They cut down my really big wooden tree penis!! I'm pretty sure it happened this morning after I went to work because I'm pretty sure it was there on my way to work this morning. Who knew I had such power? I shall try to not abuse my great power and be kind to the little people and those who are much weaker than I.
Seriously, though. Can you imagine the conversation that occurred at the Park District's grounds maintenance office? I've been picturing it in my head for the last hour or so.
[The scene: Five guys are sitting around in the maintenance office at the Peoria Park District.]
Guy 1: Huh huh . . . hey guys! Take a look at this! [pointing to blog pictures]
Guy 2: Nice woody! Huh huh huh!!
Guy 3: Huh huh . . . he said woody!
Guy 4: Huh huh . . . she said penis!
Guy 5: Hey, wait. Doesn't that say it's on Park District property? Sweet!
[boss walks in]
Boss: What the fuck are you idiots laughing at?
Guy 1: Look!
Boss: Shit . . . that's on our property? Where? Does anyone know where?? Send out an APB on this really big wooden tree penis. We cannot have that sucker on our property!
[After some frantic emailing, the really big wooden tree penis is located. A plan is formulated. Under the cover of broad daylight and a neighborhood full of primarily elderly people, a lone man in a white truck approaches the really big wooden tree penis. Apprehensive about the effect cutting off a really big tree penis will have on his penis karma, he plans his attack carefully. Starting up the chainsaw, he completes the deed . . . quick and painless. He removes the really big wooden tree penis and throws it in the back of his truck. He returns to the Park District office and displays the really big wooden tree penis to be revered by all for evermore, evermore.]
I took pictures during my lunch hour and I will post them when I get home tonight. They cut off the entire penis, not just a portion of it to make it look less like a penis, but the entire penis, which I think was overkill, really. But you wanna know the best part?
They covered up the stump with snow!
Why was that necessary? As if covering it with snow (a substance that will melt in the next few days anyway) will hide the shame of a really big wooden tree penis formerly occupying a spot on Park District Property? Why else would they cover it up? To conceal their dirty deed from me? Well, it didn't work, primarily because there is sawdust all around the tree and tire tracks leading up near to the tree, and men's work boot prints all around the tree. I may be blonde, people, but I am not stupid.
But I remain in awe of my power and the power of my blog. I shall plan my next post very carefully, for you apparently never know what I can get people to do by just bitching about it.
Bwahahahahahaha!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Maybe It's Just Me
I drive by this tree every morning on my way to work. It is on Peoria Park District property and every day (and I mean, every day) I think to myself, "Either the Peoria Park District has some really creative tree-trimmers working or some really clueless tree-trimmers working."
OK - I'll be completely honest. Some mornings, I don't have complete thoughts like that. Some mornings, I just think, "Wow . . . that's a really big wooden tree penis."
OK - I'll be completely honest. Some mornings, I don't have complete thoughts like that. Some mornings, I just think, "Wow . . . that's a really big wooden tree penis."
Friday, January 16, 2009
Goodbye Uncle T
My Uncle T died on Monday afternoon. As I detailed in this post, it was not a sudden death and he was ready to go. For his sake, I am happy he was able to pass on and have his life end per his wishes. But it is still a death and, more importantly, the first death of a member of my parents’ generation in our family.
This has been the hardest part of T’s illness and death for me - being faced to recognize the potential death of my parents. T was 59 years old, which makes him four years younger than my mother and nine years younger than my father. Granted, my parents live much healthier lifestyles than T did, but they can’t live forever and, sooner or later, I will be coping with their deaths as well.
Just admitting this puts me close to panic. I can seriously cannot imagine my life without my parents. They are the single most dominant force in my life and, without them, I am in some fear that I will cease to exist. Well, maybe that’s overly dramatic. But I know that I will cease to exist as the same person after they die and that's scary.
In addition to the fear of their death, I have a healthy fear of their incapacitation, mentally or physically. My dad has good longevity genes (both of his parents lived into their 90s) but his father suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease for the last 20 years of his life. His mother was mentally "with it" for longer, but for the last five years or so, slowly succumbed to dementia as well. For some time, I have feared that my father will also descend into Alzheimer’s.
My mother’s genes are considerably better in that department. Her mother died quickly in her sleep without any prior serious illnesses at the age of 79. Her father just turned 90 and is still very physically and mentally able. But my Uncle T was my mother’s brother, so who is to say brain cancer isn’t lurking somewhere in those genes? While our family likes to joke that T purposefully developed brain cancer to get away from his horrible wife, it is bittersweet laughter.
What makes this fear worse for me is the knowledge that it will fall on my shoulders to deal with any health problems or a death. My brother has absolutely no ability to deal with serious issues in a calm and reasoned fashion. He prefers to pretend everything is OK, no matter the evidence to the contrary.
I know I can’t do anything constructive about these issues other than worry about them and that doesn’t really get me anywhere. I have been blessed to have my parents together and alive and always in my life. I was lucky to know all of my grandparents very, very well and not lose the first one until I was 27. A lot of people don’t get these opportunities and never have the strength of familial relationships I have had.
This has been the hardest part of T’s illness and death for me - being faced to recognize the potential death of my parents. T was 59 years old, which makes him four years younger than my mother and nine years younger than my father. Granted, my parents live much healthier lifestyles than T did, but they can’t live forever and, sooner or later, I will be coping with their deaths as well.
Just admitting this puts me close to panic. I can seriously cannot imagine my life without my parents. They are the single most dominant force in my life and, without them, I am in some fear that I will cease to exist. Well, maybe that’s overly dramatic. But I know that I will cease to exist as the same person after they die and that's scary.
In addition to the fear of their death, I have a healthy fear of their incapacitation, mentally or physically. My dad has good longevity genes (both of his parents lived into their 90s) but his father suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease for the last 20 years of his life. His mother was mentally "with it" for longer, but for the last five years or so, slowly succumbed to dementia as well. For some time, I have feared that my father will also descend into Alzheimer’s.
My mother’s genes are considerably better in that department. Her mother died quickly in her sleep without any prior serious illnesses at the age of 79. Her father just turned 90 and is still very physically and mentally able. But my Uncle T was my mother’s brother, so who is to say brain cancer isn’t lurking somewhere in those genes? While our family likes to joke that T purposefully developed brain cancer to get away from his horrible wife, it is bittersweet laughter.
What makes this fear worse for me is the knowledge that it will fall on my shoulders to deal with any health problems or a death. My brother has absolutely no ability to deal with serious issues in a calm and reasoned fashion. He prefers to pretend everything is OK, no matter the evidence to the contrary.
I know I can’t do anything constructive about these issues other than worry about them and that doesn’t really get me anywhere. I have been blessed to have my parents together and alive and always in my life. I was lucky to know all of my grandparents very, very well and not lose the first one until I was 27. A lot of people don’t get these opportunities and never have the strength of familial relationships I have had.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Folsum Daycare Blues
One of the added benefits of XM radio is the station for "younger" children. (As an aside, the Ms. PH of five years ago would have shot herself if she knew she was going to be making a statement like that one. On her behalf, I would like to say . . . barf.) We listen on the way to day care every morning and it gives us a break from our regular kids’ CD playlist.
I have to admit, I find a lot of the programming amusing. It is a little above my three year old’s head, but she laughs if I laugh. But what sold it for me this morning was Ralph’s World singing "Folsum Daycare Blues." Yes, it is exactly what you think it is. And it is fabulous.
