The day the mincemeat melted

This morning I decided to make pancakes. I turned on the oven to warm up to 275 degrees. I forgot that I had kitty-proofed some plates of Christmas goodies by putting them in the oven. The oven beeped that it was ready, I heard a "clunk," and I smelled burning plastic. Here's what I peeled off the oven grate with a spatula:

Fortunately, most of my Christmas treats weren't in the oven. Those in cat-proof tins were sitting here on the kitchen table:

But really, it's been a good Christmas. Here are the slipper socks that Santa put in my stocking. Britomart likes them, too-- or at least she liked being in the picture:

And now on to the next holiday: Happy New Year about 14 hours early!

Reader participation time!

This is actually lifted from a friend's Facebook page-- and I posted it on my Facebook page, too-- but it's kind of fun to do. Feel free to play if you want; just comment that you want to play. If you choose to comment and play, here's what I'll do:

1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you which song or movie you remind me of.
3. I'll pick the flavor of ice cream that best suits you.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me. (If possible; if not, I'll say something that only makes sense to me. Won't that be fun?)
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something I've always wondered about you.
8. I'll tell you my favorite thing about you.
9. I'll tell you my least favorite thing about you-- in a very diplomatic, charitable way, of course.
10. If you play, you must post this entry on YOUR blog so more people can play.

I know, I'm not big on chain stuff passed along (reminds me of passing along a stomach flu virus), but I think this one's fun.

Energy building or energy draining?

A colleague reminded me of an exercise that's intended to teach students how to balance their lives. Here's how it works: You make a schedule of your day and categorize each activity based on whether it builds energy, drains energy, or is a complete waste of time. The goal is to have more energy building activities than energy draining ones (duh!). Let's see how I did today:

Slept in an hour later than normal-- should have been energy building, but I missed my normal morning run, which definitely builds energy AND made me feel guilty for staying in bed like a slug-- so that's an energy drain
Read scriptures-- energy building
Wrote a conference proposal draft and sent it off to colleagues-- energy draining, although ultimately the project is energy building-- it would be building if I weren't already so tired
Went to lunch with several colleagues-- energy building conversation
Waited an hour for our lunch to arrive-- energy draining
Finished conference proposal-- energy building
Went to Michael's to find materials to make ornaments for Thursday night's ornament exchange, which entailed driving in the rain as it got dark-- energy draining
Ate dinner-- energy building
Paid bills-- energy building- I know, weird, but I always finish paying bills and think, "Yes! Made it this month!"
Family home evening-- energy building

So how'd I do? I think maybe I broke even. Hmm. Gotta work on this.

It's beginning to look like Christmas

Here's my Christmas tree, complete with bubble lights. (I need more . . .)

Here are the Christmas carolers my dad made decades okay. There used to be four, but one got lost/blown away two years ago (sob!).

I have no outside outlights, and I'm scared of getting up on a ladder anyhow, so my compromise is to hang lights on the insides of my windows. I didn't notice some had fallen down until after I took this picture-- oops. It also just occurred to me that I should have turned on my outside lights, too (on either side of the door).

I'm not sure what my decorations would rate on Steve Fletcher's rating scale, but I tried. . . If I had outside outlets, I'd love to have one or two of those deer strung with lights. Kaysville Utah's city hall has a lit up moose-- I'd like that even better. Tonight, if I were in Iowa, I'd be driving around looking at all the luminaries in Coralville. Instead, I'll drive around and look at lights in South Park, the area where all the historical homes are. Christmas lights are the best!

Happy Birthday, Grandma May!!

Today, assuming Grandma May were still alive, would be her 100th birthday. She died in 2004, so she came pretty close to reaching that centenarian mark. Ten years ago, for Grandma's 90th birthday, the entire May clan put together a scrapbook where every family member got a page to write Grandma things they loved about her. Grandma won't be reading this blog (I'm sure she's got way more important things to do on the other side of the veil), but I want to celebrate Grandma's birthday by listing some things I love about her:

Grandma's noodle candy-- it's the last Christmas she ever gave me, and she made it despite really poor vision due to macular degeneration.
She used the word "scads" all the time-- as in "I have scads of laundry to do today."
Her visits to our house, driving from Ojai to San Jose in her green Dodge Dart-- when I saw that car as I came home from school, I'd run for the house because I knew she was there.
Staying feisty and energetic well into her early 90's-- guess who toured Europe when she was 80? Do I have those genes?
Her love of music.
Her height-- or lack thereof. I think there are hobbit genes in my family . . .
Her rock solid testimony of the Gospel.
Ice cream pie and lemonade made from lemons grown in her yard.
Her insistence that I drink pulpy orange juice even when I complained as a small child-- she saw past my stupidity when I couldn't.
The hours of sewing she put in to make clothes for me and my sister.
Her independence and how she put her life back together and reinvented herself after Grandpa May died suddenly.
Her tolerance of the cats in our house, even though she always got bitten by fleas during every visit (we tried to control them, honest).
Her sense of humor and her laugh.

