happy new year!

it's already 2012 in some parts of the world but still 2011 in most. how weird is that.

when we lived in indiana, the decision about whether or not to go on daylight savings time was left up to each individual county. the county we lived in did go on it but one of the contiguous counties didn't. lots of people who lived in our county worked in the other county. how weird is that.

i remember new year's eve 1999 and all the flap over y2k. i'll admit......i was a little concerned about what would happen until i realized that it would be the year 2000 in, say, australia before it would be the year 2000 here. so i figured, if the world tanks, at least i'll know about it in advance.

it's disconcerting to cross time zones when you travel. when you fly to chicago from columbus, you arrive in chicago at the same time you left columbus. weird.

i know people who keep changing what shift they work. one week, it's the day shift and the next week, it's the night shift. i don't know how they do it without being dead tired and discombobulated all the time. ("discombobulated" - weird, weird, weird!)

most tv shows film about 6-8 weeks out. so that means, right now, most tv shows are filming their valentine's day shows. and it's only new year's. weird.

usually on new year's eve, i fall asleep on the couch about 10. next thing i know, i wake up and it's a whole new year. it's a new month, too. seems like i should wake up with new clothes on or something but i never do. i always have on the same ratty pajamas.

one thing that stays the same - year in and year out - is how weird everything is. it keeps life interesting.

it keeps giving me things to blog about.

stay tuned.

:)

s - t - r - e - t - c - h

what's wrong with the world is, nobody stretches anymore.


if i had to nail down everything that Christ taught into one word, i think it would be "stretch." no, not "love," but "stretch."

if i nailed down everything that Christ taught into the word "love," i don't think it would catch anyone's attention. i think if i said, "you know what, guys? i think it all boils down to love," i think the rest of you would say "sure. we know that." but if i said, "you know what, guys? i think it all boils down to stretching," i think you might say, "what the?"


it's easy, really, to commit to being more loving. when our spouse or our friend or our family member tells us that what we did was thoughtless or hurtful or neglectful, we usually respond with, "oh, wow......i'm sorry. i didn't mean it that way at all. i promise i won't do that again."

and then we do it again.

the reason we do it again, i think, is not so much because we lack the love but because we lack the stretch - the willingness to endure the pain that doing the loving thing almost always entails.

i have a family on my current caseload whose father yells all the time (i'll save the miracle of the fact that there's actually a father in the home for another post). this man is a basically decent guy who has a childhood history of all kinds of horrors. he loves his family - he does - but he's not willing to stretch above and beyond his own pain to stop inflicting it on others. i told him so last night......

"sir, you're like all of us, myself included - you're selfish. and you need to stretch."

"excuse me?"

"you need to stretch."

"stretch?"

"stretch."

blank stare..........

"you need to stop thinking and stop saying how much you love your family."

"i need to what?"

"stop thinking and stop saying how much you love your family."

blank stare.......

"instead of focusing on the love, focus on the stretch. as soon as you feel like you don't wanna do the loving thing, do the loving thing anyway. push yourself. force yourself. stretch yourself."

"it's hard," he said.

"stretch," i said.

"i'll try, " he said.

"nope," i said, "do it."


i have this same conversation over and over and over with all of my clients - and with myself. Christ wasn't telling us to love when we felt loving - He was telling us to love when we don't. most of us fail miserably at that.

my resolution this year?

touch my toes.

the opposite of humility

what could possibly be a greater example for us of humility and vulnerability than the almighty creator of everything that exists incarnating Himself as a helpless baby born in a broken down barn?

what could possibly be a greater example for us of humility and vulnerability than the almighty creator of everything hanging on a cross between two common criminals?

what could possibly be less humbling - and therefore, more self-centered - than deciding that the strong are entitled to overpower the vulnerable?

if you walk up to anybody at all today and ask him or her if he or she believes that the strong should be permitted to overpower the vulnerable, you'll probably get "no" for an answer. (unless you're talking to hitler or josef mengele)

you'll probably get people citing all kinds of examples, like, it's not ok for a slaveholder to hold slaves. it's not ok for a boss to sexually harass his employee. it's not ok for a paternalistic society to repress women.

it's not ok for a mother to abuse her child. because, after all, what could possibly be more humble and vulnerable than a child?

unless it's an unborn one.

