Toomptigoobah

Sounds like one of those terrible doll-comes-alive horror films - like Goonies or Chuckie, right?

I spelled it phonetically because I don't know the actual Swedish word, but I think it is supposed to mean Santa. My mother-in-law was huge into the holidays, and had dozens of little Santa figures all over her house. Some were little handicrafts made out of felt or cardboard, but some were Anna Lee collectibles. I'll just come right out and say it: these Santa figures are one part whimsy...and one part frightening. 

When my mother-in-law died, Mr Doll's sister kept them all, and I was surprised at how nostalgic he was over these dolls. His sister asked me what I thought Mr Doll might like for Christmas one year, and I came out and just asked for some of the family toompties. She gave him three out of over a dozen from his mom's collection:

Although he looks like a monk,
this is one of several bobble-heads.
His brothers live at our house.

I have no idea what that is supposed
to be in his pot, but I like to think it's
hot cocoa and marshmallows. Right?!

My, what big eyes you have!

One part Santa, one part Rudolph.

I am not entirely sure what is going on with
this Santa - is that hair or snow?!

The Santa in the foreground with the
hand-painted face is an Anna Lee collectible.

This fellow is Mr Doll's favorite.

Santa and his...pickaxe?!

If 'Doc' from The Seven Dwarfs was an elf.

Every year the kids and I look for a new Santa to buy for our collection. Mr Doll prefers the 'artsier' figures over Anna Lee, but I couldn't find felted or unusual ones in any catalogs this year. I found a small Santa at Macy's to add to our current collection:

Toomptigoobahs meet
The Charlie Brown Christmas 

In the meantime, guess what I got from our family Secret Santa gift exchange this year?! 

Babydoll and Big Daddy Santa 

Creeky

I was feeling pretty punky and overwhelmed earlier today, for a host of reasons: 

1. Mr Doll is out of town and I miss him terribly. 
2. December just came and snuck up on me. Ordinarily I'd be long done with cards and shopping...and we haven't even taken our holiday photo yet.
3. I'm crazy tired, all the time.
4. I don't feel like exercising - but not exercising makes me feel worse.

I decided to make an appointment for the chiropractor today. It's been months since I visited, and I wasn't going for one particular ailment other than the fact that my whole back and neck hurt. Ordinarily, I have good mobility. Typically my back will crack if I rotate my shoulders in one direction, and my hips the other. No longer. If I bend over, I can hear popping sounds around my mid-back. My guess it's just air, like when I crack my knuckles (I know...so ladylike) - but I'm currently obsessed that it's arthritis.

Dr. John tells me that it's the combination of too much time sitting quietly at the computer (I'm looking at you, NaNoWriMo) and suddenly stopping exercise for almost month (I'm looking at you, flu and broken contact lens). 

I chatted online recently with a Twitter friend who also works at a gym and is a fitness nut, like me. She tells me to run 5 days in a row and build my mileage back up, so that in 10 days I can run 8 miles. Of course, there's also the issue of that pesky half marathon coming up in mid-January. All I know is that I need to get busy.

So I got up and got out. I ran 2.25 miles. I went out for a run today even though I didn't feel running. I felt like a marionette, and couldn't find any rhythm - but I kept telling myself that I knew it was going to be hard after not running for almost a month. 

And then treated myself to a manicure. 

Aftermath

Dude. I am totally wrecked after 30 days and nights of literary abandon.

First, there were the half-dozen nights that I stayed up until 2am. Gentle reader, I have no bounce when it comes to such recklessness anymore; especially since I drive Girl Doll in the morning carpool at 6:25am. Ugh.

Two weeks into NaNoWriMo my right contact lens broke in half. Thankfully, it was not in my eye - but still. I can't see as well in my glasses, so it feels like I've never really woken up. 

Partially because I hate running in my glasses and partially because any extra time was spent writing - I worked out only once in three weeks. *Dramatic pause* I can practically see my muscles atrophy. 

And then, there's the matter of an irregular schedule leads to irregular bowels. Oh HELL YES...I just went there.

Some of my regular readers may recall my regularity in all matters pertaining to my poo. I poo first thing in the morning, every morning. Totally fine if I'm at home, but I have a shy bowel if I am traveling with running friends for an out-of-town race. Of course, http://getyougogirl.com/ has revolutionized any potty sharing I do. 

Internet, I cannot recommend a product more. I love You GO Girl!

Three days ago, I was so constipated that I was cross-eyed. I gave myself a wicked regiment of fiber laxatives and managed to coax things along - but not after suffering for a full day. 

The things I will do for literary reward. Le sigh.

Afterglow

You'd think after writing 50,000+ words in 30 days, I'd have more to say - but I don't. Well...not much, anyway.

Since I didn't have any formal writing experience - or even a thread of a story line, I chose to write about my life for the NaNoWriMo. Although I was shooting for an adolescent-to-adult's journey through recovery, I seemed to favor writing primarily about my childhood. It was a wonderfully hard and cathartic experience.

I am so very proud that I made a goal and worked towards it for 30 days.  It was like a mental marathon, and there were a handful of nights that I wrote until 2am. I almost blew it right at the end, however. The whole month I had a small thought in the back of my mind about how to verify my novel on the NaNoWriMo website, but I was too obsessed with keeping up my daily word count to give it much thought.

Yesterday was the final day of the challenge and I was about 1,200 words and an hour and ten minutes away from the 30 day/50,000 word finish line...when I had nothing else left to say. 

Grasping straws, I began to write about the fierce competitor in me. This  somehow prompted me to begin describing the over-the-top themed birthday parties we've hosted for our children. From that thread of thought, I was off and happily hammering out words...when I suddenly I noticed the time: 11:58pm. My word count was just over 50,000. 

After I entered my final tally of 50,017 onto the dashboard of the NaNoWriMo, I quickly checked to see how my online friends had done. They are all several hours ahead on the East Coast, so the contest was already officially over for them. On my friend IfByYes's profile, instead of a blue banner where her word count had formerly been, was a bright purple banner that read: "Winner!" 

I frantically noticed that although I'd completed the goal of 50,000+ words, my word count remained and my banner stayed blue. All month long, I had simply updated my word total on the dashboard of the site. This was when that nagging thought I'd had all month came to the forefront of my mind: I had 90 seconds to figure out how to verify my actual number count on the website.  Hosted by a bunch of book nerds - you'd think the website would be crazy-streamlined, but it is not very intuitive. 

I clicked on a scroll down menu, and found the motherland: the 'verify novel' button.  A tiny pop-up window appeared in the center of the screen; apparently I was supposed 'just' cut-and-paste an entire 50,000 word document - into a screen the size of a playing card. As I frantically highlighted 81 pages, I noticed the time stamp in the lower right hand corner change from 11:58 to 11:59. With less about 30 seconds to spare, I copied and pasted my novel into their word counter. WINNER! 

To quote Bill Murray's Carl Spackler from Caddyshack, where he has a kid pinned up against a wall, pressing pitchfork tines on his throat: 

"So we finish the eighteenth and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, "Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know." And he says, "Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness." So I got that goin' for me, which is nice."