My turn

I feel compelled to join the crowd of bloggers sharing their New Year's resolutions. Here are a few of mine.

1. Eat chocolate
2. Watch a lot of reality TV
3. Read blogs daily
4. Use the phrase "I'm just sayin" at least once a month in a blog post
5. Take pictures of Mark and the dogs
6. Support Tessa through a crisis moment
7. Help Angela find her keys
8. Wax my chin, lip and brow
9. Make lists
10. Cross things off lists
11. Use less toilet paper
12. Change my shampoo brand

Mmm. Think that's about it. I'm just sayin.

Working Woman

Yesterday at work was like church on Superbowl Sunday. Only the super saints in attendance. Or in my case, someone (mwa) who sorta kinda volunteered to work this week while the rest of my coworkers play. I guess I can't really be stingy and keep the whole two weeks of Christmas and New Years to myself. Sometimes you gotta share.

So anyway, it was just me on my hall. The four whole people in the building shared a broccoli, carrot, chicken pizza for lunch. I'm not kidding. But it was really tasty. Did I just say tasty? What am I, 80? Our accountant dude came in for a short time and the other three people in the office started to complain to me that he was making too much noise making some kind of blipping sound on his computer, so I had to politely ask him to mute. At first I thought he was playing a computer game, but he says he was doing legitimate accountant dude stuff. That was the big excitement of the day. Broccoli pizza and Beeping Accountant Dude. Otherwise I spent the entire day doing battle with my obsession over the cookies in the lunchroom. Would someone please just throw them away? They are probably left over from before Christmas and are not worth the agony of attempted self denial.

I'm trying to figure out all the details of our big annual event coming up in April. The creative juices just weren't flowing. Maybe it was the sugar coma I was in from the cookies...that... I...didn't eat. Or it was the mind numbing, deathly quiet. When you can hear the paper towel thingy spitting out paper towels in the women's bathroom from the other end of the building, it's too quiet. Come to think of it, wonder what other noises you can hear coming from that area in the stillness. I don't want to think about it actually.

So here I go again. If I get tired of conversing with the plants maybe I can talk somebody into having chair races around the building. We could be an episode on The Office. Or I could get a lot of work done without interruption.

Nah.

Blogging Milestone

I've been blogging for a year now and about every two weeks I think I'm gonna quit. Cause really, who wants to read about the life of a 47 year old, overweight woman in an almost empty nest in the heart of Oklahoma? But my mother reads this, so I'll keep at it a while longer. Hi mom.

As I look back over the year of posts, though, it's interesting (to me, not to anyone else) to review "a year in the life". I've blogged about weight more than any other subject and I still weigh what I weighed a year ago. Bummer. But Mark and I learned to dance (swing) and we renovated a few rooms in this old house, and we ate our way through Seattle, I said good-bye to my precious Grandfather, I put a Winnebago in a ditch, and, well, you've read all about it. Most importantly, I've connected with family and friends in an unexpected and satisfying way.

I'm not one for New Year's resolutions, but seriously. This weight has to come off. I could do one of those soporific video diary things about my weight loss journey. Maybe you could use it to put your toddler to sleep. "Mommy - I want to watch the fat lady talk". Actually, I'm traditionally built, according to Mma Ramotswe, of the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency. Good books. Words like fat, obese, porker, tubo-licious...not my preferred descriptors. But they ARE motivating. They're motivating me to get new friends. Just kidding. I don't really have any friends.

OK, there you go. Another post has come and gone. Here's to another year of blogging about nothing in particular. Love you!

Had to share

Yes, I have plenty to do besides post things on the internet, but I'm so excited I wanted to share. We finally finished our bathroom. It took FOREVER!!! But boy do we have some skills! Anyway, I don't have a before picture, but just imagine all these lovely amenities.

And here's the new bathroom, complete with neutral tile and new everything.

Quiet

The house is quiet this morning. Mark and Tessa are still sleeping after their strenuous night of gaming on the Wii at Angela and Riley's house. I opted out in order to enjoy a quiet few hours at home - alone. I do love my space and my quiet time. Winnie and Sadie were enjoying the lack of activity too.

Every time I moved they moved with me, so I thought I'd take advantage of their loyalty and play dress up. I need to get better material though. Some hats maybe, or a tutu.

