Alice's Adventures Underground

Bang Nazi

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 16:39:00 +0000

About a hundred years ago (or maybe four) I posed the question: Should I cut The Caterpillar's hair or not? And you, The Internet, told me not to. Apparently, I am quite obedient to the wishes of the Internet because other than one ill-advised moment where I didn't know where the scissors were, I have not taken the time or effort to have The Caterpillar's hair cut even once since she was born.

I have no training in hair cuttery whatsoever. But once when between high school and college while I was working as a counselor at a music camp, a friend asked me to cut his hair because we couldn't go off campus for two weeks and we were broke and poor and penniless. I said something to the effect of, "Dude, you know I don't know how to cut hair, right?"

And he replied with unique logic, "What's to know? You pick up the hair, cut it with the scissors, you're done."

And I was all, "Hmmm. Point taken. You have an appointment at ten o'clock this evening."

So we sat in the lobby of the girls dormitory late that night and I gave my very first haircut of my life. I may or may not have used a regular pair of paper cutting scissors from the secretary's desk drawer. I admit to nothing. It didn't come out half bad if I do say so myself. Which really just means no one noticed he'd gotten a hair cut the next day, but no one said, OH MY GOODNESS WHAT SMALL RODENT WAS GNAWING ON YOUR HAIR LAST NIGHT?!?!? either, and in my estimation, that.... is a success.

I generally stayed away from cutting hair in most other cases, that is until The Dormouse came around. Somewhere during the year she turned two, I had someone cut bangs into her hair and that proved to be a cute look, but also a royal pain in the ass. Bangs grow out quickly, you see. And I have a hard time ponying up the dough for a $20 haircut where kids can watch three minutes of Scooby Doo cartoons while a hair stylist who is barely verbal (not just English, but any language at all) cuts a hasty, uneven swath through my kid's hair and then shoos us out of her area for the next ~~victim~~ client, like Sweeney Todd. Except Sweeney didn't expect to be tipped before his ~~clients~~ victims left the chair. Suffice it to say, I am not a fan of places which shall remain nameless but where an elephant washes your hair.

I am also not a fan of paying $40-$75 for a bang trim that takes forty seconds with a reputable hair stylist, so I taught myself to cut The Dormouse's hair and have done most of the maintenance all these years. About once a year, I'd take her to a real hair stylist, have that person give her a proper haircut and then I'd take care of trimming it for the next nine months to a year or until I'd mucked it up so badly it needed a savior again. Recently, The Dormouse decided wanted her hair cut short and she now has a hairstyle that is above my ability to maintain, so I see us spending a lot more dollars on hair care in our future.

Trimming bangs is a mother dog, by the way. They grow out unevenly in our gene pool and The Dormouse has a cowlick in the bangline which makes her look like the person who cut her hair was wearing a blindfold no matter how many episodes of Scooby Doo I forced her to sit through while I adjusted just a little more off this side, now just a little more off that. I finally learned a few techniques that helped get her bangs exactly straight, but I'm afraid one of them was "'come over here and let Momma fix what she messed up yesterday.' Repeat daily for seven days."

So when The Caterpillar came along I said, "No bangs for you!" and that, more than any other reason, is why I have not had her hair cut in nearly four and a half years of life.

But all good things must come to an end and her hair had been looking pretty raggedy for awhile. Take into account that no one in my family from the clan-of-the-straight-hair (that would have made a much more boring book title, by the way) has ever seen a curl that wasn't put there by an iron, so I have not clue one as to what to do with curly hair like The Caterpillar's. I've combed it. I've put product in it. I've sprayed it. I've braided it. I've ponytailed it. There is not a hair management device I've tried that doesn't come out in under twenty minutes, leaving her looking like a ragamuffin with a giant hair halo who can't even find her hairbrush.

So this week, I drew in a big breath, sat down with my hair cuttin' scissors (real ones this time) and attempted to cut The Caterpillar's hair - myself. I cut about two inches off the long piece in the very back (she had some weird, Fish Tail Mullet Thing going on back there) and I gave her some long layers and tapered sides in the front.

