Seth attends a middle school that includes grades 7 - 9, so he is among the youngest kids there (perhaps one of the very youngest with his June 14th birthday). So last night Gerald and I were talking with him casually about school, friends, church, life in general. It was one of those quiet times with just the three of us sprawled across various places on our queen-sized bed. We had just read our nightly installment of the Book of Mormon, right on schedule with our goal to read the entire book this year.
Somehow the conversation moved to Seth's social life, and the following conversation ensued:
Seth: I think I must be kinda mature for my age.
Mom: Why do you say that?
Seth: Well, all the guys in my Young Men's are 14, and they like to hang out with me. They're my best buds.
Mom: That's true. They are nice boys. I'm glad they are your friends. I think it's because you've been raised in a house full of teenagers ever since you were born. You've never had anyone here even close to your age.
Seth: And even at school, most of my friends are older, the 8th and 9th graders.
Dad: But I don't imagine any of the ninth-grade girls are interested in you.
Seth: Unfortunately, no.
WHAT?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Ready? Or Not?
Nope, I'm not talking about the age-old childhood game, hide-and-seek. I'm talking about "getting ready," that is showering, dressing, applying make-up, styling hair. Or not. At least not if you don't have to go anywhere. I've decided that people (well women, I should say, because I haven't really discussed this with men) fall into two groups: the "get up and get ready, no matter what" group, and the "get ready only if necessary" group.
My friend Lindsey falls into the former group. I don't think I've ever seen her not "ready." I believe that every morning, regardless of what she does or does not have scheduled that day, she gets up, showers, puts on cute clothes, and does her makeup and hair beautifully. She is always "ready." She is not the only one. My friend Trudy also fits in this group. Her theory is, "I want to be 'ready' in case something comes up." I had a friend in Mt. Vernon, also a member of the "ready no matter what" group. She not only got herself "ready" every day, but she insisted that her kids do the same. I remember her saying to them, "You have to get 'ready' for your day."
I am not a member of that group. I am queen of the "ready only if necessary" group. Is this bad? I heard a talk recently, where the speaker insisted that if we want to feel good about ourselves, it's critical that we get up and get "ready" every morning, regardless of what the day has in store for us. She maintained that not doing so could compromise our self-esteem. Hmmm. I wonder. I think my self-esteem is okay. For me, lounging in pajamas, with no shower, make-up, or styled hair, is the epitome of luxury. When I was a little girl, my mom and I would plan such days. "I need a pajama day," one of us would say, and we would plot out a time when we could remain in pajamas the entire day. No, we didn't do this often. Of course not! I had school and other activities. She had various responsibilities. But it was a lovely occasional treat.
Shulamith and I will sometimes plan such a day, and I love those days just as much as when I was little. Apart from those special days, however, I'm still a member of the "ready only if necessary" group. When I get up in the morning, I don't do anything to get ready until an hour before I need to leave to go somewhere. Sometimes I even wait until 45 minutes before, but then I have to rush, which I don't like. On the three days a week that I teach, my first class begins at 11:10. I leave home around 10:45, which means I get in the shower at 9:45. Before that, I lounge happily in pajamas and do whatever. Housework, cooking, paper grading, blogging, reading, etc. all can be done just fine in the comfort of sweet PJ's.
Not only that, but I love pajamas so much that the second I get home from wherever I went, I immediately switch back into pajamas. Even if I know I'm going somewhere else later, it's worth it to change and then change back. That's how much I like to be in pajamas. But sometimes life takes an unexpected turn, and I have to leave immediately with no warning. What then?
It's very bad. One recent example was the morning I received the terrifying phone call telling me Seth had been hit by a car while walking to school. Of course, I gave no thought to appearances and instead grabbed my big "Montana coat" from my closet and threw it on over my PJ's as I bolted out the door. This coat is not attractive. Let me be clear about that. It is so long that it goes all the way down to my ankles, and it has no shape whatsoever, just straight up and down. Shulamith hates it; in fact, one time she put it on just to demonstrate how bad it is: "See, this is what you look like when you wear this!" But it is wonderfully warm, and I couldn't have survived those freezing Montana winters without it. And it comes in really handy when you need to be covered up from neck to toes, such as when you decide to venture out into the world wearing pajamas, as I did that morning.