Electronics R Us

It was an electronic Christmas for me. Yay! My gifts included a mouse, laptop lap desk, and an iHome. Now I never have to leave my corner of the couch. It was a relatively balmy Christmas in Oklahoma - warm enough to take a walk with just a light jacket. At least that's what people appeared to be wearing when they walked past the window. I found it difficult to walk very fast while carrying a plate loaded with delicious food.

On Christmas Eve Mark found the last Wii in Oklahoma City. After 4-5 stops, he checked a Best Buy just in case, and there was one little Wii on the shelf. The UPS driver had discovered one case that had been missed the day before, so four lucky people got a Wii from that box, including us. Now we just need to find a Wii Fit so we can get, well, fit. Because that's going to do the trick where nothing else has!

• Doctors are now warning about "Wii-itis" or "Wii-knee", a repetitive motion injury.
• More than 1 million Wii units were sold in the US last week.
• Wii-habilitation, physical therapy using the Wii, is helping people recovering from orthopedic injuries, brain injuries or stroke.
• Wii games are showing up at unlikely places like local libraries, schools and senior centers.

You've got mail

We shoved Tessa out front, which makes us look like her groupies.

Christmas thoughts from the past

I was cleaning off a shelf and came across my journal from Bulgaria. Hope you don't mind if I share a few entries leading up to Christmas. Merry Christmas Eve!

November 22, 1994, Sofia, Bulgaria
We've been in Bulgaria 4 months. It seems like an eternity and just yesterday all at the same time.

Nov 28, 1994, Sofia Bulgaria
We've spent hours and days trying to obtain visas to no avail. Our option at the moment is to travel out every 30 days. For what purpose, Lord?...Lachazar says we are being watched, that we are on a list of undesirables. It seems even our own embassy isn't backing us. So now we have 14 people here - to do what? Play church, as Phillip says? I hope not! What seeds are we planting? I don't know.

Dec 5, 1994, Sofia, Bulgaria
Mark is in Romania for the 3rd day. God has given me strength to deal with life here on my own. This a.m. I took Angela to the tram stop while Tessa slept, and it went smoothly.

Dec 12, 1994, Sofia Bulgaria
Mark went to the passport office Thursday. He and Zdravka finally saw the head of the office. There was so much anger and yelling! But Mark and Zdravka felt as if they were set aside - looking on in a scene they were not part of - watching desperate people. No visas!

The city turned off the hot water, so showering is out of the question. The water is painfully ice cold. I suppose that's better than the alternative which was two days without water, one day with.

Dec 15, 1994, Sofia Bulgaria
Betrayal - interesting subject. Lucho's long time friend takes our money and papers, does nothing with the papers, but says he did - and takes the money. Still no visas.

Dec 23, 1994, Sofia Bulgaria
Just returned from a "visa" trip to Macedonia. Sort of a nightmarish trip with 3-4 hours sitting at the border - no toilet, people urinating and defecating along the side of the road, behind trees, dumpsters, anywhere with a little darkness. Why are we here if we can't get visas?...

But tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I am completely unprepared. Not many gifts purchased, no tree yet. Not even my heart is prepared to celebrate. I wept while sitting at the border last night - the indignity of it all! But you were born, my precious savior, in a stable! Mary was huge and uncomfortable. She had ridden on that nasty old donkey until she thought she couldn't go any farther. They stopped at inn after inn and no amount of Joseph's pleading would move the occupants to make room for his wife. They just said "no room" with eyes averted. Maybe if they didn't see the problem they wouldn't have to admit that their hearts were cold and unfeeling. Mary wept quietly as they trudge on behind Joseph's bent shoulders.

All she wanted was a little dignity - for someone to look her in the eyes, recognize her need, and help. But no one saw - no one noticed. It wasn't their problem. She finally slipped exhausted from the donkey, onto a pile of hay in a stable, the only place to get shelter from the chilly night air. Where were all the angels now with their lofty messages? Surely if this really was the expected Messiah there had to be somewhere better than this. There was no dignity here - no comfort - no help.

And yet, the Angels had to be there. They must have been waiting - holding their breath, waiting to explode with joy! Mary was too exhausted to know.

