I'm almost ready to start on completely fresh pages, now that I really ought to be focusing my energy on my Christmas list. (Such as, you know, making one. I'm not that great at figuring out what people might want or need-- always second-guessing myself. . .)
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Speaking of Christmas, a couple of local radio stations have been playing holiday music 24-7 since before Thanksgiving. Now that it's finally the Right Time for Christmas music, I decided to tune in while scrapbooking.
The first little bit was nice and cozy. Maybe they weren't all my favorite songs, but it was pleasant to have a random mix of songs that I myself hadn't carefully chosen. Even with the mp3 player on "random", I know exactly what's in the pool to begin with-- so it's not quite the same experience as listening to the radio.
However, as time went on, I began to see a pattern-- one which became more obvious when I listened to the radio again, another day or two. Apparently these radio stations have a very limited number of Christmas songs available. Either that, or they only really like about 30 songs, because they play the same ones over and over and over again. (I seem to recall this from previous years, as well. . .)
This constant repetition of songs gets old in a hurry. Yes, there are only so many Christmas/holiday melodies to begin with, but there are plenty of different versions of them available!
Pointless complaint, but oh well. There it is, anyway.
The first little bit was nice and cozy. Maybe they weren't all my favorite songs, but it was pleasant to have a random mix of songs that I myself hadn't carefully chosen. Even with the mp3 player on "random", I know exactly what's in the pool to begin with-- so it's not quite the same experience as listening to the radio.
However, as time went on, I began to see a pattern-- one which became more obvious when I listened to the radio again, another day or two. Apparently these radio stations have a very limited number of Christmas songs available. Either that, or they only really like about 30 songs, because they play the same ones over and over and over again. (I seem to recall this from previous years, as well. . .)
This constant repetition of songs gets old in a hurry. Yes, there are only so many Christmas/holiday melodies to begin with, but there are plenty of different versions of them available!
Pointless complaint, but oh well. There it is, anyway.
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Remember how I was complaining about how none of the pants that used to fit me fit this year? Well, part of that mystery's been solved.
While dressing yesterday morning, I thought I remembered, somewhere in the back of my dimming, nearly-thirty-year-old brain, a particular pair of jeans. That memory triggered one of another pair, and so on. But. . . where were those pants? I couldn't find them in any of my usual hiding places for out-of-season clothes. Finally, I walked back to stand in front of the chest of drawers and realized that, hey, there are four drawers there, and I haven't looked into the fourth in many moons! (Gosh, I sound ditzy. I think I am getting ditzier as time goes by. Scary.)
So, until now, despite several weeks of "pants weather" and searching each morning for something to wear, I'd just never noticed that fourth drawer-- the drawer, it turns out, where I was keeping most of my comfortably-fitting pants, the last time it was cold enough to need them.
The good news: I now have several more pair of wearable pants. Though I still want to lose a little around the waist, at least I have something to wear in the meantime.
The bad news: Apparently my memory is faulty. How could I walk by that dresser several times a day and never realize that there was a whole drawer I wasn't (currently) using? Is this how it feels when you first begin to lose your mind? I'm going to at least pretend to believe that everyone does this-- that it's due to being such a creature of habit that I simply cease to see things that I don't use on a regular basis. (Maybe this could also be an excuse-- er, explanation for clutter and unfinished projects. . .)
While dressing yesterday morning, I thought I remembered, somewhere in the back of my dimming, nearly-thirty-year-old brain, a particular pair of jeans. That memory triggered one of another pair, and so on. But. . . where were those pants? I couldn't find them in any of my usual hiding places for out-of-season clothes. Finally, I walked back to stand in front of the chest of drawers and realized that, hey, there are four drawers there, and I haven't looked into the fourth in many moons! (Gosh, I sound ditzy. I think I am getting ditzier as time goes by. Scary.)
So, until now, despite several weeks of "pants weather" and searching each morning for something to wear, I'd just never noticed that fourth drawer-- the drawer, it turns out, where I was keeping most of my comfortably-fitting pants, the last time it was cold enough to need them.
The good news: I now have several more pair of wearable pants. Though I still want to lose a little around the waist, at least I have something to wear in the meantime.
The bad news: Apparently my memory is faulty. How could I walk by that dresser several times a day and never realize that there was a whole drawer I wasn't (currently) using? Is this how it feels when you first begin to lose your mind? I'm going to at least pretend to believe that everyone does this-- that it's due to being such a creature of habit that I simply cease to see things that I don't use on a regular basis. (Maybe this could also be an excuse-- er, explanation for clutter and unfinished projects. . .)
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Earlier, I was enjoying a rare peaceful and quiet morning at the computer. Usually, Trixie can only go fifteen to thirty minutes in the morning without barking to either go outside or be played with. Today, she was already outside, and for some reason, she wasn't yet barking or "bouncing the door" to tell us that she was ready to come back in.
Uh oh. That sent up a red flag. (Just like parents always say about their kids, any puppy owner knows that too much quiet usually indicates that mischief is afoot, somewhere.)
I betook myself to the back yard, looking for her, and soon enough, here she came bouncing toward me. As soon as she saw that I'd seen her, she turned and ran back to something she'd left on the lawn. Something dark and longish and oh-my-gosh-is-that-a-snake?? I called out to her-- pointlessly, as she had already reached it. (Yes, believe it or not, my frantic call of "Wanna go inside?! TREAT?!" went unheeded.)
I had just enough time to think, "Well, it seems to be still. Maybe she's killed it..." before she lifted it and I saw that it was a piece of fabric. Fast-forward a few minutes and some toy-squeaking distraction efforts, and I'm holding a soggy black sock. She's always had a fondness for socks, but this was the first time she'd had her way with one since her baby days, and she took full advantage of it. Now it's not so much a sock as it is the new, trendy, sock-y equivalent of the fingerless glove. Everyone will be wearing them, soon! ;o)
Oh, Trixie.
Uh oh. That sent up a red flag. (Just like parents always say about their kids, any puppy owner knows that too much quiet usually indicates that mischief is afoot, somewhere.)
I betook myself to the back yard, looking for her, and soon enough, here she came bouncing toward me. As soon as she saw that I'd seen her, she turned and ran back to something she'd left on the lawn. Something dark and longish and oh-my-gosh-is-that-a-snake?? I called out to her-- pointlessly, as she had already reached it. (Yes, believe it or not, my frantic call of "Wanna go inside?! TREAT?!" went unheeded.)
I had just enough time to think, "Well, it seems to be still. Maybe she's killed it..." before she lifted it and I saw that it was a piece of fabric. Fast-forward a few minutes and some toy-squeaking distraction efforts, and I'm holding a soggy black sock. She's always had a fondness for socks, but this was the first time she'd had her way with one since her baby days, and she took full advantage of it. Now it's not so much a sock as it is the new, trendy, sock-y equivalent of the fingerless glove. Everyone will be wearing them, soon! ;o)
Oh, Trixie.
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We put up our Christmas tree over the weekend. I have yet to put away the boxes and vacuum all the needles and bits of glittery garland that fell around the room in the process of putting it up-- and until that's done, no photos!-- but it is good to have the tree up. Christmas is sneaking up on us early this year. Or at least that's what it feels like. . . So much to do, so little time!