in which case, it's ok for a mother to kill it.

stop being selfish about new year's resolutions

it bothers me how people scoff when the subject of new year's resolutions comes up.

they dismiss resolutions with a wave of the hand. "why make resolutions?" they say, "i'm not gonna keep 'em anyway."

maybe that, right there, oughta be your resolution - quit saying you're gonna quit.


what kind of person plans to quit? plans to fail? plans to let everybody down?


i was lucky, in many regards, with the kind of parents God gave me. one of the luckiest ways is how they both stick to it. first of all, they recognize that they need to improve (who doesn't? you? ha!) and then, they improve. period.  my parents have the greatest follow-through of any two people i have ever in my whole life known. if they say they're gonna do it, they do it. you can take it to the bank.

i think the world would be a whole lot better place if we could all count on each other like that. if we could wake up on january 1st (and then, every day following) knowing that the people we love love us enough to change.


my parents didn't do it for them. they did it for me.


now........it's your turn.

my most politically incorrect post EVER

sorry, democrats, but the poor little match girl doesn't exist.


(oh, she probably exists somewhere, but good luck findin' her.)


the picture that most americans have in their minds of the poor and the needy is all wrong. it's a nice picture - in an ironic way - but it's wrong. most of the time.

most of the time, the poor and the needy aren't all that adorable, and i don't mean physically. most of the time, they are angry and bitter and have a sense of entitlement that enrages even my priest.

most of the time, they are not poor and needy because they led solid lives which included fairly reasonable financial decisions until out of the blue, on Christmas Eve, their house burned to the ground.

many of their children aren't shivering-in-the-cold sweethearts with runny noses and dirt streaks across their faces. many of their children are locked up in juvi.


i'm not saying we shouldn't have compassion for these folks - we should. i'm not saying we shouldn't help them - we must.

what i am saying is, who we're helping isn't necessarily gonna warm the cockles of your heart.

which is just as well.


cuz warming the cockles of your heart isn't the point.

how to return a gift

don't.


that's it - don't!


the notion of returning a gift because you "don't like it"  or "don't need it" is anathema to me (not too often you can use the word "anathema").

how dare you???????

returning a gift because you need the same thing in a smaller or a larger size is permissible. beyond that, there is no valid reason to be returning the gifts that someone lovingly and patiently picked out for you.

even if they didn't pick them out lovingly and patiently. yes..........even if they picked them out solely out of a sense of obligation. obligation works both ways.........and now that you have received a chia pet that plays jingle bells when you water it, you are obligated to keep it.

you are not allowed to re-gift it. if you are invited to a white elephant party or a dirty santa party (sounds dirty to me) or any other kind of dang fool party wherein you are asked to bring a gift that you got for Christmas that you don't like, you must go out and buy a gift that you don't like and give that. sorry, but those are the rules. i'm not the one makin' 'em up.

(well, yes i am.)

returning or re-gifting a gift, just because you don't like it, is the diametric opposite of what a gift is. what if mary had said to the wise men, "seriously, guys? more myrrh? the last thing i need is more myrrh."

so, whatever you got for Christmas, treasure it. you don't have to like it, but you do have to treasure it.

you don't have to use it - you just have to treasure it.

(actually, you do have to use it........when the person who gave it to you comes over.)

Christmas - and everything - with 5 grandchildren

50 fingers and 50

toes

who knows

who does such wondrous things but


God?

the flashlight(s) of the ghost of Christmas present(s)

you know how they always say it's the simplest things - like the box the toy came in - that kids like the most?

i gave charlie and olivia a coupla (very cool) flashlights for Christmas. you'da thought i'd given 'em the eiffel tower.

first thing charlie says is, "come on, gram! let's go look for ghosts!" (like that's what every family is doing on Christmas morning)

so, off we go........down the hall.........with all the lights (except charlie's flashlight) turned off.........looking for ghosts.

nope, none here. let's try olivia's bedroom! surely olivia's bedrooom has ghosts!

we tiptoe softly into olivia's room. "shhhhhhhh!" charlie admonishes me. (you'd think i'd just know to do that by now, wouldn't ya?)

he looks in her closet........nope.

under the pile of whatever it is she left in the middle of the floor.

nope.

by now, the rest of the family has joined us. grandpa rankin is doing his best eerie ghost voice. and he's pretty good at it, too. so good, in fact, that my mom scolded him......."now, don! don't scare 'em to death!" my dad looked at my mom like she was nuts - which she is - and made the scariest ghost face he could at her, with his eyes all rolling back in his head and his tongue hangin' out. he got in her face and went, "aaaaaaaahhhhhh, ooooooooo, eeeeeeeee" at her.

i bet that ride back home was interesting.

anyway.......back to the action.......charlie tells me to crawl under the bed and see if there are any ghosts under there.

