I'm sort of hoping Hannah has tons of people on her f-list that aren't on mine, or this post will seem a bit heartless coming right after hers, because Wanda is at the start of her life, and things with Shula so questionable.  So Hannah, it's just fluff about the dog, skip if you care to, it's all right.

Well, Wanda has now made the aquaintence of some true Northern Weather.  She did the whole snow thing last week, and then we had Sunday with 58 degree temps - nice enough for me to take the House Elf on his first Commuter Train ride into NYC to see Macy's.  Macy's was a huge disappointment, but, realistically, at his height you don't see much but other people's ankles and feet anyway, and he got to see them in Manhattan.  

Wanda, now having me trained to play with her at the very least the first time I let her out in the morning, and as many other times as she can snooker me into, does not see any reason to change this behavior just because with the windchill it is seven degrees here and I am in bare feet and pj's.  No, Mama should still go out on the ramp and play a sort of tag that I am only beginning to get the rules to.  In vain do I point to her favorite spot in the yard and say "Potty, Wanda."  She just runs back in, tags me, and then wants out again. 

Wanda, I love you, but some sorts of love need protection to make them healthy, and in this case, dearest, I need a really warm jacket and maybe, you know, some shoes.

So today is exactly one week to Christmas, and there is still the hope that someone out there might get something right about the holiday, so a rather Merry Nice Report this week.

My DH actually asked for a list more than 2 days before Christmas! YEAH!

I already have a present for my mother.

And my father

I got a really sweet wonderful Christmas card from a friend in which she said very nice things, and it really cheered me up on a bad day.

We went to a wonderful nursery for Braveheart's Christmas visit to Santa this year, and had a marvelous time even though I spilled coffee all over the floor and so forth.  (I really did also spill coffee all over the floor.)  Santa was a very nice man with a real beard and real white hair, and the little storybook area with the moving elves was set up very nicely.  They've come up far in the world since the last time we went at Christmas.  They also have a little cafe now.  We got two ornaments and some mistletoe, too.  A nice time altogether, and BH wants to take his little brother tomorrow, which I think is very sweet.

DH has been making noises about actually getting me the sewing machine I want for Christmas.  When I tried some out last week I got him a card, but really, for the one I really want he needs a little luck.

There was a nice little party at the House Elf's school in his classroom today, to which I brought 2 dozen cupcakes, 23 of which came home with me, as there was way more than enough food, and I was the one who ate the other one.  And a few more.  They are going to have to go into the freezer.

My mom made me some nice cards from something she had painted so I at least have cards to send to one segment of my card-receiving public. 

I tried voice posting, and by the third one I was doing all right.  Not brilliant, and I think I gave Mrs. Figg sentences in which by the time I am done reading she's had three or four DIFFERENT British accents, but then, I am not an actress and I've never had any accent coaching.  My basic narrative voice does not entirely reveal my roots, at any rate.  I think only two people have listened to it at all, that or everyone thought it was horrid and was afraid to leave a message, but I am satisfied with the improvement between post one and post three.

I cleaned out half a cabinet to put magazines in. 

I got to Spinning on Wednesday night like I rarely get to do, and there were people there who wanted to sit with me, as well as very good food. I ate way, way too many peanut butter and chocolate thingies for a woman on WW, let's just say that.  There was also someone there getting rid of yarn from her family - she had had several sales of various kinds and was showing what was left...which was the entire front of the stage.  I had five dollars so  I got what I think is enough of some peach colored stuff for a tank top for two dollars, and three balls of Berrocco Sensu-Wool for three dollars.  It has a texture very different from most hand knitting wool and I am not quite sure what I am going to do with it, but it was my color!  I also spun some.

I also got to knitting on Monday night - so, actually two nights this week when I got to talk to real, live people who are not paid to be there.  (Most of my conversation is with Braveheart's service providers.)

I had the GREAT BAG TRIUMPH I reported earlier.

I found a nice gift for the nurse, who is leaving tonight until March or so...

I have a new nurse coming in Monday.  So if she's any good, that will mean unbroken service.  I am holding out some hope that she will, indeed, be some  good.

I finally bought the Severus Socks pattern.

