My Favorite Things

You know what I'm not crazy about?  Those "Favorite Things" lists that celebrities make that consist of a bunch of ridiculously expensive goods like "simple" white t-shirts that cost $50 apiece, or when they list things like "making sugar cookies with my daughter," because you know what?  You probably weigh about 90 pounds, and the closest you'll get to baked goods is a food-scented Yankee candle.  Oh, and don't try to pretend you spend time with your daughter.  If you did, we wouldn't see her all coked-out on the cover of some rag here in about ten years.

I'm not much of a celebrity person.  I feel no need to know what some actor eats for breakfast on Saturday mornings or their parenting "advice."

And this is so not what I meant to write about today.  Let's see if I can get back on track.

Where was I?  Right.  Favorite things.

Well, in addition to not being able to identify with some no-talent hack's favorite things (there I go again), I have a little trouble with the items listed in the song.  You know, from The Sound of Music?  One verse talks about "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens."  While I certainly don't see anything wrong with those things, I couldn't call them my "favorites."  Raindrops on roses are pretty, but I'm allergic to cats, don't believe I've ever actually seen a copper kettle, and wool gives me hives.

I'm just a little ray of sunshine today, aren't I?

Still, I've been hearing that song a lot lately on the Christmas music stations, and it's gotten me to thinking about my favorite things at this time of year.  Here are five of my personal favorites.

5.  Decorating for Christmas.  I love, love, love decorating our house for Christmas.  My mom always went all-out decorating our house right after Thanksgiving, and it always felt so warm and inviting.  I now do the same thing, and being surrounded by the garlands and bells makes our home feel cozy.

4.  Christmas Music.  Fortunately, Derek's pretty tolerant of my need for 24/7 Christmas music, but he does look pretty pained when I put on Amy Grant, and absolutely puts his foot down at the mere mention of The Carpenters.
   
      4a.  Christmas caroling.  Is there anything better than standing in front of people's homes, singing Christmas carols?  Unless it's looking out your front window and seeing people standing on your front lawn, serenading your family.

     4b.  All the live Christmas music.    There are always a plethora of choir, band, and orchestra concerts to choose from, and when we lived in Pittsburg, there was a man who stood outside the entrance to Wal-Mart every morning and played his trumpet while manning the red Salvation Army bucket.

3.  Going to the Nutcracker.  This was a tradition my family had growing up; we would drive the hour north to Wichita to see the ballet performed, and while this is not something we do every year, Derek did take me to see it in New York City one year, and this weekend Adelaide and I will be driving down to Kansas City to see it there (Yaaaaaay!).

2.  Candlelight services.  I don't really think there's anything better than standing in a darkened church lit only by candles, singing Christmas hymns.  I really wish our church did this.

1. This one isn't really Christmas-related, but right now it's my very favorite:  The lurching, halting, unsteady gait of a baby learning to walk.  Caedmon has been walking for several weeks now, but it's only in the past week or two that he's really started using it as his primary means of locomotion.  When I catch sight of that high-stepping stride unique to toddlers that he uses, I find myself stopping whatever I'm doing just to watch him waddle around.  It is so ridiculously cute.  I love to watch him stop at the threshold to a room, where the flooring changes, and ready himself to pass the imaginary precipice.  I love to watch the sheer joy on his face  from something as simple as walking.  He loves it, I love it.  My favorite thing.

This also means he no longer stands still long enough for me to get a good picture.

Farewell, Fall

Cooler temperatures have recently blown into central Iowa.  This morning when Adelaide left for school it was 29 degrees out, which I know will feel downright tropical come January, but for now feels pretty chilly.

These more winter-like conditions, plus the fact that we only have two more days in November make me feel like Autumn is over.  How about a photo recap?


We continued to go for lots of walks throughout most of the Fall.

Atticus likes to pull the wagon, which makes me look like a really lazy mom straggling behind the wagon, forcing her children to do all the work.  I'm okay with that.

We continued to water our mums, hardy pansies, and tulip and hyacinth bulbs.

Caedmon was really helpful.

We went to the apple orchard/ pumpkin patch.  We got zero apples and zero pumpkins.

But we did play in the corn pool!  After all, this is Iowa.

What's that?  You've never been in a corn pool?  It's basically a giant pool... of corn.

Aren't you glad I'm here to explain these things to you?

Atticus showed Mark how to make it rain corn...

Then Mark showed Atticus how to make it pour.

Mark and Atticus also sped down the giant slide.

It really is huge, and somehow the burlap sacks you slide down on make it very, very fast.

No, really.

Top...

...bottom.  Big.

We also jumped around on the big bouncing pad, saw a bunch of farm animals, and went on a hay rack ride that busy day at the orchard.  In the following weeks we kept finding corn in our clothing and coats.  When I washed the clothes the boys had worn that day, I opened the dryer and a cataract of corn came spilling out onto my feet.  I still find kernels at odd places around the house.