Folsum Daycare Blues
Well, I hear the teacher comin’, walking across the room
I ain’t seen the sun shine, and now it’s nearly noon
I’m stuck in Folsom Day Care, time keeps draggin’ by
I hear the teacher comin’, I hang my head and cry
When I was a baby, my Mama told me, son
Be nice to other children, share your toys with everyone
Well I pushed a toddler over, just to watch him fall
I’m here in Folsom Day Care, and it’s no fun at all
If I was a little taller, if the minivan was mine
I’d take it for a drive a little further down the line
Far from Folsom Day Care, that’s where I long to be
I hear the teacher comin’, and that’s what tortures me
Hey
I don’t like their naptime, and I won’t eat their snacks
There’s so many runny noses I don’t know what I’m gonna catch
But my Mom and Dad have left me, and I just don’t why
I’m stuck in Folsom Day Care, I hang my head and cry
I think my favorite part is "Well, I pushed a toddler over, just to watch him fall." That was exactly what I needed on a dreary Monday morning.
I have to admit, I find a lot of the programming amusing. It is a little above my three year old’s head, but she laughs if I laugh. But what sold it for me this morning was Ralph’s World singing "Folsum Daycare Blues." Yes, it is exactly what you think it is. And it is fabulous.
Folsum Daycare Blues
Well, I hear the teacher comin’, walking across the room
I ain’t seen the sun shine, and now it’s nearly noon
I’m stuck in Folsom Day Care, time keeps draggin’ by
I hear the teacher comin’, I hang my head and cry
When I was a baby, my Mama told me, son
Be nice to other children, share your toys with everyone
Well I pushed a toddler over, just to watch him fall
I’m here in Folsom Day Care, and it’s no fun at all
If I was a little taller, if the minivan was mine
I’d take it for a drive a little further down the line
Far from Folsom Day Care, that’s where I long to be
I hear the teacher comin’, and that’s what tortures me
Hey
I don’t like their naptime, and I won’t eat their snacks
There’s so many runny noses I don’t know what I’m gonna catch
But my Mom and Dad have left me, and I just don’t why
I’m stuck in Folsom Day Care, I hang my head and cry
I think my favorite part is "Well, I pushed a toddler over, just to watch him fall." That was exactly what I needed on a dreary Monday morning.
Friday, January 9, 2009
So, I Kinda Bought a New Car
I have got to stop saying that, primarily because said new car is sitting my driveway, the balance in my bank account is considerably lower, and the dealer took my old car. So, I really bought a new car.
I keep saying "kinda" because I wasn’t planning on buying a new car this week. I mean, I had been thinking about buying a new car for the last year or so, but I certainly wasn’t planning on buying a new car in the sense that I went car shopping, test drove several brands, evaluated them thoroughly and completely, compared prices online, etc.
But I knew at some point in the future, I was going to buy a new car. My car was a 2001 model which I had been driving for seven and a half years. It has been paid off for the last two and a half years. It was getting to that point that I knew things were going to start going wrong and going wrong in a big way. Old cars (and by old, I mean more than 5 years old) suck money. I’ve been down that road before and I did not like it and I don’t plan on doing it again.
I was happy in my 2001 car. Sure, it was a mess, but it was comfortable. I didn’t have worry about the kids getting dirt on it, the dog shedding in it, or the occasional spill, because it was already in rough shape, looks-wise. Aside from routine maintenance stuff, I hadn’t had to put a lot of money or thought into owning the car. It got me where I wanted to go with no hassle. But then, it started to be pretty loud when I started it. And it got progressively louder and louder. And then it passed 90,000 miles and it was time for a service. Plus, as everyone and my father informed me, I had a headlight out.
I dropped it off at the dealer’s service department in the morning, informed them of the problems, and went on my merry way. I may have mentioned to the shuttle driver that I was considering buying a new car in the future. Of course, he mentioned it to a salesperson, who called me at work and asked me to come talk to him when I picked up my car.
Yeah, whatever, I thought. I’m not buying a new car today, so what could it hurt? I talked to him, looked at my options, talked about money, and I even test drove one. Sure, it was nice to drive a new car, a 2009 model that is the step up from my 2001 model. But, I wasn’t sold on it.
Then, I went to the service department to pay. The service fee? $82. The estimated cost to repair the exhaust system? $1200. Right then and there, I changed my mind. This was the end for my old car. It was time to say goodbye. In my mind, either I pay $1200 to fix the old car now, knowing full well that every other month or so I will incur another unexpected expense, or I put $1200 down on a new car now, and have a set, anticipated monthly expense.
I’m not one who likes financial surprises at all, so I went with the new car.
The new car is beautiful. It is black (of course, all of my cars are black) and shiny. I went from a small 2001 sedan to a mid-sized 2009 sedan (It’s like a big girl car!) It is really comfortable. The trunk is huge. The engine is so quiet. It is soooooo pretty. I wanted to sleep in it the first night.
Plus, it comes with XM radio. In all seriousness, I don’t know how I lived this long without satellite radio, particularly given the state of radio in Peoria. I’ve heard people say that before and I thought they were crazy. They aren’t. Satellite radio is the best thing ever.
I have a little twinge of buyer’s remorse, but I think that is all about my personality rather than the speed at which I made the decision to buy this car. I mean, I still have buyer’s remorse about my house and I bought that seven years ago.
This car buying experience was vastly different than my last one. This time, I test drove one car and bought that car. Last time, I test drove at least eight cars, some more than once, kept a chart and notes on what I thought each time I drove them, and researched them online before buying. (And I still had a twinge of remorse that time too.)
This time, I didn’t have a desperate need to buy a new car. Last time, I was more than desperate and I wasn’t sure if my 1992 Volkswagen Jetta was going to make it to the dealer to trade it in. I almost felt bad for the dealership when they bought that car. I know they lost money on that deal, hands down. Suckers!
This time, I didn’t cry when I emptied the old car. When I emptied my Jetta, I cried like a baby. It was so emotional getting rid of my Jetta. The Jetta got me through the last two years of college, law school, and all the years in between. From the ages of 21 to 30, that black Jetta was a part of me, as cars often are at that age. It was the first car that was ever really mine. I put all but 12 of the miles on it. I was in the car for every pothole, door ding, hail storm, and bird bomb. I was driving it when I hit an armadillo at 2:30 a.m. in the middle of Texas.
But it was also the single worst car I have ever experienced. It had electrical problems from day one and I got a shock every time I got in it. The tires were constantly flat. I had to replace one of the headlights every three months. In the later years, the sunroof leaked (usually on my head), the car died in the middle of intersections for no apparent reason, and the tape deck stopped working without warning. I replaced every part on that car at least once. The driver’s side door was rusted out and the glove compartment stuck shut.
As they say, the bitterest break-ups are the hardest to get over. I still miss that Jetta.
But, I’m a big girl now and I have a grown-up car to prove it. And the grown-up car payments.
I keep saying "kinda" because I wasn’t planning on buying a new car this week. I mean, I had been thinking about buying a new car for the last year or so, but I certainly wasn’t planning on buying a new car in the sense that I went car shopping, test drove several brands, evaluated them thoroughly and completely, compared prices online, etc.
But I knew at some point in the future, I was going to buy a new car. My car was a 2001 model which I had been driving for seven and a half years. It has been paid off for the last two and a half years. It was getting to that point that I knew things were going to start going wrong and going wrong in a big way. Old cars (and by old, I mean more than 5 years old) suck money. I’ve been down that road before and I did not like it and I don’t plan on doing it again.
