We got our tree tonight. I dashed home from work as quick as I could and met Richard at the local tree farm, where we usually grab a long-handled saw and hike all the way to the back of the farm to the tiny little patches where the tree varieties we prefer are grown. But while waiting for Richard to arrive (since he got stuck behind a very long train), I noticed they had two trees near the front entrance, with a sign saying ‘will hang ornaments for good home’ and an extremely reduced price. And try as I might, I could not find anything wrong with them. In fact, they were both exactly the sort of tree we would normally pick. So when he finally made it to the farm, we got someone to untie one of the trees and we checked it out, and just like that, it was ours. Turns out someone bought it, took it home, decorated it, and then found out that the wife was horribly allergic to it. So they brought it back (all in the space of today) and the tree farm put a perfectly lovely ten footer on sale for the insane price of $15, and they were more than willing to hack off the bottom few feet (since we only have eight foot ceilings), and then we stuffed it (literally) into Richard’s car, and off we went back home. Fastest Christmas tree hunt ever.

We set up the tree in its stand, which I then filled to the brim with water, and we ate pizza while watching Friday’s episode of Battlestar Galactica (have I mentioned recently how very much I *love* having a DVR?), and then we dragged all the Christmas decorations down from the attic and Richard put on some holiday music that included bagpipes and songs from the Very Scary Solstice CD, and we commenced with the decorating.

A number of years ago we bought a gold wire star for the top of our tree, but we have never once been able to use it. It is too big and too heavy for most of our trees, and it never quite shows up against the white walls, and it just hasn’t worked out. So normally we either go (tree) topless or we throw on the green elf hat and call it festive. But this year the elf hat didn’t quite work for me, which was all for the best anyway, because when an Elder God wants to sit on top of your tree, why, you have no choice but to let him.

As you can see, our Christmas tree has been blessed with a very special visitor this year (normally he’s a little shy and tends to lurk on top of the grandmother clock in the dining room).

Here is a closer look at our rather unconventional tree topper. Richard grouped all the little gold reindeer ornaments around him….or rather, what I *meant* to say is that he is surrounded by his team of degenerate servitor caribou, blowing his sparkly gold horn of cheer.

After all, nothing says holiday spirit quite like a tentacled Elder God perched on your tree.

Tis the season for Holidailies

Aside from caramel apples and apple pie and braving scary shopping malls to find black jackets, and rearranging furniture, this weekend was also about spending time with friends and exchanging ornaments and also, which I am sure will surprise no one, about yarn.

Friday was First Friday Craft Night at my knitting mom’s house, so my mom and I headed off to join in the fun. Since this is the December gathering, we had our annual ornament exchange, so Friday afternoon I zipped off to Michael’s to find two reasonably priced ornaments for my mom and I to contribute. I also decided that, now that it is December and Christmas is looming, I should stop with the rabid knitting of socks already, and actually start on the lace shawl that I am supposed to be making for my little sister. She picked out the pattern and she picked out the yarn, so it’s not going to be a surprise (and I prefer it that way because if I am going to spend a huge amount of time knitting lace out of slippery laceweight alpaca on tiny needles, I would prefer it be something she actually *wants*), but it would be nice if it was actually finished in time for the gift giving event, and even better, it would be good if, just once, I was not staying up until the wee hours of Christmas morning frantically finishing my gift knitting. So I stuffed both ornaments into gift bags and I hastily printed out the pattern charts, and I picked up my mom and we drove off to my knitting mom’s house and then, because I am ever so slightly insane, I cast on for a fiddly lace project while at a noisy gathering of about a dozen women, and somehow did not manage to screw up for at least four rows. The fact that I had to rip out a few rows on Saturday morning because I did not bother to read the pattern all the way through does not count.

Anyway. The ornament exchange was fun, even though I ended up with something that I would never in a million years buy for myself because it is not remotely my style (so I suspect it will eventually end up brightening someone else’s day, after they have purchased it for a ridiculously low sum from Goodwill), but that is okay, because the point wasn’t about the ornaments at all; it was about the chatting and laughing and eating of cookies, and the fun.

Sunday afternoon was another holiday exchange, although this time it was an exchange of yarn. In the spirit of holiday fun, the new yarn shop hosted a white elephant yarn swap, where we were all to rummage through our stash and wrap up something we didn’t want, then bring it in and see if we’d end up with something we liked better. Conveniently, they also set aside a bag for any yarn that ended up unclaimed, to be donated to local schools, or somewhere else that might be in need of some free crafting supplies.

