Daily Practice

Me: Kate, I love you.

Kate: I love you too so, so, so, so, so, SO much.

Me: How come you love me so, so, so, so, so, SO much?

Kate: 'Cause family's sposed to love.

Crazy Cat Woman's recent post brought a flash of memory back for me.


Second grade. The day after Christmas. I'm in the living room with my five younger siblings, playing with my brand new, already-beloved Crissy doll with luxurious! growing! hair!

My mom's out shopping. My dad's upstairs on a ladder smearing drywall mud on the ceiling of my soon-to-be-finished new bedroom, which I'll share with two of my sisters.

I'm pulling Crissy's red ponytail in and out of the little hole at the top of her head. Her hairstyle changes from boy haircut to chin-length bob to all-the-way-down-the-back in a matter of seconds. I adore this doll. For several months before Christmas, I'd put a pillow under my shirt when my sisters and I "played dolls." I'd been awaiting the birth of baby Crissy.

So I'm playing in the middle of the living room when, for no clear reason, I'm struck by this thought: There's no Santa. There's NO Santa. I know it as surely as I've known anything in my eight years. A second before, I didn't know it. Now I do.

Nobody's told me. Kids at school haven't hinted about it. Older cousins haven't snickered at my enthusiasm for Santa. Still, somehow, I just suddenly know he's not real.

I place Crissy under the tree and tiptoe to the green couch. I'm trembling. All my brothers and sisters are joyfully playing with their new toys, oblivious to my turmoil. I'm sorry for them, for their not knowing. And jealous of them, of their not knowing.

I sit quietly, hands folded, for a long time. I'm deeply sad. And, somehow, full of guilt. Finally, I decide that I'd better make sure I'm correct. I climb the stairs to my dad, and stand under his huge ladder.

"Daddy," I say. "I have to ask you something."

"Yeah?" he says, still focusing on the ceiling.

I lower my voice to make sure the little kids don't hear me. "Um, umm...is Santa really real?"

He stops mid-smear and looks down, his mud-speckled face pained. "Why do you ask that?"

"I don't know. I just think maybe he's not real."

My dad's (usual) response: "I think you need to ask your mother when she gets home."

I go back to the green couch, too nervous to play with Crissy.

My mom arrives, refreshed from a little trip without her six young children in tow. Her face changes, though, when she sees me. We go back to her bedroom and close the door. By now, I'm crying.

Because I know there's no Santa. Because I know I've (magically?) figured out something I'm not supposed to know. Because I don't want to know. Because I feel different from the little kids now.

My mom hugs me and wipes my eyes and tells me that she was eight years old herself when she figured it all out. That it's okay to know. That I have a special role from now on: helping her make Christmas magical for the little kids.


That was the last Christmas I asked for a doll. Crissy's still my all-time favorite Christmas gift, and she's the only doll my mom saved from all those years of four little girls playing dolls.

On the tree, that is. The handmade constuction-paper ones are the best!



More holiday decor photoblogging to come! 

So, we're hosting this big holiday open house this Sunday: colleagues, neighbors, friends. (Oh, and blog friends, if you're in the area, stop by! It's from 2:00-7:00.)

We've got SO MUCH to do this week to get ready: grocery shopping, cleaning, food prepping, cleaning, honey-baked-ham ordering, alcohol purchasing, and...cleaning.

So anyway, I'm sitting here making a list of all the tasks we have to complete before Sunday, and Todd walks in the room with the yellow pages in his hand.

"I was thinking," he says. "What if we hired a cleaning service before the party?"

Ummm, cool. Way cool.

"If you think it's too much to spend, we can just count it as a Christmas gift to ourselves," he says. "Or an anniversary gift."

I'm thinking: that is SO romantic. (Seriously. I'm totally excited about this.)

So now I'm going to Angie's List to find the "best" providers in our area. (No Yellow Pages references for me; I've been burned one too many times that way.)I just hope someone can do it before Sunday. And do it well.

Some questions, though, for any of you who've used such services: Is it worth it? I mean, will they do a decent job? By "decent," I mean at least as good a job as I'd do myself? (I have pretty low standards for day-to-day housekeeping, but I like things to look fabulous for parties.) Any hints?

[ETA: Okay, I probably *am* way too excited. I found several housecleaning services on Angie's List with great ratings. And the prices are about what I expected. But, based on the comments I've read, I'm realizing that I was probably totally naive to think I could get someone in here this week. We'll see. If anybody calls me back.]

I submitted final autumn quarter grades at 8:53 this evening, one hour and seven minutes before the deadline. I'm done. Done!

I'm still in my pajamas (from this morning), I haven't showered, and I've barely grunted to my family all day. But I read all the final papers, completed all the calculations, updated Blackboard, and submitted grades electronically. Feels good.

And, just for the record, I didn't *totally* procrastinate. I had one class completely finished on Friday, and I worked on and off all weekend on the other two. But somehow, I found myself jammed here at the end. Pretty typical for me, actually.

I've still got an end-of-quarter project report to cobble together, but that can wait until at least after the 25th.

For now: a celebration. I think I'll finally take a shower.

I took Anna to see her first Nutcracker ballet today. She thought it was "awesome." I agreed. I've seen the Nutcracker performed in three major cities, and I thought today's performance was the best ever. It was playful and humorous and gorgeous. And quick. Each half was only about 45 minutes long--perfect for all the youngsters in the audience.

The coolest thing, though: At intermission, I ran into Chase, one of my favorite students from this quarter. He was all dressed up, and I mistook him at first for an usher.

He said, "Oh, no, I'm not working here, I'm just here to support Emily."