Thoughts

I was going to blog about canckles today. You know, who has 'em who doesn't, why I can be 40 pounds overweight and still have nice calves and ankles...but I'm feeling a serious lack of reverence in these few days leading up to Christmas. I've been my usual busy, busy self. One project after another. But I feel the need to be still and reverent. Deep breath.

For a child has been born - for us!

The gift of a son - for us!

He'll take over the running of the world.

His names will be:

Amazing Counselor, Strong God,

Eternal Father, Prince of Wholeness.

His ruling authority will grow,

and there'll be no limits to the wholeness he brings.

Isaiah 9:6-7 from The Message

Grouting Extravaganza

Well, got the shower grouted (again), then decided to use the little bit of grout I had left in the bucket to grout the mosaic table I started more than a year ago. The president of the foundation where I work died of a heart attack and during the day off for the funeral I dug out an old table from the shed in our backyard and created this table in his memory. Every time I look at it I remember his kindness and goodness. It's meant for the garden, but a) all attempts at a garden are immediately destroyed by the dogs and b) I never got around to grouting it.

So brilliant idea to use the little left over grout. Except I had to mix up three more batches in order to finish the project. It took me twice as much time and three times the grout to finish the table compared to finishing the shower. But I'm glad I did. It's in my sun room right now. Lovin' it.

I heart lists

Lists are my friends. We understand each other. Although I rarely actually write my lists down on paper, there is a running list in my head at all times. It's hard to be at peace or to lounge in front of the TV with that long list in my head, but I somehow manage - at least the TV watching thing.

My list for today? Grout the shower (yes, if you've read my blogs or twitters you think I already grouted the shower. Long story, but today I need to grout the part that got ungrouted), caulk the shower (same long story), hang the towel rack, hang the shower curtain (more time consuming than you think since I tried to cheap it out and buy a shower curtain rod at Habitat for Humanity's Renovation Station - my home away from home - but it's too long and the instructions say you can just cut off an inch with a hack saw, but of course I can't find the hack saw), hang a curtain in my bedroom, clean up the renovation scattering of tools and paint supplies, try to figure out how to unclog the drain that got clogged with debris from the bathroom renovation despite our best efforts to not clog the drain, call the female relatives to see if they want to go to brunch tomorrow (if you're reading this, call me). That's my inside list.

My out-of-the-house list includes dragging Tessa to the eye glass store to buy new glasses because we still have money in our health reimbursement account and if we don't' spend it by the end of December we lose it, and picking up a few last minute gifts at three different places.

Then there's the list of things that never get done but are still lurking in the back of my brain to throw rocks and rob me of my peace. Clean off my desk and put some order to the papers (yes, I've read ALL the self-help books and articles on organizing but that doesn't mean I actually do it), bathe the dogs, write Christmas cards, organize the family photos, exercise, blah blah blah.

Then there's the work list, but I'm off for a week, so I'm not even going to think about that one.

When Tessa gets overwhelmed mid-semester and calls home complaining of too much to do, I always recommend making a list. She's never impressed. When Mark forgets to buy an important ingredient at the grocery store, I remind him he should have made a list. He's always grateful for my advice. At least Angela has learned to share my love of lists. We also share a passion for office products. We LOVE Post-it notes, paper clips, staplers.

Speaking of lists, I forgot one item on my "What not to get for Christmas" list. It's the Butt-Face towel. One end says "butt", the other "face" in case you forget which cheek you dried where. Personally I use two towels, one for the head/hair region, and one for the neck-down region so I don't have that problem. But if your loved one is a one-toweler and likes to reuse towels to save the environment, then it's something to think about. Or not think about, now that I think about it. Eeeww.

Here's a tip

We're on the countdown to Christmas and I'm not done with my Christmas shopping. Almost, but not totally done. I've been hearing some good Christmas gift ideas on National Public Radio (I'm an NPR groupie- someday I'll bless you with a blog about my favorites) and other places. Actually, some are really not good ideas at all. I've made my own list of gifts that are just not a good idea, unless you're playing Dirty Santa, which is a good southern term for exchanging White Elephant gifts, and if you don't know what either of those things are then you've never been to an office or Sunday School party. So here goes. Feel free to add other suggestions.