"i can't crawl under the bed, charlie! i'm too big!"

"ok, then. grandpa? you crawl under the bed!"

"i can't crawl under the bed, charlie. i'm too big!"

"then olivia. olivia, crawl under the bed."

olivia looks this way and that. she meets my gaze. i nod - letting her know it's o.k. dad does his ghost voice........

livvy bends down. thank heavens her flashlight is neon pink cuz otherwise, i don't think she'd agree to this......

"do you see any ghosts, olivia?" charlie half-screams.........


"YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!," olivia fully screams. "YES!!!!!!!!! there's a ghost under there!!!!!!!"

charlie runs outa the room.

my mom says, "see, don? i told you!"

i look under the bed (olivia says, "i thought you said you were too big, gammy?????").


there, under olivia's bed, right by the headboard, is a black wig, just laying there in a creepy lump. it's part of the twins' imaginative play costumes that they have. and it's doing a very good job of looking creepy and scary!


or maybe it wasn't part of the twins' imaginative play costumes........


maybe it really was.............

a toddle house Christmas

i have only the vaguest of memories of this, but the story has been told and re-told so many times that i feel as if i can recall almost every detail exactly.

one year, when my brother and i were very young, my parents almost screwed up Christmas. which, if you know my parents, that, right there, is impossible to believe. but they say it's true.

what happened is, the weekend before Christmas that year, for some reason nobody can remember, the extended family got together and did Christmas early. when the real Christmas Day rolled around, my parents were like a coupla deer caught in the headlights, totally unprepared.

they realized that they hadn't planned anything for Christmas dinner.

nobody was coming over.

no one can seem to remember whether or not we had gifts to open, but mom says she's certain that she and my dad wouldn't have let that lapse, too. but dad's not so sure......he sorta thinks they gave us all our stuff the weekend before. mom says no way would they have done that and dad says maybe they did. i say, if you screwed up everything else, might as well screw up the gifts, too! :)

in any case, what we had stretching before us was a december 25th with zippo, nada. and when you have december 25th stretching before you with zippo, nada, you suddenly realize that of all the days of the year, december 25th is not the one to have zippo, nada.

my dad got on the phone and started calling every restaurant in town. none of them were open. of course none of them were open. this was the late 1950s, people, and the world still had the good sense to close everything on Christmas.

i don't know what my mom was doing while my dad was on the phone, but she was probably cursing under her breath that my dad had let this happen.

as dad finally got off the phone, utterly defeated, a light bulb went off in somebody's head. nobody can remember whose, but i like to think it was mine........

it had snowed like a gazillion buckets of snow - as Christmases past always had the good sense to do - and so somebody (me) said, "let's go sledding!"

and so, we did.

we piled in the car and drove to the local college, wittenberg, and spent the snowy afternoon tumbling and spilling all over its gentle hills.

we were the only ones there.

on the way home, my dad did what he always does - even to this day - when he has a little time to kill......he took a detour and pointed out to us stuff in town that we already knew was there. (even at age 3 or 4 or whatever i was, i knew better than to say, "daaaaaad..........this is bor-ing!")

as we were meandering here and there, we came to "the toddle house restaurant" and saw a lone cop car in the parking lot. a light was on inside.

we went in.

yes, the toddle house was open - i guess somebody's gotta be open, to feed the cops - and so, we took our places behind the counter, next to the cop, and we dined on Christmas Day on cheeseburgers and fries.


which, when you get right down to it, was a perfect way to mark the day that nothing was open for mary and joseph, either. nothing, that is, except a rackety manger that probably had a shaky little toddle of its own.


so, yeah. i learned a lot that Christmas - all of it, important.


and i hope, by reading this story, that you have, too.

how to make candy

i don't know because i've never done it. as far as i'm concerned, you don't make it - you buy it.

