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).

One

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

Two

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

Three

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.)

Four

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

Five

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?

Jeepers Creepers!

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:

Three

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’>

Keeping the Winter at Bay

I feel myself fizzling a bit with the daily music thing. SO, I’m abandoning it! See? It’s just that easy! I’m now putting myself (and my family and that includes the dogs and let’s also throw lentils into the mix because this with eleven Ritz crackers is so amazing) before the music! (This is totally the cold medicine talking. I NEVER do well with cold medicine! I’m talking to you, phenylephrine!) ((By the way, Trader Joe’s doesn’t classify the Madras Lentil as vegetarian, and I’m assuming it’s because it is created with equipment that sometimes touches fish. A few months back, I touched a hedgehog.))

On a whim, I recently bought this, even though I do not wear tank tops, nor do I like to sparkle. I still haven’t worn it, because I have no idea HOW to wear it. Also, I fear it’s too small, but I’ve recently been told that I wear my clothing too big, so I’m in a complete Whirlpool of Terror (and Zero Self Awareness) right now. I have a fresh haircut, and today I smell like Quantum Leap.

I listened to this song three times in a row this morning. Apparently, it’s on my iPod three times in a row, due to forgetfulness and alphabetization. I didn’t mind the repeats at all.

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I made a shepherd’s pie. Something (or other) about flocks and night.

Cooking separate meals for everyone in the family is starting to get to me—mainly because at least one of the three people for whom I’m cooking has actually been known to cry at the table because she has no interest in even tasting what I’ve prepared. When that happens, I feel as if time has been wasted.

This evening I made a shepherd’s pie and biscuits. Two people ate shepherd’s pie and biscuits. One person ate part of a biscuit and less than three bites of shepherd’s pie. (That person will go to bed without a snack.) I ate biscuits, and am getting ready to dig into some roasted flaxseed and a pomegranate, which I may or may not share with the child who barely touched her dinner. Sometimes I wonder if Harper is on the road to vegetarianism. A friend of mine has a daughter who hasn’t eaten meat since she was six. I believe she’s seventeen now. Some people (most people, really) just aren’t designed to eat meat.

Anyway.

I have a cold. It’s the sort of cold that provides daggers for the throat and haze for the brain and an on and off increase in body temperature. Sadly, I had no time for this cold today. Instead, I drove back and forth to school four times, to Target once, and am probably getting ready to pick up a book at the library sometime in the next hour. Then again, I’m currently wearing my pajama pants, and those pajama pants are covered in cows who are sleeping on moons. It is my firm belief that one should not leave the house wearing pajama pants—especially if the pants in question might stir someone to look up and whisper “Hey, diddle diddle.”

The Christmas tree saga continues. This afternoon I hung the wreath that my mother made for our family. Immediately, Scout began to sing.

Speaking of singing, today’s Christmas tune is brought to you by David Mead. His latest album was released on November 15th, and his voice affects me the way Paul Simon’s voice affects me. It’s a warm Saturday morning waffle on a rainy day kind of voice. Nothing but good.

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Appius and Virginia and The Stealing of Thunder

Today was a bit tiresome for a number of reasons. BUT, beneath the dreck was a delicious lunch with friends. AND, this evening I’m taking time to figure out how to draw an amiable stack of pancakes and some jaunty jelly.

A few days back, my friend Summer asked the following:

“If you could pick any word or phrase to describe ‘life, as you know it currently’ and/or what you want or need in the coming year, what would the word or phrase be?”

I didn’t answer the question at the time, but I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I believe I want 2012 to be cool, tall, vulnerable, and luscious. How about you? ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Our milkman gave me a Christmas card this morning. Also, some milk.

Holiday Knitting Update: I finished the mitts for Meredith’s teacher and am now working on the second of three owl cozies that need to be completely done by the end of next week. I will then make a pair of fingerless mitts for Harper’s teacher. Knitting with deadlines drives me bananas, so today I did what anyone would do in this situation. I started a cashmere scarf for myself. It’s red.

This evening my kids have piano lessons, and tomorrow Harper has basketball practice and I have a PTO meeting as well as a social engagement. On Wednesday, I’m going to physical therapy, volunteering in Meredith’s classroom, and having lunch with a friend. The only thing written on the calendar for Thursday is Eggplant Parmesan 282. I’m not quite sure what the 282 is for, but I’m sure it will occur to me on Friday, which is the day I volunteer in Harper’s class, Meredith’s class, and attend a book sale with  Tempe. Saturday is Tuba Christmas, but I believe I’ll skip it this year to take the girls down to my folks’ house to bake Christmas cookies.

I need to wash towels. This morning I had to dry off with a washcloth, and it was a bit unpleasant.

I recently discovered that I love roasted flax seeds. Bonus: They keep my eyes from shriveling. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Are there penguins in Palestine?

I shared this tune with you a few years back on the morning that John Green met his demise in our front yard. We never did replace Mr. Green. (Can one actually replace a fallen hero—a hero who had suffered stab wounds on TWO separate evenings? I think not.)

Because she was starting to smell like a dog, yesterday we took Scout to the groomer.

Scout (aka "Christmas Princess")

She is now looking less like Dave Navarro and more like the subject of a Margaret Keane painting. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>