I was happy in my 2001 car. Sure, it was a mess, but it was comfortable. I didn’t have worry about the kids getting dirt on it, the dog shedding in it, or the occasional spill, because it was already in rough shape, looks-wise. Aside from routine maintenance stuff, I hadn’t had to put a lot of money or thought into owning the car. It got me where I wanted to go with no hassle. But then, it started to be pretty loud when I started it. And it got progressively louder and louder. And then it passed 90,000 miles and it was time for a service. Plus, as everyone and my father informed me, I had a headlight out.
I dropped it off at the dealer’s service department in the morning, informed them of the problems, and went on my merry way. I may have mentioned to the shuttle driver that I was considering buying a new car in the future. Of course, he mentioned it to a salesperson, who called me at work and asked me to come talk to him when I picked up my car.
Yeah, whatever, I thought. I’m not buying a new car today, so what could it hurt? I talked to him, looked at my options, talked about money, and I even test drove one. Sure, it was nice to drive a new car, a 2009 model that is the step up from my 2001 model. But, I wasn’t sold on it.
Then, I went to the service department to pay. The service fee? $82. The estimated cost to repair the exhaust system? $1200. Right then and there, I changed my mind. This was the end for my old car. It was time to say goodbye. In my mind, either I pay $1200 to fix the old car now, knowing full well that every other month or so I will incur another unexpected expense, or I put $1200 down on a new car now, and have a set, anticipated monthly expense.
I’m not one who likes financial surprises at all, so I went with the new car.
The new car is beautiful. It is black (of course, all of my cars are black) and shiny. I went from a small 2001 sedan to a mid-sized 2009 sedan (It’s like a big girl car!) It is really comfortable. The trunk is huge. The engine is so quiet. It is soooooo pretty. I wanted to sleep in it the first night.
Plus, it comes with XM radio. In all seriousness, I don’t know how I lived this long without satellite radio, particularly given the state of radio in Peoria. I’ve heard people say that before and I thought they were crazy. They aren’t. Satellite radio is the best thing ever.
I have a little twinge of buyer’s remorse, but I think that is all about my personality rather than the speed at which I made the decision to buy this car. I mean, I still have buyer’s remorse about my house and I bought that seven years ago.
This car buying experience was vastly different than my last one. This time, I test drove one car and bought that car. Last time, I test drove at least eight cars, some more than once, kept a chart and notes on what I thought each time I drove them, and researched them online before buying. (And I still had a twinge of remorse that time too.)
This time, I didn’t have a desperate need to buy a new car. Last time, I was more than desperate and I wasn’t sure if my 1992 Volkswagen Jetta was going to make it to the dealer to trade it in. I almost felt bad for the dealership when they bought that car. I know they lost money on that deal, hands down. Suckers!
This time, I didn’t cry when I emptied the old car. When I emptied my Jetta, I cried like a baby. It was so emotional getting rid of my Jetta. The Jetta got me through the last two years of college, law school, and all the years in between. From the ages of 21 to 30, that black Jetta was a part of me, as cars often are at that age. It was the first car that was ever really mine. I put all but 12 of the miles on it. I was in the car for every pothole, door ding, hail storm, and bird bomb. I was driving it when I hit an armadillo at 2:30 a.m. in the middle of Texas.
But it was also the single worst car I have ever experienced. It had electrical problems from day one and I got a shock every time I got in it. The tires were constantly flat. I had to replace one of the headlights every three months. In the later years, the sunroof leaked (usually on my head), the car died in the middle of intersections for no apparent reason, and the tape deck stopped working without warning. I replaced every part on that car at least once. The driver’s side door was rusted out and the glove compartment stuck shut.
As they say, the bitterest break-ups are the hardest to get over. I still miss that Jetta.
But, I’m a big girl now and I have a grown-up car to prove it. And the grown-up car payments.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
First Question of the Year
I would like someone to explain to me why we can't as a society seem to make a decent bathtub writing instrument. I'm absolutely serious about this question, people. How hard can it be to make an art product for children that actually works in the bathtub?
Really, really, really hard, as it turns out. I have tried a variety of options, tonight being the latest in a long string of bathtub writing instrument failures. The markers were too runny, the paints stained my tub, and kids get bored with "painting" with plain old water. Tonight, we tested the bathtub crayons. And, I'm not afraid to give my honest opinion on their performance . . .
They FUCKING sucked.
Not only did they fail to write appropriately on the bathtub, they broke in half after one usage, stained my bathtub, and turned the water a cloudy beige-grey color. Cloudy beige-grey with weird flecks.
Am I getting up in arms about something completely inconsequential and stupid? Yes. But, the mere mention of writing in the bathtub makes my daughter's dreams come true and . . . shocker . . . sometimes I like to make my children happy.
But Noooooooooooo.
Again, I have to explain to my child why I have thrown out another failed bathtub writing instrument that she became insanely attached to after one use, despite screaming bloody murder from frustration because they kept breaking and the white crayon didn't show up on the bathtub (Seriously Crayola? A WHITE bathtub crayon? Come. On.)
I'm probably going to really regret making this my first post of 2009.
Really, really, really hard, as it turns out. I have tried a variety of options, tonight being the latest in a long string of bathtub writing instrument failures. The markers were too runny, the paints stained my tub, and kids get bored with "painting" with plain old water. Tonight, we tested the bathtub crayons. And, I'm not afraid to give my honest opinion on their performance . . .
They FUCKING sucked.
Not only did they fail to write appropriately on the bathtub, they broke in half after one usage, stained my bathtub, and turned the water a cloudy beige-grey color. Cloudy beige-grey with weird flecks.
Am I getting up in arms about something completely inconsequential and stupid? Yes. But, the mere mention of writing in the bathtub makes my daughter's dreams come true and . . . shocker . . . sometimes I like to make my children happy.
But Noooooooooooo.
Again, I have to explain to my child why I have thrown out another failed bathtub writing instrument that she became insanely attached to after one use, despite screaming bloody murder from frustration because they kept breaking and the white crayon didn't show up on the bathtub (Seriously Crayola? A WHITE bathtub crayon? Come. On.)
I'm probably going to really regret making this my first post of 2009.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Where Oh Where . . .
Has my creativity gone? Maybe it is the cold weather, or the busy season, or the weird sickness I had before Christmas, but my blogging creativity has gone down the drain. I don't think I have an anti-muse like someone else does, but I'm not quite at my top blogging fitness level. Maybe that's what I should have put on my Christmas list instead of a new iPod Nano. Too late . . . and I really like my new iPod.
Anyway, here I am again stealing a blogging idea from another blogger. I figure it is OK since (1) she stole it too, (2) I think she's awesome and probably one of the best additions to the blogosphere this year, and (3) the ethics police don't seem to patrol the blogosphere in Peoria, at least judging from the viral outbreak of anonymous assholes commenting lately. So, I am safe.
I digress. Best get on with my unimaginative blogging, the last one of the year. 2008 is quickly coming to an end. So tell us exactly what happened in this unforgettable year.
How old did you turn? 37. Yikes. But, with that 37, I have to learn not to focus on the number but on how old I feel. I don't feel 37 and, if I do say so myself, I don't think I look 37. Well, maybe in the morning . . . but that doesn't count.
What school did you go to? None, thank god. I'm done with school. Never going to school again. I think the only school I was in this year was my kids' preschool.
Tell us about something good that happened: Oh, so many good things happened this year. My girl came back to live with me, I finally paid off all of my credit card debt left over from law school and before, I gained another nephew, I won a few cases, my grandfather turned 90, my parents celebrated their 40th Anniversary, and too much more to discuss here.
Did you change much? I'm sure I did. Anyone who doesn't experience even the tiniest changes everyday has stopped living a fulfilling life. I'd like to think I changed for the better, but who knows?
Are you happy with who you have become? Absolutely.