Admittedly, I've used it as a pajama cover-up on other occasions. Three days ago on New Year's Eve, we decided impulsively to go to Cheesecake Factory for dessert at 10:30. It had been a quiet day (read: I didn't need to go anywhere, so of course I had not showered, dressed, or done hair and make-up). Yep, I really did it! I put on my Montana coat, and off we went. Keep in mind that living here in Utah, the chances I would encounter someone I knew were incredibly low. Moreover, I'm pretty sure no one would recognize me anyway, wearing this giant coat, bed-head hair, and zero makeup. This worked so well that a couple days later I decided to try it again. I didn't have any significant place to go; I just needed a couple items from the grocery store. Donned in the big coat over pajamas, I headed out to the store, and I'm pretty sure no one was the wiser. Seriously, all you can see is 'coat' when I'm wearing that thing. Well, here, let me show you:
So now I'm wondering about all you other friends out there. Into which group do you belong? Ready? Or not?
My friend Lindsey falls into the former group. I don't think I've ever seen her not "ready." I believe that every morning, regardless of what she does or does not have scheduled that day, she gets up, showers, puts on cute clothes, and does her makeup and hair beautifully. She is always "ready." She is not the only one. My friend Trudy also fits in this group. Her theory is, "I want to be 'ready' in case something comes up." I had a friend in Mt. Vernon, also a member of the "ready no matter what" group. She not only got herself "ready" every day, but she insisted that her kids do the same. I remember her saying to them, "You have to get 'ready' for your day."
I am not a member of that group. I am queen of the "ready only if necessary" group. Is this bad? I heard a talk recently, where the speaker insisted that if we want to feel good about ourselves, it's critical that we get up and get "ready" every morning, regardless of what the day has in store for us. She maintained that not doing so could compromise our self-esteem. Hmmm. I wonder. I think my self-esteem is okay. For me, lounging in pajamas, with no shower, make-up, or styled hair, is the epitome of luxury. When I was a little girl, my mom and I would plan such days. "I need a pajama day," one of us would say, and we would plot out a time when we could remain in pajamas the entire day. No, we didn't do this often. Of course not! I had school and other activities. She had various responsibilities. But it was a lovely occasional treat.
Shulamith and I will sometimes plan such a day, and I love those days just as much as when I was little. Apart from those special days, however, I'm still a member of the "ready only if necessary" group. When I get up in the morning, I don't do anything to get ready until an hour before I need to leave to go somewhere. Sometimes I even wait until 45 minutes before, but then I have to rush, which I don't like. On the three days a week that I teach, my first class begins at 11:10. I leave home around 10:45, which means I get in the shower at 9:45. Before that, I lounge happily in pajamas and do whatever. Housework, cooking, paper grading, blogging, reading, etc. all can be done just fine in the comfort of sweet PJ's.
Not only that, but I love pajamas so much that the second I get home from wherever I went, I immediately switch back into pajamas. Even if I know I'm going somewhere else later, it's worth it to change and then change back. That's how much I like to be in pajamas. But sometimes life takes an unexpected turn, and I have to leave immediately with no warning. What then?
It's very bad. One recent example was the morning I received the terrifying phone call telling me Seth had been hit by a car while walking to school. Of course, I gave no thought to appearances and instead grabbed my big "Montana coat" from my closet and threw it on over my PJ's as I bolted out the door. This coat is not attractive. Let me be clear about that. It is so long that it goes all the way down to my ankles, and it has no shape whatsoever, just straight up and down. Shulamith hates it; in fact, one time she put it on just to demonstrate how bad it is: "See, this is what you look like when you wear this!" But it is wonderfully warm, and I couldn't have survived those freezing Montana winters without it. And it comes in really handy when you need to be covered up from neck to toes, such as when you decide to venture out into the world wearing pajamas, as I did that morning.
