Photo Friday: Run, Run Rudolph!

My thinking is, if you must drive a minivan (and since making a child run alongside a smaller vehicle might be amusing but also considered abusive, I must) then you should at least have some fun with it. I figured that having flames painted on the sides might be a little too permanent. Hence, the reindeer antlers and shiny nose.

It's great. Except for when I forget that they are attached to my car and wonder why people are staring at me while I'm driving.

Now I'll have to be on the lookout for bunny ears and buck teeth come springtime. You know...so that I can be the Easter Bunny van.

Yeah. Maybe not.

The Bleachers Are Alive With The Sound Of Muuuuuusic!!

Last night we attended my seventh grader's winter band concert. Scratch that--her first ever band concert. In our current school district, you can start band in 6th grade. Due to various things like a partial year of homeschooling and moving schools, Maggie didn't have the chance to start band last year, so she started this year. In her school of approximately 1,000 7th and 8th graders there are five bands: beginner, concert, varsity, symphonic, and jazz. So, there are lots of kids in band. Lots. Guess how many are in her beginning band? G'head. Guess.

Did you guess more than 100? Well if you did, you'd be DEAD. WRONG. There are 11 students in the beginning band. E-l-e-v-e-n. And they have been playing a band instrument for somewhere around 18 weeks. And they ROCKED, I tell you. (Of course, I think that the alto saxophones were by far the best, but I might be a wee bit biased.) The beginning band went first and played three songs and aside from a little problem with the rhythm in one wee section of the first song, they really surprised me. I mean, I don't know if you've ever actually listened to a beginning band, but usually there are an awful lot of squeaks and squawks and sometimes precious little that can actually sound like music. But this group has worked really hard and had some really good instruction and they did a great job.

Maggie was kind of nervous as she and her fellow alto sax player had to play several measures all by themselves. Yeah, they were a sax section of two. They played well and she seemed to have fun. She later laughed about the band's trouble with the rhythm and I told her about how our 7th grade band, in which I played the flute (poorly, I might add) mutilated "Alexander's Ragtime Band" making it sound more like a round than it was meant to. I told her that someday at her own child's band concert she would relive that moment just like I did and it would be fabulous. But in her memory she wouldn't be wearing a plaid wool skirt, ruffled shirt with a ribbon tie, and Yo-Yo shoes (remember those?!?) like I was in mine.

The other bands were great as well. One of the bands played a selection called "Santa at the Symphony." It was a mash up of classical music (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, Beethoven's 5th, etc.) and some old standby Christmas music (Jingle Bells, Silent Night, etc.) and it was really wonderful. Then the jazz band played a couple of songs. In one, they had 14--that's right, fourteen--students who wanted to solo. Not only that, they improvised their solos. That's some pretty great stuff, right there. Junior high students who not only want to do a solo in front of parents and peers, but they have the guts to make it up on the spot. Oh, and they were great! I suck at improvising in nearly any shape or form, so this was quite impressive to me. And it made me remember sitting through my older brother's stage band concerts. Folks, I had a big ol' goofy grin on my face all through that song.

Also, I am a soft-hearted cupcake because I almost cried. I have some weird freakish thing that developed after I had kids. (Yes, I am totally blaming them!) I cannot watch children perform music of any type without getting weepy. I don't know why. There is just something so pure and joyful about it that it puts my tearducts into hyperdrive. So there I was with a big ol' goofy grin on my face and my eyes were about to start leaking. It was then that I was glad my daughter couldn't see me because I knew that she would have been mortified in a way that only a 13 year old can.

Finally, the symphonic band played and that's when Mary looked at me and said, "Wow! Listen to that! Real music!" I laughed and shushed her and enjoyed their selections. They closed with a sing-a-long and I nearly wet my pants. There is nothing quite like hearing a band of junior high students accompany a gym full of children and adults while they sing "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" and "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." It brought back so many memories and it (along with the very cold temperatures here) put me in a Christmas mood. In fact, as we were waiting for the bleachers to clear, I was standing there singing and just reveling in the joy of the evening.