We sat around for a few hours and we chatted and laughed and met new people and ate cookies, and checked out what everyone else was working on, and had a wonderful time with the yarn swap. The price range was $10, but I suspect that every bag on the table was worth quite a bit more than that. It was obvious people had had fun going through their stash, pulling out the things they had bought at one time, but never ended up using. And for the most part, I think almost everyone ended up going home with something they liked much better than what they’d come with. After all, it is always fun to acquire new yarn for the stash, and it is even better when that new yarn comes completely free.

Tis the season for Holidailies

It occurred to me, at the little impromptu rehearsal we had on Wednesday night, that with the concert coming up quickly, it would be a good idea if I knew what I was supposed to be wearing. From the pictures on the website of the group in previous concerts, I knew that the dress code was all black, but I didn’t know if there were any other rules I needed to be aware of. It turns out it was good I asked, since part of the attire is a black jacket, and while I already own black pants and black shoes, I do not, nor have I ever owned a black jacket. A few of the other women noted that they just used a black suit jacket but I have so far successfully avoided the need to either wear or own a suit (and hope to continue the trend as long as possible).

I knew this weekend would be my only chance to go find a suitable jacket, and I figured that with all the holiday attire on sale right now in the department stores, I might actually have a decent shot at finding something. So on the way home from Apple Hill Richard and I did the unthinkable. We took a detour off the freeway and went to a mall. A very large shopping mall. A very large, very crowded shopping mall on this, the first full weekend of December. And it occurred to us, as we approached the crowded parking lot with throngs of other cars and a feeling of impending dread, that we have not stepped foot in an actual mall during the holiday season in years. Ever since the advent of online shopping we have done a majority of our gift shopping over the internet, and when we do have to venture forth to an actual brick and mortar store, we usually go to non-mall locations, where there’s less likelihood of being overrun by impatient drivers, overtired children, and throngs of shoppers who are filled with something that doesn’t look remotely like holiday cheer.

Luckily, despite our worries to the contrary, it was a nearly painless mall shopping experience. For one thing, we managed to score a parking space before we’d even completed one circle around the lot. For another, we never had to go into the actual mall itself. And for a third, and best of all, we managed to find me the perfect black jacket in the very first store we entered, and for a price that wasn’t nearly as horrible as I was expecting it to be. And as if all of that wasn’t enough, let us not forget the icing on the cake – the jacket does *not* have to be dry cleaned as I had feared it might, since the necessity of dry cleaning is a state which is the kiss of death for any item that is intended to become part of my wardrobe.

There is still the possibility that I may have to go brave the department store madness again, since there seems to be confusion on what color shirt we’ll be wearing underneath the (newly acquired) black jacket, but I am far less concerned about being able to find a suitable top than I was for finding the jacket. And while we were there, I also brought a black shirt, just in case, since that’s what’s been the attire for previous concerts. After all, if I don’t end up needing it, I can always return it. One of these years. When I work up the willpower to return to the mall again. Preferrably *not* during the busiest shopping season of the year.

Tis the season for Holidailies

This morning, as I was poking around in some older entries (something I like to do from time to time since my long term memory has the capacity of a seive, and I like to remind myself of when things happened) and I stumbled across a reference to the trip we took last year, and it suddenly struck me that this weekend is the one we’d set aside for this year’s pilgrimage.

Every year I go around in circles in my head whether or not it is worth it to do this, since it is so far away, and we only ever go to a few places, and if one looks at it in purely logical terms, it really makes no sense at all to drive that far just for some caramel apples and some pie. But even the most logical and scientific of us can be struck dumb by the overwhelming drive to maintain a tradition, and besides, those are the best damn caramel apples ever, and also some pretty amazing pie. And also we are running low on mulling spices and there is only one place I have ever found mulling spices that I absolutely adore, and that is up in Apple Hill. So I zipped off to wake up Richard, and off we headed to Apple Hill.

