Christmas 2006 - Part the Second - OR - Boot Scootin' Boogie

My wrathful offspring are at an age when all they really want for Christmas is clothing. Or a car*. Clothing is it, then.

Early in December WO2 and I were shopping and spied a pair of lovely suede** boots on sale. So into the store we pranced, she tried on the size 37 and the size 38 (Who thought to label women's shoes and boots 38 instead of 8? Was s/he he mad? We do not like to perceive our feet as being 'big' thankyouverymuch!) and finding the 38 fit best, we pirouetted up to the counter where the lovely clerk rang up our purchase, charmed us into buying insoles and water repellant spray, boxed up the the boots and sent us on our merry, merry way. This happened at about 2 minutes to closing time. Remember this detail.

So, still merrily, we sashayed home and put the box into a closet where resided other delights squirrelled away for the upcoming bachhanalia that is Christmas, squealing with delight at our fabulous find. Okay, not squealing. Wrathful people do not squeal. But back to the boots... they stayed in the closet until about 2 days before the Big Day, when I thought to spray them with the water repelleant to prevent any chance of them getting worn outside unprotected.

As I was spraying them, I admired them afresh. They really are lovely boots. Shut up. I'm a woman. We wax eloquent about footwear. I sprayed them in a spare bedroom so I could close the door afterwards so we wouldn't have to inhale the repellent (in more ways than one) spray. One day later, I returned to apply a second coat. The boots still looked lovely and I admired the fetching little straps that wrap around them and finish in a darling bow at the top back of the leg. Shut up. See above. I closed the door, safe in the knowledge that we had found gorgeous boots with which she was very pleased.

Christmas Day. WO2 begins to put boots on... only to discover we had come home with... two right boots. One sized 37, one sized 38. At no time during the placing of the boots in the box at the store, nor during TWO sprayings did I notice this fact. Now, in my defence, the boots have a rounded toe styled in such a manner that the difference between left and right is not glaringly obvious, but still. When did I become a complete*** moron?







WO2, of course, freaked out, convinced we had made an irreparable mistake. Until I pointed out that whilst people are often accused of having two left feet, no one really does and only someone with two left feet could possibly have bought the mates to the boots we had and if such a person exists I would like to meet this person, truly I would. And introduce them to Messrs. Barnum and Bailey. But I digress... There being no actual two-left footed persons, especially not any with the left foot on the left being exactly one size larger than the left foot on the right, the two left boots would most assuredly be tucked up safely in the stockroom of the store, unsellable. We had only to wait until the stores reopened after Christmas to rectify the situation.

Two days after Christmas, I call the store expecting to be greeted with, "Oh, so YOU'RE the moron who went home with two right boots!" and the announcement that they had a box with two left boots in it. This is not what I heard. They were blissfully unaware that they had a box of boots sellable only to podiatric mutants. They did however, have a pair of size 38 boots that they promised to hold for me until closing the next day.

Early evening of the next day, I trundle on down to the store - which is still a nuthouse, only now because of the post-Christmas sales - two right boots in hand (in box, in bag, with receipt) only to be greeted with blank stares upon my request for the boots on hold. No one has any knowledge of such a thing and they tell me that, in fact, they do not put items on hold and therefore have no assigned place for held items. A 15-minute search ensues and finally, amongst the Christmas season-wracked store, the boots are located, I exchange the right size 37 for a left size 38 and off I go.

And the lesson learned? Never, EVER, trust an exhausted sales clerk to put the right items into the box/bag at two minutes to shop closing time.




*HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA - And that's all I'll say about that.

**Suede. In winter. In this climate. Proof positive that I am, indeed, mad.

***There are parts missing, I'm almost positive.

Christmas 2006 - Part the First - OR - Burning issues (in which the Wrathful One learns a new lesson)

With my usual w00t planning skilz, I left it until Christmas Eve to buy firelogs. Truthfully, I always save one or two little errands to the last minute. Just small purchases. Nothing that the entire Christmas celebration depends upon, just little things that add to the fun and get me out among the excitement of the final hours of prep without leaving me in a state of panic. Because let's face it, when you're prepared and relaxed, watching the unprepared have melt downs is kind of fun in a twisted, not very Christmas spirited kind of way. *ahem* Also, without a few last minute errands, I'd be sitting staring at my perfectly decorated house and tree* just waiting to hear the prancing and pawing of tiny hoofies on the roof that signal the arrival of SC, he of the frighteningly high BMI. Very boring.