Admittedly, I've used it as a pajama cover-up on other occasions. Three days ago on New Year's Eve, we decided impulsively to go to Cheesecake Factory for dessert at 10:30. It had been a quiet day (read: I didn't need to go anywhere, so of course I had not showered, dressed, or done hair and make-up). Yep, I really did it! I put on my Montana coat, and off we went. Keep in mind that living here in Utah, the chances I would encounter someone I knew were incredibly low. Moreover, I'm pretty sure no one would recognize me anyway, wearing this giant coat, bed-head hair, and zero makeup. This worked so well that a couple days later I decided to try it again. I didn't have any significant place to go; I just needed a couple items from the grocery store. Donned in the big coat over pajamas, I headed out to the store, and I'm pretty sure no one was the wiser. Seriously, all you can see is 'coat' when I'm wearing that thing. Well, here, let me show you:
So now I'm wondering about all you other friends out there. Into which group do you belong? Ready? Or not?
Monday, December 31, 2012
2013
They are already celebrating in New Zealand, but for us, the big moment won't come for another five hours. The question is, will I be awake to "Ring Out, Wild Bells...Ring In The New"? Not likely. Just this morning, Gerald was describing to Seth my typical New Year's routine:
Said he, "This is Mom's New Year's Eve. She stays awake long enough to watch the ball drop in New York (at 10:00 here), she says 'Happy New Year,' and she goes to sleep. That's since we've lived in this time zone. When we lived in the Pacific Time Zone, she would watch it drop at 9:00, and then go to sleep."
Yep, that pretty much describes it. Even 10:00 is pushing it for me. I need a ton of sleep in order to function. If I stay up until midnight, my whole next day will suffer. Can it be worth it? After all, when I wake in the morning, refreshed and rested, it will still be 2013, right? What did I really miss?
As I look toward a new year, I do so with good expectations. I'm excited to welcome President Obama for a second term (sorry, conservative friends) and look forward to his inauguration in three weeks. I'm praying congress will figure something out in the next five hours to avoid going over the "fiscal cliff," without raising taxes on the middle class, eliminating unemployment benefits for those out of work, or giving tax breaks to the wealthiest of wealthy. I hope they can do it.
As for resolutions, I should probably look back to a year ago, but it's a little embarrassing. I believe I set two main goals, (1) to walk 1,200 miles in 2012 and (2) to cook more meals at home. Hmmm. Well you see, it's like this. As of May 26th, I was right on track with the walking; I was actually ahead of schedule, having walked nearly 600 miles in five months. Then Shulamith had her baby and everything changed. He was so tiny, and she was so sick, and both of them needed much help. My regular walking routine just didn't fit in. Before Swen was born, she and I had dreamed of the summer walking we would do, baby in stroller, weather warm, calories burning fast and furious. Dreams are sometimes just that. Swen hated his stroller almost as much as he hated his car seat. He pretty much hated everything other than human arms. Consistent walking this past summer was not to be.
So that resolution didn't quite pan out. As for the cooking, I sort of tried, but the problem is I just don't like the food here. If I don't like the food in a particular restaurant, I don't go there. It's kinda the same. Only worse. At a restaurant where I don't like the food, at least I don't have to prepare it or clean up the mess. So I won't comment further on this resolution because it was pretty much a wash.
Onward to 2013. I have a few goals, hopefully more attainable than last year's. First, I found a chart on Pinterest (where else?) that divides the Book of Mormon into 365 equal parts. Seth and I are going to read it together! One time several years ago, Isaiah and Eli and I read the book together, and I have sweet memories of that time. I don't know if they do, but I definitely do. When Shulamith is around, she will read with us. Same with Gerald. But we're not waiting for them. Seth and I have a mission! Second, we must get back to the gym. We have been off the wagon for over a month, ever since the holiday rush began, and we've indulged in far too much "figgy pudding" and other delectable treats. It's time to get back on the plan.
