Baby took a step one day this week. And then the next day took another step. And then we panicked and stopped coaxing her.
As a result of doing a tiny bit of Christmas shopping online, I have been followed around by the things I was looking at on every single other website I normally attend to. Well, I was until yesterday when I deliberately went to a series of websites I like very much but from which I have no intention of ever buying anything. Now I see all their nice things all over instead of the weird stuff I had to look at for Christmas. Take that Google.
Alouicious and I are trying to learn this song. We have it half done and we’re pretty good. I like how testy he (the Jesuit, not Alouicious, that I wouldn’t abide) is, and irritable.
We finished all of Alice in Wonderland and in the Looking Glass on Tuesday. On Wednesday we started another book and Alouicious looked up and said, “What? Why aren’t we reading Alice?”
“We finished it,” I said.
“What? All of it? Every single page there is?”
As if I would have taken pages away and hidden them or something.
Carrol’s attitude towards poetry is so brilliant. First of all, its everywhere. You can’t read more than three pages without reading some kind of poem. Second, its so tiresome. The deep resignation of Alice every time she’s about to be subjected to some excessively long poem is my own every day as Elphine accosts me, “Want to hear a poem?”
“Do I have to?”
It’s time for my annual reading of The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass. Have most of it memorized but read it carefully and devotedly anyway…every year…and its still desperately funny.
We’ve got to decorate for Christmas. And all I can say about that is…ugh.
Here’s where Matt starts wildly dispensing eggnog to children and listening to Il Divo’s Christmas album and I start yelling at everyone because of the wretched mess. It will be such a glorious relief in January to pack it all away and sit in that first profound moment of clean, calm quiet when the house is its usual plain rational self. And I will thank my providential God that we only have to celebrate his birthday once a year. In the meantime, I will just try to remember that the glory of the cross would not have been revealed had he not actually been born and a little tinsel and pine needles is a small price to pay for celebrating the salvation of all the world. But honestly, wouldn’t it be great if he came back in the single moment before I cracked open that first Christmas bin?
Have a great weekend and go check out Jen!
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