Yesterday got away from me. When I finally sat down at the computer with some time for writing, it was 11:00 at night. I thought about posting then, but, if truth be told, I’d had one too many cranberry daiquiris, or maybe rum balls, at my friend L’s Christmas party and I thought maybe I’d adhere to the don’t drink and type rule. L hosts this party every year. It’s for her female friends only (she is the mother of two boys who are exiled with their husband to parts of the house unseen). Her house is decorated to the nth degree. She cooks literally dozens of incredible appetizers, all labeled with cute, homemade holiday place cards so we know what we’re eating. She spends a lot of the evening whipping up batches of cranberry daiquiris, which are delicious, and which we drink in wine glasses with name tags tied to them with silk ribbons, so we don’t mislay them. When it’s time to go, we collect our cookies and she hands us a beautifully wrapped gift bag. Inside is a CD of Christmas music that she has made for us (it’s different every year) and usually one other small thing. This year it was snowman-shaped earrings she’d made out of glass beads and silver wire — the classy version of Christmas jewelry (if there is such a thing). L does this because she loves entertaining. She spends days preparing for this party because she enjoys it and she looks forward to it every year. The things she does for it and her obvious enjoyment of it make everyone in attendance feel so cared for, that there is absolutely no way not to have fun, even if you walk in feeling Scroogish.

And I was feeling Scroogish. I spent the afternoon working in the library at AJ’s school. It was a quieter than usual day because the kids were in an assembly to hear the Junior High School band. It was nice they got to hear it, because I don’t think there’s going to be a band next year. Art and music have been axed along with the gifted program. But in the lull in the library, My Favorite Librarian told me some more alarming news — the school libraries are on the chopping block as well. They may be shuttered to make room for the extra class space needed for the students from the closed school who will be moving in next year. Or they may be available for teachers to check out books, maybe for students, maybe not. Or there might be an aid available for circulation and checkout. But none of the teaching that goes on in the library — and there is a great deal of it — will continue. They will retain one librarian for the entire district instead of one at each school. There will be no new books and probably not much in the way of book repair — a bad combination. Worst of all, My Favorite Librarian, a widow who is three years away from retirement, may lose her job. If all that doesn’t give you that “Bah, Humbug!” feeling, I don’t know what would.

But I didn’t have much time to keep a dark cloud over my head. AJ and I walked home after school, making holes in the crusty snow with our boots. Then I took him to get his Christmas haircut, in advance of today’s neighborhood party and basketball team pictures tomorrow. Then we all trooped down to the Christmas tree lot to pick out our tree. In years past we have wandered like the three kings through the streets of our county looking for a good tree. We’ve tromped through muddy or frozen fields to cut our own. We’ve become well acquainted with just about every tree lot around. But last year, we discovered a nursery very close to our house has gorgeous trees for relatively inexpensive prices. And they will always give me all the branches I want for decorating. Plus the guy who helped us (the same one as last year), sounds, as Mr. Spy pointed out, just like Ozzie Guillén. — surely a good omen.

When I came home last night, the stars were shining bright. Orion was splayed out across the sky over the garage. And the Christmas tree, still lightless on account of the large quantity of snow frozen to the branches, looked beautiful in the front window. I took a deep breath of cold air, turned my key in the lock, and entered the sleeping house. AJ had put the presents he’d brought for us from school under the tree and Mrs. Stein was sleeping on them. I could hear the distant hum of the furnace. It is warm and safe and happy here and the rest of it I’ll have to leave outside the door until January.

It is 8 degrees. Fahrenheit. This is a salient point, because today’s temperatures have entirely circumscribed my activities. Actually, 8 doesn’t feel too bad. You can breathe at 8. When I walked out the door this morning when it was 5 below, that was when I felt like I’d been socked in the lungs. And that first water out of the pipes in the morning were bracing.

