god bless us, everyone

Right now, on CSPAN, a bunch of people dressed like Dickensian extras are singing as part of a "Pageant for Peace," prior to the lighting of the -- just typing this makes me feel like my head is about to explode -- the National Christmas Tree.

I don't get it. I swear to you, I just don't fucking get it. It's not a holiday tree, it's a goddamn Christmas tree. It's for celebrating of the birth of God's only begotten son, Jesus Christ, sent here to save the world, lo these 2005 years ago on this day. There's no such thing as a Chanukah Bush, George.

It's bad enough that they're spending my tax dollars in Iraq, and on pork throughout the land, but can someone please tell me how they can get away with spending my tax dollars on the electricity to run the National Christmas Tree?

I want a refund.

I'm off to Florida for a week in the sun, where my mom can deal with the kids and I can go to the movies, take yoga every day, lie on a chaise longue, and shag my husband during daylight hours, not necessarily in that order.

See you all when I get back.

the best laid plans of mice and moms

Last night, I was invited to not one, but two holiday parties. It was perfect. One started at 6:00 and the other at 8:00. Andrew had planned to be in New York, so I hired a sitter, and planned on going alone. I taught a cooking class yesterday, came home, got Jonah from the first of the day's babysitters, and took him to the grocery store. He did seem a little snotty, and he did fall asleep in the car on the way home, but I figured he was more or less fine and left my plans intact.

I laid my very favorite holiday outfit on the bed. True confession: it's kind of slutty-looking, but in a classy way. It's a cranberry-colored nylon knit top with embossed flowers in the fabric on top of a rich green stretch velour miniskirt. The whole thing is rounded out with fishnets (although I couldn't decide last night to go with fishnets or other hose, this being New England and all...everyone else was probably going to be wearing black pants and twin sets with pearls, tasteful gold hoops, and holiday brooches) and a pair of black boots. Simple jewelry because, you know, even a Holiday Whore doesn't want to overdo the accessories, and a little silver pocketbook that Pam gave me one year for Chanukah. Silvery eye shadow and bright red lips.

At 4:45, Jonah and I left to get the sitter. Now, it is true that he had started coughing at this point, and was proclaiming "I'm SICK!" every few seconds, but he's been saying that for a week, and it had nothing to do with his physical well-being, just with some general sense of dissatisfaction. He also says "I'm STUCK!," because, apparently, he relates to Winnie the Pooh, stuck in a honey tree or honey pot or something, so I didn't put too much stock in it.

This was a mistake.

We got the sitter and headed to McDonald's with me explaining the whole time that Jonah has a cold but he's not, you know, sick-sick. And then, sometime between the ordering part and the paying for the food part, we heard one big cough and a giant splat. And another.

And I said, "Well, I guess that's the end of this evening," and we came home.

I cleaned the car. And the car seat. And the child. I did laundry. Jonah and I watched 50 First Dates, which I rather enjoyed. We had a fire. We went to bed together.

Around 1:00 in the morning, after the next round of puke, we took a bath together.

Today, I'll be doing more laundry. The pajamas. The blankets. The sheets. Even the mattress pad.

That new industrial-sized washer and dryer that my mom and Donald very kindly sent us for Chanukah is about to see its first test. Boy, oh boy.

Oh, and did I mention that the dog ate 9.7 ounces of Scharffen Berger bittersweet chocolate yesterday afternoon, and that he was also puking last night? I heard him roaming around downstairs while Jonah and I were dealing with the 1:00 am mess? I'm kind of afraid to go down there right now.

everybody can do something

i love a girl with an ax

After hearing a piece on my daily npr podcast, I picked up a disk this weekend by Susan Tedeschi.

It's really great. Part Bonnie Raitt, part, I don't know...Eric Clapton. Find some and give a listen. There are a lot of tracks to hear (not download! boo!) at her site.

Howard, are you out there? Get it for Bari for Chanukah. She'll love it.

with a schmear

You can take the Girl out of the City but, as we all know, you can't take the City out of the Girl. This must explain my unshakable belief, after all those years of tipping, that goodwill at the holidays comes back to me all year long. Everyone, and I mean everyone, gets schmeared at the holidays. The list includes gifts for not only teachers, but teachers' aides, dance instructors, speech therapists, and anyone else who has regular contact with my kids; the mail carrier; the librarians; the yoga instructor; the Weight Watchers leader; the cleaning lady; and the garbage people.

Gifts range from small Starbucks cards to cash, candles, fuzzy socks, and cookies, but no one gets left out. I even have a couple of extra thingamabobs just in case.

Come on over...I'll give you a present!