If the bottle has (accidentally) had a shake or two, the cork could fly out with enough force to break one of your flutes - and what would you use to serve your champagne, then?
Let's be careful out there.
We were reminiscing over Christmas dinner about the time some overenthusiastic family member uncorked a bottle of champagne and the cork grazed my eyebrow. "You'll shoot your eye out" should not be the theme of tonight's celebrations.
Having had far more than enought champagne last Sunday, I'll just wait to have a sparking grape juice toast with Rick and the boys as close to midnight as I can manage. (Even that is fraught with peril...I've heard of people being maimed by non-alcoholic sparkling beverages)

"Bridget, I need some sparkles....
Obviously some people here have bigger plans for the evening than I do.
I usually find a societal expectation to stay up until the midnight giddiness to be a real disincentive. Not to mention the fact that the boys are watching those football Bears. Maybe I'll just head up to my room and the stack of magazines and stuff that have gone unattended during December. And if everyone is down watching the games, I can crank up the the new CD I burned with some new iTunes selections etc. (I haven't had as much fun with music since I could run to the local record store for a single. This is just as cheap and I don't even have to borrow money from my mom and ride up town on my bike!)

May I suggest...

lyrics - johnny cash

lyrics - u2

or, perhaps...

lyrics - u 2 & b.b. king

Trying...
to do a first wedding anniversary salute to Emily and Big Edward (albeit a day late.)
Can't find any of the pics I thought I had on my computer nor the ones that Jerry had on his blog. (But I did find out the world is filled with Jerry Chengs...that search was about as useful as GOOGLING "Mary Smith.")
Happy Anniversary kids!

Merry Christmas to all…
and to Liguori Publications, the coveted award for first piece of Lenten promo material to arrive during Christmas. (It was in my mailbox on Tuesday, so technically it could have been delivered on Saturday, which gives them extra “Advent points.”)

I cannot contact them to announce the award. The website says: Our customer service & sales department is closed for the holidays until Tuesday, January 2nd, 2007.” And since they are excitedly promoting a revised edition of Sr. Joan Chittister’s ‘acclaimed work’ In Search of Belief, the are also eligible for a “Gag Me with a Spoon Award,” too!

Mais non?

Mais Encore was where the wealthy hawked their excess clothing, jewelry and, once, even a widow's Cadillac…
I sold a coat that belonged to my late mother at Mais Encore. (I’m not heartless. I’m just not a size 8. Being a wrap coat, I might have been able to wear it open, but it was one of those fuzzy Scandinavian knit things and it itched and made me sneeze. It also made me look like Poppin’ Fresh.)
I got a $100 for it. Which I turned around and put into a First Communion dress for Fran. (to passed down to Bridget and Martha and, I hope, any granddaughters I should have.)
It was a fun store. There were even a few items I could afford.

WISCONSIN MAN RUNS OVER, EATS SEVEN-LEGGED TRANSGENDERED DEER
Can’t imagine where to file this one:
A) Things you probably shouldn’t eat
B) Why am I not surprised it happened in Wisconsin?
C) Info that makes waiting for the UPS man tolerable
D) Gross. Just plain gross.

Charlie Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem.
Obviously Linus never worked for the Church. And had his printer die a week before Christmas. And sat in his office waiting to hear the UPS man deliver the new one. And waiting. And waiting. And blogging during work because he ran out of things to do that didn’t need the printer.

Oooh, I hear the doorbell. Gotta run.

#@*&$! It was the florist with a huge white poinsettia. Lotta good that does me.

'If you're after pure refinement,' he says, 'don't do Christmas. This is not the festival for you.'
Do you think he ever saw a marshmallow-man nativity?

I feel like a bootlegger's wife!
Here I am again…doing my yearly quote from one of my favorite movies. And this year it isn’t, ” You call this a happy family? Why do we have to have all these kids?”