When it gets this cold, there is no real point in going outside. And driving is unpredictable. Salt doesn’t sufficiently melt ice at this temperature (at least not in the quantities usually used on roads). This is why I slid straight through a stop sign while driving AJ home from school today. The cold is also why I drove him home in the first place. But he’s much more tolerant. I had planned a nice cozy afternoon of cookie decorating for us, but he begged to go sledding with his friends. The very idea of sledding in these temperatures makes me want to hide under the covers, but AJ was gone for at least 45 minutes and came back with the pinkest cheeks you ever saw. I had been on the brink of walking down to the sledding hill to bring him home, half afraid I’d find him frozen solid. But he was cheerful when he walked in, although he did announce, “If I could be a noun, I would be a skating rink.”

I don’t mean to sound like we didn’t leave the house. Mr. Spy and I drove to the library to work. Actually, we drove to two libraries, because the first one was closed for “staff in-service day,” although I suspect that was maybe a euphemism for “Christmas party.” Library number two was new to me. Mr. Spy discovered it a few months ago. It’s large, new, and not very populated. Mr. Spy and I parked ourselves in a couple of comfy armchairs in front of the fire on the quiet floor and got to work.

And those cookies did get decorated. I had to do them all myself. But it’s okay because my inferior decorating skillz mean they LOOK like AJ did them.

And speaking of artistic talent, AJ has started a new comic strip called “Speed-o-rama!” about all kinds of “car mayhem” (as his comic says) at a race track. It’s hard to beat some good car mayhem. I’ll try to post some soon.

What do you know. It’s now 9 degrees. If this keeps going, it might be 18 by the time I get up. Then I’ll have to figure out something new to complain about.

Which reminds me, I meant to post the link to this article about a composition for “complaint choir.” The idea was inspired by a Finnish word for when people complain simultaneously — it translates literally as “complaint choir.” The composers are in the process of staging complaint choirs in cities around the world.

Maybe we should start our own complaint choir. What’s bugging you?

This holiday meme comes courtesy of my friend Mr. Permanent Qui Vive.

Four Holiday songs/pieces you enjoy the most:

• Adeste Fidelis (preferably in Latin)
• Benjamin Britten’s “A Ceremony of Carols.” I’m not sure that counts as one song, but it’s shorter than an album.
•”The Christmas Song” by Mel Tormé
• “White Christmas” as sung by Bing Crosby, with all his characteristic scoops

Four holiday songs/pieces you enjoy the least:
All these songs brought to you courtesy of the Chicago area’s All Christmas all December radio station, which AJ always demands to listen to in the car.

• “The Christmas Shoes” by ?
• “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” by ?
• “Wonderful Christmastime” by Paul McCartney
• “Happy Christmas (War is Over)” by The Alarm

and also, anyone but Eartha Kitt thinking of attempting “Santa Baby” should think again.

Four holiday albums you enjoy the most:

• A Charlie Brown Christmas by the Vince Guaraldi Trio
• Noël by Joan Baez (all music arranged by Peter Schickele, better known as PDQ Bach)
• The Messiah by John Eliot Gardner & Co. I also really like the Harry Christophers and The Sixteen version
• Oy to the World by the Klezmonauts. Okay, so that may not be in the same league as the other three and there may even be others I like better, but the arrangements and playing are both amazing and hilarious.

I’m pretty sure the Asylum Street Spankers’ Christmas album would be up here if I actually got to hear the whole thing.

Four holiday albums you enjoy the least:

• John Denver’s Christmas Album. I’m not sure of the name of it, but I remember being traumatized as a child by listening to a song called, “Please, Daddy, don’t get drunk this Christmas.”

• New Kids on the Block’s Christmas album. I was subjected to this somewhere and I’m still bearing the scars.

• Bob Dylan’s new Christmas album. Although it might win points in the humor department. It’s a train wreck of epic proportions. I love you, Bob but…no. Just no.

• Mannheim Steamroller. They may have more than one. I really don’t know. But I hate them all.

