Christmas Lights

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One of my blog-buddies, John, commented about the fact that I already have Christmas lights up. Well, the truth is, I do, and I don’t.

I have my lights up on the outside of the house – the hedges, the front window, the trees in the curb strip. I don’t generally put ANY lights up this early, but we were gifted a couple days of dry weather over Thanksgiving weekend, and since the park around the block (the neighborhood park) is decked out, and we were asked to please try to have our own lights out early, as there is some kind of competition for niftiest neighborhood, or some such, I took the opportunity, and did the outside lights, most of them, that weekend.

Of course, I severely underestimated the amount of lights it would take, so I had to go back to Home Depot and get more, but now they’re ALL up.

Outside.

Inside’s another matter.
The room that will eventually be a library is still “box central” as we don’t have enough shelves for all our books. In fact, since we ditched the shakier shelves before we left California, we have even less shelving here than we did there, and we didn’t have enough then.

The dining room needs to have the carpet cleaned. I’m balancing on the edge of scheduling hell, because I need it done early enough to be able to have it in order before the parents arrive on the 18th, but late enough that the dogs won’t get in and leave lovely little dog-presents on the carpet.

The Tree and the ornamements, meanwhile, are sitting just outside the door from the garage into the laundry room, and when I say ‘just outside’ I mean that they don’t quite block the door. Still, I’m forced to see them, brush by them, every time I go that way, and that reminds me to call the carpet cleaners, and have them come. I’m thinking if I schedule things for the 15th, that will be about right, timing-wise. I hope.

In other parts of the house, the preparations continue in other ways. Today, I’m finishing the Christmas cards that were supposed to be done a week ago. My card list keeps expanding, though, so at some point I may have to face the fact that it’s an endless task, and doing ANY is just as good as doing ALL.

Or not.

Time for Tennyson

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When I went out to check the mail and turn on the Christmas lights, around 3:30 this afternoon, the morning storm had past, and left a balmy, somewhat sunny afternoon. Had my ankle been up to it (and were my driveway not about a 6% grade) I’d have skipped back to the front door.

About three quarters of an hour ago, I looked up to see the sky darkening once more, but not back to the pale grey that it has been for the last couple of days. Instead the sky was the blackblackblack of a serious storm.

And indeed, thick, fat raindrops burst from above, clinging to the anti-glare screens on my office window, and turning day into night, broken only by flashes of classic Dracula lightning.

I’d been writing Christmas cards, and the storm only made me smile – as any reader knows, I LOVE storms – and dig out an old Loreena McKennit cd.

I’m now listening to the live version of The Highwayman, which was one of my favorite poems even before it was ever set to music.

Somehow, Thunder and Tennyson seem to go well together.

At least today.

Candles and pine, leather and brick

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For the first time ever, I’m creating a category for spirituality. For the first time ever, this morning, I attended a church service, and didn’t feel like a lightning bolt was being aimed at me, or that I was a freak. I’m still nowhere near defining what I DO believe, in terms of God and Christ and all that, as the smaller things seem more important, more relevant, on a daily basis. Things like, give back to your community, and treat everyone with respect, or at least tolerance.

We visited St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church here in Grand Prairie today. In the research stages of my on-again/off-again church shopping, I’d selected the Episcopalians as the group I’d feel most comfortable with, and an email correspondence with Canon Linda, in San Jose, and with Father Young, here in GP, has affirmed that choice. While they are radically different, both struck me as being sincere, warm, smart people, and they embraced my tendency to question, well, everything.

St. Andrew’s is a cozy church. The stone floors of the parish hall and offices are covered with ancient, faded oriental rugs, the once-bright colors making the brick spaces, and comfy old leather furniture seem homey, not shabby. The sanctuary itself is warm red brick, with an inverted ship’s bow-shaped ceiling, typical of Anglican architecture. The natural wood and warm brick really made the space feel comfortable to me.

We arrived about fifteen minutes before the 10 AM service (Rite 1, with music), and Father Young met us outside, and offered a tour of the church, parish hall, and school. We were introduced to everyone, and one of the parishoners was assigned to sit with us, and guide us through the service. As someone who grew up in an Italian Catholic family, though I’ve never been a church-goer, and was actively raised by agnostic/secular humanistic parents, I knew the structure of the service, knew that there would be an Advent wreath, knew that there would be kneeling (my Baptist husband doesn’t like that part). But because I have no real religious education, beyond a couple of generic (required) philosphy classes at USF, I don’t know the words, the music. Sight-singing words you aren’t accustomed to speaking, before you’ve had morning coffee, and when you’re feeling nervous and intimidated already, is NOT easy. At least, since it’s Advent, I knew the one Christmas carol that was part of the service.

