#236: Decorate a Christmas Tree(s)
Not all family bonding has to happen on December 25th. In fact there’s a vital ritual that millions of families partake of every year.
This year in my family, it all went horribly wrong.
Well, to be fair, horribly wrong would involve one or all of the following scenarios:
1. Buying a live tree that happened to be termite infested, and led to the total destruction of your uninsured home.
2. Buying a live tree infested with some kind of wild animal, preferably the kind that’s either extremely violent when cornered, infested with a transferrable disease, or both.
3. Having a fault in the Christmas lights cause a massive explosion, disfiguring burns, and several fires throughout the home and neighbourhood.
4. Accidentally strangling a dog/cat/small child with badly hung tinsel at just the wrong moment.
5. Slipping on a globe, hitting one’s head on a coffee table, and dying instantly.
6. Same as above, but with quadriplegia.
So all in all, my family day went swimmingly. It would probably have been better if a child – any child – was involved, or if the tree was designed to accept ornaments in any way, or if my Mum didn’t have over a hundred separate ornaments. But we did the job, and now it’s done.
My brother, wisely, didn’t show.
My nephew arrived hours later than expected – hence, no children.
My sister, brother-in-law, and niece are in Perth.
Amusingly, CJ and I then went to dinner at a friend’s house. Guess what we did that night?
Yep. We decorated their tree.
On the up side, they have three children, and about ten ornaments in total, so the horror was (a) not so horrible, and (b) took about ninety seconds.
Until next year, then. . .
PS sorry Mum. I might hate your tree, but I still like you.
Critique
If you’re a writer, or (alternatively) if you enjoy shredding innocent souls, you might like to register for critique circle, one of the writing communities I frequent. http://www.critiquecircle.com/
Now is an especially good time, since I just put the prologue and first two chapter of my 09 naNo novel up for critiques. They’re under the title “See Through” and the name Louise Curtis (or possible Louisec).
Just saying.
#20: Acoustic guitar
The guitar is my favourite instrument. I love the curvy shape.* I also love the intimacy of the sound, and my favourite music is often a single person singing and playing their guitar.
During high school I was obsessive about guitars for a few months. I remember walking along practising chords on the air. I never had a formal lesson, just learned to read the chord diagrams and some very basic strumming. It’s all you need.
I don’t own a guitar, but even with my minimal knowledge I can pick up a guitar at a friend’s place and just play. It also proved useful when I was entertaining earthquake refugees in Indonesia. But mostly, I just love having an excuse (however slender) to touch the pretty thing.**
You can tell from the extremely low number that this was one of the first awesomenesses I thought of, way back in March.
*Best not to analyse that.
**See above.
Being Metal
. . . is not one of my talents.
Yesterday, my awesomeness task was to buy a totally metal plant (preferably something maneating). I bought a bogonia. https://twittertales.wordpress.com/2010/12/06/s36-metal-green-thumb/
Mere hours later, I went to work, tutoring an eleven-year old girl. Guess what she’d just bought?
Yep, she’s more metal than me – and for $17 from Bunnings, too. But are we surprised?
#139: Hunt up a bargain at a junk market
This was suprisingly enjoyable and useful.
CJ and W and I went a-wandering at the Jamison markets last Sunday, and it was good (and not just because I enjoy being surrounded by nice-looking boys). CJ and I bought Christmas presents for three people, and also bought a Carole Wilkinson book for $5 (sweet!) and a lump of beeswax to make the drawers of various furniture items slide better.
We saw a side-saddle saddle.
And a really excellent antique stall with a seafaring flavour (and some fantastically racist kitch).
Then we wandered into Aldi and witnessed first-hand the eerie similarity between Santa and the Easter Bunny.
Play along at home score: 8 out of 10 – recommended for the bookshops alone (they had really good stuff – Ben Elton and James Patterson and Pamela Freeman and much more – cheaper than second-hand bookshops, and most of it in perfect condition)
S#36: Metal Green Thumb
My mission was to get a weird plant – “a deadly nightshade or venus flytrap or sarracenia or nepenthes”. I got this:
Look, I admit it. The plant is downright pretty. I’m not very good at this heavy metal thing (despite my pirate credentials). But let’s take a closer look.
I’ve repotted it and put it with my other plants, and it definitely isn’t dressed like the in crowd (all of whom are wearing the new black*). It’s a begonia, which sounds a bit like a drunken lout yelling, “Begone, ya *#%@!” Also, if you squint real hard, it looks like it might just be DRENCHED IN BLOOD.