I'm pretty sure that any proper hair stylist who looked at it closely would find problems and scold me immediately, but it's such an improvement over before, I don't care. It doesn't look like a small rodent gnawed on it and that... as I learned many years ago... is a success.

Cobbles

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 10:32:00 +0000

There's been a little experiment going on along side of my driveway. The goal is to one day, instead of stepping out of the car into a giant mud hole, step out on the mudless, newly widened driveway via these fake cobblestones. And one day these cobblestones will line both sides of the driveway and lead a path along the side of our house, into the back yard. The KingofHearts has been working on this project since... oh about March of last year. He doesn't work quickly, but I don't pay in him the same way I'd pay a regular contractor. Now if only we could arrange for a light dusting of snow every morning so they could look as good as they do this week.

Arsonist in the Making

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 18:09:00 +0000

"Momma why don't we go to people's houses that are far away?"

"Well, we do. We go see your friends in other states and we hang out with them for the weekend. That's a really long drive, right?"

"Oh. Well, why don't we go drive to Grandma's house?"

"Well, that's a really long drive. We'd have to fly in an airplane and that's really expensive for four people. It's easier for Grandma to come here because then we only have to buy an airplane ticket for one person. It's a lot less expensive."

"Momma? I wish Grandma's house would burn down."

"Um why?"

"Because then she wouldn't have a house and she'd have to come here and stay with us for a long time. Or..... maaaaybe, someone else that doesn't have a house could come live in her house and then we wouldn't have to burn the house down. That might be better."

"Probably better."

Phun with Photoshop, Vol. II

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 20:13:00 +0000

A few weeks ago, we were driving home from some place and passed this rolling valley near our house where the divits were all filled with fog. It was beautiful. Much more beautiful than this photo, taken at dusk on a camera phone when I made them stop the car, could represent.

But still I spent the better part of an evening trying to salvage it in some way with Photoshop.

Not sure I ever managed to do it justice, but you gotta admit, Igottalottapictures now.

Bewildering Conversations in the Kitchen, vol. II

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 13:04:00 +0000

I only wish this is the image I had my head.

"What do you want for lunch?"

"Grrrrl cheese!" (this has always been pronounced by The Caterpillar exactly as written here; no vowels, just a collection of consonants resembling a word we thought we knew: "grrrrrl cheese")

*teasing* "Don't you want boy cheese?"

"Dad, there's no boy cheese, only grrrl cheese."

*for the first time realizes she's been trying to say 'girl cheese' for the past three years and not 'grilled cheese'.* "Uh, honey. It's called 'grilled cheese.' Not 'girl cheese.'"

"No. It's not."

"Yes. It is. It's grilled because you grill it. Girl cheese is something else."

"Oh."

*short pause, then the inevitable*

"Daddy, what's girl cheese?"

*heavy sigh* "Well I don't know, but it's not a sandwich."

Old and Rusted

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 10:39:00 +0000

While "they" were cutting down a Christmas tree last month, I was wandering around the farm, taking photos of old farm equipment. Because I'm fascinated by it. And because I'm weird. And maybe just a little bit because I was not really interested in the Christmas-tree-finding drama and needed a break from my family.

Shhh about that last one.

Lastmas

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 15:36:00 +0000

Merry Christmas everybody!

OK, it's not just the cough medicine talking; I am aware that Christmas has passed us by. I believe I remember telling everyone that Christmas, and really 2011 in general, kicked my butt this year. So despite our best intentions, we never even got around to our favorite of all December traditions: the annual making and distribution of the snarky Christmas card. I did hear from many people with concerns about whether or not they were removed from our Christmas mailing list, and if you're one of those people who felt slighted, let me just say it's not you, it's me. There's a very good reason why you didn't get a Christmas card from us this year:

I suck. The end.

The Shortlings absolutely love a Christmas book that was given to us a few years ago where the main character, Mr. Moose, was so involved in trying to make Christmas perfectly perfect that he forgot to get a tree until Christmas Eve. All the trees were gone by that time, so he stuck out his arms and let his family decorate him instead. While we were putting away the Christmas decorations, the girls created an hommage to the book and I grabbed a camera, thinking it might be a good opportunity to send "New Year" cards instead. Given the last year of my life, I say that'll do, pig, that'll do.