Aaaaand then my husband tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Hey! No singing! Concert's over!"

Party pooper.

Discoveries

It was a busy, busy weekend. It involved several short trips with short people to very crowded stores, a rather longish trip with a tall, handsome person to very crowded stores, cleaning, cooking, tile, and a teenager with upper respiratory crud. Good times. Do I know how to live it up, or what?

I also made some discoveries. These discoveries involved um, let's just say, things that were not helpful or didn't end well. I'll share with you what I've learned because I'm helpful and live to make your life easier. And if I know what doesn't work, then I can be like those flashing signs on the interstate informing you of trouble ahead so that you may avoid the problems. You're welcome. What can I say? I'm a giver.

Discovery #1--When your computer is being wonky, it is not helpful to pound the keyboard in frustration. Sure, it may make you feel better in the short term, but I can nearly guarantee that your computer will hold a grudge against you and then make your life miserable.

Discovery #2--Asking your very tired, very stressed out wife if she is having PMS is a lot like shaking a stick in the face of a rabid badger. Horrible idea. This is a situation that is bound to end badly. I might suggest that a better strategy is to hand your wife a glass of wine, offer to put whiny children to bed, and then discuss how you may try to help ease her holiday stress. An alternative strategy is to keep your mouth shut. It is never a good idea to invoke those three letters, because if she does have PMS, then you may get your face torn off. If she doesn't then she may just lose her mind when you want to blame life stresses on PMS.

Discovery #3--Telling your parent "he/she started it" when they come to stop World War III will not garner you any accolades or get you out of trouble. In fact, it may make your parent slap their forehead V8 style and wonder what kind of future you have ahead of you.

Discovery #4-- Baking a delicious dessert like, say, a Bailey's Irish Cream Bundt cake and then telling your family that you didn't make it for them will make them peevish. And really, you'll hate yourself a little too.

Discovery #5-- Waiting too long to fix dinner for everyone because you are not hungry will only increase the already over-the-top whining and move the exaggerated pleas of "I'm starving" to overly melodramatic stomach clutching and whimpering.

Discovery #6-- You will discover just how much you use a room when it is no longer available to you. For instance, if you are unable to enter or leave the house through, say, a mudroom because the mudroom floor is being tiled, you will find yourself needing to leave the house approximately 7,432 times during the weekend.

And finally, Helpful Discovery #6--Surprisingly, this is something that ended well. Watching Will Ferrell in "Elf" while snuggled in pajammies and sipping an adult beverage of some sort, soothes the savage beast and makes up for all of the discoveries you made. I simply cannot watch a grown man in an elf costume say lines like 'You smell like beef and cheese' or 'This is Buddy the elf, what's your favorite color?' without laughing until my spleen hurts.

Now, my sweetlings I hope you have learned from my missteps. Go forth and goof up no more. At the very least, save Elf on the DVR and keep your liquor cabinet stocked.

Photo Friday: Mary's Song

"My soul glorifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my
Savior,
for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call
me blessed,
for the Mighty One has done great
things for me--
holy is his name.
His mercy extends to those who fear
him,
from generation to generation.
He has performed mighty deeds
with his arm;
he has scattered those who are
proud in their inmost
thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from
their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good
things
but has sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
to Abraham and his descendants
forever,
even as he said to our fathers."

Who You Gonna Call? Stressbusters!

This is my no-fail list of some of the things that will make me smile or brighten my mood when I am stressed or feeling blue:

Light a candle. I love the light and flicker they give but I absolutely adore the smell when you put them out. It smells of celebrations and good memories. It never fails to lift my spirits.

Page through picture albums or look at my pictures on the computer. Seeing my family and friends and other photos I've taken makes me happy.

Bird watch. There's just something about sitting at my window and watching the birds that eases my worries. I guess maybe because I know they don't worry because their Provider has promised to watch over them. The birds are always a good reminder for me.