So, picture it... Christmas Eve, 4:45 p.m., store closings are at 5:00, and I have one last item to procure - firelogs for the traditional Christmas morning "not terrifically heat-generating but totally maintenance-free" blaze. I was in my local Canuck Tyre and found one, sorry, sodden box of 6 logs on a pallet just inside the front door - the big double, automatic, operated-by-an-electric-eye kind of door that opens very wide every time someone approaches it. We'd had a very heavy rain storm the day before and I guess every time a customer entered, the rain hit the boxes on the pallet. So, naturally I didn't buy that box. Almost giving up on the idea of having logs for Christmas, I was overjoyed to discover two boxes in a shopping cart near the front of the store. They seemed dry enough, so I bought one. What could go wrong?

On Christmas morning, I lit a log, which doesn't mean the same thing as it would if a certain duck wrote that. The instructions on the side of the log say it will reach full flame in five minutes and burn for three hours...

One hour later, the log was still limping along, flame-wise, and looking very unenthusiastic about the concept of bursting into full flame. Six hours later, it was more or less burning steadily, if still somewhat subdued. Methinks they were still a tad damp after all. So the downside was the Christmas morning present opening didn't have its usual cheery fire in the fireplace, but the upside was there was a fire, more or less, burning most of the day that didn't required any tending. So that was nice.

They weren't terribly damp, it turns out. The next day, I popped another firelog into the fireplace, lit it and within the promised five minutes it was roaring merrily away and within 3 hours it had burnt itself out. All they needed was one day out of the box at room temperature. So, the lesson learned from this is that the firelogs can't be one of the last minute items.

Stay tuned for Christmas 2006 - Part the Second or Boot Scootin' Boogie



*HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... that is all I'll say about that.

I are gooder

Your Language Arts Grade: 100%

Way to go! You know not to trust the MS Grammar Check and you know "no" from "know." Now, go forth and spread the good word (or at least, the proper use of apostrophes).

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Make a Quiz

Found at Jim C's place.

Scary 'Mary Poppins' Trailer: THE ORIGINAL


Supercalifragilisticexpiali-vicious!


Found at Jim C's place.

Merry Christmas!

May the angels watch over you and guide your way at Christmas time and always.

I'm dreamin'...

As the rain thoroughly sweeps away the lovely Christmasy mantle of snow we had up until today, I bring you White Christmas.

And now, I'm off to brave the mall for one last gift.

I am well and truly mad.

Christmas Eve

Silent Night...

Holy...

Oooo! Look! A shiny thing!

Can I have a chocolate?

Why is France so far away?

Semicentenary

Semicentenary* - of, or relating to, or marking the 50th anniversary

Happy Semicentenary to me!

I would run around wildly, flapping my arms with birthday joy, but I'm far too old for that type of behaviour. Really.


*Also a polite term, when used in reference to humans, for Over The Hill.

Merry Yakmas

Elf Yourself!

Dead Parrot

A.Classic

Carols for the disturbed

Apologies to the PC police. Please turn off all cell phones, pagers, etc. Now that we have that out of the way, on with the concert.








Schizophrenia - Do You Hear What I Hear?
Multiple Personality Disorder - I Three Kings of Orient Are
Dementia - I Think I'll Be Home for Christmas
Narcisistic - Hark the Herald Angels Sing about Me
Manic - Deck the Halls and Walls and House and lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and buses and Trucks and Trees and...
Paranoid - Santa Claus is Coming to Town to Get Me
Borderline Personality Disorder - Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire
Personality Disorder - You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell You Why
Attention Deficit Disorder - Silent Night, Holy ooooh look at the Froggy, Can I Have a Chocolate, Why is France So Far Away?
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells...

Update And, courtesy of the demented mind of Ricardipus:

Antisocial personality disorder - We Wish You a Merry Christmas, a Long, Long Way Away From Here
Psychotic personality - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas While I Cut Out Your Liver And Burn Down Your House
Drug-addicted - Angels We Have Heard While High
Alcoholic - Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer
Depressive - Silent Dark Black Night That Never Ends
Dyslexic - The Little Drummer Yob
SMS (yes, it's a personality disorder) - j1N6L3 b3LLz r0xx!!!!LOL OMG ROFL!!111onety-one111!