Tell us a song you were hooked on: Just in the last two weeks or so, I cannot stop listening to "All I Want Is You" which is the first song on the soundtrack from the movie Juno. It has a folksy sing-a-long quality that makes me smile. Plus, I can listen to it with kids in the car, which has an added benefit.
Did you go to the beach? Not technically, although I was on the beach of Puget Sound, but since it was October, it wasn't really beachy.
Did you get really dressed up for anything? For something special? Probably . . . I don't really remember. Nothing formal or anything.
Tell us a funny thing that happened? I think the highlights of my funny year were probably chronicled on this blog and include: my failures as a mommy, throwing my underwear around in public, being called a crook by my child, making up the song "Bubble Got Back", my son peeing on my head, learning that my nephew sleeps with a rice cooker, and various adventures in cooking, pet ownership, and motherhood.
Tell us the saddest thing that happened? I don't like to dwell on it, but the thing that happened in February, the thing that happened in March, and the thing that happened in October. Those are the three things that made me question my sanity and my happiness this year.
What are your plans for New Year? For the first time, I am having a party at my house. Actually, I should be preparing for it rather than writing this post.
What are you most looking forward to next year? The adventure is not knowing. Something in particular is going very well right now and I'm excited to see what happens next year with it.
Tell us something you plan on changing for next year? My kitchen. It has got to go. I didn't have the financial reserves to do it this year, but I am going to do it next year.
Think back to the beginning of the year and now think of now what’s different: I think the most significant difference between the beginning of the year and now is that I am no longer single. There are other differences, but that one is pretty big for me.
Are you happy with what happened this year? Overall, yes. I would love to be able to change some things, but they are things I can't change, so yes.
Was 2008 your best year? Probably not. It was a really stressful year. I'd like to hope my best year is always in the future. (Good lord . . . when did I become this non-cynical? I used to be such a pissy bitch. Must be the old age.)
Anyway, here I am again stealing a blogging idea from another blogger. I figure it is OK since (1) she stole it too, (2) I think she's awesome and probably one of the best additions to the blogosphere this year, and (3) the ethics police don't seem to patrol the blogosphere in Peoria, at least judging from the viral outbreak of anonymous assholes commenting lately. So, I am safe.
I digress. Best get on with my unimaginative blogging, the last one of the year. 2008 is quickly coming to an end. So tell us exactly what happened in this unforgettable year.
How old did you turn? 37. Yikes. But, with that 37, I have to learn not to focus on the number but on how old I feel. I don't feel 37 and, if I do say so myself, I don't think I look 37. Well, maybe in the morning . . . but that doesn't count.
What school did you go to? None, thank god. I'm done with school. Never going to school again. I think the only school I was in this year was my kids' preschool.
Tell us about something good that happened: Oh, so many good things happened this year. My girl came back to live with me, I finally paid off all of my credit card debt left over from law school and before, I gained another nephew, I won a few cases, my grandfather turned 90, my parents celebrated their 40th Anniversary, and too much more to discuss here.
Did you change much? I'm sure I did. Anyone who doesn't experience even the tiniest changes everyday has stopped living a fulfilling life. I'd like to think I changed for the better, but who knows?
Are you happy with who you have become? Absolutely.
Tell us a song you were hooked on: Just in the last two weeks or so, I cannot stop listening to "All I Want Is You" which is the first song on the soundtrack from the movie Juno. It has a folksy sing-a-long quality that makes me smile. Plus, I can listen to it with kids in the car, which has an added benefit.
Did you go to the beach? Not technically, although I was on the beach of Puget Sound, but since it was October, it wasn't really beachy.
Did you get really dressed up for anything? For something special? Probably . . . I don't really remember. Nothing formal or anything.
Tell us a funny thing that happened? I think the highlights of my funny year were probably chronicled on this blog and include: my failures as a mommy, throwing my underwear around in public, being called a crook by my child, making up the song "Bubble Got Back", my son peeing on my head, learning that my nephew sleeps with a rice cooker, and various adventures in cooking, pet ownership, and motherhood.
Tell us the saddest thing that happened? I don't like to dwell on it, but the thing that happened in February, the thing that happened in March, and the thing that happened in October. Those are the three things that made me question my sanity and my happiness this year.
What are your plans for New Year? For the first time, I am having a party at my house. Actually, I should be preparing for it rather than writing this post.
What are you most looking forward to next year? The adventure is not knowing. Something in particular is going very well right now and I'm excited to see what happens next year with it.
Tell us something you plan on changing for next year? My kitchen. It has got to go. I didn't have the financial reserves to do it this year, but I am going to do it next year.
Think back to the beginning of the year and now think of now what’s different: I think the most significant difference between the beginning of the year and now is that I am no longer single. There are other differences, but that one is pretty big for me.
Are you happy with what happened this year? Overall, yes. I would love to be able to change some things, but they are things I can't change, so yes.
Was 2008 your best year? Probably not. It was a really stressful year. I'd like to hope my best year is always in the future. (Good lord . . . when did I become this non-cynical? I used to be such a pissy bitch. Must be the old age.)
Friday, December 26, 2008
And Now, a Report From Our Man Down Under
While reading my parents' local newspaper this morning, I saw the headline, "More Holiday Time Leads to More Sex." Intrigued, I read on. Apparently, in the modern age, people have more sex during Christmas and New Years. To assist in this important article, the author contacted a spokesperson from Trojan. His name is David Johnson.
In addition to Christmas and New Years, the spokesperson added:
"The long July Fourth, Memorial Day, and Labor Day weekends also produce spikes in condom sales, Trojan's Johnson said."
That's what he said.
In addition to Christmas and New Years, the spokesperson added:
"The long July Fourth, Memorial Day, and Labor Day weekends also produce spikes in condom sales, Trojan's Johnson said."
That's what he said.
Monday, December 15, 2008
My Christmas List
No - not that kind of list. A Christmas meme I made on my own (by stealing from several different ones I found on the internet - now that just screams Christmas spirit, doesn't it?) For some reason, my creative juices have needed a little sparking lately and I am bound and determined to post more individual posts than I did last year. After all, in 2007, I only blogged for 6 months and posted 117 times. This year, I have blogged all year and I am only just over 100. So, expect a lot more crappy half-assed posting from me in the next 15 days.
(1) Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper. I despise gift bags. They create extra waste and show an extreme lack of individuality and creativity. Not that I EVER refuse a gift, but I might appreciate it more if it is gift wrapped.
(2) Real tree or artificial? I would love to have a real tree but I can’t seem to get over my extreme fear of fire and real trees. My parents have always had a real tree and I don’t get worried about it at their house. But, for some reason, I have this feeling I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night worrying about a real tree catching fire in my house. So, I have a fake tree.
(3) When do you put up the tree? Whenever I get the time. We just put it up last night and that’s about normal for my family - about 10 days before Christmas.
(4) When do you take the tree down? Again, whenever I get the time. Sometimes it comes down on Christmas Day because we don’t do much of anything else on Christmas Day. It is always down by New Year’s Day, though.
(5) Do you like egg nog? In small doses, yes.
(6) Favorite gift received as a child? Probably my 1970s split-level doll house. It is fabulous. I still have it, as a matter of fact. It even came with teeny-tiny little silverware and magazines. And all of the appliances were Harvest Gold.
(7) Hardest person to buy for? My sister-in-law. She and I have next to nothing in common and she hates normal every-girl type of gifts like lotion, candles, or accessories. Her hobbies are chess and mathematics. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Plus, she objects to gift cards because "it is just like giving someone money." And tell me . . . what exactly is wrong with that?
