persephone33

So, we had the AAA Electric Christmas party last night, without incident, and it went smoothly. Unlike the year that we were watched by owls. Does anyone remember that?

I do.

Unfortunately, it was very hard to enjoy myself, not only because it is the single most stressful day of the year for me, but also because I've come down with a fairly severe case of what I think (with all of the knowledge my Bachelor's in Theatre provides) is bronchitis. When I speak, I sound like a mix between Harvey Fierstein and Kathleen Turner. It's hot.

Not really.

And I'm coughing non-stop. A little while ago, after a particularly violent fit of coughing, Nolan looked at me and said, "I don't think I've ever been more attracted to you than I am right now."

I was too weak to go over there and kick him.

So, amidst the barrage of things I need to do this week, which may include but are not limited to: cooking a funeral meal at church Tuesday, a taking a meal over to a friend, wrapping nine million and four Christmas gifts, having Christmas with my side of the family Wednesday night, reading The Grinch to first graders Wednesday morning, having company all week and a hair appointment on Friday, I need to carve out some time to go to the doctor.

Ugh. Though... I like my doctor. He always makes horribly inappropriate jokes and then apologizes profusely. So there's that.

Okay. These are first world problems. Nothing I can't handle. I'm doing it. I'm going to the grocery store to buy all the food we'll need for this week. One vodka and Valium step at a time.

Happy Christmas Week, everyone. Cheers.

Alright, I'll post, and then I'm going to go read Shall Rise Again, chapter 18, and then I'm gonna read Jess' rec list, but then I really must finish the contest fic.  I'm still in my pyjamas, but if I don't do this now, it'll be hanging over my head, so, guh.

Rick Springfield puts on quite the show.  He may be fifty-something, but he still looks pretty good, all considering.  I kept thinking, "He's the same age as my Sunday School teacher...  wow."

The concert was just like high school (some of them in the fashions of 20 years ago...  banana clips, anyone?), with the pretty girls screaming for him, only it was as if everyone had swelled a bit.  We had great seats, perfect, really, second row, center, right in front of the mic, especially when I found that the moment the lights dimmed all of the aforementioned swollen girls rushed the stage...  (at a Rick Springfield concert?) and the people on the front row were screwed if they were claustrophobic.  These girls (Women.  Women.  My.  Age.  Or older...) had hands outstretched toward the stage (a good many of them with WEDDING BANDS on), groping the man.  Ew.  There was one who was a restraining order waiting to happen.  My husband was the only straight man within 500 yards, sitting amidst a bunch of standing, dancing, thirty-something women.  He was a good sport.  Looking back, I should've brough my friend Jeff, instead.

At first I questioned why Rick would even play an Indian Casino in the middle of Okla-freaking-homa.  I sure wouldn't.  But then it became abundantly clear.  This must be a huge ego boost for him.  And he really looked like he was having a good time, for the most part, I guess.  He did forget where he was (er, Okay, Oklahoma, that I understand), and the words to a couple of his own songs, but that's forgiven, I suppose.  I mean I walk into a room sometimes and forget why I'm there, and I'm over 20 years younger than he is.  So.  Had a good time, even if he only included my favorite song in a medley of greatest hits (boo, hiss).  He played Jesse's Girl.  So I was pretty happy.


Aaron's birthday party went okay, although it rained, and we were unable to do the Batmobile pinata, and I got the cake wrong, evidently, Robin's shirt is red.  Aaron said,  "It's okay, Mom, you're a girl."  And he loved his present from Granny.  Slept in it last night!


Okay, now I must really get to work.  Thank you again for the new icon, blueangelique!