It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

That was my daughter’s sassy little note to me. All in good fun, she was referring to the ever-popular “Music Party,” which will be on hiatus this year. It’s been a tradition since my children took up musical instruments in grade school. I started it so that other kids like mine (and me) could play the easy carols on their instruments, and because I grew up with my hundreds of relatives singing carols at my Grandma and Grandpa’s, and I missed that. (It seemed like hundreds, probably only 75 or so.)

At one point in the party history, we had two trumpets, two violins, accordion, saxophone, two guitars. As a by-product I now have myriad music stands. Anyone who didn’t have an instrument knew they would get the finger cymbals, cowbells, or drum. Lots of great food and cheerful banter.

I will miss the noise – not just the belting out of the dreaded “The 12 Days of Christmas,” or, me insisting on singing all five verses of “Good King Wenceslaus,” or me making my daughter sing, “Breath of Heaven.” I’ll miss the camaraderie, of course. Music illuminates the joy of the season.

We’ll rely on the songs of the angels this year, angelic and unfailing. (And I may be singing loud enough for all to hear anyway – ala Jovie in “Elf.”)

It’s that time of the year – everything looks dusty. I know it’s always dusty, but the angle of the sun at this very point in times illuminates the dust in a special way. That’s a contronym, correct? I’m dusting to remove the dust, which has deposited a dusting.

Anyway, that’s the schedule for today. Boring. Necessary. And holy. That’s why Jesus laid low for 30 years, doing his daily work at his father’s side. Showing us that our chores are holy. Off I go!

This cracked me up. Thanks, Palysun! I know it’s many people’s favorite song, and I really don’t know how this part of the song is written, but I did always question “The Little Drummer Boy” in the lineup of carols. Peaceful slumber to all of those newborns out there during this holy season – and the rest of us awake at 4:30 a.m.

Yes, it’s less than a week until Christmas and I am still hanging some lights outside. (The nativity remains unplugged. Apparently, it really is a little too challenging for me to locate an extension cord.)

So, in my last-minute desire to throw more joy onto the porch, I checked the strands, (only two) and swiftly wrapped the diminutive trees in the freezing temps. Only one works. Now what?

Given that this other illustrious example of my motivation exists, I know exactly what will happen.

I have had the timer for the Christmas treeing gently placed by the outlet for the past three weeks. What do I do? I just keep plugging and unplugging the tree at night. I would have set the timer, but then I’d be missing out on some valuable stretching exercise.

The outdoor lights will be my next workout. I’ll just go out and forcefully jiggle them every evening until they obey.

I am here to state that either works on your head.

Yes, I was preparing for a little outing yesterday, when I thought to primp a bit before the general public was shaken by my appearance. To my credit, both the hairspray and deodorant I’m using are in blue cans. Alas. Apparently I haven’t used hairspray in quite awhile.

I’m not sure hairspray will work for deodorant, but the general application of deodorant might help me to lengthen the time between hair washing? Just imagine the things we would not have known without this opportunity to spend less time primping and more time watching television? At least I’m not drinking gin for breakfast.

I did properly apply the deodorant this morning.

My sister and her utterly crafty nature must have sensed my itchiness. Perhaps she could no longer endure my whining. Perhaps she was tired of traveling through the innermost recesses of my thoughts and truly wished me “out of here.” (The recesses are a little drafty.)

To brighten my mood, she created and sent me this canvas, which resides on the kitchen counter, reminding me to de-sassify occasionally.

De-sassifying is best done when friends send you travel inanity such as this:

That cracked me up. Un-sassified for today.

One of my quirky friends is growing oranges. (I’m surprised it’s not peppers?) Look closely. This photo is not from a Florida orange grove, but rather her bathroom. I’d say she has a good glass of juice right there.

It’s made me reconsider my bathroom remodel. Perhaps I need to make room for a fruit tree rather than a towel cabinet? Towels are so blasé after all. Everyone expects to find them in a bathroom – but an orange tree – now that’s dazzling!

My bathroom is going to be blasé with a towel cabinet.

Sitting on the sofa after dinner, I just couldn’t take it anymore. Done with television, tired of being cold, in need of accomplishment. “Let’s go to Home Depot.”

Monday night is the primo evening for errands. No one graced the home improvement giant, and we were waited on in every department by people who seemed genuinely happy to have someone to assist. (I did learn that 45 minutes is apparently my limit there.) We left with an appointment for a flooring measure and a package of sawtooth picture hangars, $2.90. Rather satisfying.

Upon leaving, my husband noticed my fuel level, which is once again approaching the danger zone. (Apparently I can’t fuel up with more than 45 miles left in the tank either?) We decided to continue the fun and fill ‘er up, which was conveniently located by the grocery. We additionally piled on the excitement by purchasing eggs, bread, butter, milk, and that other staple in life, cream of tartar.

Leaving the lot, I suggested we drive through the housing development with the ostentatious lighting display set to music. It’s always such a festive and fun thing to do – sit in your car and watch the lights dance in rhythm with the Christmas tunes. However, my driver said, “We can’t have all the fun in one evening.”

I can’t wait to see what tonight brings!

The outdoor nativity I own is supposed to be illuminated. I vowed to display it nearly three weeks ago. I got as far as setting it out, but getting an extension cord apparently was beyond my abilities. Perhaps I should have opted for this less taxing display?

Oh, I just wanted to wait until there was snow on the ground, freezing cold temps, and a chance to run the cord across ice. Everyone needs a little danger in their day, right, Sis?

The squash at the grocery store probably shouldn’t be a friend. However, when you find yourself chatting to the squash bin and informing one of them that they shall be coming home with you, well, you realize you will have new habits to relinquish upon unmasking. You really can’t promise every fruit and vegetable a home. Additionally, we don’t eat our friends.

My neighbor is contemplating a dog after she attempted to converse with the television set. Looking at my plants, I long for the days when all I did was ignore them. Now I am attempting to win their friendship on a weekly basis, with actual water and cheerful banter. This is setting them up for a fall when I return to “survival of the fittest” mode with them.

True friends are still true friends though, and hanging with them in person is my wish for Christmas.