my motto about buying it instead of making it doesn't apply just to candy. it pretty much carries over into every aspect of my life. my motto is, if there's someone you can pay to do it, pay 'em to do it.

and i'm not a cheapskate when i pay 'em, either. if i'm gonna buy candy, which i hardly ever do but at Christmas it practically seems mandatory, then i'm gonna at the very least buy godiva. none of this whitman's sampler nonsense.

speaking of whitman's sampler, the woman who cuts my hair told me this week that she's going to a white elephant gift exchange and she found this ginormous box of whitman's sampler candies at t.j. maxx or somewhere like that. she said it's so big that she almost couldn't fit it in her car. i'm not sure what kind of car she drives, but dang......that is some. box. of. candy!

she said it's so big, it's funny, which is why she thought it would be perfect for a white elephant exchange.

and, when you think about it, i guess it really does makes sense to buy something big for an elephant - white or otherwise.

how my dad wraps/how i wrap

a coupla days ago i posted about my dad and how creative he is with his gift wrapping. i'm creative, too!

my creative contribution to the world of holiday wrap comes not in the form of the wrapping itself, per se, but in the tag. for the life of me, my pen will not let me write, "to: (fill in the name) / from: nancy." it just won't let me do it.

take this year, for example:

my parents don't have a computer so they can't read my blog through the year. last year, i had all of my blog posts published in a hardcover book, complete with dust cover. this year, i did it again. and on the tag it says, "to: mom and dad / from: not chaucer."

that kind of thing.

if the gift is mittens or maybe a nice, warm scarf, i'll write: "to (fill in the name) / from: frosty.

something ohio statey? "to: (fill in the name - and it's usually eli) / from: gordon gee. this year, there's something funny under the tree for somebody from jim tressel. sorry, but i just couldn't resist!

one of the things i give abby every year is a calendar. a flat calendar is pretty hard to disguise, unless you wrap it in a box or something, which i don't. so, last year, after i wrapped the calendar and it was a cinch to figure out what it was, i wrote on the tag, "sure. but what kind?"

this year, on her calendar, i wrote, "blah, blah, blah." i mean, after about 20 years of calendars, what else is there to say?

so, in conclusion, i think you can see that my dad and i sort of have the market cornered on the creative gift wrapping department.

"to: dad / from: your chip off the old block."

it's not Christmas - it's Advent.

for most of my life, i have wondered why, when company is coming to stay at our house, we spend lots of time getting ready for their arrival and then, when they actually do arrive, the joy is just beginning whereas with Christmas, we spend all of Advent getting ready for Christmas and then, when Christ - the Savior of the whole wide world - is finally born, it's over.

i remember asking my parents over and over - year in and year out - why dec. 25th isn't the start of the celebration - not the beginning of the end of it.

historically and Biblically speaking, it shouldn't be. historically and Biblically speaking, the 12 days of Christmas should just be getting cranked up - with an eye towards Epiphany - but instead, by dec. 26th (and sometimes even on the night of dec. 25th), you can see people's Christmas trees on the curb.

i happen to have first-hand knowledge that the swedes screw it up even worse than we americans do - december 24th is the pinnacle of Christmas for them. they even think of december 24th as Christmas Day. by the 25th, most swedes are asleep.

it's wrong. period.


and this year,

i'm not going to do it.

the outrage of it!

on my current caseload of 10 clients, i have one welfare mother who bought her kids a 72" flat panel t.v. for Christmas, plus an x-box 360, plus an iPad, plus a bunch of other stuff.

i have 6 kids who qualify for free school breakfasts and all 6 of them eat breakfast at home before they go to school and eat breakfast.

i have 3 who finagled the system so that they received Christmas charity from more than one source. one of those 3 is getting Christmas help from five different agencies.

all of this should bother you and me and all of it probably does.

however.

this year, i have decided to look in the mirror. i have decided to see if there is a plank in my eye. guess what? there is.

no, there's no plank of ripping people off in my eye. i don't do that. honest, i don't.

but there is a plank - a pretty gigantic one, at that - of thinking i am superior to people who rip people off. and of the two sins - ripping people off or thinking that i am superior because i don't rip people off - well....... i don't think there's any difference. i think they're the same sin - selfishness.