Updated Update - Watch this space alert - Misty will be looking for more twisted carols, so hop on over to her blog over the next couple of days for more demented holiday fun.

We interrupt this program...

... to rehearse, then perform, Messiah. Back in about a week.

10 Things I'll Never Do

Misty so kindly tagged me (but not until much whining on my part) with the following meme - 10 Things I'll Never Do. (Just another in the continuing installment of the "All Me, All the Time" theme here in Wrathville, pop. me.)

1. Skydive I don't enjoy being in a plane "safely" buckled into a seat, therefore it follows that I will never, ever voluntarily fling myself out of one of the cursed things with my safe arrival on terre firma dependent on what amounts to a bedsheet on strings. Madness! Sheer madness, I tell you!

2. Spelunk If there is anything I dislike the idea of more than being 30,000 feet off the ground, it's being under the ground. Especially under the ground in a tight spot in which I could get a belt loop caught on something never to escape again, only to die of starvation stewing in my own excrement. What, oh what!?! I ask you would possess a person to want to do this? I remember reading an article in National Geographic where they showed pictures of people squeezing through a hole in rock that was barely big enough to get through. Egad. I mean really. If you ever want me to go stark raving mad right before your very eyes (and you don't have a James Blunt CD close to hand) just put me in an underground tunnel somewhere with no room to even turn around and get me stuck. Instant lunacy. No need to even add water.

3. Give birth again This is a good thing. The demon spawn (luvs ya, kiddies!) are darn near raised. Who'd want to go through all of that again? Don't get me wrong, I've loved being a mother and wouldn't have missed it for the world, but it's not one of those things you want to do over and over again from scratch your whole life long.

4. Get anything other than my ears pierced Gah! Why, people? In the name of all that's holy, why? I mean your outer ear is more or less decorative and isn't exactly one of the more sensitive body parts, so what's a hole here or there (for the record I have 5 piercings in the ear region - 2 in the lobes and one cartilage) but why any same person would want to stick metal through some of the most tender, most delicate parts of one's body shall forever remain a mystery to me.

5. Get a tattoo By extension, no tattoos. Oh, don't think I haven't considered it. But what? And where? I kind of like mythological creatures or maybe a Chinese character, although I always suspect they really say "wanker" and not "harmony" at all. I'd want it to be somewhere I could see it easily, because if I'm going through all that sticking with needles, I'd better be able to get to look at it without becoming a human pretzel. And it would also have to be somewhere I could cover it when appropriate. But mostly, I'm just afraid I'd wimp out partway through and end up with a dragon with no head or an unfinished word that reads "pea" or some such and that wouldn't look cool at all. In fact, it would brand me, literally and figuratively as a snivelling wimp forever more.

6. Have plastic surgery (unless I get maimed in an accident or some such) I'm getting to that stage in life where it's leaving its mark on my face, if you get my drift. Let's just say the Oil of Olady people won't be recruiting me for an ad any time soon, unless it's for the 'before' shot. But I've earned these laugh lines and wrinkles, damnit, and I'm keepin' 'em! Anyone don't like 'em, well that's why God made your neck to swivel.

7. Marry for money CANNOT imagine being able to do that. Can.Not. it's just too shallow for words, plus there's this...

8. Become obsessed about material things Now, I likes the toys, boys and girls. I likes 'em a lot. But not to the point where I measure myself or anyone else by their toys. Some of the nicest, most interesting people I've known have barely had a pot to p*ss in or a window to toss it out of and some of the most materially enhanced have been the most shallow, mean-spirited, boring people I've ever met. Things are just things and somewhere along the way, I've detached myself somewhat from them. (Says she who would fall on the floor and weep like a baby if you took away this computer.)

9. Grow up - I may have to get old, but I do not have to grow up. That being said, it follows that -

10. I'll never go gently into that dark night - I'm sorry, I'm simply having too much fun at this life thing. I refuse to shuffle off this mortal coil quietly. I shall go kicking and screaming, thankuverymuch.

So that's the ten. I'm sure there's more. Get to work on time comes to mind. So, spill the beans, kiddos. What are 10 things you'll never do? You're all tagged, every one of you!

