It Won't Turn Off!

The other evening, Daughter and I were on the way to pick up pizza after we had practiced what we are doing for the Christmas Eve services at church.

I had a pillow and a life sized baby doll in my lap (who will be baby Jesus, of course.)

It went through my mind I hoped we weren't stopped by police, thinking I had a real baby in my lap.

Now, for a normal person, that would be the end of that.

But for a writer? Nope.

The scene unfolds:

Blue lights go on behind us. We pull over. Policeman comes to the window and says: "Ma'am, you were reported seen transporting a baby without an infant carrier." He's staring at the doll in my lap.

I smile sweetly, hold the doll up by one arm and say, "Baby Jesus."

The cop looks at me strangely, speaks into his radio, sotto voce, but I think he says, "I may need back up."

Then he asks Daughter for her registration, insurance, driver's license, etc. She says, "I'm adopted."

End results: That week's newspaper headline: "Former Mental Health Center Director  Held in Psych Unit for Evaluation: Claims Doll is 'Baby Jesus'.

Response of my 'old' staff:

Lisa: "You leave her alone! If anyone could have Baby Jesus in their lap, it would be her!"

Tracy: "You leave Mama alone! She can play with dolls if she wants to! Is that a crime? Well, is it? I'm calling my sister, the attorney!"

Jonathan: "She's probably right. She's never been wrong before. If I were you, I'd be careful around that doll."

Tim: "I was afraid of this...I'm a psychologist now, you know."

Myra: "They, Lord help!"

And so on. 

See how hard it is to be a writer? 

You can't turn your brain off.

Film at eleven.

There's a Mouse in the House OR I Hate Meeses to Pieces...You Pick

We came home the other evening, and as I passed by Daughter's room, I saw two of our cats, Mimi and Frost, staring intently behind the Chest of Drawers.

"There's something in  your room," I said to Daughter.

She looked, said, "I don't see anything."

So, I went on my merry way.

Shortly thereafter, I thought I heard Daughter hollering, "Ow, Ow, Ow!" Not in a terribly injured way, just semi dramatic, so I went about my business. Then I heard, "Ow! Mama! Ow!"

I walked into her room, "What?"

"Mouse! Mouse! Mouse!"

Oh. Sometimes being hearing impaired can be fun.

"I told you there was something back there."

She got a flashlight and had taken a better look and found two little eyes staring back at her.

Then she wanted to know what to do. I suggested leave the cats to it. Meanwhile, Eli, my big bruiser Maine Coon Cat strolled by, sniffed, shrugged and walked into the bathroom and sat down by the food bin. He arched a brow as if to say, "I don't eat mouse. Put some food in my dish."

Daughter continued hollering. "Daddy! Daddy! Mouse! Come here!"

Husband arrives upstairs and shoos the cats out of the room.

Wait. What?

"Why are you doing that?" I ask.

"I don't want the cats to catch it. I'll set traps tonight."

Sheesh.

Praying the cats don't get hurt in the traps,I give up. He promises the room will be closed up so the cats can't get in.

The next morning, the mouse has had a fine breakfast of cheese and peanut butter and is resting comfortably somewhere in the house.

I think I heard it burp.

Daughter says it is 'sorta cute'. It must be a field  mouse, as she describes it as about an inch long. It probably came in with the stored Christmas decorations or came in while we had the door open toting said decorations into the house.

All this was a few days ago, and we havent' seen hide nor hair of the mouse.

But I feel certain we will.

Soon.

Another Year, Another Christmas Pageant

I have to admit, this year's started out a little slow. There was a lot of "down" time with kids standing around waiting on something -a cue,  maybe.

Finally, with the very first song we had some action. A  melt down by a nearly three year old. Nobody could figure out why, but he began to cry loudly and jump up and down. Mama came to the rescue and rushed him out the side door. 

At the end of the song, a little boy of around seven came off the stage crying. Never knew what that was about, either.

Gabriel had a solo. The words were being shown on a screen at the back of the church, but apparently the wrong verses were being put up at the wrong time. Old Gabe got the giggles, and finally said, "Those are the wrong words."  The finish was strong, though, with lots of applause.

The innkeeper was a regular comedian. Who knew? This kid is as quiet as they come. When Joseph asked if he had somewhere they could stay, the innkeeper looked coyly to the side and said, "No." which made the audience laugh because it sounded like "New." Then Joseph asked was he sure there wasn't any place they could stay, the innkeeper said, "We-ll, let me look around." Which he did, by turning his head up down, and back. More laughter from the audience. "We-ll," says he, "There is the stable."

Thank goodness!

In the middle of "O Holy Night", the little donkey appeared from stage right and began to wander around. The soloist was stage left, so my attention was split. Because the cow showed up, too. And, not be be outdone, the sheep showed up. The sheep is about the size of a one year old, and when she tried to navigate the first step, I thought she was a goner. But she flailed her arms, er, front legs, wildly and regained her balance. 

All the while, the soloist, either oblivious to the goings on at the opposite end of the stage, or a great actress, sang on. 

The stage began to fill up with the shepherds, the wise men, Mary and Joseph, the baby Jesus, all the angels, big and small. The animals were corralled and placed on their proper mark. 