And as a bonus for reading this far, here is the Telegraph’s (UK) list of the 25 worst Christmas Album Covers ever. You’re welcome!

Scene: The grassy area in front of the barn behind our house on a snowy evening. AJ and Harriet are walking home from chess club.

AJ: Hey, Mom! Look at that snow! Doesn’t it look like something?

Harriet: [considering the lump of snow] I’m not sure. What do you think it looks like?

AJ: A horsehead nebula!

* * * * *

AJ got second place in his chess club tournament. He was neck and neck for first place, but the girl who won first place outplayed him at the end. But AJ didn’t care much, and she was so very happy about it that not one kid felt bad about it. Plus they all got medals and candy as rewards. It was the last day of the session. Next week I’ll supervise the kids playing on their own and we’ll start back up again after Christmas.

We threw snowballs at each other as we walked home afterwards in the dark. AJ made the first snow angel of the season on the way home. It’s in the corner of our yard nearest the stop sign. He drew the halo on with his fingers. But it is already gone, buried in the snow flakes that have been falling thick and fast for the last several hours. There will be a lot more shoveling tomorrow. And maybe also cookies.

Today there is actual snow, not merely the snow in AJ’s devious mind. And I couldn’t help but notice the actual snow was an encouragement to walk to school. I’ll be sure to remind him of that fact next time he’s angling for a ride. Because I am a mean mommy.

Instead of going for my usual Tuesday morning walk (for exercise, don’t you know), I shoveled the driveway for an hour, which is how long it took. There were only a couple of inches and it was fairly light snow, so it wasn’t to back-breaking. I came in feeling useful and just the right amount of tired. I did not enough writing and then sat down to work on Mr. Spy’s computer, which has been in dire need of some tweaking. Still to go: getting the printers running wirelessly. It didn’t work with our old wireless system, but I’m pretty sure they should work with this one. It’s just a matter of remembering how to set them up.

It’s good to have some indoor tasks today. The snow is not too bad at the moment, but we are battening down the hatches today, stocking up on food and shovels and gas. A big storm is supposedly headed our way. The vaccine clinic, where I’d hope to take AJ to get his second H1N1 shot tomorrow afternoon, has already cancelled due to impending weather.

In a few minutes, I’m looking forward to stomping through the snow up to AJ’s school for chess club. I predict on the way home AJ will spend 75% of the time weighing the evidence for and against there being a snow day tomorrow and the other 25% trying to pelt me with snowballs. I will be devoting 100% of my attention to the latter activity. I have been looking forward to it all day.

Scene: AJ’s bedroom. AJ is supposed to be getting ready for school, but is moving slowly in hopes of being offered a ride. Harriet is supervising to make sure he stays on target.

AJ: How am I getting to school today?

Harriet: Walking, of course.

AJ: But…[he gazes out the window and notices a single solitary snowflake drifting lazily down onto the porch]…it’s snowing!

Harriet: [Peering out the window in search of signs of snow]. I don’t think it’s snowing. But even if it is, that’s even more of a reason to walk.

AJ: If it’s snowing, you should give me a ride.

Harriet: No. It’s MUCH safer to walk than to drive when it’s snowing.

AJ: Can’t you just give me a ride?

Harriet: Not today.

AJ: Don’t you want me to be happy?

Harriet: I want you to get some exercise and go to school.

• • • • •

Yes, AJ, some things are even more important than your happiness. And also, life isn’t fair. Try me again on Thursday when it’s supposed to be 6 degrees. Perhaps I will relent.

It was a nice wintery sort of day, although we didn’t have nearly as much snow as they apparently got in the city. Not even enough to shovel, which is a perfect amount of snow if you ask me. It should snow this much every day until there’s enough snow piled up to go sledding on and then it should stop. That’s what I think.