Who?" I said.

"Emily, my girlfriend," he said. "She's one of the dancers."

He'd mentioned at some point in class that his girlfriend did ballet, and that the two of them had moved to the midwest from Texas so she could pursue her art. But I had NO idea that she was a professional with a major company.

"Which character is she playing?" I asked.

"She's Clara. The older Clara, of course."

Wow! How cool is that?!

Turns out that Chase also used to dance professionally and had performed in the Nutcracker numerous times. But he retired last year because of some hip problems, and now he's pursuing his education.

Bravo, Chase and Emily!

Wide-eyed and waiting...one minute till showtime.

So I was checking Bloglines yesterday, and I noticed that I had no new posts listed for Bright Star. Since she's the most prolific blogger I know, I thought something must've been wrong with the feed. So I clicked on it, and--sure enough--several posts popped up within Bloglines.

No big deal, I thought. Must've been a glitch.

But then, the exact same thing happened again today, not only with Bright Star's feed, but also with Luckybuzz's. The posts are coming in, but the blogs themselves aren't lighting up to let me know the new posts are there. (Does that make sense?)

I searched the FAQ's in Bloglines but couldn't find anything that applied.

Anybody know what might be up--and how I can fix it?

You are a person of great enthusiasm - easily excited by many things.Unsatisfied by the ordinary, you are reaching for an epic, extraordinary life.You want the best. The best life. The best love. The best reputation. You posses a sharp and keen intellect. Your mind is your primary weapon.Strong willed, nothing can keep you down. Your energy can break down any wall.You're an instantly passionate person - and this passion gives you an intoxicating power over others. At your worst, you are a narcissist. Full of yourself and even proud of your faults.Stubborn and opinionated, you know what you think is right. End of discussion.A bit of a misanthrope, you often see others as weak, ignorant, and inferior.

My beautiful birthday cake. Five seconds (literally, five SECONDS) after this picture was taken, Kate knocked over the wine glass on the left, sending wine droplets and glass shards flying across our dining room. We, um, ate the cake anyway.

Our department holiday potluck is tomorrow, and here's my offering. It's got a cream-cheese frosting, which is the favorite of one of my favorite colleagues. So I made it just for him. (Many thanks to the wonderful Cate, who shared the recipe. I made this for Thanksgiving too, and it was divine!)

I've now experienced Boston in both winter and summer, and I'm convinced that it's just about a perfect city. If only we could afford to live there...

Some pics:

Inside Quincy market:



At the corner of School St. and Washington:



Old city hall (right across from our hotel):



Emack and Bolio's ice cream on Newbury Street. (10 years ago, on our first non-honeymoon vacation as a married couple, we stayed on Newbury Street and ate ice cream here every evening.):



Gravestone. (I *heart* cemeteries.)



Another reason to love Boston: we drank a Sam Adams here while looking out at Adams' gravesite across the street.



Faneuil Hall.



Faneuil hall area lit up for the holidays.



Already, I wanna go back.

*Sigh.*

I'm heading off to take pics so I can photoblog Boston (really, Jo(e), I am!), but I wanted to post this before I forgot about it:

I've been dreaming in hypertext for a while. It's hard to explain, but if it's happened to you, you know what I mean: you're dreaming, and then suddently you're in front of a computer screen, or you *are* the computer screen (sort of), and you click on a link and go somewhere else in a dream. V. cool.

But last night, for the first time, I dreamed in blog. I was scrolling down this really pretty, nicely-designed blog, and I was deciding what to read/dream about within this blog. (Or -- I don't know -- I might have actually *been* the blog; it's hard to explain.) Anyway, I eventually clicked on a blog post that contained a picture of my first high-school boyfriend, and I was taken to this really sweet dream about him! Then I was back "in" the blog, choosing something else to dream about.

It was quite fun and fascinating, actually. Like I was controlling my own dream. But I'm a little worried that my subconscious is telling me that I'm spending way too much time on blogging.

Has this happened to you? Any thoughts?

Okay, I'm in one of my favorite cities right now, and I'm...in the hotel room watching The Bold and the Beautiful.

I used to be a major soap addict, but I haven't watched since...I don't know...last Christmas break, probably. So yesterday, as I was packing for the trip to Boston, I flipped on the tube to watch B&B, one of my old favorites. And--boom!--like that, I was back into soap-watching mode: sitting at the edge of the bed, mouth hanging open, completely and utterly drawn in to the story.

So I had to flip it on again today. I swear, I'm just gonna watch for 10 more minutes, and then I'm out the door to explore.

But one thing's driving me nuts: Who is this actor playing Bridget now? I *know* she used to be on some other soap, but which one?? Anybody know?

I'm off tonight to one of my favorite cities: Boston. My husband is attending a journalism conference there, and I'm tagging along. Without kids!

My birthday is this weekend, so the whole trip is kind of a birthday treat. Todd keeps saying I should sneak into the conference with him -- there *will* be some major authors speaking, after all -- but I'll be content to just lounge around the hotel room and maybe do a little shopping and then go to nice restaurants with Todd and his colleagues in the evening. Without kids!

Still much to do before I leave:

• take Kate to her speech appointment (done)
• pay bills online (done)
• pack my stuff
• pack the girls' stuff
• respond to just a couple more student papers
• drive the girls two hours away to grandma's (fortunately, we're flying out of grandma's city)

So I better get cracking.

One more thing: It's been a while since I've been to Boston. Any suggestions for restaurants, shopping etc.?

Oh, and one final thing: If my students are reading this, there *will* be a sub tomorrow! Welcome her. Do good work. I'll see ya next week.

And look for some photoblogging.