Today, Fuzzy did battle against the deadly furnace. Well, not really, but at least he managed to light the pilot light without blowing up the house, so, that’s a good thing.

This house has two a/c units, both of which live in the attic, one, which functions gloriously, controls the second floor. The other, the temperamental one, controls the first floor. (Personally, if I was responsible for heating that much open space, I’d be temperamental, too.)

Before we moved in, there was repair work done on the downstairs unit, because there was a problem with the water line, or something, but it cooled just fine, and when I tested it in early fall during a cold morning, the heater seemed to work. At least, when I walked under the kitchen vent, hot air blew in my face.

But since then, it hasn’t worked.

I’ve been nagging Fuzzy to climb up the pull-down ladder into the attic and check the pilot light for about a month now, because I think it’s really stupid to keep the upstairs furnace BLASTING in an attempt to heat the entire house, but he’s refused, citing his toe, and other reasons.

Admittedly, I have no intention of EVER going up there. It isn’t dark – there’s a light and stuff – but it’s cramped and there’s no real floor, and even though, from the hallway below the trap door, I can’t see any evidence of spiders, I’m CERTAIN they are lying in wait for me, and that they know Fuzzy doesn’t fear them, so there’s no reason to leave their dark corners for HIM.

He insisted, today, that the best thing to do was call TXU, but, as they confirmed, TXU is not PG&E and they don’t come out and light pilot lights. (They suggested a plumber, which confuses both of us. Because HVAC and plumbing are not usually handled by the same people). After that, he finally agreed to attempt to light the pilot lite (we’d determined yesterday that that was the actual problem).

He did mention that he was nervous about doing so, since the furnaces are gas, and he didn’t really feel the urge to blow up the house, but I pointed out that an ezisting pilot light was burning in the same space already, and therefore, the house would already be in cinders if there was an issue, and anyway, we have insurance. In fact, we somehow managed to pay the whole year in advance and still have our closing costs be lower than planned, but that’s a phenomenon of Texas math (apparently values are different here?) and not really relevant just now. He pointed out that there were sixteen steps in the lighting process, including flipping the breaker off – we tried that, actually, and the designated breaker did NOTHING. Yeah, lovely.

First attempt was with one of my butane candle lighters. It wasn’t small enough. So Fuzzy tromped downstairs, and searched the kitchen for the box of wooden matches (“They’re on the counter by the sink,” I told him. “I don’t see them,” he said, while facing a completely different counter.) But they were too short. So he went off to the grocery store to buy fireplace matches (and tuna, because we were out), and then returned, for another attempt.

Five minutes later, we had heat, and we still have heat. And the formerly frigid dining room can now double as a sauna.

Oh, right, and nothing blew up.

Yay, Fuzzy.

Some days just scream for cozy cooking. You know the type, grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, meatloaf and green beans. It’s not quite kid-food, though there’s a definite aspect of nostalgia for childhood that enhances the familiar, comforting, flavors.

Today was such a day for Fuzzy and me. He stayed home sick, but wound up working from home because of the four people in his group, two had already called in sick and the other had just announced that he was leaving for another company.

As for me, well, I work from home, anyway, so I made tea, posted rates, did some loan stuff, started laundry, did more laundry, and generally puttered about, cleaning things, and prepping the living room for the Christmas tree, which I also dragged in from the garage.

A friend had posted a blog entry of her own, recently, about her new banana bread recipe, and since we had bananas that were rapidly turning into scary things on the counter, and we both love banana bread, I emailed her for the recipe, and decided to try it. I modified it a bit, doubling the cinnamon, adding a touch of nutmeg, and, since the bag of walnuts I had was 2 cups, and not the 1.5 that the recipe called for, increased the amount of nuts as well. After all, who needs half a cup of walnuts just lying around?

While the banana bread was in the oven, and the sweet cinammony smell was oozing out of said oven, and wafting through the house, I did something I rarely do – I made lunch. Now, it must be known that I despise most forms of tomato soup. And Fuzzy adores it. So, I get thousands of extra wife points today, because when I made lunch, I not only made grillled cheese sandwiches, but I ALSO made soup. TOMATO soup. The smile on his fevered face was almost worth the fact that I had to eat the stuff.

He went back upstairs to his office after that, and I (after calling him back down to help with the tall parts), have been puttering with the tree ever since. I’m currently in the middle of shaping it (my mother will be visiting us over the holidays, and as she’s allergic, we have yet another plastic tree. This year, it’s pre-lit.) I’m not doing ornaments tonight. I never do ornaments the first night. I like to live with the lit tree for a few days and get a feel for it, and sort of plan my attack. But let me tell you, having the pre-lit tree has totally made my year.

While I was working, I let TiVo play back two episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation (Spike is currently running season three, the first season the uniforms had collars), an episode of Strong Medicine, and then tonight’s episode of The West Wing. I think CSI NY is playing now, but I’m waiting for my meatloaf to cool so I can eat.

Oh, right, I also made meatloaf.
And green beans.

I’m such the domestic goddess today.

So, there you have it. A gray day, not particularly cold until the sun went down, but dreary, nonetheless, made better with a little banana bread.

I hope this doesn’t make Fuzzy expect me to cook every night…

One of my blog-buddies, John, commented about the fact that I already have Christmas lights up. Well, the truth is, I do, and I don’t.