I did some Christmas shopping this morning just in the nick of time to assist Santa with a present he’ll be bringing AJ on Saturday at our town’s annual party. What was the deadline for drop off? Why, today, of course! Just in under the wire, as usual. I did some research in the afternoon, and then headed to my new job at School of Rock.

It was an easy day, as I only had two scheduled lessons and the second one called in sick. The first lesson, though, is going to be great fun. He’s one of the shop employees. He teaches guitar and mandolin and he’s been trying to teach himself violin for about a year and is feeling like he needs some help. He’s a tremendous musician and he’s getting a really good sound, especially considering his bow arm, which is all over the place. Because he has played mandolin, which is tuned exactly like the violin, he’s capable of some pretty tricky stuff. But he’s never played a fretless instrument before and he’s never used a bow. He’s been teaching himself technique by reading Leopold Mozart’s treatise (that’s Wolfgang’s dad, for those unfamiliar), which I only know as an historical document — it hadn’t occurred to me to try to use it. And he’s been learning Bach by ear because he doesn’t read music very well. He’ll be totally unlike any student I’ve ever tried to teach. I expect we’re going to learn from each other as much as anything. He wants to learn both Irish fiddle and baroque violin — my two favorite things. This is going to be a blast. And it’s going to keep me on my toes, because he will easily outstrip me, I think. Lots more practicing in my future.

I love going into this place. The people who work there all clearly love working together. It’s so packed with instruments, hung floor to ceiling on hooks, that you can hardly turn around, especially with a fiddle slung over your shoulder. Hanging out around the front desk at the end of the day, getting introduced to the other players, chatting about music and checking off my lessons in the payroll book, I felt like a real musician again. Now I just need to start playing like one.

This holiday season is already kicking my ass. I just can’t keep up. At least I’ve finally started my Christmas shopping, though. And I’ve received two early Christmas presents. One is a new camera, which I expect you’ll reap the benefits of (I am throwing caution to the wind and leaving you with a dangling preposition because I am crazy like that) eventually, when I can stop spending so much time fiddling with the camera and start actually looking at the pictures I’m taking. This afternoon, we went to watch AJ march in our town’s annual Christmas parade and I got a lot of very blurry shots of AJ’s midsection, as if his torso was passing by at top speed. If I blow them up really large, perhaps it would come off as some kind of deep and thoughtful work of abstract art. But at regular size, well, I might as well have taken a picture of the inside of the lens cap.

The parade is always one of my favorite events of the season, and it was fun. But it was noticeably more subdued this year, due, no doubt, to the current economic situation. There were many fewer floats and fewer handouts, although still plenty of candy. But it’s still a perfect small town event. The football and volleyball teams, both of whom won state championships last week, road on the backs of the snow plows. The local beauty queens waved from the back of convertibles. Brownie scouts dressed as Santas and presents and snowmen waved and tossed candy. AJ’s friend O’s little brother Q, who was marching for the first time with his Tiger Cub Scout den, ran up to me and handed me my very own lollipop. A politician of some sort or another careened around the parade route in a souped up golf cart, narrowly missing several children who’d run into the street to pick up candy.

Usually a visit to the Christmas Parade ends with a visit to Santa, who sets up shop in a sleigh in the local travel agent’s, across from train station. But this year, AJ said he didn’t want to go. It made me sad, although I know that part of this has to do with the fact that the last couple of Santas at this particular location have been a little creepy and also that AJ will see Santa next weekend at our neighborhood party and again on Christmas Eve at our family party. On both of those occasions, Santa will bring presents, so this one is just no big deal. But it made me remember the year AJ decided that the thing he wanted most in the world was a Bug Vacuum and he sat on Santa’s lap any time he could to tell him so. And I also remember the time we went to the parade when he was two. He was too small to walk the whole parade, but the lineup is a couple of blocks from our house, so we walked over to watch them before they started. After the parade began, we walked back home alongside the floats that hadn’t left yet. At the back of the line was Santa in his enormous sleigh, surrounded by high school pom-pom girls, who were serving as elves. Santa called out to AJ as we walked by and asked him if he’d been good. He stopped in his tracks and nodded, big-eyed. Then Santa had one of his elves run across the street and bring AJ a candy cane, which he clutched in his fist all the way home. I don’t have a picture of that Christmas Parade either. But I remember it anyway, so perhaps it does not matter.