(8) Easiest person to buy for? My kids. It’s not that hard to make kids under 5 happy.
(9) Do you have a nativity scene? Please. No. Everytime I'm even near a nativity scene, I have this strong urge to steal the Baby Jesus.
(10) Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail. Emailed Christmas cards are tacky. Plus . . . how would I make fun of you if you don’t write me those dreadfully boring and unintentionally hilarious family update letters?
(11) Worst Christmas gift you ever received? My brother and sister-in-law gave me a hot pepper plant which was infested with aphids. Not only do I not like hot peppers, the plant gave aphids to the rest of my houseplants and they all died.
(12) Favorite Christmas movie? Scrooged. Or The Sound of Music, even though it isn’t really a Christmas movie, but they always show it at Christmas.
(13) When do you start shopping? Whenever. I refuse to shop the day after Thanksgiving, so I usually start around now.
(14) Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Well, I recycled that pepper plant right into the garbage . . . . Seriously, though. I have recycled many a Christmas present.
(15) Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Cookies. I love Christmas cookies.
(16) Lights on the tree? My tree lights are white. My parents’ tree lights are multi-colored, however, and I would be really offended if they changed them to all white.
(17) Favorite Christmas song? Non-religious - Santa Baby, preferably by Eartha Kitt, and Happy Christmas (war is over) by John Lennon. Religious - The Little Drummer Boy, What Child is This, and Silent Night.
(18) Travel at Christmas or stay home? It just depends on the year. We mostly travel to my parents’ house.
(19) Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? Not without cheating.
(20) Angel on the tree top or a star? Neither. Our family trees have Santa Lucia on the top of them. The Lucy on top of my tree was made by my mother the first year my parents were married. When I bought my own house, my mother gave me that one and we made a new one together that currently sits on top of my parents’ tree. When my daughter has her first house, I hope to give her the old one so we can make a new one together. Every year, my dad has to make a comment about shoving the tree up Lucy’s ass. Every year. It never gets old.
(21) Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Christmas Eve. Christmas Day is for sitting around watching movies (marathons of Star Wars, Indiana Jones, or James Bond), playing with your Christmas toys, and doing jigsaw puzzles.
(22) Most annoying thing about this time of year? Asshole shoppers. My one Christmas season working in retail, a woman threw a stack of books at me on Christmas Eve. Christmas spirit my ass.
(23) Favorite for Christmas dinner? We have a standing rib roast every year on Christmas Eve.
(24) Favorite ornament theme or color? All of my ornaments have a special story or meaning to them. I like to buy at least one new ornament every year and I particularly like Santa Claus ornaments.
(25) What do you want for Christmas this year? Well, that would make it too easy for you, wouldn’t it?
(26) Do you hang mistletoe? No. The way I figure it . . . if you want to kiss someone, just do it.
(27) Favorite holiday memory as a child? As a child, we always spent Christmas with my dad’s parents because he’s an only child. I can’t remember one memory in particular, but I remember loving the feeling of Christmas time - everyone sitting around the living room talking and having fun, singing songs, playing with their new toys. It is the most overwhelming feeling of warmth and happiness I remember as a child.
(28) When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? Never. I always knew the truth about Santa since we didn’t believe he was real. Just like all other fictional stories, it was a nice story but we didn’t believe it was true.
(29) What’s the most important thing about the holidays? Giving gifts to people you love and spending time with family.
(30) Favorite Holiday tradition? I have so many, so it is hard to pick one. I love Advent calendars, I love all of the baking with my mother, I love wrapping presents, I love singing Christmas songs, I love celebrating Santa Lucia (and, yes, I do wear a crown of real candles on my head. Nothing says "Christmas" better than hot wax in your hair) . . . . Probably the best one we have as a family is that everyone has to open gifts one at a time and everyone else has to watch them. It was torture as a child, but I like the focus it puts on the giving part of Christmas, rather than on the receiving.
(1) Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper. I despise gift bags. They create extra waste and show an extreme lack of individuality and creativity. Not that I EVER refuse a gift, but I might appreciate it more if it is gift wrapped.
(2) Real tree or artificial? I would love to have a real tree but I can’t seem to get over my extreme fear of fire and real trees. My parents have always had a real tree and I don’t get worried about it at their house. But, for some reason, I have this feeling I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night worrying about a real tree catching fire in my house. So, I have a fake tree.
(3) When do you put up the tree? Whenever I get the time. We just put it up last night and that’s about normal for my family - about 10 days before Christmas.
(4) When do you take the tree down? Again, whenever I get the time. Sometimes it comes down on Christmas Day because we don’t do much of anything else on Christmas Day. It is always down by New Year’s Day, though.
(5) Do you like egg nog? In small doses, yes.
(6) Favorite gift received as a child? Probably my 1970s split-level doll house. It is fabulous. I still have it, as a matter of fact. It even came with teeny-tiny little silverware and magazines. And all of the appliances were Harvest Gold.
(7) Hardest person to buy for? My sister-in-law. She and I have next to nothing in common and she hates normal every-girl type of gifts like lotion, candles, or accessories. Her hobbies are chess and mathematics. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Plus, she objects to gift cards because "it is just like giving someone money." And tell me . . . what exactly is wrong with that?
(8) Easiest person to buy for? My kids. It’s not that hard to make kids under 5 happy.
(9) Do you have a nativity scene? Please. No. Everytime I'm even near a nativity scene, I have this strong urge to steal the Baby Jesus.
(10) Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail. Emailed Christmas cards are tacky. Plus . . . how would I make fun of you if you don’t write me those dreadfully boring and unintentionally hilarious family update letters?
(11) Worst Christmas gift you ever received? My brother and sister-in-law gave me a hot pepper plant which was infested with aphids. Not only do I not like hot peppers, the plant gave aphids to the rest of my houseplants and they all died.
(12) Favorite Christmas movie? Scrooged. Or The Sound of Music, even though it isn’t really a Christmas movie, but they always show it at Christmas.
(13) When do you start shopping? Whenever. I refuse to shop the day after Thanksgiving, so I usually start around now.
(14) Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Well, I recycled that pepper plant right into the garbage . . . . Seriously, though. I have recycled many a Christmas present.
(15) Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Cookies. I love Christmas cookies.
(16) Lights on the tree? My tree lights are white. My parents’ tree lights are multi-colored, however, and I would be really offended if they changed them to all white.
(17) Favorite Christmas song? Non-religious - Santa Baby, preferably by Eartha Kitt, and Happy Christmas (war is over) by John Lennon. Religious - The Little Drummer Boy, What Child is This, and Silent Night.
(18) Travel at Christmas or stay home? It just depends on the year. We mostly travel to my parents’ house.
(19) Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? Not without cheating.
(20) Angel on the tree top or a star? Neither. Our family trees have Santa Lucia on the top of them. The Lucy on top of my tree was made by my mother the first year my parents were married. When I bought my own house, my mother gave me that one and we made a new one together that currently sits on top of my parents’ tree. When my daughter has her first house, I hope to give her the old one so we can make a new one together. Every year, my dad has to make a comment about shoving the tree up Lucy’s ass. Every year. It never gets old.
(21) Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Christmas Eve. Christmas Day is for sitting around watching movies (marathons of Star Wars, Indiana Jones, or James Bond), playing with your Christmas toys, and doing jigsaw puzzles.
(22) Most annoying thing about this time of year? Asshole shoppers. My one Christmas season working in retail, a woman threw a stack of books at me on Christmas Eve. Christmas spirit my ass.
(23) Favorite for Christmas dinner? We have a standing rib roast every year on Christmas Eve.