In a fabulous moment – a cross between Extreme Home Makeover and one of those smarmy Lexus in the driveway with a big bow ads – a day that had started out with a plethora of aggravations turned absolutely golden. The second printer at work to die in about 72 hours? Who cares? The 4th grade Messiah that ran long and delayed a funeral? What? Me worry? The phone that wouldn’t stop ringing??? What phones?

Bridget picked me up after work, supposedly to go Christmas shopping. The morning had been so annoying that I left the rectory right on the hour and stood outside without a coat for ten minutes waiting. Standing outside, modeling bad winter time behavior for the 2nd graders leaving church after their pageant rehearsal, was better than one more minute at my desk. I feigned patience when she said she had to stop at home to change her shoes. This faux patience was wearing thin when she told me to come in the house because it might take her more than a few minutes and Eddie wanted to talk to me, too. Then, as I stood in the living room, tapping my toes, Rick called me to come out to the kitchen.

And as I came around the corner? Well, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a new, black, shiny, fabulous professionally leveled stove. Rick had scrimped and plotted and totally surprised me. He wanted the stove delivered before Christmas so we could bake some cookies that weren’t burnt. Anyone who thinks a stove is not a dream gift hasn’t cooked on my old stove. Not level, little burner power and two oven settings – off and 500 degrees. I would grumble that the wood stove my Aunt Tommy cooked on as a young girl had a better temperature control.

So the shopping was a ruse. And then, because the stove was delivered early in the day, Bridget came up with the “let’s stop at home” ploy. (Talk about strange happenings… the appliance store called at 6:30 in the morning to tell Rick he was the first stop of the day – now isn’t that like something out of science fiction? - and he had to stall them until I left for work.)

I just keep walking through the kitchen staring at it. The sports car of appliances.
No fur coat or diamond thingamabob could make me feel as loved and appreciated. Even the intense team work and secrecy of the family effort touches me. And no more flaming meringues…or tough chops…or quiche on an incline.

So you see Bishop Romer...
there is this bike path across from the high school . I don’t want my boys to be the ones up there smoking (anything) while cutting class. And did I mention the hideous junior high health classes? And the “Holiday Concerts” featuring Dust in the Wind and Imagine? And the rather weak catechesis in CCD?

The response of the Vatican officials was encouraging and positive. Bishop Karl Josef Romer of the Pontifical Council for the Family thanked the home schoolers: "I would like to thank you for your Catholic home schooling initiative that opens up new horizons for the family. I truly admire parents, the mothers and fathers who take on this great commitment and give their children not only food for their bodies and physical well-being, but also all the necessary formation for their minds and instruction in the Catholic Faith, which before being a doctrine, is the lived example of parents themselves. You are the most perfect model of teachers because you live what must shape the lives of your children."
(via Domenico Bettinelli)

Well we try. I’m not holding out for anyone to go on to get the highest grade point average at West Point or be a seminarian participating at a papal iinstallation Mass. For that matter I don’t even anticipate producing a West Point “goat.” But that’s not why we’re doing it.

We have to do what is best for our children. Which is what is not understood by those who feel that not sending the boys to Lake Forest High is what will keep them from becoming the next Vince Vaughn or Dave Eggers.

It’s just best that I wasn’t in the representative group of parents who visited the Vatican.

Do I amuse you? I make you laugh, I'm here to ... amuse you? What do you mean funny, funny how?
I will find you Mr. Hitchens and I will make you laugh. (OK, I concede I now fall into the described “hefty” category, but I could be quite amusing when I was much thinner. Except maybe during my senior in high school skirting anorexia phase. People who are constantly worried about the calories in half a graham cracker or a large apple versus a medium orange have no time for humor.)

Ellyn does not deal well with disruptions to her schedule.
I'm home in the morning today and working into the evening.
Basically, the day should be played out in reverse.
But I have become so entrenched in routine that I am not sure what to do next.
At this point, I vote for going back to bed.

Or maybe I shall have a cup of coffee and write a letter to Vanity Fair. That should get the blood flowing.