A week in the life

So. It's been a busy week with not much time for blogging. And what did I do, you might well ask. Or not, but it's my blog, so I'm telling you anyway. And you have to admit, I don't do these boring diary-type entries often.

Monday - Work. Flu shots. My employer has very generously offered to pay not only for employees but family members, so both my daughters and I had our shots.

I am making excellent progress on an annual project that I usually procrastinate so badly on each year that I am scrambling about like a mad scrambling thing at the very last minute before we break for Christmas to get it finished. The last day or two before we break, while my co-workers are slowing down, kicking back and indulging in some holiday treats, I? Am glued to the phone and computer desperately trying to get everything arranged. Which is complete and total lunacy, not to mention incompetence of the rankest sort. But not this year. This year, I am close to a full month ahead of myself. w00t! This is EXCELLENT.

My gym buddy and I have decided to up our cardio workouts to see if we can trim some of the blubber off'n our carcasses. 30 mins on the treadmill at a good, energetic clip, followed by 30 mins on the eliptical. We plan to do this three times a week. We shall see.

Monday night - Took both girls shopping, ostensibly for younger one's high school graduation dress. Looked at everything but. However, they have finally reached ages where an outing like that is rather enjoyable.

Tuesday - Work. Lifted weights at the gym. That's visit #2 this week.

Tuesday night - puttered around the house. Practiced Messiah, which goes up on the 15th and 16th of this month. This is my third time performing it and it's beginning to feel comfortable. I have many pieces totally memorized and have no parts left that are desperate sight-reading stretches, unlike the first year. I'm well pleased with my progress and still have two weeks in which to commit more to memory.

Wednesday - Work and more progress on my project. A haircut with which I am well-pleased, which is very good considering my baby-fine hair is the bane of my existence. I can lose weight. I cannot do anything about my hair. Another hour-long cardio-fest at the gym. Visit #3.

Wednesday night - Visited the provincial art gallery (free night) with a friend and then went to a local pub for their folk night. There was an exhibit by one of my favourite painters, who was born in my home province and now lives here, too, as well as a photographic retrospective of this city that just happened to have been begun 25 years ago, the same year I arrived, so quite interesting to me personally.

Thursday - Made more progress on said annual project. Fourth visit to the gym this week. More weights.

Thursday night - Met with director of our winter production to plan auditions that will take place next week and compare notes on props, set dressing, costumes, etc.. I'm also well ahead of myself on preparations for the play. From whence comes this sudden burst of organizing stamina? I don't know, but I'm liking it. We seem to be very much on the same wavelength on how things should happen. It bodes well.

Friday - Came very, very close to finishing that annual project. Just one more "site" to organize, which can easily be accomplished this coming Monday and then all that's left is the bit I can't do until the event actually happens.

Had a very intensive massage (no, not THAT kind, Audrey) that left me somewhat dizzy but actually relieved some of the lower back pain with which I've been plagued for the last 20 years. What a relief! I may even be able to keep it at bey, know that the therapist knows what works for me. Which is very good news for me, but not so much for the nice people who manufacture ibuprophen.

Friday night, after going to the gym (fifth visit this week - am being VERY disciplined) went, with two friends, to see a one-man play about a man reminiscing about his life. Excellent. Very well done, particularly the scene where he describes a family dinner and portrays eight people. Had a chat with the actor and director afterwards. Fortunately, we left just before I reached the point where I would have been unable to prevent myself from flinging myself shamelessly at the director. He. Is. Hot. Went to the pub with my friends and had a grand chat. Which is an excellent way to round off the week.

Today? NOTHING. Slept in. Puttered around the house in PJs. Tonight is our work Christmas dinner. Not much of a party, just an excellent meal. I came *this* close to having a date to take to the dinner, but he had to work this evening. Just as well. Me turning up with a man on my arm after all these years of attending stag would probably cause a death or two from shock amongst my co-workers. I shall cab it to and from the party, on my employer's nickel, which frees me to have more than one drink should I wish, but is also an extra relief this year because the weather is that nasty near-freezing rainy, slushy mess that can turn really slippery in the blink of an eye, so I'm quite relieved not to be driving.

Tomorrow is the weekly brunch with my female buddies from the theatre group and in the afternoon, a Christmas concert by the local university festival choir with one of my buddies from my choir.

And that? was my week.