Listen to music. It's very hard to feel poorly when U2's "Desire" is cranked to 11 on the speakers.

Take pictures. When I am looking through the lens, I am focused on my subject rather than myself. Sometimes taking my focus off of me, me, me makes me feel better.

Perform a small act of kindness for someone else. It could be as simple as holding a door for someone or letting the person behind you in the check-out go ahead of you. It's that focus thing again.

Write. I have been known to write pages and pages of stream of consciousness stuff and then run it all through the shredder. It's amazing how freeing just pouring out all of the junk and then destroying it can be.

Call a friend. There's that me-focus thing again. I know that when I call a loved one and find out how things are going in their lives, I will come away from that conversation lighter.

Pray. This may not be the first thing I listed, but sometimes it is the first thing I do.

Nap. Yeah. I love to sleep and sometimes a 30 minute power nap is enough to jump start my batteries.

Clean. I know that I've shocked you with this one. But if I'm feeling particularly under the gun about something, cleaning and tidying a room not only helps me focus by decluttering my space, but it gives me a sense of accomplishment when it may be the ONLY thing I accomplish in a day.

Play with someone. Sometimes it's a child, sometimes it's the dog, but either way I'm in a better place when the play is over.

Watch television. I don't watch a lot of t.v. but sometimes when I am needing a lift, I can find something that is guaranteed to make me laugh--The Andy Griffith Show, Cheers, Seinfeld, 30 Rock, or even Barney Miller. (I was too young to appreciate this show when I was younger. Cracks me up now, though. I can see why my parents liked it.)

So there you have it. Some of the things I do when I'm stressed. Right now I'm thinking of doing them all. Ahem.

What do you do to help lift your spirits or ease your tension? Does it involve chocolate? If it does, will you invite me?

They'll Fight Over These

So yesterday's post had me lamenting all things home improvement. But it also had me mention Oreo balls. Twice. If you've never heard of these little morsels, I am about to become your best friend. After this post, you will name your children after me. Your children's children will speak of me in hushed, reverent tones. Why? Because I am going to share.

Not physically. I will not be sending you Oreo balls. But! I will show you how I make them and then you can make them too. See how I am affected by this Christmas stuff? I am sharing. And being nice. The cockles of my Grinchy heart are all warm. Or something.

Anyway! On to the good stuff!

First you will need a package of these

and an 8 oz. brick of this stuff.

I know that it sounds kind of weird, but trust me. They go together like peanut butter and chocolate, salt and pepper, cheese and crackers, Oreos and milk, cream cheese and um....anything.

Put the cookies in a blender or food processor and then pulverize them. I usually apologize to the Oreos and I tell them that I love them and that what I'm doing hurts me more than it hurts them and that they might feel "crumby" now, but that the end result will be genius. Yes. I talk to my cookies. What? Stop looking at me like that.

Then add in the lovely, lovely cream cheese and pulse everything together until you have, um a black gooey dough-like substance that you cannot possibly imagine eating. Oh, but you will, my sweetlings. You will. And you will love it!

Next, you will form little dough-like substance balls. Don't make them more than an inch around.(These look frosty, but they are not. This is just the result of a dark kitchen and a hyperactive camera flash.) After you've made a trayful (yes, it makes a lot) put the tray in the refrigerator for awhile so those yummy things can cool down and set up a bit. Because next? Next you will be giving those delicious things a bath. In white chocolate. Mmmmm....If someone gave me a bath in white chocolate I wouldn't know whether to be grossed out or resort to self-cannibalism.

Okay. So. Hello, chilled dough-like balls. Howdy, melted white chocolate.It's time to be formally introduced. Give those Oreo balls a good dunking, let the chocolate drip off a bit and then set them aside to set up.

And the end result?

Mmmmmm......Something that you will have to hide from your family and yourself or they will be eaten before you can say "Wow, that was easy!" These little babies freeze very well. I have a Ziploc bag or two in my freezer awaiting my holiday parties.