1. Flame cologne - Does the Burger King King not remind you of a pervert? Not that I know any perverts, but if I did, he would look like the Burger King King. That guy gives me the creeps. Anyway, if your man doesn't smell beefy enough already, then go for it.
2. Lottery ticket - Might as well light a few bucks on fire in front of your gift-recipient friend, then wish them a Merry Christmas 'cause that's about as much good as they're gonna get out of this gift. At least write a pre-gift agreement that they have to give you half if they win.
3. Lingerie two sizes too small - Men, I personally think it's not a good idea to buy women lingerie, unless you have REALLY good taste and are at least smart enough to check the tags in your significant other's undies before heading to Victoria's Secret. Getting a teeny tiny thong two sizes too small does NOT get you any Christmas candy, if you know what I mean.
4. Men's Underwear Repair Kit - Comes complete with safety pins, tape and White Out, but really, there should be no "repairing" of men's underwear. When you can feel a breeze, they need to go in the garbage. End of story.
5. Anything with "Poop" in the title or any title related to poop - Seriously, do we not have enough to read? OK, maybe the classics "Everyone Poops" or "The Gas We Pass", but only if the giftee is under 5 years old. Otherwise, avoid titles such as "What's Your Poo Telling You", "Poop Culture" or "Who Cut the Cheese, A Cultural History of the Fart".
6. Membership to Weight Watchers - no additional explanation needed.

If you find yourself with a few minutes between baking, shopping, traveling, unraveling...here are a few new sites to peruse.

Tessa showed me this site and I love it. You can do fun things with photos without having expensive software. This is where I edited my Tour of Homes photos.

If you like Mommy blogs, this is a good one. Not a lot of text, which can be refreshing on a mommy blog. She makes even the most mundane things beautiful in her photographs.

Speaking of Tessa, her sorority sisters found her last blog so she shut it down. She's up and running again here. I have no idea who the bears are, so don't ask me, but I always enjoy her posts.

Tis the Season- Enjoy!!

Is it really December 18?

The house is beautifully decorated with sparkling, creative Christmas decorations. Cookies are baked for the neighbors, piles of gifts are peeking out from under the glowing Christmas tree. The holiday meal is planned with delicious ingredients awaiting their fate. I'm at peace, enjoying a little eggnog while listening to my favorite Christmas music. Ahhh. I love Christmas.

Then I woke up.

I haven't even wrapped a single present, not that I've bought a lot of presents yet. Yes, I've looked at the calendar and I'm aware Christmas is next week. I had 12 months to prepare but I'm still not ready. The house is a mess and I don't see fitting a thorough cleaning in my schedule for at least another 48 hours. It's too late to shop online so I'm going to have to brave the mall THE WEEK OF CHRISTMAS. Baking? Who am I kidding.

It's going to be a very merry Christmas. It won't be picture perfect, but who needs perfection. (um, me - but medication is helping that tendency). Tis the season. Ho Ho Holy crap. I better get off the couch and get busy.

Christmas Traditions

Where have all the Christmas trees gone? Have you noticed a mysterious lack of Christmas tree lots in recent years? Having grown up in Midwest suburbia, we couldn't just go out onto the back 40 (acres that is), chop down a tree and pull it home on the sled. We would have to load up the Dodge or Honda, go down to the Safeway parking lot, and walk through rows and rows of Christmas trees to find the perfect size and shape. Then the challenge was to figure out how to strap it on top of the car or shove it into the trunk for the drive home. Boy Scout troops, the local Optimist Club - they all had Christmas Tree lots to raise money for special projects.

After Mark and I were married and started a family, we were determined to never have a fake tree in our home. We were purists. Every year we would make the trek to the local lot, bring the tree home and Mark would wrestle it into that contraption that is supposed to simultaneously hold the 6 foot tree in place and keep it watered. Thus the source of the "Daddy's Christmas Words" tradition, those special expletives only uttered by Daddy during this most sacred time of year. Ah the memories.

Even when we lived in Sofia, Bulgaria we didn't skimp on this tradition. Mark went out, found a few scraggly Christmas trees for sale, and brought home a cute little Charlie Brown tree. When I say "brought home" I mean carried it a mile to the tram stop, drug it onto the fortuitously un-crowded tram, and then carried it another quarter mile and up four flights of stairs to our apartment. We were very thin while living in Sofia.

One year Mark was moonlighting at Home Depot and came home with a huge fake tree. It was a steal of a deal he said. Just like that, a shift in the universe, no more real Christmas trees, and no more "Christmas Words".

