates. (My Juan de Fuca plate is threatening to separate. I’ll keep you updated.)

Meanwhile, I have discovered how intoxicating it can be to put clothes on a dog.

Scout is now begging for Mork suspenders and one of those arrow headband things.

Wild and crazy, indeed. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Makin’ all that noise because they found new toys, Alice Cooper.

When this year’s Christmahanukwanzaakah concert was announced, I was ready to do something different.

I’ve done piano stuff for the past three years. In my mind, it was starting to get stale.

This year I decided to (perhaps drink a beer and) sing while I play. Anyone who knows me knows that I am NOT a singer. This was going to be a potentially horrifying and humbling experience! Can you feel the sizzle?!

I grabbed the guitar chords for this song and got to work. (At the piano. I *have* had dreams during which I’m an awesome cellist, but alas. A string player I am not. (Yet.)) (I know. Some people consider the piano to be a string instrument. Potato, Potahto.)

Get this. I quickly discovered that the key was a bit too high, so I TRANSPOSED it to better suit my inner tenor canary. (I tell you this just so you know how SERIOUS I was.)

Last week I set the camera up and did a trial run. My camera picked up the piano, but not my voice. I moved the camera. Once again, piano, but no voice. I tried again while SCREAMING the song all spoken word style. No luck. With no time to work up anything else on the piano, I let my shoulders sink and decided to skip this year’s concert.

Wait. That link deserves more attention.

Click right here to be taken to this year’s concert. As always, Neil has done an amazing job of putting it all together. (Be sure to check out his contribution, too!)

Yesterday afternoon the girls came home from school and announced that they are playing Christmas songs on the piano at the school-wide assembly. This is the holiday assembly that found me crying and beating my hands against my thighs two years ago. Please know that at approximately 2:00 this afternoon, I am going to be the disaster standing in the back of the elementary school gymnasium. Immediately following the assembly I will need to get myself together so I’m not This Mom at the holiday parties. (Psst. I know he’s not a mom.)

If I can get a decent video of this afternoon’s performances, I’ll share them with you. With that said, please know that I’ve taken about 3,293,493 photos in that fluorescent lighted gymnasium, and none of them have turned out. (I really wish I knew how to work a camera. Goal for 2012. Right after “Make the fingernails feel like you care about them.”) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

My right now might be different than your right now.

On Friday afternoon, Harper came home sick with a fever of 103.3.

On Saturday, we took her to the emergency room, where her temperature was so high that they “lacked the equipment to measure it.” In an ER. Their thermometers go up to 104.8, and she blasted through that in seconds. Twice.

When the nurse went to the desk and told the other nurses how she had never seen THAT before, one of the other nurses said, “She needs meds RIGHT NOW.” They continued to talk about how she needs meds RIGHT NOW. Talk, talk, talk. RIGHT NOW. Nearly fifteen minutes passed before she was given anything. (I know it takes a while to get medication at a hospital. I know everything has to be approved and measured. BUT, when you’re me and you’re listening to people raise their voices about the importance of immediate medication, yet no one is actually moving? And your kid is all high-energy and cooking from the inside out? Yep. That’s hard.)

I won’t bore you with details. Just know that we were released two hours later with a laugh and a big “All that for NOTHING, huh?!” as Jeff signed the credit card statement and Harper finished her popsicle. (We weren’t the ones laughing.) Actually, we left the hospital not knowing what her temperature was. We knew that sixty minutes after taking the Tylenol (the same kind we have at home, but with a dash of Fabergé egg extract for added $$$), she was down to 103. (I had to ask them to take her temperature an hour after the meds were given, and they seemed a little upset that I asked.) They didn’t take a temperature at the time of discharge.

We were there at the change of shift. Bad timing. I heard two separate nurses talk about parties for which they were running late. I also heard our admitting nurse when she stepped into our room and gave Harper an enthusiastic, “Hey, Sophie! How are you feeling?” (There were three other patients in the triage area. Apparently, one of them was named Sophie.)

Harper wasn’t feeling like a Sophie. And that’s good, because Sophie was actually puking with a fever. (Nathan sprained something while playing hockey. HIPAA what?)

(Please know that I know how stressful it is to work with parents like me who are nervous and rattled. I’m trying hard to not be a total jerk about the whole thing. I experienced only one side of the story! Joy to the World!)

Harper has now been fever-free (without medication) for over twelve hours. I’m taking her to the doctor this afternoon for a follow-up.

On my calendar for today was “Lunch with Mom and Tempe.” Now it says, “25 trees. Sugar & Glitter Bowls. Red velvet. Cards. Lydia!”