selfishness and pride pretty much go hand-in-hand and while one may take the more blatant form of ripping off the system, the other is just as destructive, if less obvious. mattera fact......my sin might actually be worse, because at least my welfare moms are "out there" with it. whereas i, in my smugness, keep it all silent and to myself.

that is,

until now.

you need to read this.

both of my parents are perfectionists and over-achievers. there has always been a part of me that wished i had been born to a couple of slackers.

but one Christmas, in particular, stands out in my mind as the year that even my dear old dad out-did himself. literally.

it was 1975 and my folks had surprise-arranged for all of us to go to pasadena for the rose bowl, which ohio state was playing in. trying to perfectly surprise-arrange a new year's trip right on the heels of trying to perfectly arrange Christmas was no easy feat......not even for my over-achieving dad.

on top of all those arrangements, he had end-of-the-year business at his business to wrap up. my dad worked for most of his adult life as the president of a small paper company in springfield and sometimes, like at the end of the year, the pressure was incredible.

who knew paper could be so difficult.

that was also the year that my dad tramped all over the buckeye state in search for the perfect leather jacket for my brother.

that damned leather jacket.......


anyway, the saturday after Christmas, which was 2 days before we were scheduled to leave for pasadena, my dad and i woke up especially early and were sharing coffee and breakfast together in the family room, when suddenly, out of nowhere, he got up and left the room.

don't ask me how, but i knew something was wrong. i knew it.

i followed him up the stairs and asked him what was wrong.

"nothing's wrong," he said, "i'm just going to the bathroom."

"why don't you just use the bathroom downstairs?"

"i dunno."

"you always use the bathroom downstairs."

"i dunno."


an hour later, i found him sprawled on his bed, in nothing but his underwear. be. lieve. me................my conservative dad does not sprawl on his bed in nothing but his underwear. to tell you the truth, he doesn't sprawl at all - he's always too busy doing something perfectly.

"dad????" i said, panicky.

no answer.

"DAD????!!!!!!"

no answer.


i checked to see if he was alive. he was. praise God.

i ran to the basement, where my mom was busy ironing clothes in preparation for the trip.

"mom! come quick! something's wrong with dad!"


(i will never forget the sound of that iron dropping on the hard basement floor.)


mom and i ran back upstairs and my brother soon joined us in our parents' room. my dad was out of it. he was out of it. no response, no nothin.' he must have had a stroke.

my mom picked up the phone and called our family doctor, who dashed right over to our house. (i know, right?)


we all 3 waited outside the room, as the doctor instructed us to do, while he examined my dad.

i will never forget the sound of my heart pounding out of my chest.


pretty soon, dr. anton came out into the hallway and said.........

"he's

going

to

be

fine.

he's

o

k."


the diagnosis? too much perfection, too much over-achieving. my dad couldn't take it any more and so, instead of having a heart attack or a stroke, his brain checked out. it totally checked out.

and it remained checked out for the rest of that day. by evening, he was beginning to "come to," and by the next day, he was fine.

to this day, he doesn't remember that one.


but what he does remember - what we all remember - is that no trip, no Christmas, no business, no jacket, no nothin' is worth all that.


so, yes..........

even though i am not done with every last detail..........

i'm done.

it is sufficient.

it's good.


merry Christmas, everyone.

10 things you didn't know about wrapping

1. my dad is thee best Christmas present wrapper ever.
2. he actually measures - with a ruler. and he cuts - not like a knife, but with a knife. perfectly clean edges!
3. he makes his bows. he went into hallmark one year and pretty much gave them a tutorial. not sure how much they appreciated it, but he did it anyway.
4. he uses things from nature - even before nature was cool. things like bits of bark and berries and dried queen anne's lace. he used dried orange peel once, along with some cinnamon sticks. i'm not sure that present ever got opened cuz we were all too busy oohing and ahhing over dad's creation.
5. every now and then, he'll let the store wrap a gift. he always chooses the fanciest, most elegant wrap theme. stuff like foil and big, glossy bows. it is the diametric opposite of how he wraps his own gifts and i always look forward to it. it gives me a little insight into how my dear old dad ticks.
6. he avoids gift bags. not enough creativity, he says. and he's right. gift bags are easy, but they're not creative. you know that rule of thumb about what makes a good children's toy? the rule of thumb is, if 99% of the play is in the toy, it's a bad toy, whereas, if 99% of the play is in the kid, it's a good one. well, that's what my dad thinks about gift bags......99% of the creativity is in the bag, not in the bagger. actually, it's more like 100%.
7. my dad loves to hide his gifts in places that go along with what the gift is. the year i got my easy bake oven, he hid it in........what else.......the oven! only problem with that was, after cleaning up all the mess from opening up Christmas gifts, he still had an easy bake oven to assemble!
8. my dad, who has always loved trains, proposed to my mom on Christmas. he told her that he had intended to buy her an engagement ring but he ended up spending all of his money on a lionel train that he simply couldn't resist. was she mad? oh, yeah, baby........until she discovered a diamond in the coal car.  :)
9. if you think my dad is a good Christmas present wrapper, you should see how he decorates the tree.
10. which reminds me.......abby and eli's Christmas card this year says, "if you think our hands are full, you should see our hearts."

