This morning was the Christmas pageant at the church. But because there was no rehearsal scheduled for the cantata, and because after last night I desperately wanted a chance to sleep in, we skipped church this morning and decided to be just a little lazy instead.

I woke up before Richard did, and decided to let him sleep a bit longer. So I slipped out of the house and took the recorder music to the church to pass out parts to the two players I knew would be there and would want them to practice before next weekend, and then I picked up pumpkin spice lattes and pastries at Starbucks and came back home. I was intending to surprise Richard with breakfast in bed, but he was up by the time I came back home, so instead we ate breakfast downstairs, where it still smells gloriously like pine and Christmas.

There were things on my To Do list from yesterday that never got done, but I decided they could just wait. My one nod to productivity was to go through my address book and compile a list of everyone we need to send Christmas cards to, and fire off a few emails in the hopes of tracking down street addresses so we know where they can be sent. Otherwise, I spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon either poking around online, or surrounded by cats in bed, knitting.

We drove down to Richard’s parents’ house this afternoon for the annual decorating of the tree – although this year it wasn’t just me climbing back behind the tree to hang ornaments in an attempt to counterbalance the weight of all the stuff in the front. When we were done, the tree looked lovely – very colorful and sparkly and exactly like it should. There was dinner and sparkling apple cranberry cider and chatting and friendly critters demanding pets or attention or someone, anyone, to please-please-please throw the ball, and it was a very nice and relaxing way to finish the weekend.

Tis the season for Holidailies

I made up a list of things I wanted to get done today, and was actually pretty happy to have made it through nearly half of them. The beauty of making lists is that no matter how much is left on them when you are done, you at least have the satisfaction of a visible notification that you did accomplish something that day, even if you had to divide some silly little chore into three list items just to make it seem like more. And the way this week has gone, the sheer fact that I was able to run two loads of dishes through the dishwasher, and one load of laundry through the washer *and* the dryer this morning was actually pretty good.

We decided to do a Starbucks run for breakfast, and then swung by my parents’ house to help my dad install a new garage door opener. This turned out to be far more complicated than any of us had imagined, but after an hour or so – most of which i spent inside chatting with my mom because it turned out to be a two-person job and Richard seemed to be having too much fun getting to play with power tools with my dad for me to interrupt – we finally got the machine hooked onto the ceiling. The remainder of the task involved splcing wires for the remote and installing some lights, but my dad didn’ t need us for that, so we headed home to try to get through a few more chores and inhale some lunch before Richard’s parents arrived. I even had time to write up the arrangement of “He Is Born” for the recorder group (in four parts, complete with descant – my first time actually arranging music instead of just transcribing it, so I am crossing my fingers and my toes that it actually sounds okay once we play it) before giving up on the rest of the list to whip through another few rows of my sister’s lace shawl.

We all headed off to Sacramento almost immediately after Richard’s parents and sister arrived, and easily found parking, which turned out to be a good thing since at that point it hadn’t started pouring rain, like it did a few hours later. We found a Japanese restaurant for dinner, although I had to pretty much inhale mine because by the time they finally brought out our food I only had about ten minutes before I was supposed to be at rehearsal, in preparation for the concert later in the evening.

The rest of the evening was kind of a whirlwind. We ran through the few songs where there were problem spots, and then headed off to a little room in the back, since they started to let people in. By the time we came back, the room was nearly packed, which made us all just a bit giddy to see. The church we rent out to use for practice and concerts is located right next to the Convention Center in Sacramento, where they were holding performances of The Nutcracker this weekend. Plus I guess this is also the weekend there were a bunch of art gallery events, and a few other large performances, all in the same area, so to get that kind of turnout – especially considering the weather turned pretty dismal by the time we started – was nice to see.

The concert went really well. There were a few weak spots, especially during the second half, but I know that most of the time this sort of thing is only obvious to the performers, because we’re the ones who know how it should sound, despite the fact that it might actually sound just fine to everyone else. Overall, though, it was wonderful. It felt good to be part of something like this group, singing with the other women, sitting together in our little dressing room before the concert, and during the intermission, practicing, closing our eyes to visualize the notes coming out just so. The composer of one of our most challenging pieces attended the concert and when I chatted with him afterwards, he seemed quite pleased with how we had done. I suspect it’s always difficult to hear someone else perform your work, never knowing if they will do it justice, but he said the moment we started singing our first piece, he relaxed, because he knew we would be able to do his song just right. And we did.

We all stayed to clean up, including all the performers’ respective boyfriends or spouses, who all apparently grasped the fact that if they ever wanted to get out of there, they would have to pitch in too (the part of being associated with a performer that they never tell you about!). And then we finally left, navigating through the rain and the streets that were now finally empty of all the crazy pre-performance traffic only a few short hours before.

Richard and I swung by Ben & Jerry’s for some celebratory ice cream (and I would like to take a moment to note here that their Pumpkin Cheesecake ice cream is divine) and now we are home. It is cold outside, and still raining, but I have turned on the fireplace in the bedroom, and as soon as I finish this, I am going to go find myself a cat or three (shouldn’t be too hard in this house) and change into my pajamas and curl up in bed and go to sleep with Christmas Colours in my dreams.