It is sometimes hard to predict when would be the best time to go. If you go too early in the season, it’s really warm up there, and crowded. If you go too close to Halloween and don’t get there right when places are opening, the crowds can be unbearable. If you go too late in the season most of the ranches have shut down, unless they’re selling Christmas trees, and you miss out on all the good stuff. So we always eyeball the calendar and try to figure out how to avoid the crowded times, yet still work it in on a day when it’ll be cold enough, not too crowded, and oh yes, on a weekend where we actually have nothing planned.

This year I think we hit it a little late. The weather was perfect – cold and sunny, and even a little bit of snow on the ground in a few spots, and there weren’t many crowds, but on the other hand, a number of the sites we occasionally visit had already closed for the season, and the number of craft booths was much smaller than we’re used to. Nevertheless, our quest for perfect apple goodness was fulfilled. We bought caramel apples (and saved them for later because we were still too full from breakfast on the way up). We checked out all the varieties of apples and decided to give the Pink Ladies a try; and liked them so much we ended up buying a huge bag of them for later snacking (and possibly also to be turned into apple-date butter in the crockpot, if I can get around to doing all the prep work beforehand to get that started). We even bought one of those little gadgets that peels, slices, and cores the apple all at once because it occurred to me that this would lead to a higher likelihood of getting apples into the crockpot and the dehydrator if we could prepare them faster (and it also might lead to more pies too).

We got our pie, swimming in warm cider sauce and topped with a huge mound of vanilla ice cream, although this year we finally wised up and bought only one to share, instead of buying one each and being unable to finish it, even though we would stuff ourselves uncomfortably full in the trying. And we also got our mulling spices, since luckily that place was still open (although that is where we also saw most of the snow).

So now there are apples on the counter, and caramel apples in the refrigerator for later (possibly breakfast tomorrow, because what else would start the day just right than tart, crunchy apple covered in buttery caramel?), and the next time either of us goes to the grocery store, there will be cider to mull on the stove one evening this week, perhaps to accompany a little holiday decorating if we can get around to it.

Tis the season for Holidailies

Now that I have successfully posted every single day of November for NaBloPoMo, it’s time to dive right into Holidailies for December. And to start the month off with a bang, this morning Richard and I completely rearranged the living room.

I know this doesn’t sound very exciting, but trust me when I say that it is. I have hated the layout in the living room pretty much since we moved in, but the location of the cable hook-up for the television (and yes, since we had this house custom built, the location is entirely our fault) has meant that we were really restricted in how we could lay out the furniture. Consequently, the living room has always felt small and just a bit claustrophobic, and when we have guests over, they have always been far more likely to congregate in the breakfast nook, preferring to perch awkwardly on wooden chairs and stairs instead of having using the more comfortable seating in the very uninspiring living room.

I used to think the reason I didn’t much like the living room was because it was just such a small and awkwardly shaped room, and because all the furniture in there (with the exception of the piano, the lovely parson’s table, and the mirror over the fireplace) is either second-hand, or cheap and crappy stuff that would look more at place in a college student’s first apartment than in the home of two professional adults who are in their late 30’s. But the more I stewed over the whole issue, the more I realized that it was more than just the collection of ugly, mismatched furniture; it was the way it was laid out. The very first thing that had to be done in order to fix it was to move the outlet for the cable. And that task was accomplished this morning by a very nice young man from DISH.

Shortly after he left, the rest of the task was accomplished, which was mainly dragging all the furniture all over the room (extremely easy to do when you have no carpetting, by the way) until suddenly a miracle occurred and instead of having a teeny tiny awkwardly shaped, cramped living room, it magically morphed into a living room with more open space than I had ever thought possible – a living room that I actually want to go sit in; a room that has plenty of space for the niece and nephews to play in when they come to visit, and space for the whole family to gather and open presents when they all descend on our house next year.

There is still, of course, the matter of the cheap, ugly furniture. But it doesn’t feel like so much of a problem any more. For the first time in years I have a living room that I actually like.

Tis the season for Holidailies

I might be glad to see the end of November, and thus the end of NaBloPoMo, except that, as usual, I signed up for Holidailies, so this daily posting thing will continue for another 31 days. I will leave it to you readers to determine whether or not that is a good thing.

After Monday night’s rehearsal, when we were all very cold and very tired and most important of all, very frustrated, several of us decided to get together for a little sectional rehearsal and see what we could accomplish. Yesterday afternoon I sat down at the piano and went through all my songs again, and this evening my coworker (who is also in the group) and I headed over to one of the other group members’ house, and five of us went through the songs.