A few days after that trip we celebrated Halloween.

I feel like my kids are at a perfect age to go trick-or-treating:  They aren't old enough to start whining about going without Mom and Dad, and I can still basically make them wear whatever I want, like cute and fluffy chicken costumes that make our youngest boy look like a girl.

The beginning of October was unseasonably warm, and we took advantage of it by spending lots of time outside.

A month later it was no longer quite so warm, and while the kiddos still wanted to play outside, I retreated indoors.

Of course, fall brought with it football season.  It will continue through part of winter.  I will not exactly be devastated when it is over, although Derek has mellowed quite a bit, on the outside, at least.

I have this wild and crazy notion that our sweet, sweet Spudley might have something to do with that.

Here's hoping everyone had a magnificent Fall, a terrific Thanksgiving, and a better football season than we have.

Books vs Movies

Derek and I watched the final Harry Potter movie last night.  I appreciated how close certain scenes were to those in the book, and I loved the emotional energy the music added.  Overall, I was less disappointed than I expected to be.

You do not want to watch a movie based on a book with me.  I am annoying in the extreme.

To me, watching the film-version of a novel is like listening to a young piano student stumble their way through Beethoven.  You may be able to recognize the familiar strains and hear the potential for beautiful music, but it's nothing compared to listening to a piano virtuoso finesse and lead you through the wonder of a sonata.  There is a richness and depth to a book that is conspicuously absent from their film adaptations.  I watch a movie after reading the book and wonder, Where is the subtlety?  Where is the nuance?  Must everything be so patently obvious?

I realize that not all movies are like this.  The well-known problem is, when adapting a book into it's movie-version, you have to cut a ton of details, large and small, from the story, lest you create a 72-hour film (which I would prefer, but might not make a lot of money- not that movie studios are in it for the money or anything; I'm well aware those Hollywood types would prefer to be non-profit).  And every once in a while, you'll find that rare gem:  a movie as good as it's book.  Like To Kill A Mockingbird, for example.  Maybe The Princess Bride.  And... um... I can't think of any others.

Part of (fine, maybe most) of the fault is my own.  I nearly always read the book before the movie comes out.  It is way easier to listen to the seven-year-old stumble their way through Moonlight Sonata (Charming, you think, this really has the potential to be beautiful.  'A' for effort.) and then listen to the virtuoso play the same piece (Wow!  So that's how it's done), than the other way around.  You can't listen to the professional musician first and then the novice hacking away at the keyboard; it's likewise very difficult to read the book, then watch the movie.  It will never measure up.

One of my favorite authors is Dean Koontz.  I absolutely love his Odd Thomas series of books.  I recently found out they are being made into a movie.

I am terrified.

Dictionary Entry

irony

i·ro·ny, noun:  watching The Biggest Loser and shaking my head in disbelief at the lack of willpower of the contestants.


While stuffing my face with Oreos.


Right after recovering from an exercise-induced asthma attack.








(See also: hypocritical)

My Husband Has An Awesome Wife

(And if that title seems disgustingly self-congratulatory, it's only because it is.)



I am a practical gift-giver.  I like to give gifts that are practical.

I don't know whether I can blame it on Nature or Nurture, but I'm pretty sure it somehow all stems from my mom.  I can't remember how many times I watched my mother wrap a first-aid kit or a fire extinguisher as a wedding gift.  And really, who wouldn't want to receive those things as gifts?  I'm sure many a happy couple thought fondly of my mom when they were bleeding or their kitchen caught on fire (both events that probably happen quite a bit in those first turbulent years of marriage).

I've never really thought of this as a negative attribute, until I started reflecting upon the gifts I've received from Derek over the life of our relationship.  They make my practical gifts seem kind of... lame.

Like the time, one wedding anniversary, Derek got me an early edition hardcover of To Kill A Mockingbird, one of my very favorite books.

Or one year on my birthday when he arranged for his sister and her husband to drive down from Maine to watch Adelaide so that we could drive from our then-home in Connecticut into Manhattan to eat supper and attend a performance of George Balanchine's The Nutcracker by the New York City Ballet.

Or a few years before that when he flew in from Connecticut on my birthday, surprising me on my doorstep in Kansas... and proposing.

Do you know what one of the first gifts was that I gave to him in college?  A water pitcher with an attached filter.  See, the water in our college town is universally known as being kind of disgusting, so in my mind, I was giving him the gift of clean, delicious, refreshing water, right in his dorm.

I realize that even with that justification, a water pitcher doesn't hold a candle to a beloved book, the New York City Ballet, or a marriage proposal.

This year, I set out to break my streak of sub-par gifts.