Less of a failure than the photography was the first batch of Christmas cookies of the season. I decided to start with one of Siren’s recipes from here NaCoBakMo project. This one, to be exact. It was a perfect day to try it out because AJ had a friend over, a boy who was on his baseball team, but whom he hasn’t seen since the summer until he ran into him at the parade today. The two of them went to town on the candy canes with a rolling pin (there being a distinct absence of mallets of any kind in our house). They did an excellent job, although sadly, as one of them didn’t like chocolate and the other didn’t like peppermint, they weren’t so fond of the actually cookies. That’s okay. More for the grownups, who thought they were delicious.

And now here we are, dinner time on Sunday, and I’m scrambling to get music ready for the lessons I’m teaching tomorrow at School of Rock. I didn’t have enough time between hiring and starting to get any music I ordered, so I’m winging the first day. in My first lesson is the guy who hired me (no pressure). He’s a guitarist who’s taught himself a bunch of instruments, but has been struggling with fiddle. For him, I’ll be listening to what he’s done so far, but I’ll probably also bring in a couple of transcriptions of Irish songs to work on. But I still need to pick which ones. The second student’s a 7-year-old beginner. I’m bringing him ‘Twinkle, Twinkle LIttle Star” and a simple version of “Jingle Bells.” But mostly, since it’s only a half an hour lesson and he doesn’t yet have an instrument, I’ll probably be fitting him with a rental instrument and showing him how to hold it and take care of it. I need to get this stuff prepped tonight because tomorrow I need to practice and do some shopping for a couple of parties coming up this weekend. And then there’s the small matter of the writing part of my work. And Christmas cards to mail.

No, I’m not panicking. Yet.

And how was your weekend?

This has been a marginally successful day. On the one hand, it was snowing and I tried to build a fire in the fireplace because it seemed like a good thing to do. But apparently, I am a very bad Boy Scout, because I only succeeded in making a mess. However, my hands smell pleasantly like woodsmoke, so I guess that is something.

On the other hand, I got a call from the School of Rock [not its real name], which I thought had forgotten about me, and they have four students for me and by the way, can I start on Monday at 4? Why, yes! I can! And a panicked practice session was embarked upon immediately. I’m finding muscles I forgot I had. Now I have to scrounge up some music by Monday. I’m feeling very nervous about this, but also excited. I really like this place. It’s got a great atmosphere. And I’m hoping I’m finally going to be able to try out the mandolin and maybe a 4-string Irish banjo, both of which are tuned like the violin. So far I have a 7-year-old rank beginner and the guy who hired me, who’s an accomplished guitarist who’s taught himself a lot of other instruments but has found himself somewhat stymied by the bow. They’re still trying to schedule a father/daughter combo who want to study together. I really hope I don’t embarrass myself. Maybe I’ll finally learn how to play “Devil Went Down to Georgia.”

In the neutral camp is the writing, which proceeds, but not as quickly as I would have liked today. But I’m hoping I might be able to scrounge a little more time on it this evening. I also heard back from a conference to which I submitted a proposal. They didn’t take it — I’m not surprised. It really wasn’t the best thing I could have sent them, but I didn’t hear about it until the conference organizer mentioned it to me two days before the deadline, at which point I was laid up with The Swine, so I did the best I could under the circumstances. However, it sounds like there may be a panel or moderating job for me there, so it may not be a total loss. My uncle teaches at the university hosting that conference and it’s only a 5-6 hour drive from here, so barring a blizzard (and in January along the shores of Lake Michigan, you can never really bar a blizzard), it shouldn’t be too much of a hardship to get there, especially knowing that Zingerman’s awaits on the other end of the trip. And honestly, I’m pretty relieved that they didn’t take the proposal, because I’m already scheduled to give a different paper at a conference in yet another state (at my alma mater, in fact) less than a week later. That one’s been on my calendar for nearly two years, so it’s got to take priority.