Third, I hope to read more. I love to read, but when I have hundreds of pages of essays to read (arrugh!), sometimes I don't make time to read anything else. This is not good. I forget that people are capable of writing without comma splices, dangling modifiers, pronoun-antecedent agreement errors, and sentence fragments. So today, I downloaded three books to my Kindle. They are all very different from one another, and I'm excited to check them out. First, I downloaded Racing in the Rain: My Life as a Dog, because my mom loved it and suggested it to me. Second, I downloaded Safe Haven, the latest Nicholas Sparks novel that will soon be released as a movie. I want to read it before I see it. Third, I downloaded "Wonderstruck," on the recommendation of my friend Elisa. I don't know much about it, but it has to do with living a "wonderstruck" life, rather than passing by the many wonders. Sounds good!
So welcome, 2013! I have high hopes for you.
Said he, "This is Mom's New Year's Eve. She stays awake long enough to watch the ball drop in New York (at 10:00 here), she says 'Happy New Year,' and she goes to sleep. That's since we've lived in this time zone. When we lived in the Pacific Time Zone, she would watch it drop at 9:00, and then go to sleep."
Yep, that pretty much describes it. Even 10:00 is pushing it for me. I need a ton of sleep in order to function. If I stay up until midnight, my whole next day will suffer. Can it be worth it? After all, when I wake in the morning, refreshed and rested, it will still be 2013, right? What did I really miss?
As I look toward a new year, I do so with good expectations. I'm excited to welcome President Obama for a second term (sorry, conservative friends) and look forward to his inauguration in three weeks. I'm praying congress will figure something out in the next five hours to avoid going over the "fiscal cliff," without raising taxes on the middle class, eliminating unemployment benefits for those out of work, or giving tax breaks to the wealthiest of wealthy. I hope they can do it.
As for resolutions, I should probably look back to a year ago, but it's a little embarrassing. I believe I set two main goals, (1) to walk 1,200 miles in 2012 and (2) to cook more meals at home. Hmmm. Well you see, it's like this. As of May 26th, I was right on track with the walking; I was actually ahead of schedule, having walked nearly 600 miles in five months. Then Shulamith had her baby and everything changed. He was so tiny, and she was so sick, and both of them needed much help. My regular walking routine just didn't fit in. Before Swen was born, she and I had dreamed of the summer walking we would do, baby in stroller, weather warm, calories burning fast and furious. Dreams are sometimes just that. Swen hated his stroller almost as much as he hated his car seat. He pretty much hated everything other than human arms. Consistent walking this past summer was not to be.
So that resolution didn't quite pan out. As for the cooking, I sort of tried, but the problem is I just don't like the food here. If I don't like the food in a particular restaurant, I don't go there. It's kinda the same. Only worse. At a restaurant where I don't like the food, at least I don't have to prepare it or clean up the mess. So I won't comment further on this resolution because it was pretty much a wash.
Onward to 2013. I have a few goals, hopefully more attainable than last year's. First, I found a chart on Pinterest (where else?) that divides the Book of Mormon into 365 equal parts. Seth and I are going to read it together! One time several years ago, Isaiah and Eli and I read the book together, and I have sweet memories of that time. I don't know if they do, but I definitely do. When Shulamith is around, she will read with us. Same with Gerald. But we're not waiting for them. Seth and I have a mission! Second, we must get back to the gym. We have been off the wagon for over a month, ever since the holiday rush began, and we've indulged in far too much "figgy pudding" and other delectable treats. It's time to get back on the plan.