Happy 2012, and here's hoping we all have enough antidepressants to get through it.

Full disclosure: I'm not happy with the photo and how it came out on the printed card. It's much too dark, but the delicious irony coupled with the fact that this also falls right in line with how crappy 2011 was for me, was enough that I didn't even complain to the printing company; I just dropped them in the mail with no explanation. When faced with righteous indignation and lots of work vs. procrastination and laziness, laziness wins out every time.

This is what the photo should have looked like

Sometimes people ask me about taking pictures of kids and how I get mine to be so photogenic. Get ready, because I'm about to share a little-known photographers' secret with you:

digital cameras.

You see, back in draconian times, you either had to install your own darkroom on top of the chest freezer in your laundry room (don't mock me) or (gasp) PAY for every developed photograph in order to see it. Either way, it was a lot of expense and work and it forced you to be judicious about your shutter clicks. With the advent of digital cameras, you can take literally hundreds of pictures and then pick out the one or two from that hundred that actually worked. Show off only the good photos and suddenly, your kids are the most photogenic on the block.

Add in a few Photoshop skills picked up from the interweb and viola, you are the envy of amateur photographers everywhere. (Professionals know you're just a bum with a medium-priced camera; you can't fool them.) You just have to be willing to spend inordinate amounts of time ignoring your kids while clicking through photos on a monitor to delete the scores of pictures that you screwed up in one way or another.

Here's the SOOC shot above. Un-cropped. Un-altered.

It's an okay photo, but much better with a little Photoshop magic, right? Imagine what one could do if one ever read the manual. At least I think there's a manual.

But, even more importantly, here are just a few of the photos that didn't make the cut at all.

You might have to enlarge to see why this one was rejected. The Caterpillar was simply not having a photo shoot that day and she actually has a cartoon frown on her face.

"Look at the camera, honey." "Ummm... No."

The Dormouse tries to hold The Caterpillar's head up to get her to look at the camera. Not only is the illusion of the Christmas Tree entirely gone, but this made The Caterpillar even madder, which no one thought was possible.

Chalk this one up to Playing With Exposure/Photographer Doesn't Know Basic Shutter Speed Settings.

Caterpillar decides she is done with the event and starts to take off lights. Also: WILL SOMEONE GET THAT CAT OUT OF THE WAY?!? (Many more photos rejected due to cat interference.)

Everyone yells, "No, NO! Don't take them off yet!!" Caterpillar begins to cry. Moments of consoling to follow.

Finally convince Caterpillar to play along (upside down smile notwithstanding) and get her to hold up her arms. Dormouse moves so head is blurry.

Caterpillar losing patience again. Dormouse talking while photo is taken, providing chipmunk-like cheeks.

Telephone rings. Dormouse looks toward phone.

Dormouse's face almost completely obscured. This appears to be the closest thing we're going to get in the way of happiness from The Caterpillar.

Both of them look like they've been placed in a torture chamber. Not entirely sure they're wrong.

This is the only photo of the day where The Caterpillar smiled. Idiot photographer couldn't hold still and so the whole picture is blurry.

There were at least two dozen more that I didn't bother to post here, all taken within the eight minutes of the entire photo shoot from beginning to end.

So you see, folks? The key to good photography is persistence, devotion to the craft, and a dogged determination to make your children miserable.

Now go forth and create.

This is actually my favorite photo of the day, but I knew it would be too dark for the card, so it was rejected for print.

Piney

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 20:42:00 +0000

We generally take down the Christmas tree on New Year's Day. It's less about any kind of moral feeling about how long the Christmas decorations should be up and more that that's just the last full day I have off before I go back to work and everyone begins entertaining themselves in the new year by adding items to my to do list. My favorite time of year is right after I throw out the Christmas tree and vacuum up the pine needles. Then for the next few weeks, every time I use the vacuum, there's a newfound scent of pine in the air. They should try to make a product that makes that happen year round. Oh wait, they did.