Tis the season for Holidailies

I donated blood this morning. No, actually, I donated platelets; they gave me back whatever it was that they didn’t want. I even did a triple this morning, since apparently I am just chock full of so many extra platlets I won’t miss three times as many as they might normally take. I did this first thing this morning, which meant I had to get up an extra hour earlier than I normally do, in order to get to the book center by 7 am for my appointment. In retrospect maybe I should have thought more carefully about that scheduling, since tonight was our dress rehearsal and I did not actually get home until after 11pm, but I figure it’s better to get this kind of thing over with as soon as possible in the day. Also, I always use platelet donations as an excuse to have a donut (since they give them away for free there) and donuts are far better as morning food than as food for any other time during the day.

After the blood donation, during which I read most of Stephen King’s Lisey’s Story (which was a bit disappointing since it seems to be merely a rehash of several of his other books, most notably Rose Madder, instead of a unique plot) it was off to work, where I discovered that the huge gift basket from the rental agency that owns the building our office is in had arrived. So all throughout the day we rummaged through the basket, pulling out all the goodies. It’s the kind of basket that could feed a small family for several days, assuming that the family was willing to exist only on cookies, candy, and a selection of deliciously flavored hot chocolate mix.

I did not go home after work. I did not want to have to deal with traffic coming back to Sacramento, so instead, I had a small dinner by myself at a nearby restaurant, thus giving myself enough time to finish the rather uninspiring and predictable book I started this morning, and then camped out at a nearby Borders to sip hot chai and accept samples of gingerbread latte, and work in a few rows of knitting on my sister’s lace shawl.

Rehearsal went well, all things considered. It is frustrating sometimes to realize that I have worked so hard on one song, only to start losing my place on another song I thought I already had nailed. There are a few places in a few pieces that are weak, overally, for the group, but we went through every single song, and except for a rather last minute decision to switch from the German translation to the (much easier to pronounce because we are all beyond exhausted) English translation in one song, it went smoothly. I’d have gotten home earlier, but the last song was where several of us kind of fell apart, so we sat around the piano and went over the messiest parts over and over again until they clicked.

I have a million things to do tomorrow, before I have to be back at the church for a last run-through before our concert, which is probably for the best, because if I am busy, I will not have time to be nervous about what is coming.The director has told us that not only will a reviewer from The Sacramento Bee be there, the composer of one of the most challenging pieces will also be attending. Plus it appears that for this concert we have already sold more tickets than the group’s ever brought in before, and that does not even begin to address the number of people we know will be buying the tickets at the door.

Tis the season for Holidailies

It has been kind of a slow and not very useful sort of day today. I had a doctor’s appointment this morning which turned out not to be what I thought I was going in for (yet another example of why it is I am beginning to suspect rather strongly that the Women’s Clinic at this particular medical facility is run by brain-damaged hamsters because seriously, shoudn’t the people setting appointments know whether or not they actually *do* the procedure I needed before they scheduled me to come in and waste my time?), and then I followed that up by getting my allergy shots. I continued on to work, where I currently lurk in a dark cave that is my area, because at this time of year I must close the curtains or the sun comes directly in and blinds me, which might be cozy and warm, but is not exactly conducive to doing anything productive. Lunch consisted of eating Chinese food around the conference table while we watched a sligthly distorted feed through the video conference system and tried very hard not to doze off because despite the fact that it has been bitterly cold at night, it’s been bright and sunny during the days and the heater at work seems to be doing its best to try to broil us slowly and the worst of it is that none of us can figure out how to reset the darn thing.

There was polenta for dinner, just for the heck of it (although it was topped with red sauce and cheese, so it looked far more complicated than it really was), and later on there was toast with peanut butter and honey because as lovely as polenta pizza is, it’s not as filling as one might hope. There was also choir practice tonight, and I am looking forward to the return of the second tenor more than I can possibly say, because the choir has expanded to about twice its size as people have come in for the sole purpose of singing in the cantata, and there is only so far one determined little tenor can go before she starts going a little loopy from the effort of having to balance against that large a group.

And after it all, we came home to a house that smells marvelously like pine, and I suppose I should be sitting down at the piano with my music and the practice CD, going over my songs for the concert on Saturday but right now, I am tired and not in the mood to have anything more to do with notes on a page, and so instead I am going to go downstairs and watch Grey’s Anatomy, and turn the lights on on the tree, and let the rest of the day trickle away however it wants.

Tis the season for Holidailies

This morning I put on my new black jacket and my new black shirt, and I drove off to the CBS station in Sacramento, where I met up with the rest of our little musical ensemble. We practiced nervously in the green room (which, by the way, is not remotely green at all) and put on painted silk scarves to add just a touch of color, and avoided checking ur watches at all until they came to get us. And then we all marched out, single file, to the studio and lined up on a giant map of the Sacramento area (there were jokes made about traffic being backed up due to black shoes in the middle of the freeway) and there were sound checks and cameras began to swoop in, and then suddenly they turned to us and introduced us, and the director looked at us and we all took a deep breath and then we opened our mouths and we sang.

Tis the season for Holidailies

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