no, virginia, there is not a PTSD

post traumatic santa disorder, that is.

no, virginia. there isn't one.


wouldn't you think that after how many years of lying to your kids about the whole santa/north pole/reindeer/chimney thing, that once they find out it's a big lie, they'd freak out? but they don't.

in all my years of being a clinical social worker, i have never once - zip, nada - worked with a kid who was traumatized by finding out that santa isn't real. a kid calling another kid reindeer names can scar him for life, but finding out that the big man in red is really your dad who ducked out on december 24th to run to the corner drugstore to get you a bunch of fun junk to put in your stocking doesn't propel you into traumatized depression.

why not?

maybe it's because the experts who keep telling us that kids who watch too much t.v. (or at least, the wrong kind of t.v.) will turn out to be serial killers don't know what the hell they're talkin' about.

maybe it's because you can read a kid a fairy tale and despite what the library experts and the national organization for women say, the kid ends up recognizing that it's. a. fairy. tale. - not the God's honest truth.

maybe the reason kids' whole rest of their lives don't get flushed down the toilet once they find out there's no santa claus is because kids play pretend all. the. time. it's in their dna. just the other day, charlie and olivia turned my torso into a ski jump. yes. they. did. (ouch!)

maybe it's because they have an i.mag.in.a.tion.

imagine that.


whatever the reason, no kid on earth has ever run screaming to a therapist because he found out there's no santa claus. 

no, virginia, there is not a PTSD.

there's no PTCPD (post traumatic chia pet disorder), either. (although for the life of me, i can't figure out why not.)

Christmas gifts NOT on sale

for all of my life, i have searched for only Christmas gifts not on sale. it seemed rude to me to buy somebody something cheap. i avoided sale items like the plague.

i still do, but it's becoming very hard to do in this everything-is-on-sale-all-the-time world that we live in. which translates to nothing-is-on-sale-ever. (you do understand that, don't you?)

i walked into a store yesterday and asked the clerk if there was anything not on sale.

"excuse me?" she said.

"not on sale. got anything?" i asked.

"well..........."

"full price. no markdowns. got anything?"

"um..........."

"ok, how about this: how about you take the price of something i like and mark it up?"

she flatlined.



the woman who cuts my hair says she always leaves the price tags on the stuff she gives people cuz she wants them to know how damned much money she spends! she was remarking the other day about how tough it is to find price tags that appear expensive enough.

"i know what you mean, sista!" i exclaimed.

"good," she said. "then you won't mind when i tell you that the price of my haircuts has gone up."

stuff in my coffee? yes. but only at Christmas. really. i promise.

i take my coffee black. full throttle, no sissy stir-ins.

however........for the past few Christmases, i have developed a frightening habit........i drink it with cream. CREAM! and that's not all.......

i am becoming addicted. ad. dict. ed. (there. i said it.)

as with most addictions, i started small. one little drop of nestle's coffee-mate at a friend's Christmas party. two little drops at the next party. ten by Christmas Eve.

i am now up to "i'll have a little coffee with my cream, please." (there. i said it.)

yesterday, i ordered a peppermint mocha at starbucks (a place i usually avoid, but when you need a drink, you need a drink). i at least had the good sense to order the "skinny" version. i'm not that far gone.

but i'm on my way. i know the signs. a furtive glance to my left and my right before i snatch the caramel macchiato from the dairy case. telling the clerk at speedway that the "chocolate cupcake" (i am not making that up......go to a speedway and see for yourself!) cappuccino is "just a black coffee."