Father Young referred to John the Baptist with just a touch of humor, calling him “the hairy man out in the desert,” and urging people to learn solitude and simplicity from his story. His sermon was well written, and well delivered, and his vocabulary met my approval. He even used one of my favorite phrases, “inextricably intertwined.” Most importantly, I didn’t feel preached at.

After the service, we were invited to join Father Young and his wife, Liz (it must be a good thing if there’s a Liz involved, right?) for lunch, at the local Mongolian BBQ. It was a nice lunch, and the conversation was light, but made me more comfortable with the priest as a person. (Despite the fact that I have at least one uncle who is a Catholic priest, who is totally approachable and great fun at parties, I always feel as if members of the clergy look at me and see HEATHEN printed in fiery letters, across my forehead.)

We talked about his Inquirer’s Class – I really want to go. And we talked about our background, in which I explained how it is possible to wind up at a Jesuit university coming from an agnostic household. (USF has the St. Ignatius Institute – it’s a Great Books program, and it’s fabulous), and in which we talked about Communion.

Communion is a big issue for me. I’ve been baptized (Catholic), but I’ve made a practice of NOT taking Communion, because I feel it’s hypocritical to do so, without being certain of my beliefs. Canon Linda had said, when I asked about this, that she felt the Act sometimes helps to promote the Belief.

So, of course I had to ask Father Young, as well. His response was, “If a person doesn’t feel comfortable taking Communion because they feel unworthy, that’s wrong, because by that logic, we’re all unworthy. No one is worthy. Instead, think of it as a gift, and remember that once you feel you need to earn a gift, it’s no longer a gift. But if you’re not taking it because of discomfort with your beliefs, that’s valid, and right.” (Clay, if you’re reading this, know that I flashed on that first Jester’s class in which either Missy or Michele had mentioned that mistakes are a Gift. Yes, I make absurd connections.)

And now, hours after that, I’m sitting here hoping my ankle will continue to cooperate, because tonight’s the NaNoWriMo TGIO party at a laser tag/bowling alley and while I’ve never done EITHER, I’m in the mood to be open and try new things.

Like church. I really liked how welcome they made us feel. How not-freakish I felt. I think I’d like to go back.

Argh!

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The plan was to watch a movie and have the lights out by midnight, as we have an early morning tomorrow (church) and a long day (NaNoWriMo TGIO party at 5), and my ankle hurts enough that it’s manifesting itself in the form of exhaustion. I spent the vast majority of the day in bed, today, not reading, and not vegging with bad Christmas specials, but actually asleep.

The plan was murdered at 11:50 PM, when Cleo, aka the Barking Bitch of Beelzebub, decided that the new signal for “I have to go out” was not the usual one of going to the door, but instead, asking to be cuddled. I knew something was up when she leapt off the bed, as if terrified, and then slunk to the door, the way only dogs who are ashamed of their behavior, can.

I glanced at the sheet (Fuzzy’s side) where she’d been, and it was soaked. Then I raced (I use the term loosely) to the door, yelled for Fuzzy to come help with cleanup, and hobbled across the very slippery living room, and very cold tile kitchen and breakfast room to open the back door for the dog, who raced out, peed, raced back in, jumped back onto the bed, and left another puddle. This is completely unlike Cleo. While she does leak from excitement once in a while, wetting the bed hasn’t been her thing since she was a new puppy, and we let her sleep with us prematurely.

And so, we spent the last ninety minutes cleaning up, washing sheets, finding replacement sheets, and trying to convince our embarrassed girl-dog that we’re upset that she didn’t signal, not that she had an accident. Of course, Cleo, being a dog, doesn’t understand the distinction at all.

Zorro, meanwhile, is the Good dog tonight, and is curled up looking cute, though his ears register his confusion at all the hubub and why the sheets have been replaced off-schedule.

My ankle is throbbing, and I’m tired, but not sleepy, and now it’s almost two. Oh, well, I’ve managed on less sleep than this.

* * * * *
This entry counts as the 12/4 entry, as it’s still fiscally Saturday, so I’m backdating it.

Ouch!

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I have re-crunched the ankle I sprained a few weeks ago, and this time Fuzzy is insisting I see a doctor about it. I still think it’s just a sprain, and I see no reason to spend valuable time sitting in plastic chairs reading old magazines, to be told it’s a sprain, but my toes are feeling kinda furry, like they’re partly asleep, so I’ll be calling the clinic in the morning.

No, really, I will.

In other news, my plan to do all Christmas cards by December 1 went *poof*, so the new goal is by the end of the weekend.

