Small pleasures: Merry Christmas Wreath!

Well, so I have become one of those people. I have hung a Merry Christmas wreath on my car.

I know, right?

I first saw this phenomenon when I was working at Lafayette College in the 1980s. A student that I worked with and loved, the perky R.A. Sarah, had a wreath on her sporty little car, and I both loved and hated her for it, because I'm that kind of person.

I mean, it wasn't that I hated wreaths or Christmas or Sarah or cars -- and I loved the idea of a Merry Christmas wreath tied to the front of my own fun little red car. But I could never gather the wherewithal and motivation to get up off my ass to do something about it.  It never occurred to me to ask Sarah where she got her wreath or how she had attached it to her car -- or maybe even just to ask her to help me do it (translated = do it for me).

Over the years, my lazy ways hardened into a kind of Grinchiness that mocked the festive cars sporting their tidings of the season. Well, maybe I wasn't displaying full-on Grinch symptoms, but a definite crankiness crept into my attitude. I think part of it has been that whenever I saw a car with a wreath, I thought, "Dang it! Another year and I haven't gotten my wreath act together."

Well, not this year! I got me a wreath, and I got me some florist's wire, and I figured it out, maybe. I have no idea how long my handiwork will last. But as long as it does, my car will be fa-la-la-la-la-ing all over town!

+++++++

Here's a sweet little book that evokes memories of old-fashioned Christmas anticipation. Christmas in the Country, written by Cynthia Rylant, describes the winters of her childhood, when she and her grandparents prepared for Christmas as the snow gathered in their mountain home.  The decorations, the shared cocoa by the fire, the baking -- all are described in loving detail. It's a great reminder that some of the joy of the Advent season lies in the waiting, and in the preparation itself.

Small pleasures: it's red, y'all!

So here I am coming out of blogging seclusion, and it's to share the fabulosity of this awesome red stapler. Because so often it's these small little pleasures that make my day better. 

And yes. I've seen Office Space. I still love my red stapler. 

Cicada song

When you listen to the sound in this short little video that I recorded in my front yard, I want you to realize that the steady thrum in the background is the sound of millions of cicadas.  We live smack in the middle of the seventeen-year cicada Brood II emergence.  It's quite an event!  The eerie, echoing song is enough to drive some people nuts (one of my friends noted that he feels like his morning coffee is enjoyed to the soundtrack to a 1960's sci-fi movie).

Others are creeped out by how many, many cicadas have emerged.  It is impossible to overstate their everywhere-ness.  We sweep them off the porch every morning; we brush them out of our hair before we get into the car; the dogs either chase them or bark at them or stop with a jolt every time one buzzes by an inquisitive nose.  In this part of the country one can find on-line guides to planning a wedding around the cicada emergence.  Tip for the cicada-savvy:  skip the gazebo wedding if you plan to marry this summer.

I am fascinated more than grossed out.  I find their life cycle oddly compelling and even (am I weird?) endearing.  The males will serenade their lady friends throughout May and June, and then we will say good-bye to them for another seventeen years.  So -- don't be hating on the homely cicadas!  Their visits are so infrequent and so brief, and all they're looking for is a little romance!

All character, no plot: garden

 

These are leftover herbs from last year's garden pots.  Theme = resilient.

 

The sage is out of control.

The lemony-smelling something that I can't name but love to smell has taken over its pot, but the rosemary has found a way to lean way over to the side so it can get some sunshine.

We have wild strawberries everywhere.

It looks like I planted a pot of little pansies that are now thriving, but really I bought a pot and plunked it in this larger ceramic pot, thinking I would transplant it later.  That never happened, so the pansies just soldiered on without me.

This pot also came from the grocery store (just like the pansies).  I plunked it down beside my mailbox three years ago, because I thought it was festive:  it had daisies, and something red that died almost immediately, and a cabbage-looking something that was green and purple and that lasted through the first season.  The daisies do this every spring, and then burst into bloom at the end of the summer.

