Random Thursday: Holiday Notes and Some Random Flashes of Urim

Random Thursday (ˈrandəm ˈTHərzdā): the day on which Sarah plunks down all the odd bits and pieces she’s been sent by friends or has otherwise stumbled upon this week in an effort to avoid writing a real post, the assembly of which usually ends up taking twice as much time as sitting down and creating actual content.

Chag urim sameach, y’all—and Merry Last Week of Frantic Shopping For That One Impossible Person You Pulled For the Family Exchange.

Have a random mixed bag o’ holiday!

_________________________

Turnabout is Scientific Play . . . Or Something

 oooooooooOOOOOooooooooo

Sugar Plum Jamming

Dads + Holiday Jumpers + Dubstep =
My New Favorite Christmas Commercial

The music is available for downloading, somewhere, too—check the YouTube info.

 oooooooooOOOOOooooooooo

Handel with Care

Wondermark!

Last year, our church choir attempted to sing the “Hallelujah Chorus”
at the Christmas Eve service.

We worked really hard, learned those parts—
even brought in a couple of stunt sopranos.

This Christmas Eve, we were going to give “For Unto Us a Child is Born” a try.

But then we were told that instead of singing,
the choir will be voicing the lines of the children
performing in the Christmas Pageant Sermon,
which is titled,”The Best Christmas Present Ever”.

Sunny and I are a Cabbage Patch Kid.

I can only assume that the Chapter Office of Westminster Abbey
placed a call to our church secretary,
requesting that we not set Handel spinning in his grave again this year,
as it quite disrupted the midnight services over there.

Kids singing

We’re very, very sorry.

Just out of curiosity . . . Where is Bach buried?

 oooooooooOOOOOooooooooo

No, YOU light the shamash

Menorasaurus Rex.

Menorasaurus Rex

Get ’em right here.

(Thanks, Watson—I’m saving the rest for next week!)

 oooooooooOOOOOooooooooo

It’s Not Just a Gig, It’s An Adventure

Seems the  Sideboys vocal ensemble
had a few “problems” with their sheet music at the 2010 U.S. Navy Band Holiday Concert.

Remember men:
The only easy harmony was the last one.

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Snow Eve

Nature’s Christmas tree, right outside our window. 

The apple tree was caught off guard by the early temperature drop right after Thanksgiving.  If you squint, you can see the snow on top of the frozen fruit.

We’ve got about eight inches of White Christmas on the ground right now, and it’s still coming down.  I’ve got an hour before I have to drive my little shepherd and sheep to church, which is literally over the river and through the woods.  We have to be there at four, the pageant is at five. 

We’re leaving at three.

If you celebrate Christmas, have a merry one!  

And if you don’t have to drive in the snow, feel free to celebrate that, too.

Random Thursday: Sheep, Salad, and Silent Hallelujahs

The coordinator of the church Christmas Pageant e-mailed the cast list this morning.  Janie is a shepherd, which is a pretty good gig for someone who was the donkey last year* . . .  except Sunny is the sheep.

This was done on purpose—last year’s coordinator wanted Sunny to walk down the aisle with Zoe, another curly blonde child, in matching angel costumes.  Sunny declined, at the top of her voice, to be haloed, robed, or go anywhere near Zoe, who is a sweet kid but tends to ignore the personal space of smaller children until they fall over.

So it was hoped that being close to her sister this year would make Sunny more comfortable.  It seems to have worked—Sunny is very excited about being Janie’s sheep.  As her mother, though, I can’t help but think that my curly-headed little lamb is probably going to keep her shepherd on her toes . . .

oooooOOOOOooooo

I’ve been humming the Hallelujah Chorus all day.  I could say it’s because I finally finished that stinkin’ chapter of my WIP and sent it off to First Reader last night—and this afternoon, she sent it back with a lot of lovely comments** that had me breathing a sigh of relief.

But really, it’s because my friend the Earworm King suggested that this might be a good way for librarians to bring a little holiday music into the workplace:

Since the library has always been my haven against the relentless, repetitive cheer that is Winter Holiday Music™, I’m gonna pass, thanks.   But if we ever have a talent show, I’m there with the signs!

oooooOOOOOooooo

I just tucked Sunny into bed.  There’s nothing like a snuggle-hug from a warm, recently-bathed and shampooed kid in fleece footie jammies.

I said, “You smell really good.”

She said, “Like salad?”

I blinked. ” Salad?  you think salad smells good?”   I’ve never thought about salad smelling like anything much, except maybe green.  She didn’t smell green—her soap-paint is violently strawberry and purple grape, and her shampoo is orange cremesicle.

She nodded.  “I like salad.”

This is patently untrue.  She likes the idea of salad, since it’s a grown up food and she is determined to be a Big Girl.  But carrots and cucumbers are as far as she’s been willing to go, and even then you have to match her bite for bite in a crunch contest.  “You like salad?  Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

So I gave up and sang a song, for which she forgave me,  kissed her, kissed her bear, cocooned her in her quilt and afghan and left.  Then I turned around and came back.  “What kind of salad?”

Who knew a half-asleep three-year old could make the same tsk sound as her older sister?  “Fruit salad, Mommy.”

I’m not bright.  But I mean well.

oooooOOOOOooooo

I have an hour and ten minutes left to make the writing goal part of my pre-resolutions today.

I think the extra chapter of Clementine with Janie and the extra snuggle with the fruit salad was well worth the time—but now it’s a wastin’.

Ciao, y’all.

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*And who stole the show with her single line, which she projected at exactly the wrong time to great comedic effect:

Zoe, around her favorite thumb: “Feaw not! For I bing you glad tide-lings of gweat joy!”

Janie: “HEE-HAW!!!!!”

**And, yes, a few that made my slap my forehead and wonder why I cling to the notion that English is my native tongue.   And why I still try to have my characters handle guns when it has been made very clear to me that I have some kind of natural anti-talent in this area . . .  But she always phrases things in a way that never makes me wonder why I’m still writing.  That, my friends, is why she’s First Reader and I’m damned lucky.