T3: Dancing Polar Bears

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Onesome: Dancing– Dancing? Does anyone go dancing anymore? I mean, disco died, and the club scene? Hmmm… Is dancing dead? …or are we just here on the web instead of out for the evening?
I love dancing, but my husband, typical geek, has no love of the activity, and even less rhythm. I live for dancing in the living room, at every opportunity, however.

Twosome: Polar– Polar bears seem to do well in the snow… How about you? Is snow just another thing you deal with when it shows up, or is it shutdown time? …and if you’re posting from a non-snowy locale, do you make trips to actually see snow? It’s okay to admit it…
When it comes to snow, a childhood split between Colorado and New Jersey, and then, later, three years in South Dakota, means that I have both been there and done that. If I controlled the weather, there would be situational snow, that lasted from the time everyone got to where they were supposed to be on Christmas Eve, and ended just before they needed to leave that place – but other than that, rain is my preferred precipitation, thanks.

Threesome: Bears– Bears? Christmas Bears? Have you seen the number of bears on the shelf this year? Are you getting one for anyone? …or are you looking forward to receiving one? …or do you still think that inguana in the elf outfit is more your style ?
I’m not really a stuffed animal fan. I liked them well enough when I was a child. Well, I do still have the Winnie the Pooh I got when I was a baby, but that’s a nostalgic thing, and I did pout at Fuzzy til he got me the Godiva-bearing (no pun intended) Vamp!Teddy from Barnes and Noble for Halloween. But for the most part I don’t see the point. (Although, last year I accompanied a friend to a Build-A-Bear place, and for a brief time I could see the allure.). So, no, no bears here. Chihuahuas wearing antlers, and toy trains around the Christmas tree, though, yes.

Long Time, No Post

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I’ve been pretty much ignoring my blog for the last month, while I was caught up in the throes of NaNoWriMo. I did finish, coming in at just over 53,400 words, though there were several false starts. I learned, from the process, that my innner editor is a raging beast from hell, and it takes huge quantities of Celestial Seasonings Nutcracker Suite Holiday Tea to quiet it. No, really, that’s what my drink has been lately, brewed chai-strong, splashed with milk, and enhanced by a bit of honey. It’s comforting, and smells like Christmas.

Speaking of which, even though I did take time off from NaNo to put lights on the outside of my house (just the hedges and trees, this year, as our ladder has gone missing, and Fuzzy can’t stand for long enough amounts of time to help me with the eaves) with Christmas lights, it’s only today that I finally feel that the Christmas Season has begun.

I think there’s something magical about the calendar page flipping from November to December. It means that winter is officially almost here, that the nights are still getting longer, and that the air is crisp and cold and alive with the tingle of love and joy and anticipation, and all those wonderful things that most of us find pretty sappy the other eleven months of the year.

Also, I just received an Advent calendar from my godmother, who sends one every year. This year, in an homage to our shared love of Harry Potter, she picked the calendar in question “because Santa looks like Dumbledore.”

I remember having the big advent calendars when I was a kid. They were larger than an 8.5 x 11″ piece of paper and would be tacked to the wall. I’ve never had one with candy, and wouldn’t WANT one with candy, because as far as I can tell, they only come in milk chocolate. Cheap milk chocolate. But I like the pictures, and I like the act of opening the door at the end of each day. The ritual, the crossing off of days.

Speaking of ritual, Fuzzy and I are checking out the local Episcopalian church this weekend, mostly because it’s a good way to meet other couples our age, but also because we’re in a new place, and I’m feeling a bit isolated and homesick, and want a sense of community. While I’m not terribly religious, I like the way the Church smells at Christmas, and I like the carols, and this church is sponsoring a Christmas choir, and I miss singing, so we’re going. (As I told Fuzzy, with the exceptions of Amazing Grace and most of Handel’s Messiah, Christmas Carols are the only religious songs I know, so I don’t feel so much like an alien at this time of year.)

It’s become a sort of personal tradition to do some sort of December theme in my journal each year. Last year, I participated in 12 Days of Christmas Questions, with some friends, and this year, I’m doing my own version of the Holidailies – daily posts through the month of December.

Catching up

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Well, I’m only at 14,679 words (as of 12:56 AM CST) but with Fuzzy drugged to the gills to kill the pain in his toe (he had an infected ingrown toenail completely removed today – if you’ve never had that done, it’s the WORST, and while it’s technically band-aid surgery, it’s incredibly painful band-aid surgery), I’m missing the DFW-NANO picnic tomorrow, and should be back on track by the end of the weekend. I know he’s in serious pain, because when he came home he went straight to bed, and didn’t even attempt to climb upstairs and check email.