And I don't do a thing. 

Small pleasures: when two happies collide

So I read this book this past summer and just adored it.  It's like nothing I've read before.  I've been pressing it on all of my friends ever since, because it's just lovely.  The girl in charge had to be convinced to give it a try, but then proceeded to stay up all night, devouring it in one big delicious gulp.

It's that good.

So my girl and I were both so happy when we discovered that the audio version of the book has been recorded by someone we regard as an old friend. 

Jim Dale narrates all seven books of the American editions of the Harry Potter series -- and he is a chameleon-voiced treasure.  The British editions are read by Stephen Fry, a delicious treat of a different flavor -- but we are faithful to the version we have been listening to since the urchins were very small.

We have even been known to listen to books based solely on the fact that they are narrated by Jim Dale -- which is how we discovered this fabulous novel, which concerns an American acting troupe, A Midsummer Night's Dream, and some time-traveling magic!

Well, so I loved reading the book version of The Night Circus, and I love to listen to Jim Dale read anything, so throw the two together and it makes the happies explode!

Small pleasures: Virginia countryside

These are some of the pictures I took on the way home from the softball game in South Boston, Virginia. 

This is a lovely part of the Old Dominion -- surrounded by lakes and rolling farmland. 

I can only imagine how old some of the homes in these little towns are . . .

Virginia is so beautiful.  We can offer you mountains, and beaches, and cities, 

and artists, and history, and hiking . . .

You should come visit -- you'll love it!

Small pleasures: respite

We lost power for a little while last night, which is a rare thing for us around here.  We live in a community where the power lines are mostly underground, so wind and ice storms and falling trees don't cause major power outages the way they do in some other parts of the area. 

But last night some sort of mechanical something happened (that was the technical expanation given by the power company), and our whole neck of the woods went dark.  And silent.

The girl in charge and I both stumbled around in the dark, bereft without our DVD players and Facebooks and and good reading lights.  Meanwhile the sunny girl calmly went around the house lighting candles.

The husband was in his Scout leader element, wearing a spelunking lamp on his head while he put fresh batteries in a tent lantern. 

I found the "read in bed while your husband is sleeping" book light that my sister gave me for Christmas -- and kept on reading.

 

 
It was kind of nice.

Small pleasures: pretty, pretty colors!

The sunny girl got a new box of crayons, and proceeded to organize them in a way that pleased her color-discerning eye.

And really -- what could be better than a new box of crayons?!

Small pleasures: Look what I found!

Oh my gosh! I found these shoes in the clearance rack at DSW! People, I literally skipped to the cash register. It's true.

So let's see . . . how many identical pairs of these rockin' red loafers have I now purchased? One pair for Coleen. One pair for Carolyn. And one two three pairs for me.

They don't call me frugal for nothing!

Small pleasures: found rainbow

I am actually not a particularly rainbow-y person; in fact when I was in college, the kind of sweet, sweet girl who decorated her dorm room with rainbows was the kind of girl I wanted to punch in the throat. This was the girl who usually ended up talking way too much baby talk for a theoretically intelligent college student, and -- if I can paraphrase Dorothy Parker -- she made me want to "frow up."

But sometimes the rainbows just show up right in a parking lot, and it's hard not to smile . . . . Please don't punch me in the throat.

Small pleasures

I love passing by this building, which is on my path only every once in a while. It sits at the corner of two tree-lined streets in Old Town Alexandria, which is a little north of my daily ramblings.

This building housed the Coca-Cola Bottling Works for the Washington, D.C. area, from 1932 to 1961. Those of you who have known me for a long time will remember that I have an abiding affection for all things Coca-Cola, so you can imagine that I give a little skip every time I walk past this corner on my way to the bank.

Now the structure is the home of several businesses, including a kitchen and bath remodeling center on the first floor, and several smaller office spaces up above. This stained glass window trinket is some sentimental office worker's love note to the building.

Yep -- it just makes my day a little happier.