Today was a normal Saturday...  except for that I didn't have a violin lesson this morning, so I actually got to sleep in.  That was cool.    But anyway yeah... cleaned the church, cleaned our house, played violin at a wedding....

I got home around 8 or so, and Dad and I decided we were going to put up the Christmas tree.  (Yeah, we actually were going to try to get it up before January.)  We got the tree up just fine, then pulled out the lights.  First the big long strand of colored ones.  He plugged them in.

"Hey!!!   They're actually!!.......... Oh wait.  Never mind.  They aren't all working."

1 1/2 hours later.  They still weren't working.  We had fiddled with the two short strands long enough that they were good, but the long strand was a different story.  After checking every bulb, checking every bulb again, pulling every wire, pulling apart some wires, and undergoing every other agony known to Christmas light-kind.... "They wasn't comin' in."  Dad thought that we should just string the whole strand across Highway 45 and let a couple of semis run over them.

We pretty much gave up at that point.  But after lying in the middle of the living room floor for a while discussing everything from Creation to eschatology, yours truly had a brilliant revelation.

"Hey!  Don't we have some white lights in that box?!"

10:30 P.M.  Dad sat on the recliner staring at the lights with an incredibly befuddled expression on his face.  The first third of the strand was on, solid.  The second third was on, blinking.  The last third was off.  Totally, completely.

That's the point where I lay on the floor and laughed myself silly... because there was nothing else to do.

But.  More than 2 1/2 hours of effort did eventually pay off.  The tree now has lights on it.  They are all on.  There is a bow on the top of the tree. 

And... well.... fifty-eleven pieces of assorted colors of garland do not a pretty tree make. 

The mere thought of ornaments exhausted us.  We gave up.

Next year.  We are buying.  New lights.  New garland.  I don't care if we have said that for the last five years and it's never happened.  Next year.  It will. 

Tonight.  I'm probably going to dream about giant strands of Christmas lights chasing me and wrapping their tentacles around my neck and strangling me and electrocuting me simultaneously.

I just changed our clocks.  All 22 of them.  You'd think, with that many clocks in our house, I could actually be on time for stuff. 

I cleaned out my car today.  It was amazing.  I found the cover for my calculator, a set of rook cards, a post office receipt from July, an empty Icebreakers thingy, the remote control for a dvd player, a Columbus visitor's guide, and a lot of pine needles left over from campout.  Plus, of course, napkins and bottles and things.  I got rid of the "Hello, my name is Miss Destiny" nametag that has been stuck on my center console since May.  I even removed the chocolate spots from my seat. 

Like I said, it was amazing.  I haven't cleaned out my car in a looong time.  I should do it more often.

I love chips and salsa.

I don't have to teach Sunday school tomorrow morning.  That's cool.  It's fun teaching too though.  I'm teaching... 7-9 year olds?  I think?  Anyway, they keep it interesting.  Especially considering that my nephew is in the class.  I've taught them a lot of stuff.... they all know that Achan took a hot pink robe that looked suspiciously similar to a slinky housecoat from the 80s.

I have no earthly idea why I'm suddenly posting so often.  But I am.  It's weird. 

This is twisted.

Go eat some chocolate.  It's a good thing. 

Mom wants the computer.... peace out.

So, I'm sitting at the computer, typing up my notes for an economics paper.  Mom comes walking back here, headed for the garage. 

She opens the door.

And the most shockingest horrifyingest exploding sound makes me shoot about ten feet off my chair. 

Mom gingerly closes the door. 

My brain goes into overdrive.  It sounded like a gunshot.  It seriously sounded like a gunshot.  Some freaking madman is out there in our garage with a gun.  He's gonna kill us all.

Mom turns to face me in slow motion, her face drained of color and expressionless. 

Before she can say a word, I dissolve into giggles.  I'm hysterical.  I"m incredibly freaked out and my whole body has gone weak, but I'm giggling my head off.  I sound like my cousin Crystal when somebody's got her going. 

Mom just looks at me.  She doesn't move a muscle.  Then she speaks:  "What was that?"

"Hahahahaha.... I don't know.... hee hee... maybe the front fell off the fridge or something.....  hee hee hee hee."

"No.  That was an explosion!  I don't know what, but that was an explosion of some kind."

Finally we gather up enough nerve to investigate.  Mom gingerly opens the door once more.  No shots are fired.  We peer out into the garage.  Can't see anything.  We inch down the steps (there are two of them).  Nothing.  The front is still on the fridge, the stove is intact, the hot dog sticks stand propped up against the wall.  No holes in the windows.  The garage door is closed.  Neither van nor car are billowing smoke or crumpled in a heap of molten metal.  I see the gas grill sitting by the opposite wall and I get a panicky feeling, but it all looks okay.  We tiptoe towards the other side of the garage... and then Mom sees it.

The front right tire on my car randomly decided to blow out.  It literally has a hole ripped in it.

At least it picked a good time to do it.

This morning, I played violin at a graveside service.  Fifteen minutes of hymns, with the sun shining and the breeze blowing, the mourners gathering.... and my car parked about a dozen yards away.

That could have been a memorable funeral.