1.12.11

 

Another interesting date. 

Yawn. 

The year’s been full of them; I’ve done them to death.  What more is there to say?  11211 is:

• A zip code from Brooklyn.
• A palindrome.
• A comprehensive guide to over fifty bars and lounges in Williamsburg.
• A media management company.
• A binary number?  Possibly.  I started a Google search but fell asleep before I’d even reached a third of the way down the list.  Like a driver who can’t fix a car, I don’t need to know how it works to show me how beautiful it is.

Instead, how about something that’s happening on this date?

If you are in the Manchester area tonight, there’s free entry to a poetry book launch.  I have a poem in it (no disinterested promotions on this blog, maties) but I won’t be there, for various reasons, one of which is the fact that I still haven’t bought new shoes after the horror of getting to the launch of last year’s anthology.

Related Posts:

• https://thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com/2011/01/01/1111/
• https://thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com/2010/06/18/a-pain-on-the-train/

My Christmas List

Image via Wikipedia

It’s the first of December so I thought I would start as I mean to go on: blogging about Christmas.  Or, in this case, re-blogging about Christmas.  Don’t judge me – I bet there isn’t one of you who hasn’t ‘re-gifted’ in your time.

Our Christmases tend to be the same; only the presents change. 

*

January 2

Take down the tatty remains of the Christmas decorations. Store in Christmas boxes, Christmas sacks, Christmas bags and Christmas suitcase for easy identification in the loft next December.

January 3

Hit the sales (only 356 shopping days left to Christmas). Queue for two hours to get into car park. Buy nothing except the one available unbroken half-price tree decoration.

February 3

Christmas credit card statement arrives.  Read it and weep.

March 13

Tilly Bud’s nagging finally coincides with the Hub’s first good day of the year and Christmas decorations are returned to the loft after standing in the upstairs hallway for two months.

NB Now that we have had loft ladders fitted, the nagging is reversed and the Hub insists I drag my lazy backside up there and put away the decorations that I wanted down in the first place.

September Onwards

Christmas adverts start on telly. Ignore them while applying sun block for Indian summer. Ignore the Hub complaining, ‘I hate Christmas, I do.’ Complain to everyone we know about how Christmas comes earlier each year but don’t mention the suitcase full of presents we already have stashed away.

Fourth Saturday before Christmas

Begin watching Christmas movies on Saturday afternoons to get in the festive mood: It’s A Wonderful Life; While You Were Sleeping; Sleepless In Seattle; Terminator 2 (if you’ve been present at some of our Christmas Dinners you’ll get the connection); and the greatest Christmas movie ever made: A Muppet Christmas Carol. Begin boasting to harrassed friends about the suitcase full of presents we have stashed away that means our Christmas shopping is complete before anyone else has even started.

Cover via Amazon

December 1

Make list of Christmas cleaning jobs. Stretch out on couch to recover, watching naff Christmas movie on tv.  Weep at the wonderful Christmas message about families and being grateful for what we have it contains.  Start hinting to the Hub that we must get the tree and decorations down from loft.

December 9

Search for tree and decorations in loft.

December 10

Search for tree and decorations in loft.

December 11

Find tree and decorations in loft.  Get down tree and decorations from loft. Put on cheesy Christmas music to get everyone in the mood. Argue about cheesy Christmas music. Erect tree. Argue. Dress tree with lights and tinsel with boys. Take boys off tree. Take lights and tinsel off tree.

Watch the Hub dress tree with lights and tinsel in the correct manner. Sulk.

Share decorations equally between family. Spend ages arguing about who has the most/least/best/yuckiest decorations.

Collapse exhausted into bed.

December 12

Clear up yesterday’s mess. Accidentally vacuum half the tinsel left dangling after yesterday’s fist fight over who has the most/least/best/yuckiest decorations.

December 16

Attend carol service with brass band and remember what Christmas is all about.

Christmas Eve

Lunch time: take flowers to Dad’s grave. Miss him.