"accidentally" spilling half the bottle into the cup.


i have a good friend - linda. and linda likes to drink bailey's irish cream in her coffee. but. only. at. Christmas.


yeah, right, linda.

yeah. i'm on my soapbox again.

i have said this before and i have offended plenty of people before (which reveals much more about them than it does about me) but why in the world, if you are not a serious Christian, do you celebrate Christmas? doesn't that bother you?

it bothers me.

i do not celebrate hanukkah. i do not celebrate ramadan. i do not celebrate any religion's holidays except my own religion's holidays. where's the rocket science in that?

i would feel so, so..... so i don't know what if i knocked out haunukkah just so i could scoop up some delicious potato latkes and a gift for 8 nights in a row.

the fact that Christmas is such a dominant holiday in our culture is not a good justification for your decision to celebrate it if you don't believe it. or, more to the point,  if you don't practice it. like your mother used to say, "if everyone was jumping off a bridge, would you do that, too?"

in your defense, i can understand completely how you were raised and steeped in a Christmas-celebrating tradition and i can hardly fault you for how you were raised.

but i can fault you for now.

and i do.

in this i-am-offended-by-everything-everybody-does culture, let me add my offense to the heap:

i am offended that you cheapen my Lord with your $50 sweater from Gap.

which you have no intention whatsoever of wearing to church.

one big long hallway

there's an old elementary school in columbus that is just one big long hallway, period. it's the strangest thing i've ever seen, but i like it.

it's one big long hallway, with all of the classrooms off of it. the gym, the library, the music room, and the office are off of the one big long hallway, too. totally weird. usually there's at least one other hallway sticking out somewhere.

the other cool thing about this school is, along the back of the school, running the entire length (width?) of the building are woods. all of the rooms have lots and lots of windows (not true in modern buildings), and so the view from the rooms on that side of the hallway is stunning. especially at this time of year when all the trees are bare. i love bare trees. not that i don't like trees with leaves, cuz i do so don't accuse me of being prejudiced against trees.

even the view from the rooms on the other side of the hallway is pretty good because the genius who designed this building put interior windows on both sides of the hallway, which means that you can look from one classroom across the hall into the other and from there, out the window. and so, you can see the woods no matter where you are! genius!

walking from one end of this building to the other takes about 3 minutes, which is probably a design flaw right there, except not in the kids' minds. the kids love being able to stretch a thirty second walk to the office to 3 minutes and not get into trouble for it.

the additional benefit to a school being designed like this is the automatic, built-in exercise that it provides. the solution to obese kids in america is one big long hallway.

provided, of course, they can stop looking at the woods long enough to walk it.

stupid purses with two straps!

there is no reason for purses and bags to have two straps. except for maybe if you break one, then you still have one left, but if you go around with a one-strap-broken purse, i feel sorry for you.

i hate two-strapped purses but it is practically impossible to find them with just one. i say, gimme one strap and knock 5 bucks off the price of the purse!

two straps are forever getting tangled up in something. usually, my hands. i hate two-strapped purses.

my brother bought me a coach purse one year for Christmas.....when we were just kids.....i mean, maybe he was in college, but still. where on earth did he get the money to buy me a coach purse? i loved that purse - for many reasons - but mostly because, you guessed it, it only had one strap. what's weird is, you gotta pay the prices that coach wants you to pay in order to get only one strap.

there's something wrong with the world.

anyway.......

if you're out and about and you happen to see a purse that only has one strap, do yourself a favor and buy it.

better yet, do me a favor and buy it.

it is Christmas, you know.