Where’s Waldo?
A Waldo woman, 20, has been charged with ransacking lockers at Grafton and Cedarburg high schools and stealing cash, cellular phones, clothing and other items from students.”

No, really? How could I grow up in Cedarburg, and never hear of Waldo?
It must not be such a small world after all.

And don't get me startedonDiddy’s fragrance line
"I don't want to control you...I want to console you."
No, kids, he wants to sell you stuff.

I must be getting old...
The best music video I saw on VH1 this morning was a Fruit of the Loom ad entitled "Blue." The apple gives a very nuanced performance...which is more than I can say for Beyonce, Christina Aguilera and the Pussycat Dolls. (And what are the Pussycat Dolls anyway? Singers? A troupe of strippers? One of those groups of fungible performers...like Menudo? Like Menudo as pole-dancing girls? Eeew.)

Save the Cupcake!
On the other hand...
I still remember when I was working as an aide at our parish primary school. Three students shared a birthday. The mothers did not wish to collaborate on treats and no one wanted to yield their prerogative for the provision of fat saturated unnaturally food-colored treats. The resulting lunch hour (and its clean up) was about as Felliniesque as a wholesome school experience could be.

Are too.
More later.

There is a new member of the family, and, like all new siblings, this one is getting a disproportionate amount of attention, resulting in jealousy, tantrums, even trips to the therapist.
They don’t call it a CrackBerry for nothin’.
Rick’s BlackBerry use is modest in comparison with some of the people in this WSJ article. But I think I know how some of those disgruntled children feel. I haven’t tried to flush it down the toilet, but I have been tempted to toss it out the car window. Concern for those behind us is what stops me.

Baby spas are an $11 billion a year industry.
Mom said I was collicky. Maybe my chakras were out of alignment.
(Disclaimer: My daughter works in a dog spa. So who am I to act surprised?)

Not what I was expecting...

Your Christmas is Most Like: A Very Brady Christmas

For you, it's all about sharing times with family. Even if you all get a bit cheesy at times.

What Movie Is Your Christmas Most Like?

but if Alice wants to pitch in with the cleaning, that's fine with me.

Thanks to the Summa Mamas!

Amy Welborn asks what’s going on at home for Advent.
It is interesting to hear what is going on for others. Especially now that I do not hold myself and family stringently in contrast against the practices of others.

In a spontaneous ‘chapter of Advent faults,’ one of our older daughters confessed that her secret to pillaging the chocolate Advent calendars (especially those belonging to siblings) was to start surreptitious removal beginning with #24 and working backwards.

The good news in our Advent preparations is that we may have a few extra bucks to throw at the Christmas tree, dinner, charity, etc. The bad news is that the money is coming from junking the van. At almost twenty years old - and with a variety of problems - the overheating engine and steam cloud on our way home from church last night was our sign that the end has come. (As if the trail of brown goo across the still somewhat snowy parking lot upon our arrival wasn’t enough.) There is a point at which you have to stop putting money into a vehicle. Too bad it wasn’t 6 months ago when we spent $400 on tires. Oh, well. So after the first of ‘07, we’ll begin in earnest to find a new van. (The clown car would suffice for us, even though Chuck barely fits in the back seat, but the St. Isidore Computer Foundation needs a way to move those components around.)

We’ll see how it goes. If the Pick-n-Pull people don’t want it, it is still good for $40 from Victory Auto Wreckers.

The random qualities in GOOGLE news are quite amusing.
Today’s chuckle:
Pediatricians blast inappropriate ads etc. etc.
Not that there is anything funny about the articles. It’s just that GOOGLE accompanies them with a picture of a bunch of pills. Pills that appear to be Viagra.

Advent in the Park with Ellyn...
I know I'm not the dullest tool in the shed. But I still can't assemble the Playmobil Avent Calendar in the amount of time suggested on the box. 25 minutes? Hah!