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’>

The way to live is Celebrate and Give.

It’s not necessarily a Christmas tune, and I won’t even begin to address the opening of the box. With that said, it’s XTC. When I was in high school, I recorded an XTC concert onto a VHS tape. I loaned it to a guy named Jason W. who kept “forgetting” to bring it back to me. He was a year older than me, and when he walked down the aisle at graduation (with my tape still at his house), I remember shaking my head and thinking, “There goes my XTC.” That was twenty four years ago. Because of Facebook, I now know that Jason is the owner of a really great salon in St. Louis. Meanwhile, I spend a lot of time listening to XTC albums and I’ll be spending part of today processing a chapter titled Eyelids, which is filled with photographs of animals who have eyeliddy things going on. The world keeps spinning and there are an infinite number of paths and Robert Fulghum and Richard Bach to all and good night.

Here’s another one of my favorites.

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He takes me out dancin’ every Saturday night.

Well, hello there!

This morning I logged onto Facebook, and I watched this, and it reminded me of one of my favorite Christmas songs (originally performed by Tom Waits), so I decided to put together a musical Advent calendar for you. That’s how I’m going to try to keep NaBloPoMo going! I’m giving you a song (and often more than that) every day until Christmas! Maybe!

When Jeff and I lived in Nashville, we saw Neko Case performing outside the Grand Ole Opry. It was something like 193 degrees outside, and Ms. Case was feeling the heat. She tried to end her set early. Apparently, the people in charge reminded her that she had signed on for more time. SO, she returned to the stage wearing only a (transparent) bra and her skirt. The people in charge quickly flipped off the lights and the microphone, and Ms. Case was finished. Jeff and I later saw her packing up her beat up van in the parking lot. She was once again wearing her clothes.

None of this changes the fact that she has one of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever heard.

Evidence with bonus knitting content:

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Ripened Fruit that Falls Tomorrow

You guys, I planned on doing something HUGE for the end of NaBloPoMo. BUT, here I sit at 5:24, and I just took what I tend to call my Monster Migraine Pill, and I have a meeting to go to in a little over an hour, and although the roast in the crock pot will feed my family, it’s not going to feed me, so I need to find a can of soup or something because I’m fancy like that. (I just talked to Jeff on the phone, and I think I’m slurring my words. BUT, I haven’t had a headache like this in MONTHS, so I’m not going to get too bummed out about it. Bedtime is in less than five hours!)

Have I thanked you lately for sticking with me? I remember the first time I opened comments on my website. It was something like two years in, and I thought, “Eh, let’s see if anyone’s out there.” (It was terrifying.) BUT, two people were out there! And now there’s more than two, and I actually e-mail back and forth with several of you, and holy smokes: Carroll, you commented nearly every single day this month!

I love all but one of my Fluid Pudding readers. And there’s a really good chance you’re not that one.

Thank you for hanging out with me this month. I’m going to try to extend the daily posting thing for awhile, but now that I’ve typed that out loud, we all know I’ll probably lay an egg. (Thank God I’m free range.)

This song shuffled as I drove home this morning, and it made me very happy.

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The Things for Which I Hanker

Today I purchased a pair of these in tortoise. I drove to four (FOUR!) large chain eyeglass shops and wrote down exactly what I liked, and was then able to doink around online and find the frames for about three gajillion dollars less than what I would have paid in the store. I win.

Check out these button rings. They’re made by my dear friend’s niece, and I love them.

Speaking of love, I love everything in Isabella’s store. (As you know, I’m especially fond of the flatpacks. I ordered two of them as teacher gifts, and I’m REALLY itching to keep them for myself.)

Beautiful roving. Oh, how I need to devote more time to spinning.

I know I don’t need one of these, but I need one of these.

Speaking of which, this seems like a good idea, too.

Vic Firth salt and pepper grinder. Who knew?

I think my kids need a moon in their room.

I’ve tried several, and I loved them all. Especially these.

This is one of my very favorite movies.

I can see myself in this. With leggings.

I’m just so happy that this exists.

Are there things for which you hanker? Share them with me! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Close your eyes, and I’ll fish you.

I carry a notebook with me everywhere I go. I have six or seven of them, they’re small enough to fit into my bag, and I rely on them to help me remember grocery lists and books I should read and funny quotes and how to take care of a puppy and exercises my ankle needs to perfect before I can FloJo myself around the track again.