Third, I hope to read more. I love to read, but when I have hundreds of pages of essays to read (arrugh!), sometimes I don't make time to read anything else. This is not good. I forget that people are capable of writing without comma splices, dangling modifiers, pronoun-antecedent agreement errors, and sentence fragments. So today, I downloaded three books to my Kindle. They are all very different from one another, and I'm excited to check them out. First, I downloaded Racing in the Rain: My Life as a Dog, because my mom loved it and suggested it to me. Second, I downloaded Safe Haven, the latest Nicholas Sparks novel that will soon be released as a movie. I want to read it before I see it. Third, I downloaded "Wonderstruck," on the recommendation of my friend Elisa. I don't know much about it, but it has to do with living a "wonderstruck" life, rather than passing by the many wonders. Sounds good!
So welcome, 2013! I have high hopes for you.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
When the Two Webster Women Cook...
...let's just say the outcome is not usually good. Not at all. No two people have ruined more recipes, wasted more ingredients, or created more culinary disasters than Shulamith and I. Yeah, it's that bad. I was shocked that after a week in our home prior to their engagement, Mathew was even brave enough to propose. So why on earth would we attempt to bake Christmas treats? I have no idea. None. But something possessed us to do so, and last week we decided we would bake a different dessert each day. We mapped out a plan and bought all the ingredients, both of us hesitant but certain we'd be positively delighted if even one of these recipes turned out.
But Christmas is all about miracles, even the tiniest. You are not going to believe this, but ALL FIVE RECIPES turned out great. Even as I write this, I'm still stunned. Most of the goodies are already gone. That never happens. People actually wanted to eat what we made. Not to boast or anything, but I can't help myself. I'm going to show you just a little of what we did:
On Monday, we made Chex mix, two kinds (!), sweet and traditional savory.
But Christmas is all about miracles, even the tiniest. You are not going to believe this, but ALL FIVE RECIPES turned out great. Even as I write this, I'm still stunned. Most of the goodies are already gone. That never happens. People actually wanted to eat what we made. Not to boast or anything, but I can't help myself. I'm going to show you just a little of what we did:
On Monday, we made Chex mix, two kinds (!), sweet and traditional savory.
Savory!
Sweet!
On Tuesday, we made fudge. Okay, it was just microwave fudge, but give two girls a break. We were afraid to try anything that involved cooking candy on the stove. But hey...we made two kinds: chocolate and peanut butter. Both were good, but the chocolate was especially tempting, so much so that Kitty, our year-old Boxer pup, decided to eat just about all of it. We had left the room for only a few minutes. I returned first to find the entire container of fudge gone, and Kitty looking up at me, sheepishly. Ack!! We all know chocolate is not good for dogs. Gerald got online to get information, and Shulamith called a 24-hour vet. Both confirmed that Kitty is big enough that the amount of chocolate she consumed would not be toxic; however, she would likely get sick. Oh yes indeed. She spent much of Christmas day throwing up in various places. Okay..no further details needed.
On Wednesday, we made sugar cookies and even enlisted Seth's help.
On Thursday, we made gingerbread people. This was the scariest day of all. The dough had to refrigerate overnight, and it didn't look very good. It smelled very strong, not sweet like cookies are supposed to. We were pretty scared. But with Diet Cokes in hand, we faced our fears...
And voila!
We're feeling pretty awesome about all this; yes we are! A little like those food bloggers you see on Pinterest with pictures of delicious food, with step-by-step instructions. Okay, not really. But it was another tiny Christmas miracle.
(Christmas, 2012 - Part 3 of 3)
No Pink Eye for Christmas, and Other Tiny Miracles
Christmas is without question my favorite day of the year. All season is really my favorite. I can't get enough of the sights and sounds. I'm in awe each year of the transforming power of this holiday in the hearts of all of us; everywhere I look, I see demonstrations of unselfish kindness and increased tolerance and grace, the result of what can only be the pure love of Christ, manifested in mere mortals. Even in the midst of the tremendous pain and suffering, fear and doubt, hurt and anguish that is life, we are each transformed at Christmas. This year a friend of mine decided to help two families who are struggling to make ends meet. She single-handedly collected enough donations to provide each family with groceries for Christmas dinner, some presents, and cash to pay utility bills and prevent shut-offs. I am honored to have been one of many, many who was able to assist her in this effort.