Ten minutes after lunchtime: open the first bottle of wine/tin of chocolates/box of biscuits.

Four p.m.: Attend Christingle at church.  Stick sweets and candles in oranges and remember what Christmas is all about.

Send excited children to bed on the one night of the year they want to go at six p.m. Spend next eight hours telling them, ‘Santa won’t come until you go to sleep, darlings.’ (Translation: ‘Get to sleep now, you little brats; we’re knackered!’)

Cook turkey and other meat; prepare vegetables. Stay up till two a.m. to welcome Santa. Go to bed, leaving on all lights to deter burglars with no Christmas spirit.

Struggle to sleep. Wake up every three minutes hearing noises that indicate burglars. Wake growling Hub to send him downstairs to check for burglars. Have huge argument with Hub who not only refuses to go and check for burglars but turns over and goes back to sleep. Lie awake until six a.m, listening for burglars and worrying about the waste of electricity.

Image by HTTP 500 – Internal Server Error via Flickr

Christmas Day

Six-O-Three: woken by excited chatter of two children raiding their stockings.

Six-O-Five: recover from winding caused by excited children jumping into bed to demand we all go downstairs for presents.

Six-O-Seven: set up video camera to tape every magical moment as children wait excitedly in the hall.

Seven-O-Seven: finally accede to the Hub’s assertion that it might be Tilly Bud’s camera, which he knows because he bought it for her, but trust him, he knows what he’s doing and can set it up perfectly well, thank you very much; and stop that sulking, you misery, to which children add, Yeah, Mum.

Seven-O-Eight: film delight on boys’ faces as they enter Santa’s grotto (temporarily set up in living room).

Seven-Fifteen: start unwrapping presents, taking turns so that everyone sees what everyone else has got and thanks can be given and received.

Ten-Fifteen: finish unwrapping presents. Make traditional Christmas breakfast of toast so that everyone has a stomach lining before inevitable munching of Christmas goodies begins.

Ten-Sixteen: send exhausted Hub to bed for a few hours.

Ten-Thirty: everyone not sleeping, dresses. Boys disappear to their rooms to play with their new toys, leaving Tilly to clean up. Tilly stretches out on empty couch with Maltesers and one of her new dvds, ignoring mess. Thinks about starting dinner. Snores.

Two-Fifteen: wake Hub to give his stomach time to prepare to eat large Christmas dinner.

Four-Fifteen: eat large Christmas dinner.

Rest of day: rest.

December 29

Discover unticked list of Christmas cleaning jobs tucked down back of couch. Discard.

January 2

Take down the tatty remains of the Christmas decorations. Store in Christmas boxes, Christmas sacks, Christmas bags and Christmas suitcase for easy identification in the loft next December.

January 3

Hit the sales (only 356 shopping days left to Christmas). Queue for two hours to get into car park. Buy nothing except the one available unbroken half-price tree decoration.

Joke 252

Thanks to Sarsm for this one.  And I mean that most sincerely, folks.

Christmas Cake Recipe

Ingredients:

1 cup of water 1 tsp baking soda
1 cup of sugar 1 tsp salt
1 cup of brown sugar lemon juice
4 large eggs lots of nuts
1 bottle Vodka 2 cups of dried fruit

Method:

Sample the vodka to check quality.
Take a large bowl, check the vodka again.
To be sure Vodka is the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.
Repeat.
Turn on the electric mixer.
Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add one teaspoon of sugar.
Beat again.
At this point it’s best to make sure the vodka is shtill OK.
Try another cup…just in case.
Turn off the mixerer.
Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.
Pick fruit off floor.
Mix on the turner.
If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers pry it loose with a
sdrewscriver.
Sample the vodka to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Who caresh.
Check the vodka.
Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.
Add one table.
Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.
Greash the oven and puss in the fridge (or sink).
Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.
Don’t forget to beat off the turner.
Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish the vodka and kick
the cat.
Fall into bed.

CHERRY MISTMAS!