That’s A Wrap… [RANT]

Until next year when we do it all again. I considered just throwing the last of my gratitudes on Friday’s post but I didn’t want to dampen your gratitude for an actual bit of fiction to usher in the joy of this most glorious holiday of light, love, and laughter.

Day 23: Being able to help people access information about their ancestors. Did you know there is a FamilySearch Center near you?

Day 24: My toes. They may be mad at me today after I walked 3.15 hours, but I still love those extra long little buggers. 

Day 25: People who keep their commitments, particularly when those commitments need fulfilled before the next step can be accomplished.

Day 26: When my dear darling babies sleep in over holiday breaks because no matter how hard I try to keep them happy, the chaos starts after they wake up. I know I am supposed to be grateful for the chaos, but who is perfect enough for that? Seriously, if it is you, share your secrets!

Day 27: Pumpkin pie. Even before I eat it, I know I will be happy when it is in my tummy.

Day 28: Friends who let me invade their house and pet their kitties.

Day 29: Pie for breakfast. Hobbits live by the happiness of our taste buds and the fullness of our bellies. It keeps us jolly.

Day 30: Reminders of how deeply loved I am. (John 3:16, anyone?)

So how did my November goals end?

I got 300,000 steps. I attribute this to no one wanting to chase me down to interrupt me as I wandered up and down hills.

I was 15,000 words short on my writing goal, but I have the start of at least four fascinating pieces, one of which is a novel. So GOAL 1 of December: Work on the bones of an idea that I started in November and bring my idea to life.

GOAL 2 of December: Work on the shorter pieces that popped into my head. They seem like good pieces to have reviewed by my writer’s group because…

GOAL 3 of December: Make time to meet up with other writers because clearly some of them are doing something right.

GOAL 4 of December: Get my Christmas cards out sooner rather than later.

GOAL 5 of December: Be better at being a light to the world.

GOAL 6 of December: Get my kitchen in order, which requires it to be finished first.

Every month is a busy month when one is known as Mom. My kids’ school even wants me to make sure my kids to wear specific items of clothing for each of the fifteen days of school this month. Thanks, administrators, we didn’t have enough to do.

Noël Hotel [FICTION]

I woke with a craving for one more slice of pumpkin pie. No matter how much I stuff myself at dinner, I always wake up starving sometime between dinner and breakfast. On the good years, I can hold off and have pie for breakfast as I hide from the enthusiastic shoppers trying to nail down the best deals the local stores have to offer. With so many stores closing down lately, I shudder to think of the hordes descending on the few remaining brick and mortar bastions of holiday joy. I don’t need the cheery carols meant to keep those crowds of shopper in line, however, because my Christmas joy arrives at my doorstep uninvited the day after Thanksgiving.

Had I looked at the clock, I would have just rolled back over and resisted the urge for one little nosh with a heap of whipped cream on top. I didn’t realize that Thanksgiving was firmly in our rearview mirror when I stumbled down the stairs with my hair awry and my pajamas askew.

As I plated a piece of pie and reached into the fridge for the bright red spray bottle of happiness, I froze. Had I heard it? It couldn’t be. I glanced at the clock: 12:01. 

“Oh no,” I mumbled, closing my eyes tight, “I’m not ready.”

“I can see that, mom, but you’re still lovely,” a saccharine voice greeted me from the area of my kneecap. “You are going to need another container of the whip.”

I slowly opened my eyes and looked down in time to see a tiny little man clad in green begin climbing up one of the stools to my kitchen counter. He planted himself happily in front of my slice of pumpkin pie and plunked a chubby little finger into its middle. That finger then went into his mouth.

“Delicious, but where is my whip?” He doffed his peaked hat, placing it gently on the counter next to the pie plate to reveal his pointed ears.