Now I'm not sure we could find a real Christmas tree if we wanted to. The Christmas tree lots seem to be in short supply. Did you know Oklahoma has a Christmas Tree Association? There are apparently 26 Christmas Tree farms selling trees this season. Maybe we'll have to check it out next year. The last time (ok, the only time) we tried to cut a Christmas tree from the woods, it turned into an episode from a Chevy Chase movie. We endured a terrible smell until Christmas Eve, when we realized the tree had been "marked" by a deer. Eewww. Deer urine on the Christmas bobbles. Just call us the Griswolds. I was eight months pregnant with Tessa, so I wasn't much help. All I could do was watch with my big self from the couch and laugh until I cried. That's what happens when suburbanites try to get all countryfied.

Make the world go away

I don't want to go out into the cold, icy world today. I want to stay snuggled up on my corner of the couch with a cup of coffee, reading blogs and forgetting all responsibilities. Wait, I just described my dog's life. Well, except for the coffee. I'm pretty sure she reads blogs when I'm not home.

2008 Christmas Tour of Homes

I'm excited to see all the decorations on the 2008 Christmas Tour of Homes. Pace yourself and enjoy.

We're having a dialed down Christmas this year. Simple, low stress, peaceful. I can hope, can't I? Anyway, I've tried to make my decorating count since I'm keeping it to a minimum. Thought I'd share a few pics from around the house.

My favorite part of having a house full of poinsettias is when I get to water them and they are all a big, beautiful bunch in the sink.

This Holiday Season our Peanut Butter and Chocolate Rice Krispie Treats have been a big hit. Here's the recipe. Enjoy! Eat 'till you're sick. There's always January to lose the weight!

Peanut Butter and Chocolate Rice Krispie Treats

Combine 1 cup sugar and 1 cup white corn syrup. Bring to a boil. Turn off heat and add 1/2 stick butter, 1 1/2 cup peanut butter and 5 cups Rice Krispies. Spread in 9x12 pan and ice with melted chocolate chips.

And of course, if you want to sing along with some slighlty, um, rewritten carols, join me here and here and here. Yeah! It's Christmas!!!

Links and stuff

Writing a blog is a strange thing. "Never before have so many with so little to say said so much to so few."

So true.

I think that quote came from Despair.com. It's making the rounds on family blogs. I LOVE Despair.com. I use it when teaching the motivation segment of Organizational Behavior. But I digress.

Apparently we bloggers a) yearn to see our words in print b)have too much time on our hands and c) don't need the gratification of a response. I don't fully understand the tracking numbers from this blog, but what it's telling me is quite a few people actually do read it. But it appears most of your are creepers, popping in to read the day's rambling thoughts, then moving on before the urge becomes too strong to make a comment. I've even had people confess with sheepish faces that they (using a hushed tone) read my blog. Shhh. Here's a tip. THAT'S THE POINT! I'm glad to hear you read it. I hope you tell others about it.

Speaking of telling others, I thought I'd share a few of my favorite blogs to entertain your Saturday. After you do all those Saturday, catch-up, didn't get them done during the week kind of things. Or if you need something to do while football is droning on in the background...

Don't remember how I came across this one, but this is how I want to write my blog. It just doesn't come out that way. Bye Bye Pie! (What a surprise that I would like a blog with food in the title)

Decor8 is doable decorating and artsy inspiration. You would think as much as I like decorating magazines and websites my home would be a show stopper. Hate to say it's definitely not, but I do the best with what I've got. Didn't mean to make that rhymn. I just find myself doing that all the time. OK I'm stopping now. If only I knew how.

Here's a cute story from Short Stop...by way of Rocks In My Dryer.

Have a great weekend!

Silver Bells and Honky Tonk Badonkadonk

I'm hearing all about the economic downturn everywhere I turn, but I'm just not seeing the evidence at the mall or Walmart. What's up with that? Are we just not feeling the pain yet? Are we in denial? Thought I'd try something new (yeah right) and put it to the tune of a familiar Christmas carol. Sing to the tune of Silver Bells. Here you go...

