Was rather busy today.... Mom had her 'card club' girls over for their Christmas pitch-in/secret Santa exchange tonight. That meant I spent the last 12 hours doing rather intensive cleaning--dusting every surface from top to bottom, including cobwebs from the corners (of the 12' ceilings). Oiled all the wooden furniture and polished the electronic stuff. Finished filling all the empty spaces with Christmas decor (pictures at some point... while the place is still spotless).
There is no point cleaning any (decent) amount of time earlier--too many animals and the kid-- to expect it stay looking nice for long. We straighten things and dust regularly, but as I've written before, this type only happens for special occasions.... at least I didn't have to do windows again.
Our Christmas tree is a Frazier Fir. He's so full and beautiful and swallowed all our ornaments in his glorious branches. He stands about 7 1/2 feet tall and only reach half-way around when I hug him. I can't wait to get the pictures up so you can see.
Dad and I have picked out a tree every year since I was about 12. My brother used to go too, but he stopped (he was 13)... so, it has been Dad and I. Thinking Gracie can get in on the action next year. I remember being about 4 and thinking how big the trees were. It was a little later when I developed a distaste for artificial trees.
When I was working, I bought live trees and then donated them to a park or some landscape developer (sold it to them). Takes the argument of me killing a tree for my enjoyment away. But, these trees are specifically grown for jobs at our pleasure, they'd be cut if I bought it or not. So in all essence, why let it die in vain....
I admit there are wonders being done with the tree replicas... some I actually like-- the small versions for spreading the joy. But not for this house- as the main tree, nope... that's got to be a big, nice, arborial guy.
We haven't had this type in a long time. We usually get Douglas Firs, though when their needles get dry, they attack. Fraziers have rounded tips on their needles, more 3-yr-old friendly... definitely more prestigious in the pine phylum (or is that class? species? oh well).
Enough about that. On a Gracie note- my daughter has become quite the little thief.... I think. She keeps coming home with miscellaneous objects from preschool. She took a brush last week and someone else's bill (how'd that happen?!).
Today she came home with what she said is her teacher's hand cleaner. I asked her where she got it from and she said from Preschool Teacher's bag! ..... Aye dios mio......
So, guess my little swiper will need a watchdog. I have mentioned it once before when Grace brought home some crayons she said her teacher threw away (Grace will not tolerate anything being thrown away that she sees as 'useful'), but her teacher said she did give them to her. She rescues all kinds of things from the trash if we're not careful.
She had to go to a well-child check-up today (all good) and then to WIC (Women, Infants, Children--a food supplement Agency) for recertification. The dietician at WIC said that Grace was under height and over weight (but the woman said "to look at her I can't tell that").
So I said "scales can't differentiate between fat weight and muscle weight, and she's very muscular and well-defined" (you should see the girl's thighs! they're like rocks), "so I attribute the 'overweight' as more muscle than fat--which is excellent." She said she just put in the numbers and that's what came up...... (I wondered if she even heard what I said).
I bit my tongue of course, choosing my battles wisely these days. Not nice to bite the hand that feeds you..... Her doctor said she was mid-range for height and weight and I'm ok with that. He actually looked at her :::eyes rolling:::
Oh, but I must tell you what a big girl she was!! WIC takes a drop of blood for an iron test (hers is 12.6, greater than 11 is what they're looking for). So Grace goes over and sits in the chair and I said she needs to stick your finger to get a drop of blood, do you want me to come over there? She said "No mommy" and she got stuck and said ouch... that was it. No drama. No tears. And gimme my sticker now, please.
Am impressed. Though wondering if I should worry about her sticker fetish and relating it to getting stuck with needles.....
Nah, just my future scientist in the making......
Have a good night all