Geeklike Tendencies

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 11:36:00 +0000

I spent an inordinate amount of time making these over the holiday for my Star Wars fan brother's birthday. It was tedious, maddening and did indeed make me want to punch small kittens in the vagina. Let's just say I don't recommend it for fun and frolic.

I've seen all the Star Wars movies, but if you, like me, needed a reminder as to whom all these faces belonged, here's a clue:

If you want to make them too, or perhaps if you've done something terrible in your life and need some penance to do, you can download the templates here.

Happy Birthday!

Bewildering Conversations in the Kitchen

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 21:36:00 +0000

"What's that on the counter?"

"My breakfast."

"That's just a bunch of slices of bread."

"No. It's five ketchup sandwiches."

"Huh?"

"The Caterpillar asked me this morning if she could make me breakfast in bed."

"So she made you a ketchup sandwich?"

"She made me FIVE ketchup sandwiches."

"FIVE ketchup sandwiches? For breakfast?"

"And a Diet Coke."

"Well, at least she knows you."

"I tried to tell her that ketchup sandwiches aren't really good breakfast fare."

"And did that work?"

"She said I could eat them for lunch."

"That's true, I suppose."

"Or dinner."

"Guess you're not getting out of eating a ketchup sandwich any time soon."

"You want one?"

"Not really."

Looks Just Like Us, No?

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 16:15:00 +0000

Happy 2012 from the Underground crew!

The Caterpillar drew portraits of us for the new year.

"This is you, Mommy."

"You can tell it's you because you're wearing a dress."

"This is Daddy."

"You can tell it's Daddy because he's shaped like a potato.
Oh and he has pants."

This is us together, holding hands:

Dug the Caterpillar

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 13:31:00 +0000

Discussion at this morning's breakfast table. Caterpillar talking while looking out window:

"I don't know if that house across the street believes in Santa because they don't have lights out. I don't know if they believe in any holi- SQUIRRRRRRREEEEEEL!!!!

My child is officially a character in a Pixar movie.

As Seen On TV

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 12:29:00 +0000

Yes, I bought into the madness that is Pillow Pets many months ago. I could let myself feel ashamed for this, but consider:

Pillow Pets do not require batteries
Pillow Pets do not require assembly
Pillow Pets do not make noise
Pillow Pets do not have any moving parts
Pillow Pets have been used more than most other presents
Pillow Pets are washable
Pillow Pets generally stay on their beds and do not require me to pick them up off the floor
Pillow Pets do not mock me

And, perhaps mostly because of that last fact, I went ahead and purchased them each an identical one of the new, small sized pillow pets to go with their existing animals. I can't say they were met with exactly the same enthusiasm, but they are still pretty loved... and they still don't mock me.

Though they might be mocking the cats.

Hooked on an 8 Second Ride

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 12:34:00 +0000

The Children (all three of them) have devised a new game to play together.

Bucking bronco:

Clearly, one of them has a bigger future in bronc riding than the other.

I Can Haz Prezent?

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 11:42:00 +0000

There wasn't a present under our tree this year that didn't look like one of these two. Kitties enjoy Christmas every bit as much as children do. They just don't always know which present is supposed to be for them.

Hedging Her Bets

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 11:23:00 +0000

I was running down to the ragged end in the Santa's Little Helper department this year and threw gifts into whatever boxes were available in the house; some of them were these boxes from the outdoor lights we acquired earlier this December. (Aside: solar-powered outdoor Christmas lights? Greatest invention since sliced bread... or internet porn.)

The Caterpillar unwrapped this box with her name on it and I happened to look down as she threw the wrapping paper aside and exclaimed, "Wow. I wasn't expecting LIGHTS!" and then held them up for me to take a picture. (There was actually a toy of some sort in that box.)

The inflection in her voice was tempered so that there were exactly two possible interpretations of that sentence:

1) Wow, I wasn't expecting such a sucky gift but I'm gonna go ahead and sound excited to be polite and possibly get more gifts in the future

2) Wow, I wasn't expecting lights... and they're awesome!

Either way, I love how her mind works.

Christmas Craftiness

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 13:49:00 +0000

Because my house pretty much still looks like this:

Honk if you see the cat. It's like a Where's Waldo game.

