T’is the season…

…for holiday parties. I feel like I’m too young to be going to potlucks in Hamilton and Mississauga; traveling an hour out of the city bringing a covered dish feels like something my parents should be doing. I guess I’ll know I’m really old when the hosts are able to afford to throw an entire dinner party on their own dime, and all I have to bring is a bottle of wine or some flowers; but still, having dinner parties just feels old. Mature, yes (which is probably why I feel out of place with the idea, ha), but having a sit-down dinner feels oddly formal with the kids with whom I used to just hang out.

Could be worse, I guess. At least none of my friends are playing Santa at a mall yet.

Christmas wish list

Starting with the practical:

  • external hard drive (for when the Blue Screen of Death fully envelops poor Lola Laptop)
  • new archery equipment (specifically, riser and limbs, because my sight is awesome)
  • a new bike (sob)

Next, the unnecessary but nice:

  • Melanie C’s new CD, The Sea
  • Secret Dakota Ring’s Cantarell
  • somewhere to put all this fabric
  • Scissor Sisters sheet music
  • rat toys and treats for the three baby boys I’m adopting on Thursday (!!)

Then, the downright ludicrous:

  • an upright grand
  • an electric guitar (why, when I can barely play my acoustic?)
  • tickets to see the Black Keys in March (holy shiznits that’s a spensive)
  • my bike, Rusty, back
  • another tattoo…?
  • a recording contract with a major label
  • a 24-hour oncall personal trainer/chauffeur/cook/shopper/hitman
  • while we’re dreaming big, my own condo with soundproof floors, walls, and ceilings, a separate kitchen with a dishwasher, and a fair sized living room area in a building with an elevator and low condo fees but utilities included and enough space for something bigger than a single bed plus a good view of the city and also a washer and dryer and cable and a real TV. Santa baby?

Life’s random encounters

Today, at the church Christmas pageant for which I conducted the angel choir, I ran into the first boy I ever kissed.

How awkward to find that he is a bright-scarf-and-fake-glasses-wearing intern-actor hipster.

Welcome, Christmas, bring good cheer

It’s that time of year again. The time when the church choirs dust off the carolling books, the department stores haul out the holly, and as soon as that pesky Hallowe’en’s out of the way (which we’ve been preparing for since August), the countdown for Shopping Days Left Till Christmas begins. (Only 65!)

Today I started rehearsals with the Kingsway United Church for their annual Christmas Pageant (which I’m pretty sure takes place on December 8th or something). This is my second year as choir director and already I’m known for my embarrassing choral warmups, eccentric conducting, and tendency to lose my voice by the end of rehearsal. (Thankfully, I’m only in charge for three weeks, and then the music director steps in to lose her voice instead.)

What a joyous season. Kids plan their costumes and get hyped on stolen candy from their parents’ shell-out stash while we celebrate the birth of Baby Jesus and try to be enthusiastic about shepherds for the next two months. Ring a bell, ring it merry up and down.

(As a side note, I’ve decided on my costume for this year. You know how most girls just add “slutty” to whatever they’re wearing? Slutty rabbit, slutty girl guide, slutty SS Youth, etc.? I’m just going to be a slut. That’s right – I’m going as Hester Prynne. The sluttiest Puritan of them all.)

(It’s kind of weird that I’m allowed to be a role model for children.)

Well, I’m off to the land of nod. Need to recuperate from all that exuberant conducting. It is a workout. Merry Hallow’s Eve to all, and to all a good night.