fridge list of love

Me: What is the notebook for?
John: Work.
Me: Or, you could start a list of the reasons you love me.
John (with a gleam): There is no list long enough.
Me: Aaaw. But you could start one anyway. In fact, we should both start lists, and we can put them on the fridge and keep adding to them!
John: A fridge list of love?
Me: Yes!

Christmas was delightful! Again, there were way too many presents, (no such thing!) and WAY too much food. (really.) We all gathered at Michelle and Troy's house and sang, played games, and took a make believe ferry ride in the back of Michelle's mini-van.
We listened to Amahl and the Night Visitors, as we always do, with candles and tree lights, blankets and pillow, and plenty of chocolate. (For those of you unfamiliar with Amahl and the Night Visitors, I strongly urge you to listen to it, repeatedly. It is a short "opera" by Carlos Menotti, in English, that was actually, originally written for television, in the 1950s. It is the story of a crippled boy and his widowed mother, struggling to survive. Amahl is a young boy, given to exaggerations and stories. The story opens with his mother calling him in for the night, and he is bargaining with her for a few more minutes. He claims that the sky holds a star as big as a carriage, like no other. Frustrated with his disobedience, tales and with their poverty, she scolds him tells him to stop lying. When a knock is heard at the door, later that night, Amahl's mother is not amused with his tale that there are three kings at the door. When she comes to the door herself, she is stunned to find, indeed, three kings asking for shelter for the night. They can't stay long, as they must not lose sight of the star. The widow offers a cold fireplace and a bed of straw, but calls all of the neighboring shepherds to come with any food they have. After dinner and a shepherds' dance, the kings are left to rest. The widow, faced with starvation for herself and her child, contemplates the riches carried by the kings. When she takes a tiny handful of gold, the kings awaken. The kings are merciful, teaching her of the child they seek, who will bring new life. She wishes that she could send a gift too. Amahl, offers his crutch, saying "who knows, he may need it." In that instant, he is healed. Amazed by this miracle, the kings ask Amahl to accompany them on their journey, to see the Christ child, and present his gift. You will fall in love with the story and the music. We have listened to it every Christmas since I was born.)


Now, for the real reason any of you read, update on Annika!
She is 9 1/2 months old already and she is the most lovable baby in the world. I know I'm biased, but everyone with whom she comes in contact says the same. She can pull herself up to stand, and can stand on her own. She took her first (small and quick) step this Christmas Eve! She's taken a few since then, but only one at a time. She loves to have an audience and will smile and play and pose. She babbles / grunts / sings while she eats, almost as a long, drawn-out "yum". She can climb the stairs, but only with Mom or Dad immediately behind her. She will be playing, babbling, singing, etc., but the moment we take out the camera or recorder, she stares blankly at them and loses all animation. This makes for pretty disappointing cinema.
Annika's hair is shiny and dark and has calmed down quite a bit. She still has the funniest little patch of hair on her lower back. (I won't tell you where she gets this cute, but slightly concerning, trait, but it isn't me.) She LOVES bath time, she hates having her face washed, she loves cheerios, and she hates being put into her car seat.
She is such a source of joy and wonder and laughter to us. (She also pulls my hair, sneezes on me with a mouth full of chicken vegetable mush, she wakes up between 2 - 5 am for food, and she finger paints with her spit up.) But mostly, we just love, love, love her.

Not packing

I'm supposed to be packing for a week away, ie. all our Christmas stuff and all of Annika's gear. (Not to mention, all of mine and John's stuff.) SO, i'm doing this, instead. I really don't like to pack. What if I forget something? What if it doesn't all fit? What if I take too many socks? Too few bras? What will be doing every minute of each day, because I need different shoes and coats for different activities? Etc.
Now, you may be thinking, "Cynthia, if you are worried, the best way to pack successfully, is to make a list and to start packing now. That way, if you are missing something, you still have a chance. If it doesn't all fit, you still have time to rearrange. So stop blogging, and go start packing."
To which, I reply, "I do have a list."

"But, I need a nap. Or maybe to read one more chapter in my Agatha Christie book. I'm not convinced that the Vicar is entirely sincere."

"No. I don't want to."

Now that I have illustrated, even to me, how childish I am being, I guess I'd better go pack.

(As far as you know.)

Funny girl

Annika is playing in our big, empty living room. She has one of her trusty binkies in one hand. She comes across another one in her pile of toys. Delighted, she takes the first one out of her mouth, and inserts the new one. Five seconds of sucking the second binky, out it goes. In goes the original. Ten minutes of this. Maybe she's comparing tastes. Maybe she doesn't want to show favoritism. Maybe, most of her actions are designed to endear her to me, so the few ones that are more challenging can be forgotten. Momentarily.

