Fluid Pudding : Page 93 of 123 : It's the old small talk!

AND, welcome back.

As I sit at the computer this morning (making good on my promise to tout my final Laughing Cow post), the girls are in the front room eating Honey Nut Cheerios and watching as Jeff plays Super Mario Bros. on the Wii. This is what Christmas is all about. (This is not really what Christmas is all about.)

Meredith: Are you SURE we don’t have school today?

Me: Yes.

Meredith: Positive?

Me: Positive.

Meredith: Should we drive by just in case?

Me: Yes. Go get dressed and check your backpack for notes and stale cupcakes. Do you have some lunch money?

Meredith: Really?

Me: No.

Christmas was good to the Puddings, and I have new long underwear (shirts, not bottoms—I’ll handle my own bottoms) to prove it. I also received the yarn to make this sweater, so let’s hope that happens sometime before 2015, because what a cute sweater! It will go great with my long underwear shirts! Also, Jeff surprised me with this, which means I can now do my goofy drawings for Fluid Pudding without actually having to: 1. grab a Sharpie and a piece of paper, 2. hope for no huge goofs, 3. fire up the scanner, 4. adjust the white levels, 5. are you getting the idea that it’s all so exhausting to be crappy-stick-figure-drawing me sometimes?! (It’s okay. I make my hot tea in the microwave to make up for it. Also, I rarely touch the Scrubbing Bubbles.)

I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves out there in the heat and the snow and the whatever you’re having. (Supposedly, we just had our first white Christmas in 17 years. Personally, I remember snow eight years ago, because I was pregnant with Meredith and I remember everyone feeling the need to grab my arm and help me up and down hills and sidewalks. Am I the only one who remembers the snowy Christmas of 2002? Help me out here.) There are only 24 hours or so left in the final Laughing Cow giveaway, and I would love it if one of you would walk away with the $150 Visa gift card! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I could go on and on.

To the lady at the store who bought the final avocado roll . . . to the young man at the gas station who wore his daughter’s pink scarf and his own mismatched gloves . . . to the guy I see running to the bus stop every day with an umbrella—even when there’s zero chance of precipitation . . . to the child at school who wore the same clothes two days in a row last week . . . to my five year old who sings “Wise up, Shepherd, and follow!” . . . to my other daughter who changes every occurrence of Mistletoe to Missing Toe and then declares the song to be about her father . . . to the employee at school who humiliated a girl in the hallway to the extent that she was almost in tears yesterday morning . . . to the older gentleman at the grocery store who told me that my hair is nice (it’s actually quite mean!) . . . to the families who are needing something . . . to the families who are taking something for granted . . . to the teachers who light fires of inspiration in our kids’ heads . . . to the people who are just trying to get warm . . . to the woman at the doctor’s office who quietly tapped her leg to the beat of Jingle Bells and then raised both legs into the air for the final horse whinny . . . to the kindergarten student who called me over yesterday morning and then performed the sign of the cross . . . to the man at Walgreens who was shopping for infant Tylenol . . . to the other man who was shopping for Junior Mints . . . to each and every one of you for whatever reason you come by here . . . Merry Christmas.

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It’s a classic emerald cut. With a hemi.

Me: Jeff, I’ve been paying attention to the commercials this year, and it looks like you’re supposed to either purchase a car or diamonds for me for Christmas.

Jeff: I’ve got you covered.

Me: So, what did the television convince you to buy?

Jeff: I actually went off the grid and bought you a car made out of diamonds.

Me: Excellent. Imagine how stunning that’s going to be when I try to drive during the next ice storm!

Jeff: Best of all, it’s never going to scratch, so it was totally worth the completely debilitating amount of debt we’re now in.

Me: We might not be able to gas it up, but it sure will be pretty.

Jeff: You’re welcome.
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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’>

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’>

I’d like to trade my flu for a fluent flutist!

When I was a little kid, my grandma crocheted a blanket for me out of bright acrylic yarn.

When I hit a growth spurt, she would take the blanket back and add on more stripes, and I liked to think that the blanket was sort of like a tree—you could tell just how old I was by how many colored stripes surrounded its center. (There are 40 stripes coming out from the core, plus a border. And that’s sort of perfect. For the next six months.)

I always curled up in this blanket on sick days. Today is one of those days. (Yeah. It’s way too small and will probably serve as more of a lap blanket. I really should learn how to crochet so I can add on to Grandma’s blanket without fear of screwing it up.) ((Also, Grandma would LOVE to know that my kids consider this blanket to be a top priority when they’re home sick from school.))

As you may (or may not) know, I’ve been participating in the Laughing Cow Daily Laugh program since July. (Look in the upper right hand corner under my masthead thinger dinger. See the cow? There it is! It’s laughing!) Anyway, I just put up my final Laughing Cow post, and I would love for the winner of the $150 Visa gift card to be a regular reader of Fluid Pudding. SO, if you’re feeling lucky, or if $150 would help to replenish some of your holiday expenses, please come by and comment on this post. You guys are the greatest. ‘ ‘ ‘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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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’>

No one’s gloomy or complaining while the flatware’s entertaining!

We’re back. The trip was amazing and fast and as you can see, we met a beautiful princess.

Actually, we met a bunch of princesses. We had breakfast with them!

Me: Ask Ariel if she misses her dad.

Harper: Why?

Me: Because she decided that she would rather have legs and a boy than a family who loved her. Also, poor Flounder.

My mom: Shut up.

I’ll be editing and placing photos into this set during the next few days. Keep checking back if you want. (And, yes. I went a leetle cuhrazy when it came to shooting photos of Cinderella’s castle. I really have no idea what I was doing. It changes colors! So sparkly! ClickClickClickClickClick!!!)

One more thing: Although I’m not one of them, I totally understand the fully grown women who go to Disney World wearing red and white polka dotted shirts and Minnie Mouse ears. If you’re going to be a character you may as well go balls out, and When in Rome, right? But here’s the thing. Although I will not laugh at you if you’re 40 years old, not employed by Walt Disney World, and you’re all dressed up to look like a mouse, I probably won’t be able to control my Eyebrows of Judgment if you’re also screaming at your child who’s acting a bit nuts after eating the Dumbo-sized funnel cake that you just purchased for him. Lady. You’re dressed up like a mouse. You just fed your kid a gigantic cake covered in sugar. He’s now out of control, and all of a sudden you’re Joan Crawford with a weird fake tail. (I really wanted to take that little boy home with me, feed him some vegetables, and give him a night full of sanity. Isn’t it sad that option isn’t available?)

This is the scene that I want to create in my own backyard. (Minus the millions of people, Plus! More! Castle!)
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Come watch me grow larger and leave a comment for a chance to win a $150 Visa gift card! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>