I'm trying to take a little time off from the computer. It's been a busy year and December kind of caught me off guard this time around. I managed to pull Christmas together with all the other demands on our time this year, but in mostly a half-assed way. Let's just say that I'm feeling rather pleased with myself that I didn't have to come up with some lie where Santa had the flu and shows up a month later when it's way more convenient for me. (Though that's an interesting lie and there's already been a TV show about it... so I think I could pull it off if necessary. I'll be keeping that one in my back pocket.) All I want for Christmas is my balance back.

I know it seems counter-intuitive, and it probably is counterproductive, but when I'm crazy torn in a hundred directions, I tend to try and keep the kids busy doing weird little crafts so they don't notice that all I'm really doing is trying to get them out of my hair. Since so many people were appreciative of my posting of the ornament craft with plenty of time to find acrylic flow release (hint: you don't actually need that stuff) and glass craft ornaments (hint: you can find plastic if you think kids will put their thumbs through each one and you haven't scheduled in the time for the emergency room visit) before Christmas -- and then sent me emails with the subject line, "You SUCK" -- I'm sure these following ideas, coming two days after Christmas, will be even more popular.

Ways to get your children out of your hair around Christmas

Ask them to wrap presents:

You're gonna need to make sure you've got at least eleventy-seven extra rolls of tape and then hold your composure when you find they've individually taped all their toes as well. But this is an awesome way to keep them busy for an hour with very little supervision.

Have them make Santa napkin holders:

These make excellent busy work when you're stuck in a Christmas church music program rehearsal that's supposed to last forty-five minutes and instead goes for three hours on Christmas Eve. They also make excellent hostess gifts for the people who invited you to Christmas Eve dinner along with thirty of your closest friends.

Cook up some magical reindeer food for Santa's team:

This keeps them busy for at least an hour and has the added bonus and making a huge mess out of your kitchen, but you don't care because you haven't cleaned your kitchen since November, so have at it.

It makes an especially large mess if you got all creative and purchased edible silver cake grafitti spray paint to create an added luster. But you can also huff the fumes if you need a bit of an escape from the day. Quick tip: Some recipes add glitter, which I suppose you could do and make sure parents know that their children can't eat it, but then you can't reuse leftover oats and make children eat them for breakfast the next day. Reindeer indeed.

You can make a ton of these and give as gifts to the kids at the dinner party you're attending on Christmas Eve. Then when people say how creative you are and what a great mom you must be because you spent so much time with your kids, you can just smile bashfully and forget to mention that you stole the idea off the interweb.

Don't forget to actually let them feed Santa's reindeer with it that night.

Daddy Claus

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 12:52:00 +0000

In our old church, The KingofHearts had a long-standing job for many years of playing Santa at the church Christmas party. It all started shortly after we got married and he was asked to do it. We didn't really know anyone in the ward, but we helped out in the nursery and he knew all the kids' names. He was really great at it and most of the kids walked away from sitting on his lap impressed that he knew them and something about them. It impressed their parents too, but probably in a creepy, shouldn't-you-be-staying-one-hundred-feet-away-from-any-school-or-playground sort of way and not necessarily in the Spirit-of-Christmas kinda way in which it was intended.

Now that we go to NewChurch, he hasn't really been asked to fill the roll because they tend to cast it as a "find the fattest guy in the congregation" kinda role, rather than "find a guy who might be good talking to kids."

But OldChurch still remembers The KingofHearts, so they called him up this year and a) invited us to their Christmas party so b) he could play Santa. It was actually kind of fun because OldChurch is the melding of two congregations (one we used to attend and the other just south of us geographically) and there were a lot of kids who didn't know him at all. Which means even the kids who used to know him hadn't seen him in awhile so most didn't recognize him and weren't quite sure if this dude was the really real Santa or not.

There appeared to be a lack of personal space inherent in the queue.

Of course, The Dormouse was there to dash everyone's hopes to the ground.

"Hi Dad." "I'm Santa." "Right. Hi Dad." "You know what? Don't annoy Santa."