I love you, Grandma! Can I be like you when I grow up?

Mommy, why did Sheila just fall off the organ bench?

I just know a friend's four-year-old is going to ask that one of these Sundays. You just wait; it'll happen. It almost happened last Sunday.

See, I'm too short for the organ; at least to play the pedals, which are a crucial part of an organ sounding like an organ as opposed to, say, a slightly mellower piano without the damper pedal. I have no idea how Grandma May, who was under five feet tall, played the organ all those years. Grandma, when I get on the other side of the veil I'm going to ask you.

Anyhow, back to the story. The few times I had to play the organ in Iowa City Second Ward, it was one of those fancy new organs that has a bass coupler, which is a nifty little lever you push that makes it SOUND like you're playing the pedals when you're really just using the keyboard. Pretty nice for short-legged pianists who get drafted into playing the organ because nobody else will admit that they play (or just plain DOESN'T play).

Funny tangent: I was asked a few years back to accompany a choir number for Easter. The number had an organ accompaniment, so I gamely agreed to play the organ. When I sat at the organ, I realized that I couldn't reach the pedals AND see over the music stand to watch the conductor. I sort of braced one leg against the bench and craned my neck, waiting for the director's opening cue. He turned to me, burst out laughing, and said, "Sheila, would you like to switch to the piano?"

So the organ in the Morgantown chapel does NOT have a bass coupler. It also has several non-working pedals. Like the B flat that's in every single hymn that has any flats at all, which is most of the hymn book. My solution: play the B flat that's an octave higher. Not a big difference in sound.

Big difference in terms of Sheila's balance, though. Keep in mind that the B flat I have to reach now is way up near the right hand side of the pedals while every other pedal I need is way at the left hand side. Also keep in mind that Sheila's already short legs have a hard time staying balanced without at least sometimes staying stationary, which is impossible when you have to move all over the pedals. Well, and I was wearing a kind of slick skirt Sunday (who knew a kilt could be slippery?).

Result? I almost slid off the organ bench several times during Sacrament Meeting. I was so relieved to NOT have fallen off the bench after four verses of the closing hymn (I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day) that I took my hands off the keyboard, thinking I was done. Nope, there's a fifth verse. I think the chorister thought I was giving a dramatic pause for effect, so maybe I got playing again in time that nobody noticed.

If you're TALL and play the organ, can you please move to Morgantown? Soon?

Alice speaks her mind

Okay, so Britomart already wrote HER blog entry. Now it's my turn. My name's Alice, and I'm the bigger, softer, nicer of the two of us. I get picked on by Brit all the time; notice on the picture at the bottom of the blog that in the picture on the papa san chair, Brit's got the prime spot in the center while I'm stuck on the outside edge. She thinks she's alpha cat or something, and she weighs half what I do. Oh, but I digress . . .

I wanted to blog about a new toy I've discovered in the kitchen: the corner cupboard above the counter, next to the sink. A couple of weeks ago Brit and I figured out that we could pull it open. There's not much we can paw at in there besides dishes, so for a while we just left the door open so Mom could see how smart we are. Also to show that she doesn't have control over our access to cupboards.

Mom doesn't like us to open the cupboard, so we waited until she was in bed and couldn't hear us. That worked fine until we discovered a toy within the toy: a cloth bag that holds lots of plastic grocery bags inside. It has an opening at the bottom that's just paw-sized, begging for exploration. So I complied. I hooked my paw in and pulled out a plastic bag. I didn't mean to REALLY pull it out, but I often forget to retract my claws and it got stuck. I was all for leaving it on the counter so Mom wouldn't know which of us did it.

But no, Brit wanted to play with the bag and bat it around the living room floor. Those hardwood floors are fun to skid across. Too bad she made a lot of noise and woke Mom up. Uh oh. I cleared out and ran up the stairs to pretend I was asleep while Brit got in trouble. Revenge is sweet. Bad news, though. Mom put the new toy out of reach, up on the top shelf of the cupboard.

Hmm, I wonder how good my climbing skills are?