And now I must return to working. It looks like a pleasant enough situation. I am sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace with a furry grey cat snuggled up to my elbow. But the fireplace has no fire and the cat has a flatulence problem. Things are not as good as they may appear. But they could certainly be a lot worse.

Do you remember when I turned in those three articles in one day? I do. It was the day of Mark Buerhle’s perfect game. I remember, because it was a nice sunny day and I was home alone while the boys were at the ballpark watching history being made. If you consider baseball history. I know they do. It was July 23. More than four months ago. A couple of weeks ago, I got a ridiculously small paycheck for one of the articles. I still have no idea which one. It didn’t say. And the other two checks are still MIA. But today, I got a galley for one of them. Is this the one I got paid for? Or is this another one? I don’t know. It was alarming to see how many editors have made comments. More comments than words in the article, I think. But the only thing they seem to have actually changed is formatting. Oh, and they cut some material duplicated in one of my other articles and referred to it instead. Still, it makes me feel like a real writer/scholar/employed person. Even though I’m not really any of those things at the moment. But I’m trying my best.

Meanwhile, I’ve got the other writing projects kicking into high gear. I think I’ve figured out how to recycle two old papers for two upcoming conferences with minimal effort so that I might concentrate on The Writing Project That Dare Not Speak Its Name. You know the one I’m talking about. Or not talking about. And then there’s the little fun one on the side. A possible digression. Still researching how I would go about submitting it to a publisher and what needs to be revised. But I’m thinking, a few minutes a day. And the constant trolling for jobs. A number of new posts came out this week — unusually late in the season. There are many balls in the air. It would be nice if I could catch one.

And in case any of you is interested in tossing a ball or two in the air yourself, a friend of a friend has started a new literary magazine and they are looking for writers. You can find information here.

Back to work. What are you working on?

I spent entirely too much time today doing irritating but necessary things — paying bills, sitting on hold with assorted companies who don’t give a rat’s ass about my time, making lists and checking them twice. Days like that always feel frazzled and yet unaccomplished. Not a great combination.

But I wrote a decent poem this morning. And I got some editing done. And I got to really coach at AJ’s chess club today, under the supervision of a grandmaster no less. He was very kind about my errors. I am so completely out of my league there that it’s ridiculous. But I love working with the kids and I”m learning plenty. AJ, however, is learning more and faster. But I can’t tell how much he likes it. I’m not sure if he’s going to stick with it.

AJ and I also went to his monthly book club this evening. The book they read, Annabel the Actress Starring in Hound of the Barkervilles, was not great. Too easy, all the kids said. And the male half of the group couldn’t stand it. The group leader agreed that there wasn’t enough to talk about, so she had the kids act out a play of their own. She had found a short script, made some simple set pieces out of posterboard, and asked for volunteers to bring in some props. Then she rehearsed the kids and video taped their performance. It was terrific. The kids had a great time and AJ is very excited at the possibility of being in a video on YooToob.

AJ played a toy shop owner. He had two lines and said them both very fast. But he didn’t look at all nervous, unlike the two girls who always come late. They look terrified whenever anyone asks them a question in the regular book group format. The younger one was so overcome with nerves that she begged off of the play, but her older sister came through it, shaking like a leaf.

The other highlight of the evening was that one of the other book group members brought a dog (a big slobbery dog figures prominently in the book). He was a bearded collie named Kipper and he was the sweetest, shaggiest animal. His owner said he was trained as a therapy dog, but that she didn’t take him to do therapy much anymore. Now I’m thinking about bearded collies.