For six weeks, Christmas music plays almost constantly on my car radio and also in our home, which we decorate with love just after Thanksgiving. As the carol goes, "Christmas is my favorite time of the year." So you can only imagine my dismay when on December 23rd, I developed an allergic reaction (to who knows what?), resulting in a horrible case of conjunctivitis, aka pink eye. It began during Relief Society that morning and continued to worsen through the day. Christmas Eve, I awoke to a swollen, red eye, oozing and sore. I spent most of the day like this:
It was quiet here. Gerald and Isaiah had to work all afternoon and evening. Shulamith spent part of the day visiting Mathew's family, and by the time she got home at 3:30, she was stuck doing all the last-minute running around that I should have done that day. There was no way I could have driven, especially in the bright snow that blanketed the city. So Shulamith handed me Swen (my eye condition was an allergic reaction, so not contagious), who promptly fell asleep, and I lay in this chair and continued to ice my very sore eye while he napped across my chest. She ran all the Christmas errands by herself, including picking up Chinese dinner for everyone. Gerald and Isaiah were home by 6:00, and Matt was off work a couple hours later. Everyone was in full celebratory mood; I was just as you see above. In pain. It was so sad.
I took an antihistamine and some ibuprofen and went to bed, my bag of frozen corn on my nightstand. And sometime in the night, I awoke to a tiny Christmas miracle. My eye wasn't throbbing. For a second, I didn't believe it. I could touch my eyelid without pain. It was still goopy and red, but it didn't hurt. I got up just to make sure I wasn't imagining it. Gratitude enveloped me. I was so thankful I would not be in pain all Christmas day. And so I wasn't. My eye was still not normal; even today it isn't quite back to normal. But it was way, way better.
We gathered around 9:00, ate breakfast, and began opening gifts, knowing we would be gloriously interrupted at 10:30 to Skype with Eli from Memphis, where he is currently serving. I could barely contain my excitement.
For six weeks, Christmas music plays almost constantly on my car radio and also in our home, which we decorate with love just after Thanksgiving. As the carol goes, "Christmas is my favorite time of the year." So you can only imagine my dismay when on December 23rd, I developed an allergic reaction (to who knows what?), resulting in a horrible case of conjunctivitis, aka pink eye. It began during Relief Society that morning and continued to worsen through the day. Christmas Eve, I awoke to a swollen, red eye, oozing and sore. I spent most of the day like this:
I took an antihistamine and some ibuprofen and went to bed, my bag of frozen corn on my nightstand. And sometime in the night, I awoke to a tiny Christmas miracle. My eye wasn't throbbing. For a second, I didn't believe it. I could touch my eyelid without pain. It was still goopy and red, but it didn't hurt. I got up just to make sure I wasn't imagining it. Gratitude enveloped me. I was so thankful I would not be in pain all Christmas day. And so I wasn't. My eye was still not normal; even today it isn't quite back to normal. But it was way, way better.
We gathered around 9:00, ate breakfast, and began opening gifts, knowing we would be gloriously interrupted at 10:30 to Skype with Eli from Memphis, where he is currently serving. I could barely contain my excitement.
Coming down the stairs for presents!
The Webster-Monson Family on Swen's 1st Christmas
The highlight of our day: Skype with Elder Webster!
Mom and Seth
We spent the rest of the day eating good food (well, not healthy-good, but delicious), listening to Christmas music, enjoying family time together. Okay, I'm lying. A little. That's what some of us did. There are those in the family who promptly escaped to Seth's room to engage in intense video-game playing. What can I say? It's a disease. Before we knew it, it was 6:30 and time to leave for the movie.
No pink eye for Christmas. My tiny, but perfect, Christmas miracle!
(Christmas, 2012 - Part 2 of 3)
Take My Hand, and Lead Me to Salvation...
...Take my love, for love is everlasting.