(24) Favorite ornament theme or color? All of my ornaments have a special story or meaning to them. I like to buy at least one new ornament every year and I particularly like Santa Claus ornaments.
(25) What do you want for Christmas this year? Well, that would make it too easy for you, wouldn’t it?
(26) Do you hang mistletoe? No. The way I figure it . . . if you want to kiss someone, just do it.
(27) Favorite holiday memory as a child? As a child, we always spent Christmas with my dad’s parents because he’s an only child. I can’t remember one memory in particular, but I remember loving the feeling of Christmas time - everyone sitting around the living room talking and having fun, singing songs, playing with their new toys. It is the most overwhelming feeling of warmth and happiness I remember as a child.
(28) When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? Never. I always knew the truth about Santa since we didn’t believe he was real. Just like all other fictional stories, it was a nice story but we didn’t believe it was true.
(29) What’s the most important thing about the holidays? Giving gifts to people you love and spending time with family.
(30) Favorite Holiday tradition? I have so many, so it is hard to pick one. I love Advent calendars, I love all of the baking with my mother, I love wrapping presents, I love singing Christmas songs, I love celebrating Santa Lucia (and, yes, I do wear a crown of real candles on my head. Nothing says "Christmas" better than hot wax in your hair) . . . . Probably the best one we have as a family is that everyone has to open gifts one at a time and everyone else has to watch them. It was torture as a child, but I like the focus it puts on the giving part of Christmas, rather than on the receiving.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Too Smart for My Good
I'd like to go back to that time in parenting where you can get away with lying to your children. Specifically, I would like to go back to the time where I could eat something in front of my daughter and she didn't have to have a part of it or know exactly what I was eating, mostly because I'm eating something I would never let her eat. Usually, it is something with either a lot of caffeine, alcohol, or sugar, or on a good day . . . a lot of all three.
Last night, my daughter was in her first Christmas pagent at school. It was very cute and very chaotic as it was an all preschool production of semi-recognizable Christmas songs shouted at the top of their lungs. About 80% of the kids picked their noses on stage (including mine), several girls managed to show off their underwear by lifting their fancy Christmas dresses, one child had to be removed from the stage in tears, and only a few boys got in fist fights. Good times.
But, I'm going to have to rely on my excellent memory if I ever want to look at pictures of the evening again because Bad Mommy forgot her camera. I suck. Although I enjoyed the show, I sat there the entire time thinking about what kind of mother I am that forgets to bring a camera to my child's first Christmas pagent.
Anyway, I was feeling a little down when we got home and decided to fix that with some sugar and chocolate. I really had a craving for S'mores, and for the first time ever, I actually had all of the necessary ingredients in my house at the same time. And they weren't stale! (This is mostly because we still have Halloween candy sitting around.) Being the only one awake in the house, I poured myself a little drink, put on my pajamas, made S'mores, and watched a re-run of Grey's Anatomy.
(In case you are wondering how I made S'mores inside my house without a campfire, I will let you in on a little secret. If you have a gas stove, you have a perfect S'more making device. It is much easier than using a candle or the fireplace, but you have to be careful because the heat from a gas flame is much hotter than the heat from a candle or wood flame. Do not be surprised if your marshmallows burst into flames within the first 5 seconds. Given some time, you will discover the perfect technique.)
After a gripping episode of Celebrity Rehab (boy, that Shifty is really fucked up, huh?), I dragged myself to bed, completely forgetting the S'mores mess in the kitchen. In the morning, my daughter walks into the kitchen for breakfast and the following discussion occurs:
Girl: What happened?? (looking at the stove and counter area strewn with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate wrappers)
Me: Nothing.
Girl: Whatcha eat, Mama?
Me: Nothing. A snack.
Girl: Shellows?? You eat SHELLOWS? (shellows = marshmallows in our house)
Me: Yes. I did.
Girl: Teddy Grahams? YOU eat my TEDDY GRAHAMS? (we call all graham crackers Teddy Grahams . . . just so you think I wasn't making S'mores by pasting together 50 tiny Teddy Grahams to make one big graham cracker.)
Me: Yes.
Girl: When? When you eat . . . CANDY? (She has just seen the chocolate wrappers as I am trying to throw them away to hide the evidence.)
Me: Yes. Just a few pieces last night.
Girl: Why don't I get some? Can I have some now? Can I have some S'mores for bfast?
Me: No. You can have yogurt for breakfast with toast. Wait . . . how do you know what S'mores are? Where did you learn that?
Girl: School.
Me: Damn education.
Girl: You say that?
Last night, my daughter was in her first Christmas pagent at school. It was very cute and very chaotic as it was an all preschool production of semi-recognizable Christmas songs shouted at the top of their lungs. About 80% of the kids picked their noses on stage (including mine), several girls managed to show off their underwear by lifting their fancy Christmas dresses, one child had to be removed from the stage in tears, and only a few boys got in fist fights. Good times.
But, I'm going to have to rely on my excellent memory if I ever want to look at pictures of the evening again because Bad Mommy forgot her camera. I suck. Although I enjoyed the show, I sat there the entire time thinking about what kind of mother I am that forgets to bring a camera to my child's first Christmas pagent.
Anyway, I was feeling a little down when we got home and decided to fix that with some sugar and chocolate. I really had a craving for S'mores, and for the first time ever, I actually had all of the necessary ingredients in my house at the same time. And they weren't stale! (This is mostly because we still have Halloween candy sitting around.) Being the only one awake in the house, I poured myself a little drink, put on my pajamas, made S'mores, and watched a re-run of Grey's Anatomy.
(In case you are wondering how I made S'mores inside my house without a campfire, I will let you in on a little secret. If you have a gas stove, you have a perfect S'more making device. It is much easier than using a candle or the fireplace, but you have to be careful because the heat from a gas flame is much hotter than the heat from a candle or wood flame. Do not be surprised if your marshmallows burst into flames within the first 5 seconds. Given some time, you will discover the perfect technique.)
After a gripping episode of Celebrity Rehab (boy, that Shifty is really fucked up, huh?), I dragged myself to bed, completely forgetting the S'mores mess in the kitchen. In the morning, my daughter walks into the kitchen for breakfast and the following discussion occurs:
Girl: What happened?? (looking at the stove and counter area strewn with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate wrappers)
Me: Nothing.
Girl: Whatcha eat, Mama?
Me: Nothing. A snack.
Girl: Shellows?? You eat SHELLOWS? (shellows = marshmallows in our house)
Me: Yes. I did.
Girl: Teddy Grahams? YOU eat my TEDDY GRAHAMS? (we call all graham crackers Teddy Grahams . . . just so you think I wasn't making S'mores by pasting together 50 tiny Teddy Grahams to make one big graham cracker.)
Me: Yes.
Girl: When? When you eat . . . CANDY? (She has just seen the chocolate wrappers as I am trying to throw them away to hide the evidence.)
Me: Yes. Just a few pieces last night.
Girl: Why don't I get some? Can I have some now? Can I have some S'mores for bfast?
Me: No. You can have yogurt for breakfast with toast. Wait . . . how do you know what S'mores are? Where did you learn that?
Girl: School.
Me: Damn education.
Girl: You say that?
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Late In the Evening
I stole this meme from Sarah and Katie. I see that Katie was motivated enough to actually link to the videos of the songs. I'm not that motivated. I thought about including the artist's name, but then I thought it would be more fun to make you guess.