As the soloist began her cresendo,  four or five of the littlest angels boogied on down. 

The End 

Music and Christmas Go Together....

Christmas music is a wonderful thing. 

Daughter and I sang a duet a few Sundays ago, and I will sing a solo on Christmas Eve. Folks who never sing or perform are eager to give it a try this time of year.

I think it's because we need extra outlets to rejoice. He is born, after all. The Hebrew nation didn't hear from God for around 400 years and then an angel spoke to a young girl named Mary.

By the way, do you notice in the Bible how women are so important? God spoke to Mary first after all those hundreds of years of not saying one thing. Women found the tomb empty. There were important women in the early churches, deaconess and prophetess alike. 

Anyway, we went to a Christmas musical the other night. Husband's first cousin co-wrote the score. It was held in a mega church. I'd never been in a church that was more like a concert hall before. 

I reckon you go where God calls you.

The musical was wonderful, I cried twice and rejoiced greatly.

Tis the Season!

I Broke My Scooter

I haven't blogged in a few days because I've been busy.

Busy moaning, crying, gasping, pouting, etc.

My scooter broke.

You know how when you are in bed and  you scoot your bottom over to get more comfortable?

Can't do it.

I am locked down, stove  up, tore up, messed up and hurt.

For some reason, when my bottom wouldn't scoot, I panicked.

Husband tried to calm me down, and moved me for me until I got comfortable.

I went to the chiropractor, but couldn't see the woman who has helped me before.

So I saw somebody else.

And now, I'm worse.

I got a massage yesterday and couldn't get off the table. She had already left the room so I could get up and get dressed. I had to holler, "My bottom won't move!" She graciously moved me for me.

This has got to stop.  I'm beginning to feel cheap and tawdry.

Wow! Tawdry would be a great Scrabble word!

I dug out the tinge unit, and of course the batteries were dead. They finally charged,and it gives me some comfort.

Tonight we are going to "The Atlanta Christmas Musical". Husband's first cousin is the co-writer to the score. We have tickets. Husband's Baby Sister is coming from Alabama.

MUST GO.

So I'll be electrocuting myself all night with a touch of muscle relaxant and pray for the best.

Toss a prayer up there for me, will ya?

A Little Conversation

WARNING: The following is a typical conversation around the supper table. It is not for the faint of heart.

Husband says something about where the (fill in the blank, I can't remember) is.

I sing the first line of "Where the Boys are".

Daughter, looking at me accusingly, "Is the second line of that song 'someone waits for me'?"

I smile and sing the first line again, adding the line she just told me. (I did a beautiful job, I might add).

She shakes her head. "They played that song all the time at work. I am so over that song."

Husband: "Connie Francis was very famous in her day. Just about every song she sang was popular."

Me: "She also produced Princess Leia."

Daughter: "Who?"

Me: You know, 'Star Wars'. "

Daughter "Oh. You  mean Princess Leia."  I said lee-uh, she said lay-uh.

Me: "Whatever."

Husband: "No, her mama was Debbie Reynolds."

Me: "I get those two mixed up all the time!"

Husband: "Her ex-husband, Bobby Fisher, said she was all fake."

Me: "Bobby Fisher was the chess champ."

Husband: "Oh. I mean Eddie Fisher."

Daughter: "Thanks a lot! Now that stupid song is stuck in my head."

Husband: (and he  means it) "What song?"

I begin a lovely rendition of "Where the Boys are."

Daughter: "Mama!!!"

And so it goes.

Happenin' Stuff

So much has been going on these past few days, I don't know where to start.

Thanksgiving was nice. We did the usual preparations, except we are all chipping in more and more and Mother less. She should actually be doing nothing but when you figure out how to keep her from it, let me know, okay?
Last year I was flat on my back and had to rely on Daughter to do my part, too. This year I hung in there and wasn't flat on my back until Friday. But the massage therapist has helped. If I ain't a lot better, chiropractor, here I come. I hate being on muscle relaxants too much, but sometimes that seems to be the only solution. Daughter and I are doing a duet at church tomorrow, so I may be hollering for help in putting on my pantyhose. I'm not sure it's possible.

Speaking of being flat on one's back, one of my dearest, bestest friend's husband fell off the roof and landed flat on his back. He has grievous injuries to his back and at least ten if not more ribs broken. One surgery has been done, the "real" surgery is set for Monday if his lungs have healed enough.

I am heartbroken for them. Their lives have changed forever. As she once told me, "There was  your life before you fell, now you have a life for after you have fallen."

If you are of the praying sort, get to it, please. They need it.

I have been asked to speak to the genealogy society here. I reckon it's because I'm so old they figure I can remember way back yonder. Unfortunately, I'm so old I can't remember way back yonder, so I'll read some of a book or two of mine and we can laugh and talk about it.

I can still talk real good.

And, speaking of books, mine are still selling pretty well. If you've missed one or two, you need to contact me. Also, Christmas is coming up and I have a book for just about every age.

Oh, and please raise your hand if you know my password for my e-mail.

Eh, me neither.

Later.