I sighed and sprayed a slightly ungenerous dollop of whipped cream onto his, formerly my, pie. He gave me a quizzical look, but my face convinced him that I wasn’t to be trifled with unless he was going to make me a trifle for a change. I watched him wolf down pumpkin deliciousness and ruled out that idea—he’d just eat the components to a good trifle instead of layering them into a thing of beauty and deliciousness.

As the last crumb of pie disappeared, he looked up to me with a huge grin, “Thanks, mom. You always know how to make a fella feel welcome.”

I stared at him, holding back the tart reply that I wished he didn’t feel so comfortable in my home. He took my silence as tacit encouragement.

“So what else do you have for me?”

I threw my hands up in the air, “What do I have for you?”

“Yes?”

“A list of cleaning projects you should plan to do this year instead of taking over my house and leaving a mess for me?”

“A mess for you?”

“Glitter. Foil. Shreds of wrapping paper…” I started.

He raised a hand to stop me, “Oh. I see. You don’t want me to leave mementos of my visit around the house to make you miss me. I can do that.”

After a few seconds of staring at him silently as he hefted the can of whipped cream and sprayed some into his mouth, I turned slowly, announcing firmly, “I’m going back to bed.”

“Sweet peppermint dreams, mom,” he called out to my back, chasing his comment with another hit of the whipped cream.

~~

The next morning, I woke to the sweet giggles of my babies downstairs and the delectable scent of a breakfast I didn’t make wafting up from the kitchen. I pulled on my robe and slipped my feet into slippers that felt different than normal. Looking down, I beheld feet clad in green velvet comfort with toes that curled up toward me. I frowned down at the bells on their very tips and took a few tentative steps. I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned over to feel that the bells were as soft and silent as the rest of my new apparel.

As I padded down the stairs, the intoxicating aroma drew me into the kitchen. Even the sound of Christmas carols dominating the room couldn’t turn me back as my stomach grumbled and reminded me that I had never eaten my midnight pie last night. My mind gently pointed out that maybe, for that reason alone, I should be more patient with my holiday guest. Rounding the corner prompted it to offer a second reason.

Elfis stood at my usual spot before the stove. Of course, he stood on a step stool, but he worked just as fervently as I ever had to keep all the pans on the stove cooking food to perfection. One held bacon, another had eggs, and the one receiving the main portion of his attention held pancakes speckled with red and dark brown.

“Here she comes, the hardest worker in the world: a mom,” he announced as he glanced over his shoulder and his eyes rested upon me. 

I paused, taking in the rest of the scene before my eyes. My children huddled over plates that clearly had already been filled with food, shoveling the last bites happily into their mouths. My husband looked up from a similar plate to smile at me and pat the stool next to him.

“Don’t worry, mom, I am making a batch fresh so you can have as much as you want,” Elfis waggled his eyebrows at me, “And then I have a surprise for you…”

“Oh do you?” I interrupted as my eyes assessed the number of dishes already in the sink and those soon to join them.

“I do. A beautiful surprise and then I shall wash the dishes, which may be a surprise you would prefer.”

I blinked slowly. When I opened my eyes, a plate piled with modest portions of bacon, eggs, and peppermint chocolate chip pancakes sat before me. I took a deep inhale. My husband nodded encouragingly, and I took a tentative bite. Finally, something the little elf did that didn’t instantly irk me. He grinned at me and removed the festive tea towel he had fashioned into an elf-sized apron. Underneath, he wore a new fashion accessory, a candy cane striped holster for a microphone. He drew his weapon of choice and jumped up on the opposite end of the counter from me to appreciative applause from my family.

“This is for you, Mom,” he said with a wink.