Parking lot is full of big trucks
SUVs can’t park straight
In the air there’s
The smell of exhaust fumes

Children crying, parents swearing
Meeting snarl after snarl
And from every mall shopper you’ll hear

Credit cards, credit cards
It’s time to spend what I don’t have
Ching ching ching, let ‘em ring
Next month I’ll file bankruptcy

Stocks are falling, banks are closing
Ford and GM need cash
In the air there’s a feeling of panic

Talks of layoffs, losing pensions
Homeless shelters are full
But from every mall shopper you’ll hear

Credit cards, credit cards
It’s time to spend what I don’t have
Ching ching ching, let ‘em ring
Let's buy more stuff while we can

****

Too serious for you? Well, here's another. Sing to the tune of "Little Drummer Boy". If you're not familiar with "badonkadonk" then...this won't mean much to you. Spellcheck just blew a gasket.

***

Making fudge tonight

Badonkadonk, donk

A new pie recipe,

Badonkadonk, donk

My finest chocolate cake

Badonkadonk, donk

Too late to change my fate

Badonkadonk, donk

Donkadonkdonk

donkadonkdonk

So I’ll try next month

Badonkadonk, donk

To lose this junk

I'll be home for Christmas

I was almost home tonight after work when I was broadsided by Christmas cheer. Maybe it was hearing "I'll be Home For Christmas" on the radio. I started running through scenes from Christmases past in my mind. There is sweetness in those memories, mixed with a little melancholy here and there. It wouldn't be me without a touch of melancholy.

I spent one Christmas in Belarus. Actually, it was Orthodox Christmas, celebrated a few days after our family had celebrated here in the USA. I had flown to Minsk to oversee a distribution of Christmas toys from donors who had contributed for the children affected by the Chernobyl nuclear accident. The strongest memory from the visit was Christmas Eve. Four of us Americans had gathered at the home of a Belarussian coworker. Together with his family we toasted the coming new year, ate from platters of heavily salted food, and talked about the troubles of the world as only good Russians can.

As it neared midnight we pulled on our coats, boots, hats and scarves and walked arm in arm to the nearby Orthodox Church. The only sound in the still, silent night was the crunching snow under our boots. People came from every direction in pairs and small groups, walking without talking. The church was warm and smelled like beeswax candles. We each took one and lit it before saying a prayer and placing the spindly candle in the sand-filled container in front of one of the decorated altars.

To me the best thing about the Russian Orthodox Church is the music. Well, and the pageantry. Coming from a Nazarene heritage of simple, unadorned churches, the pageantry is fascinating. I don't remember much after covering my head, entering the church, lighting a candle and saying a prayer. I'm sure the church was filled to capacity in this country where you once risked your life to worship openly. I know it was warm and peaceful and the music was, mmm, heavenly. That's the only way I can describe it, even though it's cliche.

Maybe it was the contrast that makes that memory so clear. I had spent the preceding week visiting children in hospitals who were suffering from various types of cancer as a result of their exposure to radiation from Chernobyl. Some were lively and just starting to lose their hair. Some wore masks to keep away deadly germs, and some were still and almost lifeless, near death. Their mothers and fathers hovered and there was nothing we could say to them. Maybe it was that experience that illuminated that Christmas Eve.

If you can't say something nice...

It hasn't been a good day. There's just no getting around it. It's good in the I'm warm, peaceful, well fed and sleepy sort of way. But not so good in the could one more thing go wrong sort of way. Ah well. Tomorrow is another day. Here's another attempt at random thoughts in the form of a Christmas Carol. Sing to the tune of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town". All together now...

Oh! You better not belch, you better not fluff,
(keep it all in,) one piece was enough:
Wish I hadn't eaten that pie.
I'm making a list, too much to do,
Feel like I'm coming down with the flu
But, relatives are coming to town!

Decide where they'll be sleeping,
buy stuff to bake a cake
Clean up the mess in the living room
Need some help for goodness sake!

So...I'm making a list, too much to do
Feel like I'm coming down with the flu

Oh please can I just quit and go lie down!

Wanna try one? Writing a jingle that is. Comments are open! Oh, and this is really what I meant to say.

A little Christmas Jingle

Aaargh! Thought I'd try my hand at a Christmas carol. Sing to the tune of "Jingle Bells" and share my pain.

Oh, jingle bells, bathroom scales
Shocked at what I weigh
Oh what fun it was to eat
But now it’s time to pay

Oh, Silent night, jeans are tight
My waist has disappeared
I’m in denial when I say
The diet starts today. Not!