If that’s not br00tal, I don’t know what is.
Coming soon: playing guitar, hunting up a bargain in a junk market, decorating two Christmas trees in one day (see last entry), and. . . other stuff.
For those interested in my personal dramas, I was so distraught at gaining weight last week that I have a new plan. Today I binge eat and binge write – I’m aiming for 12,000 words (and have done 5,000 so far – it’s 3pm). From tomorrow I go into absolute no-chocolate-no-lollies-no-junk-food mode for three weeks. At the end of three weeks, I weigh less.
One tiny problem (other than the lack of chocolate making me instantly and uncontrollably psychotic): I have five Christmas parties in the next three weeks – and four of them are with family.
Wish me luck, my tr00 peeps.**
*which is to say, green.
**dear metalheads and/or gangsters: please do not kill me for that.
Solution
So, remember that moral dilemma I had about whether or not to tell an (alleged) blind man that he was routinely walking through the women’s changeroom?
He was a she.
In my defence, I only saw her from behind (until more recently, when I discovered the truth). She is elderly, very squarely built, and has very straight iron-grey hair cropped short. Also, she has an extremely deep voice. Definitely a female bathing suit, however.
Who’s blind now?
Had enough of the freaking Christmas spirit?
This might help.
S#7: Magic Trick
This turned out to be startlingly easy.
The “before” shot:
On the ratio of “least amount of work to most amount of results”, this scores VERY highly. I practised exactly once with non-fragile items, once with the (stoneware) plate and (metal) cutlery, and then set things up with the glasses for the video (they are glass glasses). CJ said, “Don’t you want to prepare a bit more first?” and I said, “This is way more interesting.”
So many unpleasant things in life begin that way.
The “after” shot:
The instant the video ended, CJ wanted a go. He mastered it instantly. So will at least some of you*.
I know from Mythbusters that the ideal circumstances are: A table that is stable and smooth. A cloth that is lightweight non-stretch satin, shiny side down (and the edge should be lined up with the far edge of your table). Light-weight objects. The larger the table, and the more objects you have – the more difficult it is.** It’s gravity versus friction.
Our table is smooth but not completely stable, and the fabric is medium-weight satin that stretches in one direction. And that’s it! That’s all the magic there is.
Oh, and by the way, you know Santa? He’s really not that nice.
*the cool ones.
**so don’t try this on the Christmas dinner table, and that means you, Uncle “eggnog” Bob.
PS yep I’m publishing this at 2am. I so badly wish I was asleep right now.
Guess what happened today? I read a “deeply honest, heartfelt” blog by someone saying how awful it is that she’s been writing two whole years and isn’t published yet. Then I read another blog article by someone saying how brilliant a particular writing program is, and how much it helped her and made her feel great about her book – her first book, which was barely finished when she applied (and at the program she worked with a close personal friend of Garth Nix, author of “Sabriel” and a personal hero of mine). I applied for that exact program, and I’ve written twelve freaking books over twelve long and soul-destroying years.
Clearly, I just suck.
#83: Go dancing
In days of yore – when giant beasts roamed the earth and even the trees had a hungry look – I was young, and inclined to go out dancing. A group of friends and I would prepare wonderful cocktails in our hipflasks, and dance away the night. One of the friends was a boy, very pretty in an anime way, who was short and slender with long hair. He pretty much always attracted attention before we did, and many a slightly-inebriated man had a moment of confusion about his life choices.
But I digress.
Last night, about 9pm, as I wondered how I’d be able to stay awake until bedtime, my sister-in-law called inviting CJ and I to go out on the town. We agreed with alacrity (and/or stoic endurance), changed out of our pyjamas, and went.
One of the side effects of dieting is feeling absolutely horrible about oneself physically (even as your clothes gradually grow less tight) so even after two Baileys I point-blank refused to dance in front of CJ (coz he’s the boy I like, and that’s just how it is). So we sent the boys outside and just us girls danced.
You’ll notice there are no photos. This night, like the nights of yore, is destined to fade into smoke-machine mist and the eerie creaking of the primeval forest.
Alternative title: Do something you really, really suck at.
. . . yay?
Tomorrow I’ll be posting photos and video of a bona fide magic trick – and giving you the secret (because a magician I’m not). Here’s a hint: It’s very, very easy, and looks cool.
Felicity Banks 