We didn’t have a director, except for one woman who kept rudimentary time for us, although that didn’t work quite so well in the pieces where the time signature switches, sometimes almost every measure, and we only had an electronic keyboard to pick out the notes we were struggling with, or to at least get us started in the right place, and we didn’t always have all the parts represented for every song. But what we did have was a very productive rehearsal; so productive, in fact, that at the end, we went next door and did a rather impromptu seranade of the hostess’s next door neighbors, just because we finally had it all down.

There are still some rough spots that I know I need to keep on working on, and I do not doubt that we still have quite a bit of work to go over at next Monday’s rehearsal, but at this point I am feeling far more confident about the upcoming concert than I was on Monday. It’s reassuring to know that I’m not the only one who was feeling a little overwhelmed.

I found this here and thought it was interesting, so decided to play along. I will note, should those of you have a hard time reading this, that I actually made an attempt to write slowly. There’s a reason I use a computer to take notes nowadays – at least then I have a better chance of reading what I wrote later!

I have been singing along to the practice CD for the choral group in my car pretty much every time I drive somewhere for the past week or so, and a number of times I have sat down at the piano with my music to pick out the parts I’m having a harder time with, and when I do those things, I feel as if I am getting the parts down; they are sticking inside my head and I can do them right. But then I get to rehearsal and it feels as if all that work was just brushed off to the side and I am fumbling for notes in places where I *know* the darn notes by now, and I just feel so frustrated and worse, I am disappointed in annoyed at myself for not nailing the notes each and every time I make a mistake.

It is, unfortunately, no consolation that I am not the only one who is having just as much difficulty; that even the best singers in the group are still struggling in the hardest of songs. I know I have to work harder; we all have to work harder, and the concert date is fast approaching, and even though I know that it *will* come together, because that is always the way of these things and because I suspect I am not the only one who tends to shine under pressure, it still is a bitter pill to swallow. It is easy to ignore how much I have managed to learn in such a short time and how far I have learned to extend my voice beyond what has been my comfort zone for far too many years, in order to focus more sharply on how much I still have yet to learn.

Tonight, at rehearsal, several of us decided that we needed to schedule some extra practice time among ourselves, to focus on the parts we’re struggling the most on. And rehearsal ran nearly an hour late tonight, but we stayed because we needed to; because singing in a group is still far better than picking out your part at home on a piano, alone.

This is a NaBloPoMo entry

It is a bit ironic, somehow, that my bout of winter cold/flu/whatever (and I am leaning more toward flu, since there was a fever involved) should finally clear up just about the time that the holiday week is over. We never did manage to get around to having our rousing game of Balderdash with my parents and sisters and husbands once the kids went to sleep, because by that time each evening I was usually started to fade, and no amount of cold medication could counter that, and I regret that, because getting all of us together to play Balderdash usually results in all of us, at one point during the game, laughing so hard that we are teary-eyed and breathless. Luckily it appears the entire family will be together again for a few days at Christmas, so I am hopeful that we will get a chance to make up for it then.

My little sister and her family flew back to Seattle this morning, and my older sister and her family drove back to Napa as well. So it was back to the normal routine – choir practice, some rather frantic scrambling (on my part) to get ahold of my dad so he would bring the appropriate recorders with him so our group could play (since I did not find out my other tenor player was too sick to be there until this morning), and then furiously knitting away on my sock-in-progress in the very back pew with my knitting mom and Richard and our friend (her daughter) until it was time to go home.

It has been an otherwise rather quiet day. We both headed in to Davis for a few hours – me, so I could pick up a felted hedgehog from the knitting store, where I’d left it for the owner of the Washing Machine of Doom because my own washer had been completely incapable of convincing it to cooperate in the whole felting experience, and Richard, so he could go hang out at Borders and do some writing. I hung out at the knitting store for an hour or so, working on my sock and chatting with the owner, until I reached the sock toe and could not go any further without a darning needle to seam it all together, so that seemed the best time to head off to Borders and find Richard so we could go home.

This past week has already started to feel as if it was a million miles away. Tomorrow it is back to work, back to the usual routine, and, sigh, back to popping decongestants because, as usual, my sinuses hate me and have taken this latest illness as yet another excuse to try to make me feel cruddy for that much longer.

This is a NaBloPoMo entry