:)

catholics are weird

catholics are weird. here's proof:

• i can't understand the layout of the missal. granted, i'm a convert, but it's been 21 years since i converted and you'd think by now i would understand the layout of the missal but i don't. this does not make me weird, it makes catholics weird.
• they can't do potlucks worth a damn. last night is a prime example.....i went to a potluck at my church sponsored by the k of c. ok, so right off the bat, right, you figure there's gonna be food. and beer. well, negatory to the latter and not much more than negatory to the former......would you believe that i was practically the only one who brought food????? the k of c cooked a ham and some macaroni and those cheesy church potatoes that're mandatory at every church's potluck - even at weird catholic potlucks. they also had a thingie-do of corn (looked to me like they opened the cans and dumped out the corn, period). somebody brought a salad and somebody brought, i kid you not, half a container of what looked like leftover ham salad. catholics are weird.
• father lutz ate his macaroni and cheese out of a paper cup. wt?
• i sat at a table with three women and one man in a wheelchair. i didn't know any of them, but that was the whole point of my being there - to meet people. (well, that and eat. but as we have already established, eating isn't top on the list at a catholic potluck.)
• ok, so i sat at a table with three women and one man in a wheelchair and it was bizarre. those four folks took "catholics are weird" and ran with it!
• one of the women was named "r." or maybe it was "are." or maybe "rrrr." either way, it was easy to (r)emember. the other lady was "t." i kid you not! when t introduced herself, right after r did, i about fell outa my chair, which, by the way, was wobbly. not that there was anything surprising about that.
• so, ok, we've got r and we've got t and that's not even the best part......the third woman was half-toothless and she grinned an insipid grin the whole night. she just grinned! never said a word! and, as if that wasn't bad enough, get this.......her name was "boots." boots! what the hell is wrong with these people????? i mean, right????
• but the icing on the cake - practically literally - was the man in the wheelchair. the man in the wheelchair is married to r and that's a damned shame because let. me. tell. you........he was so gorgeous i about died.
• now, i don't mean to be insensitive or unkind or anything lawsuit-worthy like that, but this guy was gorgeous and...... how often do you see gorgeous people in a wheelchair? i mean, think about it.......you just don't. i don't know why that is, but it's true. i mean, isn't it? for some God-only-knows-why reason, people in wheelchairs are usually not all that attractive. i mean, can we talk?
• anyway, mr. cross-between-robert-goulet-and-brad-pitt was thee most normal (which, grasp the irony in that, right?) person in the whole place last night. he had a normal name - mark - and he had all his teeth. he spoke to me in a reasonable tone of voice and he asked me reasonable questions. like, how long have you been attending holy family, nancy and what do you do for a living. nor. mal.
• he must be a convert, too.

how they do it

since abby and eli don't seem to be writing the book, i guess i will. well, the blog - i'll write the blog:

those two, as i have said before, are amazing. once you see them in action with twins and triplets, you need never again doubt the existence of God. if His hand isn't in the middle of all this, i don't know whose is.

examples:

• they turn down the covers for the twins prior to nap and prior to bedtime. they light a little light and close the curtains/blinds so that when the twins walk into their rooms, it is a cozy oasis just begging for someone to snuggle into and fall asleep. if you can walk into those rooms and stay awake, there's something wrong with you. and melatonin's probably not gonna fix it.
• everything is laid out where it's supposed to be. not where it's not supposed to be.......where it's supposed to be.
• the house is lovingly and beautifully decorated for Christmas.
• the twins' playroom has switched over from thanksgiving to Christmas and the books and play materials reflect that.
• charlie had an accident the other day - the bad kind - and his dad helped him clean up. nothing too surprising about that, but dad also sang a boisterous, funny, making-it-up-as-he-went-along song about "never gonna have a b.m. in my pants again, old chum!"
• each day, there is another Christmas surprise tucked somewhere in the house for the twins to find. a couple of days ago, it was a box of tiny candy canes, hidden in their play kitchen. no sense waiting for Christmas Day to have a glow in your eyes!
• abby and eli keep track of the results of every diaper change and every feeding in a notebook especially for that purpose. it's good info to have in case somebody ends up not feeling well or to tell the pediatrician. not to mention it helps mom and dad remember who had how much on which feeding.
• despite having two and a half month-old triplets, today is the birthday party for the twins, who will turn 3 on the 12th. everyone's piling into the van to go to "the little gym at polaris" for some frolicking good times. does it matter that they will have to lug food and cake and diaper bags and more diaper bags and more diaper bags? no, it does not. what matters is, it's the twins' birthday party, for pete's sake, and why should anything stand in the way of that?

and that, right there, is pretty much the secret, i think, of how abby and eli manage this zoo of theirs with such aplomb......why should anything stand in the way of it?

nothing does.

and nothing ever will.

because something stands in the middle of it.

well, someone.


i'll let you figure out who.