My Aura is So Clean it Squeaks

My head is spinning.

Was merrily wrapping packages until I went to check the mail and found that the book by the author I'm interviewing tomorrow hadn't shown as promised. Yikes! I called the publicist, and she assured me a second copy would arrive on my doorstep before 10 a.m. tomorrow.

Let's hope so. I'm taping at 11:30.

I put dinner on the stove and decided that to alleviate stress, it was high time I took that aura cleansing bath prescribed by Sonia Choquette, who I am to interview next week. The bath involves filling a tub with warm water, 10 drops of lavender, and a cup of epsom salt. Magically, I had all on hand.

I got in the bath but didn't know what to do with myself. I haven't taken a bath in 12 years, and then it was just a soak in a hot tub. So I tried leaning back and closing my eyes, but the porcelain was cold against my neck and hard against my soft head. My knees kept floating up above the waterline. They were cold, too.

The girls came home in a flurry, and Peter went straight out to put up the Christmas lights he got a great deal on over the weekend. They are the most hideous lights I have ever seen. Can you say tacky? Instead of separate lights on a string (I prefer white, myself), it's a red-and-white tube made to look like a candy cane. When you light it up, it doesn't look light a candy cane at all.

It looks like orange tubing, a Halloween hangover. Please don't drive past my house. You will feel sorry for me. You will assume my idea of good taste is wearing leopard-patterned leggings with feathered high heels.

After dinner and refereeing several fights between the offspring, which involved hair-pulling and karate kicks, we ate dinner and pulled ourselves together to attend Child One's Christmas concert at school. Said Child played the flute, which she just started learning in October, and sang in the chorus. The chorus was pretty good. The band sounded like a typical fifth grade band.

I spoke to Mom while we waited for the concert to start. She says the nurse asked her if she'd like to be out of the rehab facility by Christmas. Well, no, actually, she'd like to be there on December 25th so that your freakin' aides can throw dinner at her and refuse to get her out of bed.

Merry Christmas!

I am searching for a restaurant where we can celebrate, but few places are open Christmas Day. They're all open for Easter, though, which is weird because Easter is the holiest day on the Christian calendar.

For some reason, Christmas trumps Easter every time.

I Continue to Amaze Myself

Not only did I write the script for my radio show this morning, I ran out to the post office and mailed all my international Christmas cards.

Then I did a bit more shopping. I remembered that Child Two wants a poncho, so I bought one for her and her sister. I bought A &M's gift, and my friend Elaine in England's (white-chocolate-scented bath fizzies and a makeup bag).

I picked up a warm nightgown for Sibling One to wear in the hospital after she has her baby. I also found a gorgeous burgundy scarf for myself (needed a scarf!), and a lovely Indian-patterned soap dispenser for the main bathroom, which will replace that sea-green piece of plastic Peter bought at Wal-Mart.

Wal-Mart!

I am proud to say I've avoided that hole all season. I dislike Wal-Mart from the bottom of my feet. The employees are rude and in no mood to help you. Clothes and socks and toys are strewn everywhere. Half the stuff is made in sweatshops, hence the low prices. Shopping there makes me feel poor. I always, and I mean always, pull out of the parking lot with substantially lower self-esteem.

Mom says, "I wouldn't step in a Wal-Mart if my life depended on it."

This, from a woman suffering from brain cancer.