This morning I took one of my notebooks to my eye doctor appointment.

While there, I took the following notes:

November 28th
topical steroid for Henry to remove cataract risk
Costco mussels for $12 on weekends
flaxseed / flaxseed oil DHA/EPA
Royal Chinese BBQ—seafood chow mein
Dim Sum past RCBBQ on right—Won Ton King

Only one of the five notes I took has anything to do with my eyes. This is why I love going to the eye doctor.

When he told me that I should consider taking fish oil capsules in the winter months, I asked if I had any other options.

Doctor: Do you eat fish?

Me: I’m a vegetarian. BUT, I sometimes tell myself that fish don’t have souls. And that’s when I go out for sushi.

Doctor: It’s interesting that you would say that. Yesterday I opened up the Wall Street Journal and saw a full page ad that featured Paul McCartney at his current age, in his current stage of life, and at the bottom of the ad was a blurb about him going fishing and how when he looked the fish in the eye, he realized that he and the fish both consider their lives to be important, and that killing the fish for pleasure seemed wrong. The ad was for vegetarianism.

Me: You just ruined fish for me.

Doctor: I think you could get away with eating trout or shrimp. Maybe you should just stay away from the big guys.

Me: No dolphins?

Doctor: No dolphins.

Here is the ad. I know some of you will look at it and roll your eyes into the back of your head. (If they freeze that way, let me know. I have a great eye doctor for you!) I’ll just say this: I may have just removed fish from my If All Else Fails list. (It fell between Eggplant Stackers and Fries with BBQ Sauce!) ((I don’t really have a list.))

My greatest quote from the eye doctor appointment: “It all depends on how much you love your gerbil.”

Twenty Eight Down, Two To Go. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

How lovely are my branches…

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.)

And if you touch it, it will bite you.

At Christmas time, we let in light and we banish shade.

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Christmas Morning

candyrumps

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.

S and H

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.

Opryland Hotel

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’>

Going to the Mattresses

This morning The Pudding Family met up with Doug from Laid-Off Dad and The W Family for brunch at Duff’s.

Duff's!

It was delightful and time moved entirely too quickly while we were there and when we left, I was filled with the urge to put more life into what I do. Revivification! (I really love that photo of us, but if you’re in need of something that involves more eye contact, then here you go.)

Gangster Quilts at Duff's

I also left thinking that I need to learn how to quilt. (The walls at Duff’s are currently bedecked with gangster movie themed quilts made by a local artist.) Can you imagine an entire series of quilts based on quiltworthy Ben Folds songs? There’s Always Someone Cooler Than You Quilt! Stumblin’ Home Winter Blues Quilt! Best of all? Sleazy Quilt! (Fun Fact: Sleazy has been in my head for over 48 hours now. Do me a favor and ask Jeff how awesome it is when I cover Ben Folds covering Ke$ha. He loves it. But not really. Not really at all.)

After returning home and studying my little notebook where I had jotted down “Scarf Ace” and “Plants vs. Zombies” during our encounter at Duff’s, I worked on some freelance and then headed out to the Rock ‘n’ Roll Craft Show with my mom and sister. I went with one goal in mind: To Purchase a Pillow that Looks Like a Log. Sadly, I believe all log pillows had sold out. (Luckily, the Squaresville pot holders were still available.)

After leaving the craft show, we headed straight to Jilly’s, where I ate the cupcake that won Food Network’s Cupcake Wars. Banana toffee cake stuffed with toffee dulce de leche and topped with caramel cream cheese swirl and chocolate astronaut ice cream. That’s right. Chocolate astronaut ice cream.

Space Monkey!

My mom, who I shall now refer to as Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater, packed this in:

Jilly's Slice of Gratitude Cupcake

First you make a cupcake. Then you stuff it with a piece of pumpkin pie. Then you top it with cinnamon nutmeg buttercream and ANOTHER piece of pumpkin pie. It’s sort of like the cupcake form of turducken, minus the flesh and the slaughter, plus some cinnamon and deliciousness.

As I sit and type this out for you (only four more days of NaBloPoMo, you know), the girls are finishing up their one week anniversary lice treatment. We have now been completely bug free for over a week, but I will NOT accept victory without one final Phthirapterian sucker punch. It’s not personal, Sonny. It’s strictly business. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>