Photo courtesy of Susanne Gerres at www.parade.com

Christmas related meandering

Mark just suggested I take a picture of him and the dogs since they are so cute. I'm all, do we really want yet another picture of you wearing that same orange OSU shirt, sitting in your usual spot on the southwest corner of the green couch with the dogs piled on you? Probably not. But I took them anyway because I'm a good wife like that. I'd share but they didn't come out very well since I took them with my iphone which doesn't have a flash because I was too lazy to get up and fish the camera out of my purse. The iphone doesn't have a flash but it's not because I'm lazy. I don't think that was a well constructed sentence.

We've had a busy day but didn't accomplish much. Mom hosted a party to kind of honor a newly married, distant relative couple who were visiting. The theme was "It's A Wonderful Life". We borrowed a big, theater sized popcorn maker from my office, and we made ice cream sundaes and root beer floats in cute old fashioned glassware. Mom bought bakery cookies in the shape of stars and bells and filled a big glass cookie jar. I thought it was brilliant for a fun Christmas party. I think we forgot to put the actual movie on the TV though. Wonder what happened to that. Anyway, now I know who has a ton of sundae glassware things if I ever need them.

By the way, we were trying to figure out what a Black Cow was. Some people thought it was a root beer float. Some thought it was a root beer float made with chocolate ice cream. If you're dieing to find the answer, click here. Root beer always reminds me of an Ogden family story where Grandma Ogden, who apparently liked to make homemade root beer, made some at Mark's house when he was a boy. Good? No, bad! It somehow exploded and there was root beer dripping from every surface in the kitchen, including the ceiling. After Mark asked me to marry him we went to A&W to get a root beer. I know. We're dorks. But it was the only place open and I didn't want to go back to my dorm just yet. I love root beer.

I should probably send out Christmas cards. I don't have to buy any since I have about three years worth in my cabinet that I never sent out. I think some are actually already addressed. No one will know, will they? If you read this blog and you receive a Christmas card from me this year, rest assured it was lovingly selected and signed just for you and is not a left-over from last year. Really.

OU is about to play Missouri. I better stop blogging and get ready to act like I care.

The joys of circumlocution

I started out stimulating the frontal lobe regarding specified selections of anatomy (thinking about body parts). I guess because I ran into another "save the tatas" bumper sticker. And because recently I've had a couple of interesting conversations with my niece about the male of the species and packages and balls (yes, children. If you're reading this, Auntie Cari is talking about Christmas packages and those nice bouncy toys you use on the playground to play four-square. Auntie Cari used to be the Four-Square champion at Northview Elementary so she knows what she's talking about).

Which lead me to one of my favorite parts of speech - the euphemism. Let's call this happy word euph for short. Since apparently it's not kosher to say what you need to say, we sugar coat things thought indelicate. The possible list of euphemisms is endless.

There are the usual bathroom-related euphs, the body part euphs, the death-describing euphs. There are the euphs that soften the blow. We no longer buy used cars, they are now pre-owned. I recently heard a man delicately trying to describe an obese woman, stuttering over hefty and large-ish, before alighting on not thin.

Having worked in international relief and development, I've noticed the progression of euphs for countries that have not reached Western standards of wealth. We moved from just plain poor to third world to developing nation to newly industrialized nation. There are also failed states and emerging markets.

War provides unlimited opportunities for the useful euph. What were once mercenary soldiers are now security forces or contractors' employees. Torture is described as professional interrogation techniques. An increase and escalation in fighting is politely called a surge. Prisoners are detainees.

It's certainly a useful little gadget. Comes in handy when we want to stick our heads in the sand.

"I'm telling you, some of this language makes me want to vomit. Well, maybe not vomit . . . makes me want to engage in an involuntary personal protein spill."(George Carlin)

What is my problem?

I read a lot of blogs on a wide variety of topics. Of course, the humorous ones are my favorites because who doesn't enjoy a nice, lighthearted read. But I find there is one kind of blog that I just don't like to read. And I don't like that I don't like to read them. And I don't know why I don't like to read them. And I try to make myself like to read them.

Deep breath...confession time. I don't like to read devotional, preachy blogs. And there are a million of them out there.

I know. I'm a complete heathen.