In other news, I killed the scanner mechanism on my old HP-K60 office jet printer when I mailed it out here, and it was really slow, so after doing research, I have become the owner of a Lexmark 6100 all-in-one. It’s much sleeker than the HP, has cool light-up buttons, and the scanner part is a flat-bed, so even though I have no intention of using the fax capability, I’m really happy with the printer in general. It’s so FAST – I’d been looking at laster printers, but this is faster than most of them, and for half the money. Also, my postage meter arrived today – and maybe it’s silly, but I’m excited about having it.

It was so warm in the house today that I had the a/c blasting, then forgot to turn it off when the sun went down, and now the house is FREEZING, and I have only myself to blame.

I’m looking forward to a quiet evening. I have a couple of unread books, but I’m not reading much, as I’m trying to finish the NaNo project on time, and so I’ve got American Gods and Kushiel’s Dart as bathroom reading – it’s unsual for me to read so slowly, but that’s the ONLY place I’m reading just now.

I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving. We have no plans, and are only, maybe, going out for dinner, but I’m excited about decorating for Christmas, painting the dining room, and getting Christmas cards done.

For now, though, I’m gonna go curl up in bed, and try to sleep, so that I can get up early and write.

Wordless

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Neither my NaNo project nor any of my blogs have been touched since Monday. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of boxes left to unpack, and wondering if time would be better spent doing that than scribbling endless pages of utter drivel.

Work’s about the only thing that is going well, though I wish there were more of it. Chris Baty says in No Plot, No Problem that being busy makes you more productive, and that’s totally true, at least for me. I work best under pressure. With all this time to fill, I get restless and laggy. I need to join the Curves here, because it’ll totally help with the restlessness but I haven’t managed to get there.

* * *
Today we slept late. Well, I slept late, and Fuzzy slept almost forever. Between the time I got up (at noon) and he got up (at 2:30), I finished arranging the bathroom, and straightened the living room. Then we went to Home Depot, where we bought exciting things like a fireplace log-holder/grate/thing (what IS the proper name for those?), a flag for the mailbox (to signal that there is outgoing mail), and an extension cord.

I’d promised to make teriyaki chicken, but since we were out, and hadn’t eaten, and Don Pablo’s shares the Home Depot parking lot, we had Mexican food instead. I am now totally in love with queso, which is something like what Californian’s know as “nacho cheese,” except that it’s made with real cheese at good restaurants, and comes in a bowl, for dipping, not as an added topping. Well, not SOLELY as an added topping. Warm tortilla chips and hot queso, mmmm. (We also had actual entrees of enchiladas with rice and corn cakes, which were satisfying, and, thankfully, not too spicy for my wuss tongue.)

* * *

I wonder how much of my crabby listlessness this week is due to PMS, and how much is due to the fact that I haven’t had coffee since Monday. Probably, it’s fifty-fifty.

Stuff

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I’d hoped to have everything unpacked before NaNoWriMo began, but that didn’t happen. We still have a kitchen table full of miscellaneous stuff – the kind of odds and ends that could fill a junk drawer. I have so much cabinet space that we have actual EMPTY cabinets, but in this house drawer space is at a premium. My office, and Fuzzy’s office are still mainly in boxes (Well, the furniture’s assembled, and the computers are set up), and I have four boxes of clothing – I’m so accustomed to having one suitcase of clothes that having OPTIONS feels new and special.

* * *
I hosted my first NaNo write-in. Only one other person showed, but that’s okay. I made my first day minimum word count, and more. Today, I have a few work things to do, and then it’s all rainy and blustery so it’s the perfect day to dabble at unpacking and writing, and maybe make something nice for dinner, to be ready when we get back from Kinko’s.

* * *
I have a new cell phone number. IM me or Email me if you know me, and want the number. It’s a Texas exchange, finally.

I also have a new cell /phone/ – the motorola v400. It’s a quad-band with net access and a camera. Yay, new toys.

* * *
We not only voted, this morning, but also got in our daily exercise, as we had to park 1/4 mile from the polling place. There was drizzle, but it was more refreshing than annoying. The woman running for sherrif was greeting people outside the polling place (outside the minimum limit – barely). She seems nice. The ballots were so short! No measures! No propositions! And the system is so high tech: photocopied sheets and sharpies, and then the sheets are run through a scantron kind of thing. I was the 411th person to submit a ballot at my polling place this morning.

* * *
November’s always been a difficult month for me. Having the new house, NaNo, and new people to meet, to focus on, is really helping the month redeem itself.