Christmas Day

I had Chinese food, of course. The family went to a movie, and I went to work.

My Fortune Cookie told me: Follow the fire-breathing chicken, except on Tuesdays. Get a cookie from Miss Fortune

I'm Sorry

To my coworkers: You know how I kept insisting, all day, that what I had was an allergic/asthma thing? How I touched the phone, the mouse, and the keyboard? Well, I was wrong. You were right. I have a temp, an attitude problem, and green snot. I also have asthma, but there do seem to be microbes. (I'm sure that the attitude problem is caused by microbes. Really. Don't stand close enough to bug me or you'll really catch it.)

I went to the yarn store on the way home, and spent , um a lot of money. So much for the knit from the stash thing that's going around the blogsphere. But, if sock yarn doesn't count, than maybe laceweight really doesn't count. I which case, forget I said anything.

I am hiding in my bed. My son is playing computer games on pbskids.org, and I have captured the last box of Kleenex. Send in orange juice.

Take My Husband, Please

It is the first night of Hannukah, and we are having latkes. I also, for the first time, wrapped all the kids presents and put them on the buffet. They will pick one each night- some are big ( a camera) some are small (a box of fresh colored pencils and an art paper pad). My darling, sweet husband, who yesterday made latkes for sixty people at the preschool party ( I of course, was at work. It is a rule- it does not matter how few days a week I go down to- I'm currently at three, I will be working the day of the play, party, school, picnic, field trip, or performance. Always happens. Nurses have to ask for their days off months in advance, and school seem to mention these things at most, a month in advance. Sometimes a week in advance.) my husband is makinf latkes again tonight. So I tell him- pick up some applesauce. No, he says, it's in the refrigerator. No, I say, we are out. How? he queries I would know if anyone ate applesauce. Well, said I what if I commando crawled down to the kitchen in the dead of night, ae it, and recycled the jar? Hmmm? What if I stood RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU and ATE it? We were out of applesauce.

Then, the man goes and gives me ballroom dance lessons for Hannukah. Well, gues that just makes the apple suace thing look petty.

Smug Soup

Spent a domesticated day cooking and knitting. As of 9:15 PM both children have a new pair of slippers (three strands of worsted wool). That's three balls down from the stash and four warm feet. Nice score. Then late this afternoon I delivered some lasagnas and some jars of soup. As I attempted to keep control of my ego from all these charitable activities, it occurred to me that taking food to people who are sick, with sick family members, or funerals to plan is one of the few morally unambiguous acts that one can perform.

I remember hearing in an anthropology class that a healed fracture of a long bone, e.g. humerus or femur, is the sign that a group of people had become a civilization. A broken long bone takes months to recover from and without orthopedic intervention, it seems to me that a person would never really recover their prowess at hunting or gathering. Someone had to feed them. It's a basic of human life, feed hurt people, feed hungry people. Pop own head with pin so fits through doorway. Remember: you might be the next one in need of a large foil pan of lasagna. Or chicken soup. Whatever.