But that's just it. I'm not a heathen. God IS my existence. There is no life for me apart from God. I want others to love God too. So what is the freaking deal? It really bugs me. Possible reasons?

1. Been there, done that. Booorriing-I hope that's not the reason. God by His very nature is fresh and eternally creating and creative.


2. I'm emotionally stunted and don't want to share the deepest parts of myself, much less hear that from other people - Wow. Hope that's not it for obvious reasons.
   
3. Most of what I read doesn't speak to where I am - possible, maybe, hmmm.

I don't know why it matters. It just makes me think there's something wrong with me. Oh, wait. Maybe it's somehow related to my dislike of makeup/plastic storage container/jewelery parties, women's retreats, mother-daughter-hat-wearing teas. I'm just not a joiner. Maybe that's it! I'm not a joiner. I don't follow well. I don't do groupie things.

Ah well, I'm done with tonight's self-obsessive analysis. I delight in hearing from and being with my friends and precious family members. And to say I love God doesn't do that relationship justice. So I guess that's what really matters.

What were they thinking

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer is on TV tonight. I've never liked that show. The snowman impersonation of Burl Ives with an umbrella just creeps me out. I'll holly jolly your Christmas!

Where is the joy in pathetic, social outcast talking toys, mean reindeer youth gangs, a vocationally confused elf, ruining dentistry for generations of children, or the barren loneliness and separation of floating off on an iceberg raft. It's just depressing. No wonder we're a generation on Prozac.

We understood the essence of dysfunctional before dysfunctional was defined in countless therapy sessions decades later. Bambi's mother dies and his Father is cold and indifferent. Snow White becomes homeless as a teenager and fends for herself by cleaning house and cooking for seven strange men with inferiority complexes. Just when she's beginning to trust again, her abusive stepmother scams her into losing what small measure of peace she has found. Dorothy, an orphan living a bleak and lonely existence in Kansas, is forced to shoulder responsibility beyond her young age, becoming the parent figure for a trio of socially and emotionally impared souls in search of their identity.

I know it was the 60's, but was EVERYONE in Hollywood smokin' dope?

Gotta love this though.

Technology makes you stupid

I used to remember people's phone numbers. Now I just touch my iphone screen and voila, the someone I'm calling is answering. I barely remember my own phone number to tell it to other people. If my phone gets lost or broken I'm SOL. There's a cell company now that stores your data on their server or something so when your phone falls in the toilet they can upload all the stuff your brain used to house into your new phone. Why do they still make phone books? No one uses them.

I used to be able to read a map and find my own way around very nicely. Now I use a GPS and wait for the lady in the little box to tell me where to turn left. She's gotten me in trouble more than once. Nobody wants you to give them directions either. They just want the address and they'll look it up on Mapquest if they don't have a GPS. If you trust Mapquest to find my house you're likely to wind up in a trailer park. It's not a nice place. You don't want to go there. I could have told you that when I gave you directions.


Now instead of giving someone your phone number, they can scan the barcode on your shirt into their phone and it will direct them to your myspace or facebook or twitter page. He/she can find out if you're married or single, what your interests are, what you do for a living or where you go to school, before you are even introduced. We used to call that small talk.


I'd like to say that using a calculator has caused me to lose all of my math skills, but I never had any to begin with.

It's Monday and my brain isn't working

It's Monday and it's back to work after a holiday filled with food and family and fun and...laziness. (Couldn't think of another "f", maybe because my brain is mush from lack of use.) Annyyyway. From where I sit it looks like a full and very busy week ahead. Of course, where I'm sitting is where I've sat for about 10 days, so anything involving getting up, getting dressed in something nicer than jeans or sweats, and putting on a shoe with an actual heel looks like hard work to me. I can't complain too much though. I have to work approximately two weeks, albeit two very hard weeks, then I'm off for another two weeks. Gotta love trying to use up all your vacation time before the end of the year.

Instructions to myself for the week: Make every effort not to enroll in the "deferred life plan".

27 years of communication practice equals:

Me-the Christmas tree needs to be closer to the window so we can get around it.
Mark - further back?
Me-yep, keep going.
Mark -Will the drapes close?
Me- Just keep moving the tree back. OK perfect.
Mark - Will the drapes close now?
Me-No, the tree's in the way.

Guess you had to have been there.