The Caterpillar didn't care and was just happy to be included. We know there's no chance they won't recognize Daddy, so we gave them the Daddy's helping Santa so let's not ruin the fun for the other kids schtick.

"Can you tell Santa I want a toy puppy?"

"I love you DaddyClaus."

Bringing Daddy Claus cookies because he missed dessert.

Santa made The Bishop sit on his lap and then gave him a present he wasn't expecting.

I love this picture because it's one of the few times I've seen this man laugh.

But my favorite part was sitting off to the side of the stage and watching the little kids lose all composure. I knew if I waited long enough, I'd have a photo worthy of a bad santa photo contest.

This might be my favorite holiday memory ever.

Creepy, Sharp-Teethed Elves

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 12:16:00 +0000

But I kinda love them.

Cold

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 20:26:00 +0000

Despite the fact that we had snow here on October 29th (OCTOBER TWENTY-NINTH, PEOPLE) it hasn't really been that cold yet this winter. December has been mostly mild with some nice days here and there. I realize now that I've typed that out loud, Mother Nature will hear it and hit us with some kind of crazy weather event, like a whirlpool in front of the Smithsonian metro stop or a volcano erupting in a smoke cloud that looks like an angry Ewok over the Natural History Museum, just to teach me to control my thoughts. So to counteract that misstep and bring the balance back to zero, here are some photos of cold and dead stuff.

Ornamentally Yours

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 13:47:00 +0000

I taught about forty kids at our church to make these hand-painted Christmas ornaments as a craft during our ward Christmas party. Because they needed something to keep them busy, because it was super easy and because I am a SUCKAH! (But mostly the past about being a suckah!)

In other news, I finally got around to getting the Shortlings their Christmas ornaments for this year. They are completely adorable, if I do say so myself (not that I had anything to do with the production of them) and made from wooden thread spools, so points for finding ornaments made from unusual materials. I love finding the perfect Christmas ornament each year, but it's way more fun when the person I purchase them from is as excited to make them as I am to buy them. Etsy has made something that I abhor - Christmas shopping - actually fun because I tend to have a couple of conversations about the purpose of the items with the shop owner and more often than not have them custom made for the girls. You should totally check out Cindekins' Etsy shop, because she was awesome to work with, gave me a ton of choices and even sent pictures of possible fabrics she could use. I would really like a whole tree full of these.

The Caterpillar's

The Dormouse's

Scenic Scene

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 13:29:00 +0000

We drive past this tree five or six times a year and I have never passed it without thinking of The Shawshank Redemption.

Andy: Red. If you ever get out of here, do me a favor.

Red: Sure, Andy. Anything.

Andy: There's a big hayfield up near Buxton. You know where Buxton is?

Red: Well, there's... there's a lot of hayfields up there.

Andy: One in particular. It's got a long rock wall with a big oak tree at the north end. It's like something out of a Robert Frost poem. It's where I asked my wife to marry me. We went there for a picnic and made love under that oak and I asked and she said yes. Promise me, Red. If you ever get out... find that spot. At the base of that wall, you'll find a rock that has no earthly business in a Maine hayfield. Piece of black, volcanic glass. There's something buried under it I want you to have.

Passed Out Under the Christmas Tree

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 13:06:00 +0000

I'm not sure what they appreciate more, the fact that there's an endless supply of entertaining toys, a nice place to nap, or a giant water bowl they don't have to go downstairs to drink from. Either way, kitties are in full agreement that Christmas trees are awesome.

How to Pick Out a Christmas Tree

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 00:20:00 +0000

In sixteen easy steps.

Step 1. Drive to another state. Because clearly, there are no acceptable trees in the state in which you live. Why bother looking?

Step 2. Walk around in forest for approximately an hour, scrutinizing each and every available tree.

Step 3. Stop in thicket to allow children to pee on the ground because after each of the nine times you asked them if they needed to go to the bathroom when you were near civilization, they said, "No."

Step 4. Walk around some more.

Step 5. Lament the fact that the farm owners haven't tended to the Christmas tree section much this year and it is very overgrown.

Step 6. Remember that you are only paying $25 for any tree you pick and continue looking.

