tough day to be a pet

Millhouse is going to be royally ticked.

And my guess is that Crush won't be too pleased either.

Today is the day when my side of the family comes for presents, Christmas dinner, and the sacred Monopoly and/or Risk and/or Dutch Blitz game.

Crush is our houseguest. We are fish-sitting for a little friend, whom I will call Mister Kott-er. He sits in a very tiny container on top of the piano. (Crush, that is, not our little friend. That would be weird.) He's been cozily nestled in there amid the fake snow and garland, with a nice view of the fireplace.

But today, people will arrive, loud people, musical people, people that pound on any piano in sight. And I would really hate to explain to our little friend that Crush had a heart attack during a rousing rendition of Moonlight Sonata. So he will be going on top of the armoire in our bedroom.

Millhouse will be in that same room.

All those feet wandering through our tiny home - he hates feet. So very much. And unless those feet are all clad in steel-toed workboots, serious injury will take place. And then Millhouse will fly again, which he hasn't done in a very long time. It's possible he's too old for it, and then he also would have a heart attack, and we'd have a dual funeral for both him and Crush.

I am too busy this week to do a dual pet funeral.

So they're both going into the bedroom for the day, where they can eye one another suspiciously.

It's a tough day to be a pet.

nuthin

Merry Christmas!

feelin' Santa's pain

Compliments of Rick, over at organized doodles.

some churches

Some churches have Christmas celebrations right out of a glossy magazine, complete with colour-coordinated wreaths, candles, and garland, with a perfectly poised congregation singing "Oh Holy Night" in perfect harmony.

We, on the other hand, walked into our church on Sunday morning to find our 12-foot tree taking a nap. Oh wait, no, it had fallen over. It spilled water, smashed ornaments and shed needles ALL OVER the platform, including sound and guitar gear. We managed to get it somewhat vertical, leaning groggily against the wall, with a blob of Christmas lights shining from one part of it. It looked mildly hung over, truth be told.

We carried on our unique tradition of jingling keys as we sang, scoffing at those polished places that use real jingle bells.

As the mid-morning prayer came to an end and we all turned to sit down, one of our microphones let out the unholiest shriek you have ever heard in all your life, followed by several lesser shrieks from those that startle easily.

We were happily satisfied by the end of the day, to have had an evening candlelight service that didn't set the building on fire. Dragged our bleary-eyed tree out to the curb, hugged "Merry Christmas" to each other, and headed home.

So much for glossy decor and perfect harmony. Some churches go in for that kind of thing.

Good thing we aren't one of them.

shopping smiles

Two minutes in, I realized I had forgotten. I even debated sneaking out of our Candlelight Tangerine Memories service last night to go and get it, but then I thought ... mmm ... maybe not. So I had to go without it. The candlelight was still nice.

But today ... today was the day that Spike and I were going to finish (read: "start") our Christmas shopping. And since today is December 21, we were both fully aware that it was probably not going to go well. Parking lots would be full, store employees would be (understandably) crusty, shelves would be picked over, and lines would be long.

But it had to be done. So we got up this morning, downed some strong coffee, made a list, breathed deeply and headed out. First stop was to pick up the item I had forgotten last night. Spike was hesitant, but the Christmas spirit (or my pleading smile) won him over, and he sighed and said, "OK, grab one for me too."

We didn't go to a single mall. We hit a few big box stores, as well as a little independent one, and everywhere we went, people seemed happy to see us. Even when we accidentally interrupted one employee counting cash, her impatient response changed quickly to a friendly "Merry Christmas". Complete strangers smiled and waved. Drivers nodded in our direction, as we competed for parking spots.

And a few hours later - it was all done.

Done!!!

With a miraculous lack of crusty, impatient interactions.

Our secret?

...

Santa hats.

justice

I know I just posted a Blissed video.

BUT ... they just released this one ... and I know I'm married to one of them ... but wow, is it good! Different from their other videos, IMHO, and worth watching.

Take a quick peek at it. For me.

And then we will return to our regular programming.

a little too personal

I had to whip out to a bank machine this morning. No time to go to my usual, no-fee one. Just run to the one on the corner, and pay the extra $1.25.

Took out my $20.

Got my card back.

And then the machine in the wall displayed this message:

"It has been our pleasure to serve you. Have a nice day."

I thought that was a little over-the-top creepy, personally.

Who is the "we" of "our"?

And how has this machine derived pleasure from my transaction?

And most importantly, do I have to add this machine to my Christmas card list?

spike

Hey, I'll bet some of you have never seen Spike play! And you've been wondering ... what kind of music does the spouse of a running pastor play?

You were wondering, weren't you?

Well ... here's Blissed, about a year ago.

And Spike is the cute guitar player, on the right, soloing at times ... with the spiky hair, of course.




Don'tcha just LOVE my husband??!!!!

Yeah. Me too.

do you miss me?

I know. Where have I been? Where is my witty commentary on the mundane details of life? Why have I abandoned you? Am I one of those bloggers that just ... *gasp* ... stops blogging???

I don't think so. I still want to blog. I still love to blog.

I miss me too.

But whoever it was that decided that exams, and Christmas, and once-a-year-visits, and detailed work plans for the coming new year should happen all at the very same time ...

Well, whoever that was should be shot.

I'll be back. Sometime.

After I start - yes start - my Christmas shopping. And put up a tree. And beat back the dustbunnies. And write an exam.

(Thank goodness for Spike, who has already taken care of getting a few family presents, entirely independent of me. Somehow there's a turkey in the freezer - I think he may be responsible for that as well.)

study notes

I've been working on study notes, in preparation for my first exam in a Very Long Time.

Study notes bring out a very ... well ... distinctive part of my personality. I hold a belief, very dear to my heart, that all information can be distilled down to an organized, bulleted list, with appropriate titles and subtitles. If any knowledge can't be recorded in this way, it isn't worth knowing.

That's what I believe.

Clearly I'm not an artist.

And there is a tremendous - nay, a WHOLLY SATISFYING - sense of accomplishment in taking a semester's worth of scribbled notes, and transforming them into a 12-font collection of precisely ordered bits of knowledge.

Here's to being a nerd.