See, Derek turned 30 last year, and I really didn't do anything special.  In my defense, I was still pretty overwhelmed from having Caedmon and the whole I-have-three-children-under-the-age-of-five thing.

I knew that I had to make up for it this year.  Although Derek's birthday isn't until next month, I surprised Derek this past weekend.

One of Derek's favorite bands is Jars of Clay.  He's been listening to them since they formed 17 years ago, and has seen them in concert a couple times before- but he's never actually met them.

That's Derek, me, and the four members of Jars of Clay.  And if you don't think this picture isn't going on our Christmas card, you don't know the Crislers.

Yup, we were fortunate enough to be part of a small audience (think around 30 people) that got to stand about two feet away from the band, requesting and listening to them play several of their songs, asking questions, talking to them, getting autographed CD's, and taking pictures with them.  They were very funny, very approachable, and very talented.  It was so great.

I still can't promise I won't be giving towels and measuring spoons as gifts.










Note:  I alone am not responsible for this weekend- that would be impossible.  I would like to thank Derek's parents (over and over and over again), who drove several hours to Kansas City to stay in a hotel with our children while we attended the concert.  Ben, the Visual Arts Leader at our church, also helped by switching things around to ensure that Derek did not have video ministry responsibilities Sunday morning.

Jars of Clay also played a smallish part, for which we are thankful.

What I've Learned From Our Satellite Provider's Traditional Christmas Music Channel

1.  There's a reason Perry Como, Bing Crosby, Lena Horne, and Ella Fitzgerald are classic favorites:  They're the best.

2.  Listening to Julie Andrews is like having both Mary Poppins and Fräulein Maria singing Christmas music to me.  It's awesome.

3.  Hearing Handel's Messiah sung by Neil Diamond makes me want to take an ice pick to my ears.  (Where does Neil Diamond fit into "Traditional Christmas" music anyway?)

4.  Jo Stafford's "By The Fireside" is my new favorite song and new favorite singer.  I am obsessed.

7.  Margaret Whiting is another new-found favorite.

8.  While listening to "Baby It's Cold Outside" as sung by Dean Martin and Doris Day is enjoyable (as long as you don't pay too much attention to the lyrics), hearing it sung by Tom Jones and Cerys Matthews makes me feel indecent and want to pick the bloody ice pick back up to have another go at my eardrums.

9.  Nat King Cole always has been and will forever be my favorite.






Note:   I know, I know, it's not even Thanksgiving and I'm already listening to Christmas music.  I made it all the way to November 10th before turning it on this year, and even that is a minor miracle.

Jacque and Gus

I had vague thoughts about writing a post for today about the end of fall.

Then I opened my pantry and discovered mouse droppings.  This chased any change-of-season thoughts right out of my head.  Now that we've joined the hordes of people with mouse problems (and by hordes I mean my sister and a friend of mine), I feel compelled to write about these little unwanted guests (lucky you).

So far, I have yet to encounter a live mouse this year.  I've only seen evidence of their presence (the droppings, the corner of a hot cocoa packet gnawed through- and I swear that wasn't me).  I consider myself fortunate in this way, because two years ago the situation was very different.

Derek and I had begun to notice a foul odor about our house, especially downstairs.  We couldn't pinpoint the source of the smell, but it seemed to come from the area right around the fridge and pantry.  I scrubbed out the fridge, then decided that must have been the culprit; the smell seemed to be gone.  Two days later, the stench was worse than ever, but I had already cleaned out the fridge and emptied most of the pantry.  Finally, I moved a sack of potatoes on the bottom shelf in the pantry, and there it was:  A dead mouse.  But not just any dead mouse, oh no.  By some amazing and unfortunate coincidence, the corn syrup had tipped onto it's side, leaked out, and onto the deceased mouse.  So I couldn't just take 50 or so grocery sacks, pick it up, and throw it away that way; I instead had to scrape and chisel that thing off the laminate floor.  Normally I just save the disgusting chores for Derek, but I couldn't live with the thought of that thing decomposing all day while he was at work. It took forever, and the whole experience was exacerbated by the fact that I was pregnant with Caedmon, so my gag reflex was extra-sensitive.

Three-year-old Adelaide had to weigh in with her opinion on the matter.  As I was scraping and retching in the pantry, she voiced concerns over the poor dead mouse; after all, the mice on Cinderella were nice.  I informed my daughter that animated creatures that hand-make (paw-make?) clothing for you = good, while sticky, disease-infested rodents= bad, and I had yet to find any new dresses in my wardrobe.

We had one other mouse that winter, caught in a trap, and since then haven't had any problems- until yesterday.  Still, as long as I don't find anything dead coated in sugar, I'm not going to worry.

Now who wants to eat at our house for Thanksgiving?