“Since Thanksgiving passed me by,

Well, my thoughts have a new place to dwell

Well, it's down at the end of Cocoa Street

At Noël Hotel

“Where it'll be, it'll be so snowy, baby

Well, it’s so snowy

It'll be so snowy, I could fly

“Although it's always crowded

You still can find cocoa

For peppermint lovers

Or another winter’s glow

“It'll be, it'll be so snowy, baby

It'll be so snowy

It’s so snowy, you could fly

“Now, the bellhop's singin’ carols

And the desk clerk's dressed in red

Well, they've been so long on Cocoa Street

They'll never, never look back

“And it gets so, it gets so snowy, baby

Well, it is so snowy

It’s so snowy, you could fly

“Well, now, if your cocoa leaves you

And you need to warm a spell

Well, sing a carol down Cocoa Street

To Noël Hotel

“Where you will be, you will be, you'll be so snowy, baby

Well, you will be snowy

You'll be so snowy, you could fly”

He paused here to dance for us, shaking his hips in a way I still found more disturbing than provocative, particularly as it made the bells on the ends of his shoes jingle merrily. Then he resumed:

“Although it's always crowded

You still can find cocoa

For peppermint lovers

Or another winter’s glow

“Where they get so, they get so snowy, baby

Well, they're so snowy

They'll be so snowy, they could fly.”

I giggled as one child turned to the other and asked, “Is he singing about skiing?”

Elfis didn’t laugh. He just shook his candy can microphone disapprovingly our way. That resulted in more hysterical laughter and holiday cheer pouring out into the room.

The End is Nigh [RANT]

That is what I tell myself as I look at the number of words written versus those expected as I come toward the finish line. Am I limping along behind? Yes, I am definitely limping and have been for days. Does it have something to do with my confused brain giving November a thirty-first day in last week’s post? Or does it have something to do with remodels being loud and sweet children being louder? Have I just not eaten enough pie?

Day 16: Finding a husband who isn’t completely horrified by conversations about the current state of the fingernail I crushed and bruised in September. He didn’t even run screaming or turn a sickly shade of green when I used the turn “blood jam” to describe the current state of affairs and proceeded to show him my injury. Sorry for my squeamish readers. Now you can be grateful that I rarely include pictures. My husband has not been so lucky.

Day 17: My friends being willing to share their thoughts on scriptures and spirituality and translate my thoughts into concepts that make sense to normal humans. You probably need that service for my previous sentence.

Day 18: Finally hearing back from the electrician because I miss my kitchen.

Day 19: Not being too late to place an order for Thanksgiving dinner from a local restaurant. (See all previous statements about my kitchen.)

Day 20: My neighbor being willing to walk my girls home when I got delayed on my way to to the bus.

Day 21: Fresh fruits and vegetables and the magicians who grown them. The share I get from a local farm helps me expand my eating horizons and provides me with fresh deliciousness that I already know I adore.

Day 22: Being able to share with others. I do love to take advantage of the free turkey offers, but I can only hide one in the freezer, and (broken record) I will not be cooking my own turkey for Thanksgiving this year.

It has definitely been a week. Just to be safe, you should send pie ;)

Halfway Points [RANT]

At noon tomorrow, I reach my halfway mark for this wild party called National Novel Writing Month. But how goes my progress? It isn’t exactly good. I am mostly there if Murphy’s Law will stop jumping up to bite my ankles.

Aside from that, I need to add flesh to the bones of the chapters I have allegedly finished. When I glance back to confirm consistency and details, I see more telling than showing, which is less fun for my dear readers. Yet I forge through to new chapters and new turns of events because that is where my word count thrives and blossoms like kudzu.

And my celebrations of gratitude for pie? At this point, it looks like outsourcing our Thanksgiving feast will be the best option. While I find cooking fun and relaxing, for the most part, figuring out how to prepare my level of required deliciousness with the current state of my kitchen distracts me from all the other busyness exploding like fireworks in this November.

And finally, that little ray of sunshine we all need this month. The one that isn’t pie. What has this hobbit been grateful for this week?

Day 9: The ability to access so much information so quickly through the wonders of the internet.

Day 10: Fluffy socks make walks on cold mornings more viable even for a polar bear.

Day 11: When it rains at night. That way I can still walk myself in the morning and then get into everything else that requires my attention.