I have my lights up on the outside of the house – the hedges, the front window, the trees in the curb strip. I don’t generally put ANY lights up this early, but we were gifted a couple days of dry weather over Thanksgiving weekend, and since the park around the block (the neighborhood park) is decked out, and we were asked to please try to have our own lights out early, as there is some kind of competition for niftiest neighborhood, or some such, I took the opportunity, and did the outside lights, most of them, that weekend.

Of course, I severely underestimated the amount of lights it would take, so I had to go back to Home Depot and get more, but now they’re ALL up.

Outside.

Inside’s another matter.
The room that will eventually be a library is still “box central” as we don’t have enough shelves for all our books. In fact, since we ditched the shakier shelves before we left California, we have even less shelving here than we did there, and we didn’t have enough then.

The dining room needs to have the carpet cleaned. I’m balancing on the edge of scheduling hell, because I need it done early enough to be able to have it in order before the parents arrive on the 18th, but late enough that the dogs won’t get in and leave lovely little dog-presents on the carpet.

The Tree and the ornamements, meanwhile, are sitting just outside the door from the garage into the laundry room, and when I say ‘just outside’ I mean that they don’t quite block the door. Still, I’m forced to see them, brush by them, every time I go that way, and that reminds me to call the carpet cleaners, and have them come. I’m thinking if I schedule things for the 15th, that will be about right, timing-wise. I hope.

In other parts of the house, the preparations continue in other ways. Today, I’m finishing the Christmas cards that were supposed to be done a week ago. My card list keeps expanding, though, so at some point I may have to face the fact that it’s an endless task, and doing ANY is just as good as doing ALL.

Or not.

Onesome: Dancing– Dancing? Does anyone go dancing anymore? I mean, disco died, and the club scene? Hmmm… Is dancing dead? …or are we just here on the web instead of out for the evening?
I love dancing, but my husband, typical geek, has no love of the activity, and even less rhythm. I live for dancing in the living room, at every opportunity, however.

Twosome: Polar– Polar bears seem to do well in the snow… How about you? Is snow just another thing you deal with when it shows up, or is it shutdown time? …and if you’re posting from a non-snowy locale, do you make trips to actually see snow? It’s okay to admit it…
When it comes to snow, a childhood split between Colorado and New Jersey, and then, later, three years in South Dakota, means that I have both been there and done that. If I controlled the weather, there would be situational snow, that lasted from the time everyone got to where they were supposed to be on Christmas Eve, and ended just before they needed to leave that place – but other than that, rain is my preferred precipitation, thanks.

Threesome: Bears– Bears? Christmas Bears? Have you seen the number of bears on the shelf this year? Are you getting one for anyone? …or are you looking forward to receiving one? …or do you still think that inguana in the elf outfit is more your style ?
I’m not really a stuffed animal fan. I liked them well enough when I was a child. Well, I do still have the Winnie the Pooh I got when I was a baby, but that’s a nostalgic thing, and I did pout at Fuzzy til he got me the Godiva-bearing (no pun intended) Vamp!Teddy from Barnes and Noble for Halloween. But for the most part I don’t see the point. (Although, last year I accompanied a friend to a Build-A-Bear place, and for a brief time I could see the allure.). So, no, no bears here. Chihuahuas wearing antlers, and toy trains around the Christmas tree, though, yes.

I’ve been pretty much ignoring my blog for the last month, while I was caught up in the throes of NaNoWriMo. I did finish, coming in at just over 53,400 words, though there were several false starts. I learned, from the process, that my innner editor is a raging beast from hell, and it takes huge quantities of Celestial Seasonings Nutcracker Suite Holiday Tea to quiet it. No, really, that’s what my drink has been lately, brewed chai-strong, splashed with milk, and enhanced by a bit of honey. It’s comforting, and smells like Christmas.

Speaking of which, even though I did take time off from NaNo to put lights on the outside of my house (just the hedges and trees, this year, as our ladder has gone missing, and Fuzzy can’t stand for long enough amounts of time to help me with the eaves) with Christmas lights, it’s only today that I finally feel that the Christmas Season has begun.

I think there’s something magical about the calendar page flipping from November to December. It means that winter is officially almost here, that the nights are still getting longer, and that the air is crisp and cold and alive with the tingle of love and joy and anticipation, and all those wonderful things that most of us find pretty sappy the other eleven months of the year.

Also, I just received an Advent calendar from my godmother, who sends one every year. This year, in an homage to our shared love of Harry Potter, she picked the calendar in question “because Santa looks like Dumbledore.”

I remember having the big advent calendars when I was a kid. They were larger than an 8.5 x 11″ piece of paper and would be tacked to the wall. I’ve never had one with candy, and wouldn’t WANT one with candy, because as far as I can tell, they only come in milk chocolate. Cheap milk chocolate. But I like the pictures, and I like the act of opening the door at the end of each day. The ritual, the crossing off of days.

Speaking of ritual, Fuzzy and I are checking out the local Episcopalian church this weekend, mostly because it’s a good way to meet other couples our age, but also because we’re in a new place, and I’m feeling a bit isolated and homesick, and want a sense of community. While I’m not terribly religious, I like the way the Church smells at Christmas, and I like the carols, and this church is sponsoring a Christmas choir, and I miss singing, so we’re going. (As I told Fuzzy, with the exceptions of Amazing Grace and most of Handel’s Messiah, Christmas Carols are the only religious songs I know, so I don’t feel so much like an alien at this time of year.)

It’s become a sort of personal tradition to do some sort of December theme in my journal each year. Last year, I participated in 12 Days of Christmas Questions, with some friends, and this year, I’m doing my own version of the Holidailies – daily posts through the month of December.