(The only thing on the calendar for Wednesday is “Volunteer 1140 and WRAP.” I’m looking forward to that one.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The girl is crafty like ice is cold!

As you know, I’m the head room parent for Harper’s class AND Meredith’s class.

I will never sign on for this sort of thing again.

It’s not that it’s stressful (it’s stressful), and it’s not that it’s expensive (it’s expensive), it’s just that I really have no concept of what fills time, and room parties essentially boil down to Time That Needs To Be Filled. With frivolity!

This morning I decided to clear my schedule and spend the day figuring out the craft portion of next week’s party. Food is easy. Game? I can deal with game. Craft? To me, crafting is Important. The Beastie Boys sang about it (not really), and Martha Stewart lives it (sort of). It’s a Thing.

Five hours have passed, and I’ve been to four stores.

I’m pleased to announce that the winner of The First and Third Grade Craft is: Waterless Snow Globe, also known as Winter in a Bottle!

Take a glittery pipe cleaner (they’re cheap!) and spiral it around until it starts looking like a tree. With your hot glue gun (!!!), glue the bottom of the pipe cleaner tree to the lid of a spice bottle (those aren’t so cheap).

Now, add about an inch or so of sugar to the spice jar.

Next up? Screw the upside down tree into the jar.

Turn the jar upside down and watch it snow onto your tree! Beautiful! IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE WINTER! (It’s not a Christmas party. It’s a winter party. I’m fine with that, so let’s not get ruffled.)

Finally, tie a red bow around the bottom because you’re fancy.

The only thing I’m going to do differently for the party is add some glitter to the sugar. Because: Sugar + Glitter = Magic.

(Speaking of magic, the bird in the photos was made by Katatomic. She’s local, and she’s awesome.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Nothing is impossible, Daisy Fuentes.

Last Monday I received an e-mail from our pastor asking if I would be interested in participating in our Lessons and Carols Sunday by reading one of the lessons.

Because I tend to flip out with this sort of thing, I quickly called Jeff and asked if HE would like to participate in Lessons and Carols Sunday by reading one of the lessons. He was all over it, as he tends to be.

After I replied to the original e-mail with some sort of strange dance in which I committed Jeff or myself to do one of the readings, I received the following response:

“Thanks, Angie – we are grateful for another woman reader! Here are the TWO readings we would love for you to share with the congregation. They are printed in the bulletin. See you on Sunday.”

WOMAN reader. Yep. That would be me and not Jeff. Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” Deep breath.

TWO readings. Yes! I can once again feel my heart beating in my eyeballs!

Wait. Remember this?

Those are my eyeballs! (Can you tell that I was thinking about J-Lo when this photo was taken? I’m just kidding!!!) I love that the MRI tech gave me a CD of my brain scan. It just might come in handy at a time like this, when we’re having terrible luck scoring a decent Christmas card shot.

Evidence:

Why is Scout the only one smiling?

Anyway. Back to church.

I opened up the attachment and found that my very first reading contained the question, “How can this be, since I am a VIRGIN?” (The all-cap effect is mine, by the way.) I immediately took my terror to Facebook, where one friend suggested that I wear a cone bra. Another recommended that I read the virgin line while “employing an arched eyebrow and Dr. Evil pinky at the corner of your mouth.” A third simply said, “Wear lace gloves. You’ll be fine.”

Because I know myself better than I know anyone else, I immediately recognized the need for Self-Confidence Virgin Gear. To Kohl’s I went (I know.), where I eventually found myself in a dressing room with no less than five shirts, two dresses, two pairs of pants, and a skirt. I tried on the first outfit, looked into the mirror, and asked, “How can this BE, since I am a virgin?” Second outfit. “How can THIS be, since I am a virgin?” (Please know that no one else was in the dressing room.) Third outfit. “HOW can this BE, since *I* am a VIRGIN?!” Score.

Black Daisy Fuentes pants. (Daisy is NOT a virgin.)

Apt. 9 Red Pleated Chiffon Tank. (Because it’s Christmas.)

Black Apt. 9 Shrug. (To hide the dingle dangling of my upper arms.)

Dansko Midoris. (Because I tend to not fall down when I wear them.)

Let’s pick up the speed here, shall we? After being The Crabbiest Mom in the Universe yesterday morning, we arrived to church on time. I did both of my readings without falling down or giggling, and afterwards an elderly woman with a walker told me that she is rarely able to hear the speakers on Sunday mornings, but she could hear me. My first thought? “Oh, man. I must have SCREAMED about the virgin.” My second thought? I did Just Fine, Eleanor. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>