So here are the rules:
1. Put your iTunes or MP3 player on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!
1. IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY? Eight Days a Week (so, I guess it is really OK)
2.WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY? Chasing Cars (Kind of true, actually)
3.WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL? Where to Now
4.WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE? What Can You Lose
5.WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO? Redemption Day
6.WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU? Stolen
7.WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN? A Love That Will Never Grow Old (also kind of true)
8.WHAT IS 2+2? Do You Love Me Now?
9.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND? Who Knew
10.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE? Bitch (this is probably true too, but I mean it in the nicest possible way.)
11.WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY? Heaven Must Be Missing an Angel (HA HA HA)
12.WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? Something's Gotta Give
13.WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE? Why Do Birds Sing? (barf)
14.WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU? Tennessee Plates
15.WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING? Don't Know How
16.WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL? Could Be Anything (no, that's the name of the song, really.)
17.WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST? You Can Close Your Eyes (now that just sounds dirty, doesn't it?)
18.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS? Inside Emotion
19.WHAT’S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN? He was a Friend of Mine
20.HOW WILL YOU DIE? Didn't Leave Nobody but the Baby (Yikes)
21.WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET? Typical Situation (yeah . . . no kidding)
22.WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH? Penny Lane
23.WHAT MAKES YOU CRY? Rich Girl
24.WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED? Angel's Eye
25.WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST? Honey Bee (actually, Tom Petty does scare me a little bit, but I love that song.)
26. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE? I've Got You Under My Skin
27.WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW? Wait
28.WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS? Late in the Evening
Monday, December 8, 2008
In Which My Child Fails to Understand the Point of Christmas
My daughter is three years old. I am really looking forward to this Christmas because it is the first time she will really get into the magic of the holiday. But, so far . . . she is missing the point of a kid's Christmas. The gifts.
That's right . . . we're a shallow bunch in the PH world. We don't think about Jesus on Christmas and we don't believe in Santa Claus. But, just because we don't believe in mythology doesn't mean that Christmas isn't magical for us. We have many family holiday traditions that are much more meaningful to us than Jesus and Santa Claus. Anyway, all of that is for another post.
I have been asking my daughter for the last few weeks what she wants for Christmas. I don't really feel like adding more toy flotsam and jetsam to my house. We already have tons of toys the kids ignore. I'm trying to make her Christmas gifts really special - things she really wants that I wouldn't buy her ordinarily.
What's her answer when I ask her what she wants for Christmas?
New pink shoes.
New pink shoes. Nevermind the fact that the child has seven pairs of shoes right now. Nevermind the fact that four of these pairs of shoes are either entirely pink or have some pink somewhere on them. New pink shoes.
Ugh. And when I try suggesting items she might like . . . new books, puzzles, clothes, babydolls, or craft items, she says, "No! I want new pink shoes." Then I try upping the anty. How about a kitchen? Or a dollhouse? Or a new trike? "No! I want new pink shoes."
I really don't know what I expected. After all, her favorite toys are a deck of playing cards, a tape measure, a pen and paper, and her babydoll. I should be happy I have a child who only wants new shoes for Christmas because I have a feeling that she's gonna figure out this Christmas thing before next year. And then I'll be sorry.
That's right . . . we're a shallow bunch in the PH world. We don't think about Jesus on Christmas and we don't believe in Santa Claus. But, just because we don't believe in mythology doesn't mean that Christmas isn't magical for us. We have many family holiday traditions that are much more meaningful to us than Jesus and Santa Claus. Anyway, all of that is for another post.
I have been asking my daughter for the last few weeks what she wants for Christmas. I don't really feel like adding more toy flotsam and jetsam to my house. We already have tons of toys the kids ignore. I'm trying to make her Christmas gifts really special - things she really wants that I wouldn't buy her ordinarily.
What's her answer when I ask her what she wants for Christmas?
New pink shoes.
New pink shoes. Nevermind the fact that the child has seven pairs of shoes right now. Nevermind the fact that four of these pairs of shoes are either entirely pink or have some pink somewhere on them. New pink shoes.
Ugh. And when I try suggesting items she might like . . . new books, puzzles, clothes, babydolls, or craft items, she says, "No! I want new pink shoes." Then I try upping the anty. How about a kitchen? Or a dollhouse? Or a new trike? "No! I want new pink shoes."
I really don't know what I expected. After all, her favorite toys are a deck of playing cards, a tape measure, a pen and paper, and her babydoll. I should be happy I have a child who only wants new shoes for Christmas because I have a feeling that she's gonna figure out this Christmas thing before next year. And then I'll be sorry.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Jesus Loves You . . .
. . . everyone else thinks you're an asshole.
My cousin and I love this saying because this is the way we feel about our Aunt J. J is one of the primary reasons I dislike organized religion. She is one of the fakest, do-as-I-preach-not-as-I-do Lutheran hypocrite Christians out there. She is the type that makes a big deal of her Christianity only when it serves her purposes, such as putting other people down, making herself feel better for small acts of "goodness" like praying for people who don't want it, excuses for making or living with her mistakes, the reason for refusing to accept responsibility for her life and her decisions, and just about everything else.
Jesus is the reason for everything good in her life, other people are to blame for everything bad in her life. Personal responsibility plays absolutely no role at all.
As with all family issues, my issues with J go deep and broad. From day one, I knew she wasn't right. She was my Uncle T's second wife, a total rebound after his wonderful first wife left him because he was a fucking do-nothing asswipe. I remember the day J walked into our family - a family wedding and T brought this plastic white-trash piece of flim-flam as his date. I was seven years old I knew she didn't belong. Bleached blond hair, set like Dolly Parton circa 1978, make-up she chiseled off at night, hoochey polyester disco-esque pantsuit. She was nothing like the rest of us.
In the end, it would have been just fine if J simply didn't look like us. But her differences, and her extreme need to point out why her differences made her better than the rest of us, were much more destructive. In a proud immigrant family (my mother and all of her siblings, including T, were born in Sweden), J insisted on wearing shirts saying "100% American." She insisted on praying before meals even in my grandparents' house where praying before meals was not desired, appreciated, or tolerated. She refused to eat the food served at any of our houses and often brought McDonald's for herself and her kids to our nine course family dinners, which usually had been prepared over the course of several days.
She didn't drink and disapproved of anyone who did, including her husband, in a family where your first full size shot is ingested before the age of 14. She refused to be gainfully employed in a family where work was valued above everything else. She constantly harped about germs when her kids were always the sickest of them all. She refused to fly or travel by bus or train, stating she had a fear of the shape of the plane, train, or bus (umm . . . Freud anyone?) Since my family is spread all over the country, any family events had to be planned around her driving schedule, even if it took her days to get somewhere. My grandmother's funeral had to be delayed by five days because J wouldn't get on a fucking plane.
In short, I have issues with J and always have. But, the point of this post is that her misuse of religion has always been my biggest issue and the biggest divider in our family.
In October of 2006, my Uncle T was diagnosed with a brain tumor. He was given two to five years to live. He went through all of the aggressive treatment options. Nothing has worked. It has been two years and he has gotten tired of treatment after treatment and is now refusing treatment. He wants to die. He is ready to die and we have accepted it. He is suffering and doesn't want to be poked and prodded and experimented on and feel sicker and sicker. He has lost his business, his ability to dress himself, to walk, to talk, to use the computer, to play the piano or violin. He can't drive a car, write with a pen, understand TV, read a book, or drink alcohol. He barely enjoys food, or jokes, or time with his kids. He is done.
And who could blame him? Most rational people would make the same decision he has made in the same situation. He wants to die. The only person who cannot accept it is J. She has made it her mission in life to "cure" him with every new and experimental treatment available. He has steadfastly refused treatment and is preparing to die. (Actually, he told everyone during Thanksgiving that he was going to die today, December 5th, but we all kind of doubt it works like that, even if you really want to die.)