And remember, the truth that once was spoken:
"To love another person is to see the face of God."
And so, I sing. I've been singing all day. I've been singing ever since last night; indeed, I'm pretty sure I was even singing in my dreams. For nearly three hours last evening, I sat captivated by the music and the heart and the grace and the pain and the redemption of the marvelous musical that is Les Miserables. It was epic.
It's tradition in our family to go to a movie on Christmas night. We go every year. I remember seeing The Polar Express on Christmas, 2003 with all five kids, Seth just 3-1/2. It was difficult in those days to find a movie that fit everyone's tastes; we have a wide range of ages and interests. It's still difficult. Last year, we saw Mission Impossible, a bit of a concession for me although I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. This year there was no decision to make; I would see Les Mis. Shulamith could not go because Baby Swen is definitely not movie worthy. This was the first year in many that she wasn't with me at a movie on Christmas night. But there were still Gerald and Isaiah, both of whom would have gladly seen Les Mis. Seth, however, was not so accommodating. He's 12, remember. And a boy. So Gerald kindly volunteered to take him to The Hobbit while Isaiah and I went to Les Mis at the same time in the same theatre.
I don't know much about The Hobbit. I remember trying to read it once but only making it through maybe 10 pages. I used to be able to claim that was because I don't like fantasy. This worked as my excuse for not reading Harry Potter too, that and the fact that a main character in the series is a long, disgusting creature with no arms or legs. Nope, I don't like fantasy. I like books about real people and real things that can really happen. Of course I lost all credibility when Twilight was written, but that's another story. So no, I don't know about The Hobbit, but I cannot imagine a more perfect Christmas movie than Les Miserables, the story of one Jean Valjean and his quest for the courage to love and to forgive and to partake of the gift of redemptive grace.
And so, I sing. I'm sure my family is very tired by now of my singing. Sucks for them.
I don't know much about The Hobbit. I remember trying to read it once but only making it through maybe 10 pages. I used to be able to claim that was because I don't like fantasy. This worked as my excuse for not reading Harry Potter too, that and the fact that a main character in the series is a long, disgusting creature with no arms or legs. Nope, I don't like fantasy. I like books about real people and real things that can really happen. Of course I lost all credibility when Twilight was written, but that's another story. So no, I don't know about The Hobbit, but I cannot imagine a more perfect Christmas movie than Les Miserables, the story of one Jean Valjean and his quest for the courage to love and to forgive and to partake of the gift of redemptive grace.
And so, I sing. I'm sure my family is very tired by now of my singing. Sucks for them.
Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!
(Christmas, 2012 - Part 1 of 3)
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Good + Good + Good = Exponentially Great!
Have you ever noticed that when you take several really good things and put them together, the result is more than just good; it's exponentially great? I recently wrote about such a combination: a warm fleece blanket, my rocking chair, and "Vampire Diaries." But there are so many other examples:
So popular are these concerts that if you want a seat, you have to arrive an hour early. Here are Shulamith and Swen saving seats, while I go fetch Diet Cokes:
Swen was a little trooper for the most part; often times, we were able to get him to sleep before the performance began. Other times, he was wide awake and jammin' to the music. Today was the final concert in the series. It was a little sad, I must admit. These concerts have become such a lovely part of my week. We never won the $100 Christmas cash given out at the end of each concert, but we never gave up hope. Every time the announcer seemed stumped over a name, we were sure it had to be Shulamith. It wasn't. Nevertheless, it was a glorious experience every time because honestly, when you combine three such fabulous things as the mall, Christmas music, and anything free, how could it not be?
- a BFF, McDonald's fries, and Diet Cokes
- heated seats in the car, Starbuck's hot chocolate, and a fresh snowy morning
- a walk in the rain, Kitty on a leash, and my favorite Pandora station playing
So popular are these concerts that if you want a seat, you have to arrive an hour early. Here are Shulamith and Swen saving seats, while I go fetch Diet Cokes:
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