We got one air-conditioner out of the window.

Today I took the boys to the craft store and among other things we got nice silk flowers to use on the tree.  We saw this at the fancy nursery, and we can do similar for a fraction of the price. 

The week had its challenges, but I made it through.

Your niceness below, please.

VoicePost 692K 3:28

(no transcription available)

Thanks, everyone. Yesterday's muddled part 2 was not supposed to post, but it did, so a special thank you to all who suffered through that one. I think this one is the most clearly audible so far. I do know at least one person has been listening, and I thank everyone else who has as well.

So why is it that everytime DH asks me to make a Gift list, I end up crying? And it is not good crying, either. And that is just making the list.

Spindlewand must admit to liking bags.

By Bags, we do not mean expensive designer handbags, which, quite frankly, spindlewand thinks are ridiculous. Said wand is not defined by the pile of leather/pleather/stuffthatoughttobeholdingupasink that passes for a fashionable object.

I am, however, (because I can only talk like the Queen for so long) absolutely addicted to bags as things-in-which-other-things-can-be-put.

I come by this totally honestly. My father is exactly the same.

There could be a lot of reasons for this, starting with the amount of stuff I seem to take any time I leave my local cruising area. My mother is certain my great-grandmother emigrated with less junk than I routinely brought back to college from Thanksgiving break, for example, and I have never argued with her. I'm fairly certain she's correct. However, at this point I rarely leave my local cruising radius. Once a year I got to my brother's house for the holiday (we were not invited this year and I will not lower myself to discuss this omission, *sniff*) and sometimes, but by no means every year, and certainly not twice in one year, we go on a family vacation by car for which, in all honesty, we are prone to pack in the big blue bags you get for under a dollar at Ikea. (The glamour just never ends around here.)I do not work outside the home. I do not go anywhere that requires a knitting project larger than a sock, and I can fit a sock in my handbag. In short, I have a need for, let us be generous, one or two knitting bags, and perhaps one in which I can throw my netbook when I am not throwing it in my purse, where it fits quite well.

I love bags, however. I will not, at this point, go into the reasons why, but I love bags. Sacks, totes, suitcases, rolling totes, I adore them all. I want them all. I thrift, and when I see nice ones, I buy them all. At one or two dollars each, who can really blame me?

And every time I bring one home, Mr. Wand makes fun of me.

Mr. Wand is not enamored of my thrift shopping. Mr. Wand would prefer I purchase everything new. Mr. Wand has clearly never added up the potential cost of "everything," but my father, in an extremely uncharacteristic moment of taking-my-side-in-front-of-my-husband (As in, we have been married 20 years, and I do not recall a previous occasion) has recently told him that I save him a great amount of money by buying my clothing that way which said Mr. Wand does not, according to Father Wand, realize because he has no experience with woman who can spend hundreds of dollars on a blouse, (or some similar example. And Father Wand must know this from his years in the wilderness, because Mother Wand is exceedingly frugal and has never, even when she worked in industry and was billed to big businesses as a computer consultant at 300 dollars an hour spent that much on a blouse.)

Mr. Wand is, indeed, unappreciative of both my thrifting, and my propensity to not exactly hoard, but let us say, prepare against eventualities. Some day, for example, I may actually get to leave the house. (Two winters ago I went about 6 days without leaving the house, quite literally, as in "did not put foot to ground on front or back landings.) And that would require a bag of some kind. And so I have some.

And when I see another one for 2 dollars, I buy it. Then I bring it home, and then Mr. Wand makes fun of me. But today, today I had my just revenge....

Mr. Wand called out from the top of the stairs "_____________, do you have a bag?"

And I called back "As in the bags you make fun of me for buying?"

And he called back, "Yes"

To which I replied "Of course! You know that last one you made fun of me for? You can take that one!"

He came downstairs with his stuff in this bag, which was entirely new when purchased for two dollars at the thrift. It has two compartments, so his cd's can be apart from his paperwork. It has regular handles which unclip and then clip back together to be a shoulder strap. It has a zipper to make one part of the bag either thicker or thinner.
"This is a great bag!" said he.

Revenge is very, very sweet.