Raindrops on Aaron and kittens in heat

Hi. How’s it going? Are you all baking cookies and holding hands? Is your house/cave ablaze with cheer??! WHOOOOHOOOO CHRISTMAS. Thanks for taking a break from all the joy to visit the blog, where I have decided to do a list of my least favorite and most favorite things.

LF: That it’s Friday night and I have a wicked flu and fever and am at home writing this list.

MF: That Mamie is currently at a slumber party which involves Webkinz and 4 yr old girls.

LF: That Maus is in heat. It’s god-awful. I wanted to hold off blogging about it because there’s something shameful and humiliating about having a cat in heat. Like it’s too private or something. Next thing you know I’ll be fretting about showing my ankles in front of men. Whatever. It’s so bad that she yeowls fearfully all the time and slinks about in this posture, if you know what I mean, and backs herself up pleadingly to inanimate objects. I’m SORRY but it’s TRUE. And before you put your fingertips together knowingly, let me just say that she’s too young to be spayed. This is the eeee-eeend of the innocence.

MF: After the wind had blown Aaron’s hood off his head six times in succession today, he stopped walking, stamped his foot, glowered up at the sky, and shouted, “STOP. STOP WINDING AND RAINING. I’LL. BUY. YOU. A. PRESENT.” He enunciated the words just like that, to make sure his words made it up to the sky.

“What kind of present would you give the rain to stop?” I asked him.

“I’d write it a book,” he told me.

“What kind of book?”

“A book where it could rain and wind the whole way through.” And the boy who thought he could bribe the rain with a story tugged his hood up and shoved his hands in his pockets.

LF: The fact that my neighbors, en masse, have delivered cards and presents. The worst were these fruit/nut balls, which were straight up inedible. It all means I’ll have to go out again tomorrow to buy these sort of ridiculous tree candles from Pottery Barn bc they practically hurtle themselves at you screaming, Perfect gift for neighbors!!

Also, they have informed that our neighborhood does this whole business of candles in sand-weighted milk jugs on Christmas eve. The whole effort just seems like some sort of frantic show, some deranged tribute to our merriment. "Just make sure you have a dozen milk jugs sawed in half", they said cheerfully, "and those tall candles; if you use short ones, make sure you run out in the night and change them out." I eyed them warily--WHO exactly are we doing this for? And right then, it occurred to me. We'll probably have carollers. Do you have to tip them??

MF: Kan, tonight, as I was leaving their room. Oh, and by the way, do you know that they recite the ee cummings poem to me now, the i carry your heart with me one? Anyhow, after they recite the poem to me and say their prayers in Hebrew, Kan goes:

"Hannah, reach out your hand. There is a kiss whistling softly by the lamp."



**Soon to come: "From hairdresser to mailman: who gets the gift?" Ok, so that probably won't happen, although Mamie and I have this conversation all the time: SHOULD I buy them for teacher's ASSISTANTS? (Yes, yes, obviously yes. Candles from Pottery Barn shaped likes doves and trees.)