1. So.  23.  Still dubious.

2. My brother is the current Vice President/President elect of the Rotary Club where he lives.  When he called me on my birthday and sang me a high-pitched, ear-bleeding rendition of “Happy Birthday” on Tuesday, he asked me what time I was getting in on 22 December.  I told him I’d be getting in at 7:45 in the evening, and he told me the Rotary Club had planned to sing Christmas carols in a nursing home (or several?) on the 22nd but that he was going to try to convince them to do it the 23 so I could participate.  I’m sure I looked like the Cheshire Cat with the smile that brought on.  He never asked me, he just knew that’d be something I’d like to do.

3. When I talked to my sister on my birthday, I asked her what my surprise was.  I then properly pointed out that it is considered rude to deny the birthday girl requests on her birthday.  My sister whined, “I know!”  I really wanted to laugh.  I could picture the exact expression on her face, the one where she’s stumped because she knows she’s hit a dead end but doesn’t like it and is struggling with admitting that.  However, I didn’t make her tell me.  I figured that’d be cheating, and while I’m ok with that in this particular instance, I’m confident that I’ll be able to weasel it out of her without her being able to claim that she had no choice.  Read: I’m arrogant.  I’m also really enjoying the effort she’s expending trying to actually keep a secret.  It makes me smile.  I’d like to prolong it for a bit longer.

4. I didn’t have any plans whatsoever for Thanksgiving a week ago.  However, two invitations fell into my lap within the past week, and I ended up attending two Thanksgivings–one yesterday and one today.  Both were lovely and enjoyable affairs.  I’m very grateful to my hosts for their hospitality and cheer.

5. For the Thanksgiving yesterday, I met up with a friend for a 9 am Mass in the city requiring me to awake and leave at Early O’Clock.  I went back to her apartment with her to help chop up food for her stuffing.  I’m no good in the kitchen, and I made sure this was abundantly clear beforehand.  I had difficulty chopping up the parsley, first with which part of the parsley to chop and then actually chopping the leaves.  She had washed the parsley, and wet parsley?  Not the easiest to chop.  I got frustrated, and I kept frantically yelling, “IT’S CLINGING.  THE PARSLEY IS CLINGY AND CODEPENDENT AND I DON’T LIKE IT.”  While she laughed.  And laughed.  Then I huffed and gave the reigns over to her, because I had had enough of that.  The apple proved to be much easier.  When asked how big to chop the pieces, my friend responded with, “Well, just think about what size of apple would be pleasing to eat.”  The wording struck me as funny.  So later, after taking a bite of stuffing, I looked at her and said quite seriously, “Why, that was one pleasing piece of apple.”

6. I may have told my sister and my brother-in-law that I would babysit Alice over Christmas while I’m home.  I actually called dibs on baby duty on Christmas months ago.  Now that it’s approaching…well, I’m scared.  We’re talking only a notch or two below “CLOWN” on the fear-o-meter.  I’ve never held a baby.  I’ve never really handled a baby, but I am somewhat roused to confidence with the reminder that cavemen did it, so it can’t be that difficult.  Plus, cavemen didn’t have Google.  Or 911.  But still.  I know next to nothing about babies beyond the fact that they seem to be able to smell fear (that’s why they like me; they prey on the weak).  I told my sister I’d be fine, because I know that I’ll help save her a little money in childcare and I HAVE to be, but I’m not entirely certain that one or both of us won’t be curled up in a ball crying on the floor.  Actually, she’ll probably be rolling over and giggling and I’ll be in the corner rocking back and forth eating my hair.

7. So, in effort to man up for my duties in caring for Alice, I decided to use my friends’ baby as a guinea pig.  It was their idea, actually (Hi, Christine!).  They asked me if I wanted to change Tess’ diaper.  I just rolled with it.  I tried not to think about it.  I watched the first time, but then I did it the next two times.  That’s right, two.  I’m really proud of myself.  Granted, they weren’t messy diapers, but it’s still a huge amount of progress.  It wasn’t perfect, but they didn’t leak, and I’m guessing that’s probably an important piece of criteria.  I feel ever so slightly less frightened about the whole thing.  I’m at least fairly confident that I won’t go running when someone tries to hand me my niece now.  Mostly.  I think.  I mean, I probably won’t.  I might slowly back away, but I’d probably get over it in a few seconds and then slowly approach the sleeping lion.  Possibly.  Most likely.  It’s completely normal to love someone and fear them at the same time, right?  Maybe?