Assuming that I'm not too stressed out by home improvement projects that I eat them all.

Home Improvement Hasn't Improved My Disposition

I looked at my calendar and there are 18 days until Christmas. Eighteen. That's two weeks and four days. That's two weekends. Well, for us, it's one weekend, because we will be at a family Christmas for one of those weekends and then family and friends will be here, in our home, on Christmas Eve. And my man and I both have to work. And children have various appointments and programs. So it's really like four days. There are four days left until Christmas. Well, in Sara Time anyway. All I'm saying is, time is short.

And do you know what we're doing here in this old new house of ours? If you guessed home improvement work, you'd be a million dollar winner. If I had a million dollars to give to a winner. Which I don't. And if I did, I'd have totally spent some of it on hiring out this work.

Now I don't want to dis the dear husband, because he is doing most excellent work and saving us cartloads---cartloads, I say!--of cash, but I do want to know what the chromosomal anomaly is that causes menfolk to begin a major project before a major holiday. What is that all about anyway? Is it some learning disability concerning time? Because you know that when they say, "Oh I'll have it done in a few hours/days," you should get your magnifying glass out and read the very fine print between those lines, my friends. You know what that fine print says? It says: "Beware of the aforementioned statement. Your beloved is wildly misled and sweetly optimistic. Project X will take approximately 7 times longer and require 4 more trips to the home improvement store than stated."

I am thrilled that the project has begun. Really. I am. Because if it is never started, it cannot be finished. (I might have read that on a fortune cookie.) But what was wrong with doing it in oh, say October? Oh yes. I remember. There was football every breathing minute. It's just, well, my mudroom has vomited stuff all over my dining room. You know the dining room? One of the rooms that people will occupy on Christmas Eve? It's the room that is currently housing approximately 7.2 metric tons of crap from the mudroom because the mudroom is getting painted. And new flooring. All courtesy of my very own handyman.

He has worked hard for two weekends painting the ceiling and walls and laying cement board on the floor. Next weekend, God willin' and the creek don't rise, he will install the tile. And then, everything will fall to me. I will have to toss stuff and organize stuff and move stuff back into the mudroom. All while baking and shopping and wrapping and cleaning to get ready for Christmas. This is all in addition to working, shuttling children, and doing my regular cooking, cleaning and laundry. (Who am I kidding? If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know that laundry will come last. After I've cleaned toilets with toothbrushes and picked lint from the carpets. Laundry??? HAHAHAHA!!! I crack myself up.) Oh! And reflection. Gotta fit that in somewhere, right?

Oh. Poor little Sara.Woe is her! Yes, I know. I'm having myself a bit of an anxiety-induced pity party. I know that things will get done. I know that I will have to prioritize and delegate and do what I can. I know that I will have to let some things go. (That should be some show--come and watch the Control Freak let some things go!) I know that the people who come here on Christmas Eve will not give a flying fig if there are dust bunnies or smudged mirrors or if I don't get the Oreo balls made. (Actually, if I don't get the Oreo balls made, there truly might be a problem. People wait for those suckers all year. Note to self: let the mirrors go, make the Oreo balls!) My point is, the people coming to our home are coming because they love us and they want to spend time with us--and we them. They are not going to care if my home doesn't look like a movie set. And if they do, they love us enough that they would never say so.

I need to count myself lucky to have such a wonderful home, even if it does need quite a bit of work. I need to count myself lucky that my husband is so very capable when it comes to DIY jobs. I need to count myself lucky that my friends and family are so understanding. (Except when it comes to Oreo balls. They are merciless when it comes to those.) I guess what I'm saying is that I need to build a bridge and get over myself already.

I've heard that ice cream is invaluable when it comes to getting over oneself. So if you need me, I'll just be over here cooking and cleaning and baking and reflecting and getting over myself whilst consuming mass quantities of mint chocolate chip ice cream.