I no longer have regular contact with either my aunt or uncle but my Aunt J writes a blog of sorts about her experiences with T and the tumor. I never read it. My dad reads it all of the time and then fumes about it for days because it is so . . . irritating. The last entry was at 11:45 pm on Thanksgiving. After talking about all of her blessings and gifts from Jesus, of course, she went on to talk about T:
"A friend brought over another new treatment option to be discussed with T's Neuro-Oncologist, so we talked about this and other options over dessert tonight. I am going to ask you to storm the heavens with T's name, and ask that God will guide and direct these conversations in such a way that T will listen and be receptive."
In other words, "God . . . please do my will and force my dying husband to seek treatment he does not want and live a hollow life that he does not want so my life can be better."
I may not be a devout believer in the Christian idea of God, but I'm pretty sure that God's purpose is not to do our will just because we believe we are right about a certain situation. Convenient belief = the worst type of Christianity. I understand that she loves him, I understand that she is scared shitless to lose her husband before the age of 60. I get that she feels incredible grief to be in this situation. I would not wish her situation on my worst enemy (which, honestly, is probably her . . . so I speak with authority that I did not wish this situation on her.) But using God as her weapon? That's what makes her an asshole.
Nothing is certain. T may die today like he wants. He may die tomorrow or next month. However, it is more likely he will die a long, slow, painful death because of J's selfish need to keep him alive. And that is much, much sadder than the death itself.
My cousin and I love this saying because this is the way we feel about our Aunt J. J is one of the primary reasons I dislike organized religion. She is one of the fakest, do-as-I-preach-not-as-I-do Lutheran hypocrite Christians out there. She is the type that makes a big deal of her Christianity only when it serves her purposes, such as putting other people down, making herself feel better for small acts of "goodness" like praying for people who don't want it, excuses for making or living with her mistakes, the reason for refusing to accept responsibility for her life and her decisions, and just about everything else.
Jesus is the reason for everything good in her life, other people are to blame for everything bad in her life. Personal responsibility plays absolutely no role at all.
As with all family issues, my issues with J go deep and broad. From day one, I knew she wasn't right. She was my Uncle T's second wife, a total rebound after his wonderful first wife left him because he was a fucking do-nothing asswipe. I remember the day J walked into our family - a family wedding and T brought this plastic white-trash piece of flim-flam as his date. I was seven years old I knew she didn't belong. Bleached blond hair, set like Dolly Parton circa 1978, make-up she chiseled off at night, hoochey polyester disco-esque pantsuit. She was nothing like the rest of us.
In the end, it would have been just fine if J simply didn't look like us. But her differences, and her extreme need to point out why her differences made her better than the rest of us, were much more destructive. In a proud immigrant family (my mother and all of her siblings, including T, were born in Sweden), J insisted on wearing shirts saying "100% American." She insisted on praying before meals even in my grandparents' house where praying before meals was not desired, appreciated, or tolerated. She refused to eat the food served at any of our houses and often brought McDonald's for herself and her kids to our nine course family dinners, which usually had been prepared over the course of several days.
She didn't drink and disapproved of anyone who did, including her husband, in a family where your first full size shot is ingested before the age of 14. She refused to be gainfully employed in a family where work was valued above everything else. She constantly harped about germs when her kids were always the sickest of them all. She refused to fly or travel by bus or train, stating she had a fear of the shape of the plane, train, or bus (umm . . . Freud anyone?) Since my family is spread all over the country, any family events had to be planned around her driving schedule, even if it took her days to get somewhere. My grandmother's funeral had to be delayed by five days because J wouldn't get on a fucking plane.
In short, I have issues with J and always have. But, the point of this post is that her misuse of religion has always been my biggest issue and the biggest divider in our family.
In October of 2006, my Uncle T was diagnosed with a brain tumor. He was given two to five years to live. He went through all of the aggressive treatment options. Nothing has worked. It has been two years and he has gotten tired of treatment after treatment and is now refusing treatment. He wants to die. He is ready to die and we have accepted it. He is suffering and doesn't want to be poked and prodded and experimented on and feel sicker and sicker. He has lost his business, his ability to dress himself, to walk, to talk, to use the computer, to play the piano or violin. He can't drive a car, write with a pen, understand TV, read a book, or drink alcohol. He barely enjoys food, or jokes, or time with his kids. He is done.
And who could blame him? Most rational people would make the same decision he has made in the same situation. He wants to die. The only person who cannot accept it is J. She has made it her mission in life to "cure" him with every new and experimental treatment available. He has steadfastly refused treatment and is preparing to die. (Actually, he told everyone during Thanksgiving that he was going to die today, December 5th, but we all kind of doubt it works like that, even if you really want to die.)
I no longer have regular contact with either my aunt or uncle but my Aunt J writes a blog of sorts about her experiences with T and the tumor. I never read it. My dad reads it all of the time and then fumes about it for days because it is so . . . irritating. The last entry was at 11:45 pm on Thanksgiving. After talking about all of her blessings and gifts from Jesus, of course, she went on to talk about T:
"A friend brought over another new treatment option to be discussed with T's Neuro-Oncologist, so we talked about this and other options over dessert tonight. I am going to ask you to storm the heavens with T's name, and ask that God will guide and direct these conversations in such a way that T will listen and be receptive."
In other words, "God . . . please do my will and force my dying husband to seek treatment he does not want and live a hollow life that he does not want so my life can be better."
I may not be a devout believer in the Christian idea of God, but I'm pretty sure that God's purpose is not to do our will just because we believe we are right about a certain situation. Convenient belief = the worst type of Christianity. I understand that she loves him, I understand that she is scared shitless to lose her husband before the age of 60. I get that she feels incredible grief to be in this situation. I would not wish her situation on my worst enemy (which, honestly, is probably her . . . so I speak with authority that I did not wish this situation on her.) But using God as her weapon? That's what makes her an asshole.
Nothing is certain. T may die today like he wants. He may die tomorrow or next month. However, it is more likely he will die a long, slow, painful death because of J's selfish need to keep him alive. And that is much, much sadder than the death itself.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Matter of Fact
Last year, I posted a portion of my parents' Christmas letter. My parents take turns writing the letter each year. Last year it was my dad's turn and, as usual, his was very sentimental. This year, my mom wrote the letter and it was true to her style of things. It is short and to the point, on plain white paper using a plain font. No Christmas stickers or pictures or even a Christmas stamp. At the top in the center, it says "2008 Holiday Letter." The first line is "Dear People:"
That's my mom - no frills.
So, they got their letter out early this year to tell people of their change of address. She talks about the new house a little bit, a little bit about the moving experience, and that they are still working and have no plans to retire. Then comes the last line:
If I started talking about grandchildren and their parents, this letter would become either one of those disgustingly proud displays or a tell-all testament to the challenges of relationships, no matter how special and long term.
Gotta love my mother. I'd like to think my children and I fall into the "disgustingly proud displays" category rather than the "challenges of relationships" category. I think that one is reserved for my brother and his family.
That's my mom - no frills.
So, they got their letter out early this year to tell people of their change of address. She talks about the new house a little bit, a little bit about the moving experience, and that they are still working and have no plans to retire. Then comes the last line:
If I started talking about grandchildren and their parents, this letter would become either one of those disgustingly proud displays or a tell-all testament to the challenges of relationships, no matter how special and long term.
Gotta love my mother. I'd like to think my children and I fall into the "disgustingly proud displays" category rather than the "challenges of relationships" category. I think that one is reserved for my brother and his family.
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