Day 12: Being reminded not to let the busyness get me down. Listened to a podcast yesterday that really delivered that message.

Day 13: Gentle writing reminders such as this, “If it’s curing insomnia or impossible to proofread, chuck it.” Yep, still fighting the word fight over here.

Day 14: Salad to cheer me up. Yes, sometimes even I need more than pie for sustenance.

Day 15: Friendly people who aren’t freaked out by my overly friendly oldest child who tried to make friends with everyone (and possibly a painting or two) at the eye doctor’s office this morning.

A Month for the Bees [RANT]

Every month is busy. For instance, November holds myriad tasks for me. What could possible contribute to the busyness of this particular month? Aside from being that master of all trades known as Mom?

First November special project? National Novel Writing Month, of course. A daily expectation of 1,667 words doesn’t seem quite as daunting until you are trying to get them on the digital page. So I must be prepared to bribe those muses with leftover Halloween candy and declarations of appreciation and respect.

Then we turn to the major focus of this month, appreciating what we have in our lives. I failed to get started with that on social media, so can I share some of that gratitude here with you? (If not, just scroll past the obvious list.)

Day 1: Making my first day of NaNoWriMo’s quota. 

Day 2: My muse keeping me up a little late in the interests of getting ahead of Sunday’s quota so I could focus on the Sabbath Day.

Day 3: That extra hour of sleep. No one ever seems quite as excited about Daylight Savings Time in the spring, do they?

Day 4: Friendly people even if they sometimes keep me on the phone when I should be writing.

Day 5: Opportunities to remind my friends they are amazing.

Day 6: The joy of freezer archaeology. You haven’t lived until you realize why people keep counseling you to write what you have hidden in the freezer backlog before placing it there.

Day 7: Sweet dog owners who let me love on their babies when we see them in the park. 

Day 8: The lady with the bright green safety sash who walks every day and makes me feel I can do it. I think I surprised her this morning by waving excitedly at her from across the street as we both wandered through the autumn chill and crisp leaves.

Anything you are grateful for? You don’t have to say free writings from me unless it is true.

And my anniversary falls this month. I may be without an oven to bake my anniversary cake. Uh-oh! Think I can talk my husband into purchasing me something fancy from a bakery besides my own?

But our oven might not be available because our kitchen is getting an upgrade. I have my fingers crossed that it will be completed before Thanksgiving (a couple days before Thanksgiving), but I am not feeling optimistic about that, which wasn’t helped by the electrician giggling when I told him that was my impossible dream. I am looking forward to having more room to dance while I cook and more prep space for the cookies and cakes that most people in my circle of influence seem to appreciate.

And, of course, Thanksgiving makes my heart flutter for obvious reasons. Who doesn’t love pie? And turkey? And the various sides? And family? And friends? And cranberry sauce whether you prefer it to have lumps or the shape of a can?

So now you may be asking, “What more could she have to do?” I keep remaking a commitment to myself to get out and walk more to counterbalance my obvious affection for food a smidge, so I have to throw that into my daily tasks. It is much easier to break a habit than to form one.

 

Then Christmas prep comes tumbling down the chute. I fell into the tradition of decorating and getting those cards started the day after Thanksgiving, so that also falls in November. Sometimes I craft handmade gifts for people, but between my kitchen being out of commission and my guest room overflowing with items moved from the kitchen to make a clean slate for the contractors, some recipients may not be happy with this elf this year. I ask forgiveness in advance.

What makes November busy for you?

Feels like my theme for this month is pop quizzes, doesn’t it? Anyone want to take pity on me and answer questions or are you waiting until December because you have 50,000 words to write?

Don’t worry, my muse declared that I must post something more fun and fictional for Black Friday, so keep checking in. Persistence and loyalty should be rewarded. That was definitely not a question. I already have most of your reward completed. Now it needs to steep before I come back through and review it to make it worthy of my dear readers.