Ms. No Depth Perception

Have any of you ever seen the SNL sketch, where Kevin Nealon is "Mr. No Depth Perception"? He passes the casserole and dumps it in someones lap. He pours the water into the casserole. He knocks people over, because they are closer than he thought, he yells so the people right next to him can hear him. At the end of a dinner party, he goes outside, and drives into the living room.
I haven't done any of those things, but I think I have pretty limited depth perception. I've always been a little (a lot) clumsy, usually bumping into things and bruising myself slightly. I don't park the car very well, much to John's amusement and confusion. (And mine.)
So, today, after walking into the open dishwasher door for the 3rd time, I pondered the reality that I might not be clumsy, I might be able to blame it on a neurological dysfunction. Pretty convenient that I actually do have a neurological dysfunction. (I think I'd rather just be clumsy.)
Anyway, I just thought I'd comment on my realization that depth perception, or lack of it, may explain my many bruises and stifled cursings. (But, yesterday, I really, really, really wanted to.)

I'm not sick anymore and I did sing at enrichment. We had a fancy sit down dinner, the elders quorum served us, there was a dessert buffet, and then we had a program, "Women of the nativity." I was the shepherd's wife. I gave a "dramatic" description of my account of the nativity and then I sang, "Far, Far Away on Judea's Plains." It wasn't my best, but I was told it went well. I got to dress up, too.

I don't like the chestnuts roasting song.

Still sick

Harumph. The "novelty" of being sick has officially worn off. (1 day in. I tolerate that day, because it excuses my dishes, laundry, etc. I can watch America's Next Top Model without judgement, because, "I'm sick".) However, a week and a half, and counting, means too much laundry, dishes, etc. And too much T.V.
I lost my voice completely, for a few days. I'm supposed to sing in an Enrichment program tomorrow night. We'll see.
Annika started sleeping through the night again, apparently, thanks to the new humidifier. $40 well spent! I think I should get one for me, too.
My new favorite "find" on the Internet, is Pandora .com. I put find in quotes because I found out about it on someone else's blog. Go and explore. You can make your own radio station. Kind of.
Last night, for FHE, (yes, I know it was Tuesday) John and I went over our emergency preparedness stuff. We went through every back pack and every flashlight, etc. I wanted to make sure I knew where everything was, so that my emergency didn't involve 2 hours of searching through my garage and finding only a wet granola bar. Even though we have lots of stuff in this category, going through it, practicing how to use the water filter, examining the little emergency stove, etc., makes me even more nervous. I realize all the stuff I don't have, all the stuff that I should put in every room, next to every door, filling my trunk, throwing out my sofa to fit stockpiles of who knows what, because, if its an emergency, we don't know what kind it will be. Will it be during the day, with John at work and kids at home, or school? Will we need to escape through the front door, a window, or do we get to take the car? AAAH!
All I really was able to resolve was I need to keep a warm lasagna in the car at all times, just in case. I think that is a good plan in most situations.

Typing Barely Coherent

So, anyone who reads my humble and boring blog, make sure that when you type in barely coherent, you don't stop at bare. You won't like what you are invited to see. Oops.
I've had the flu this week, but feeling better, and happy that I've so far, not shared with John and Annika.
I started singing with a choir last month and we have a concert tonight as part of a much larger Christmas celebration in Portland. My throat is hardly up to it, but I'll sing as long as it holds out, and then I'll will be the most enthusiastic lip sync-er present. Our choir had been scheduled to sing at the Rose Center or arena, to sing the anthem at a Trailblazers vs. Jazz game. We' d also sing our Christmas repetoire at the "something or other pavillion". This was to be in conjunction with a promotional "LDS family night". LDS families are (were) supposed to buy tickets through the website and click on the special promotion and the BYU management society (?) would benefit in some way. We were selected to sing as part of this. However, by the deadline, 10 tickets had been sold under this promotion. So, the Trailblazer organization unceremoniously dumped us from singing the anthem, regardless of the fact that we, in the choir, had bought tickets for the honor of singing. (We bought $5 tickets through the local elementary school.) We were told we could still sing in the pavillion, if we wanted, and we could still use our tickets to come to the game! We'll be going, not singing, and cheering very loudly for the Jazz.
Annika has learned to cackle in a very mischievous way, with a sinister look to accompany it. I'm not sure what she's planning. Perhaps adolescence.