Step 7. Lament the fact that you don't have cathedral ceilings in your house.

Step 8. Consider buying a tree and leaving it at a friend's house because she has space.

Step 9. Settle on a tree. It's too big, but at least you don't need a flatbed trailer to get it home.

Step 10. Pose in front of tree before it's been slaughtered.

Step 11. Leave the tree-cutting-down duties to husband, who really, really enjoys lying on the ground. Watch him cut....

and cut...

and curse...

and cut.

Step 12. Lose interest in tree and instead focus on how you're gonna get this nest you found back to the birds.

Step 13. Six years later, when tree finally comes down, yell "Tiiiiiimbeeeerrrr!" Admire stump.

Step 14. Drag tree back to cart, which you've left a half mile away.

Step 15. Bag tree for travel. Bring a friend to help.

Step 16. Bring home and decorate. Enjoy.

Debut

noreply@blogger.com (NG) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 22:26:00 +0000

Alternate title: I May Have Created a Monster

Part of my job requires the planning and hosting of a yearly convention/conference. Each year, the production value of the conference - especially the opening session and awards ceremony - goes up and we somehow manage to do it with the same or less money by getting musicians and artists to donate their time and performances. This year, a member of the Board came up with this idea to have a flash mob at the conference. We kind of laughed it off but this was really something the Conference Chair wanted so we eventually acquiesced. We already had a performing group on the hook to write a song so maybe they could be involved, we thought. Then somewhere in the planning stages it went something like this via conference call one day:

Co-worker #1: "Meh. I've seen that flash-mob-thing so many times and it never works. I'd really recommend that you scrap that idea."

Co-worker #3: "Well, this Board member really wants this to happen."

Co-worker #1: "Honestly, I'd recommend against. I've seen it tried dozens of times. No one ever participates and it always falls flat."

Co-worker #2: "Yeah, but this is a room full of musicians. You can always count on them to join in."

Co-worker #1: "Well, could it be more of a performance and then we somehow let people know they can participate? That'd be safer."

Co-worker #3: "What we really need is to have a couple of people run up on stage from the audience and start dancing. Then some people in the audience would start doing the moves too."

Co-worker #4: "It'd be cute if there was a kid doing it too."

Co-worker #2: "Hey. Alice's family sometimes comes to the conference, maybe her older daughter could run up on-stage and lead the room in the choreography."

Me: *looking up from doodling monsters with dozens of eyes on a notepad* "Huhwhat?"

Co-worker #1: "But can we count on a little kid not to get stage fright and freeze up there?"

Co-workers #2, #3 and #4: "Uh... you don't know this kid, do you?"

Me: "Wait, what??"

And that's how The Dormouse ended up as the star of the show that day, dancing in front of and teaching choreography to a room of an estimated eight-hundred people.

When I got home after the conference call and asked her if she'd like to do it, I already knew the answer. She barely let me get the question mark on my sentence before she yelled, "YES!" in my ear.

The adult singers wrote the song and sent me an .mp3 with some suggested choreography, but The Dormouse took her job quite seriously and created her own steps, explaining that they made more sense with the music. The singers didn't care one way or another so The Dormouse got her way.

When the lights went out, I had a brief moment of concern that she'd look out over the audience once she got on stage and freeze, but then I remembered that there is not one ounce of vergüenza in that child's entire body. She got through the whole thing without a moment's hesitation and managed to get herself invited to perform with the singers at the other performances they did during the conference to boot. It was a great experience for her and I have never seen her more puffed-up or self-assured.

One of the audience members walked up to the stage and gave her a flower as she took her bow. I kind of wish I'd saved it and pressed it or something, but it got lost somewhere in the hubbub that day. When I saw this photo from the conference, I realized this shot was better than any flower.

Edited to add: OK - finally have the video rendered and converted to some sort of usable format. Full disclosure, the sound and lighting here is awful. It really did sound and look more professional in the room, but video taping isn't our first priority at these things. My first priority was running around the back of the room like a crazy person to make sure she got onstage at the appropriate time. Let's just say I'm glad there's not a video of that.