Fire and Rain

The weather wasn't quite as bad as they were expecting, thankfully. Although, I haven't seen a really good icestorm since Kansas City (try going through that with a dad who worked for KCP&L).

We've had massive amounts of rain since we've moved here in August - as devoted readers (Bless your poor, bored li'l hearts) can remember from the various basement flooding incidents. But I guess it took a real wintry mix to make the inefficient woodstove that we can't use because of the unsafe, has to be rebuilt from the basement up chimney, to spring a steady trickle. Good thing that brick hearth is pourous, eh?

This is a nightmare. I just want it to stop.

I also want world peace, a trustworthy government and to be a size 8 again but that just ain't gonna happen. I'll settle for the end of the nightmare and a pint of Cherry Garcia, with hot fudge sauce, instead.

Mmmm...hot fudge sauce.

Ice, Ice, Baby

Tomorrow we're supposed to be getting the same nastiness that just hit the South and left 57,000 Atlanta homes without power. (Sharon and Keith need to let me know they're okay.) I thought I'd get another post in before I'm forced out of my home. Should our power go (and the church's very tall maple trees hovering over our property also hang over the power lines - churches make such difficult neighbors), I have no back up anything to heat the house and my kids and I will head to the Holiday Inn or Acapulco, depending on how warm the hotel is and how maxed out the card is - it IS Christmas, after all.

All this music talk of late has got some silly songs running around my head (including that dratted closing song from Blue's Clue's - have I got a problem with this or what?). So let's play Name That Tune.

Name This Tune:

"If there's one thing in my life that's missin'
It's the time that I spend alone."

Name This Tune:
"You want me to act like we've never kissed
You want to forget
Pretend we've never met.
And I've tried and I've tried but I haven't yet..."


Name This Tune:
"Every handout in every town,
Every lock that ain't locked when no one's around."


Name This Tune:
"Es war um 1780
Und es war in Wien
No plastic money anymore"

Name This Tune:
"The last one to know
the last one to show
I was the last one you thought you'd see there."


Name This Tune:
"Fish don't fry in the kitchen
Beans don't burn on the grill"


Extra Credit if you can name all the artists.

Stay warm, y'all!

The Boy Next Door

A very disturbing thing happened today. I was minding my own business, feeding the baby a snack as we watched Blue's Clues, when the next thing I know, I'm thinking, "Gee, that Steve sure is cute. I bet he'd be a fun date." Now where in the Sam Patch did that come from and why Steve?

I like crushes. Crushes are fun, as long as they're harmless and employed properly. As lonely as I am, crushes sometimes are a guilt-free reaction. But I've started to notice a trend. Steven Burns on Blue's Clue's, Matt Fox on Room by Room, a nameless nerd on Block Island, that silly guy on Toby Keith's Big Blue Note video...oh...my...heavens. I'm attracted to geeks! So, I marry muscular, handsome, work-boot wearin' men, but I crush on cute, geeky, intellectual geeks? When did this happen? How did this happen? Why would this happen?

I started early: Donny Osmond, Parker Stevenson, Brian whatsisname in high school. I've always crushed on gorgeous, "cool" (at the time) guys. I have never dated a less than handsome man in my...hmmm, I better say 'adulthood', and all three of my engagements have been to highly attractive men.

Steve? Matt? Nameless Nerd? Dear Lord, what's next? Will I start buying slide rules and pocket protectors? Hang out in the Terry Pratchett section of the bookstore...wait a minute, I already do that! Arrrrgggghhhhh!

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Jeezum Crow, it's frickin' c-c-c-cold up here!

Does Santa still give coal? I mean, kids today don't even know what coal is or what it's used for. [Me, I know all about its future jewelry applications. Best friends aside...]If he doesn't give coal anymore, what does he give? Heating oil? Kilowatts? Seasoned wood? Nick Lachey CDs? [I was gonna say 'Barry Manilow CDs' but, man, that guy could write the songs. I admit it, 'Week-end in New England' is a sentimental favorite made more poignant with time. And I still remember every word to 'Copacabana'. Hell, what 80's kid doesn't? Test yourself. Sing the song right now and surprise yourself by how much of it you remember. Just like 'Bohemian Rhapsody', some lyrics you just never forget.]

Did I mention it's frickin' cold up here? Geez, at this point I might as well learn the words to "Oh, Canada" cuz it's just like living there, tooks, cross-country skis, French TV and all.

I hate being cold. Hate it.

The Twelve Days of Christmas

So...I finally had some time to myself to sit down and write my little parody (or whatever might come out of my fingers) on the 12 Days of Christmas. First, though, I thought I'd look up the origin of the song in case it sparked any creative fires. No creativity, but I found out a lot I didn't know which I probably should have, being as I served as Musical Director in an Episcopal Church. It has a lot to do with liturgical churches and services. If you didn't grow up in a liturgical church, which I didn't, things like "Epiphany Sunday" and "King's Day" probably don't mean much to you, either. Which, of course, is what the whole darn she-bang is about. The different special "holy days" following Christmas Day. And not 12 in a row, either. Then, being the info weenie I am, I felt compelled to identify all 12 days of Christmas. So far, I have only been able to identify nine, and I think I'm cheating with Adent - which the Orthodox churches don't have anyway! There's three Sundays in Advent leading up to Christmas (a partridge in a pair tree, two turtle doves and three French hens), there's Christmas Sunday (four calling birds) and Jan 1 commemorates Jesus' circumcision - oh no, you read me right! (five golden rings. Huh.)Then you get Epiphany Sunday (six geese a-laying), The Baptism of Our Lord Sunday (seven swans a swimming), The Presentation (eight maids a-milking), and Transfiguration Day (nine ladies dancing). So where are the days for leaping lords (which is probably King's Day), piper's piping (Celtic Heretic Day?) or drummer's drumming (Burn the Celtic Heretic Day?)?

All this to say that I have failed to rise to the challenge set before me. I let my own easily distracted and somewhat unfocused mind prevent me from achieving a little parody on how a true love really would have sent 12 masseurs massaging(preferrably tall, handsome and mute), 11 hookahs smoking, 10 Chippendales lap-dancing, 9 bellydancing lessons, 8 Merry Maids a-cleanin', 7 hours in a jacuzzi, 6 goose-necked reading lamps, one big-honkin' platinum ring encrusted with five diamonds (and some sapphires, since I'm partial to those), four 140 minute calling cards for my trac phone, three French Cornish hens with an orange glaze and wild rice and almonds, two turtle waxes that I don't have to do myself and a copy of The Partridge Family's "I Think I Love You". Now THAT's true love!

Ta-Da!