I Think I Might Be On The Naughty List

It's Christmas Eve Eve and I think I might have made The Naughty List.

Not because I keep forgetting to purchase my step-dad his annual boxes of chocolate covered cherries. Not because I have not bothered to put up a Christmas tree. Not even because I have had hateful thought's about one of my little brother's exes. I doubt I will be on it for breaking my promise to blog something everyday from October 3rd until the end of the year.

I will be on The Naughty List because I'm sick of Christmas! I am just Christmas-ed out.

I really haven't had much time to do anything but eat, sleep and work for the last several weeks. I barely got my Christmas shopping done. Granted Santa will be leaving gifts under the Direct TV Pay-Per-View Fireplace this year, but it's done. Hey, take what you can get!

I really haven't had any Christmas Spirit this year. So little, I am certain I will soon be visited by three spirits.

When I was a kid, the Christmas season began the Friday after Thanksgiving. And not a moment sooner.

Every store would actually close for the Thanksgiving holiday. If you found a quick mart open on Thanksgiving, you were lucky. There was not a Christmas tree, garland or light string in sight. Then magically, the mall would transform overnight with balls and trees and fake snow and animatronic reigndeer. Santa would parachute into the parking lot at Eastwood Mall on the morning of Black Friday, fling open the mall doors and Christmas shopping would commence.

Now you can buy your pool floaties and sunblock on one side of the shopping aisle and your Christmas decorations on the other. By the time Christmas actually arrives, I am sick of it.

Studies show that suicides increase between Thanksgiving and Christmas and I am pretty certain I know the cause. Non-stop Christmas music. Is it really necessary to play "Feliz Navidad" every hour, on the hour?

When I was in high school, until I was about 22, I worked for a drug/grocery store. The constant barrage of Christmas music during an average shift was enough to make the sanest person consider murder. There is a particular instrumental version of "Sleigh Ride" that triggers a montage of frenzied shopping memories, that my brain prefers to play at super-high speed to match the pizzicato tempo of the strings. Somthing about that song always makes me feel the need to hurry. (Perhaps because the lyrics keep saying "Giddy up, giddy up..." I don't know, maybe?) It also reminds me of the infamous shower scene from "Pyscho."

Another thing that always seem to amaze me is the way that people change during this time of the year. People who are normally, well, normal, become the rudest, most selfish, self-absorbed, greedy folks on the planet! Just a week ago, I witnessed a fight between two people over, of all things, a parking spot at the mall. Yes, an actual yelling, cussing, hair-pulling match between two people vying for the same parking spot. Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men, indeed!

I am also amazed over what people "want" for Christmas. And how much they "want." And how much people seem to think they should be getting for Christmas, and the crazy people who think they need to buy everything anyone asks for. So much for a gift being from the heart.

Listen people: CHRISTmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. In honor of His birthday, we give each other gifts, but if you read the Biblical account, Jesus only received three gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. If three gifts was good enough for the King of Kings, that should be good enough for everyone else!

In order to help my children understand that true meaning of Christmas, curb materialism, selfishness, and greed (all while stemming the tide of excessive, unnecessary crap) we adopted what we affectionately call "The Jesus Rule."

As you know, we are a blended family, divorced and remarried with divorced and remarried parents. All of my children have four sets of grandparents, and until recently, several living great-grandparents (sadly, this Christmas, we are down to only one, my grandmother). They recieved gifts from everyone. We looked like a collection site for Toys for Tots. There were some years that some gifts that were opened, brought home and never saw the light of day again. It was obvious that some family members took the "buy their affection" route, because they seemed to buy the most gifts. Sorry, money doesn't make up for lousy parenting. And the children know that now.

I don't remember who might have actually planted the idea of limiting Christmas to three gifts, but I do remember the first time Julz heard the idea. She was only 7 or 8, but when I said "three gifts were good enough for the King of Kings," she didn't miss a beat reminding us that "one of them was gold!" (so much for curbing materialism).

Then there is "Dirty/Greedy Santa." What masochistic jerk came up with this little jewel?!
I had never heard of this game until I married my current husband. My family didn't (and still doesn't) "play" this heinous "game," but it is a family tradition for my husband's. The reactions can be funny, but this "game" is far from fun. I have been told that this is how we are expected to exchange gifts. If you want me to have a gift, buy me a gift. Don't buy something that you think I might like then hope, after wresting over it with everyone else in the room, that I end up with it. Also don't expect me to use my hard-earned money to buy something that might be a nice gift, only to watch the disappointed look on the face of the "recipent." To add injury to insult, I am later told that they will be giving said gift away in the "Dirty Santa" game they will be playing the following Saturday. I personally haven't "played" in years, but after buying a gift to be given away somewhere else for the third year in a row, none of us will be playing anymore. My money is best spent elsewhere.

I wonder what Jesus would have thought if the wise men had made Him play "Dirty Santa" for His gifts?

Keeping It Classy

In the week since Auburn won the 2010 Iron Bowl over in-state rival Alabama, I've heard nothing but how "classy" the Bama fans were and how classless the Auburn fans had been.

Never mind that someone played some unathorized music over the public address system during pregame warm ups, obviousley directed at Auburn quarterback Cam Newton.

Then news broke Thursday, that Alabama quarterback Greg McElroy was one of the top five finalist for Wooden Citizenship Cup, a great honor for student athletes, named for Coach John Wooden.

I wonder if the committee has seen this exemplary behavior from one of their top finalists.

Classy Greg, real classy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Just a little note to wish you and yours a Happy Thanksgiving!

What am I thankful for? There are not enough words to describe. Thankfully, the Lord knows my heart and the depths of my gratitude.

Take nothing for granted!

~En-JOY!

So This Is What It's Come To

The only three things I've accomplished this weekend is washing a load of clothes, grocery shopping and learning that my husband does not like bald women.

My life has pretty much been reduced to work, eat, sleep.
As I mentioned a few days ago (or maybe a week ago, who knows anymore) I've felt pretty crappy for a while now and really haven't felt much like doing anything.

Saturday, I did absolutely nothing. And I don't feel guilty, not one little bit. Oh, I did get one load of clothes done, so my co-workers will be relieved that I won't be coming to work naked.

I went grocery shopping so now my children, who are out of school all week, will not starve the two days they are home before leaving for "The Hunt Club" for Thanksgiving. I had no desire to spend my four day holiday packing , driving and not showering properly, so I opted to stay home. I actually have some stuff I'd like to get done at the house. Thankfully, Darling hubby has to work Friday, so I won't be alone. Then of course there's the Auburn/Alabama game Friday evening, that I am not allowed to watch, due to my jinx.

G I Jane was on earlier today. Darling Hubby was on the internet, researching new phones for Kit-Kat. I wonder aloud, "I wonder what I would look like bald." Darling Hubby chimes in "I know what you'd look like." Annoyed, I respond "Really? Enlighten me" "Sure," he chuckles, "you'd look single." This from a man who shaves his head.

So this is what it's come to.
Another lazy Sunday.

This Must Be Writer's Block

Currently, I have so many things that I want to write on that I can't settle on just one topic or how to get started! As a result, I've gone three days without writting a single word.



Here are just a few random thoughts over the past few days

I really need a haircut. You know you are in need of a haircut when you pull your bangs back with a 2 inch binder clip from your desk. Sad part is, until I mentioned it on FB, very few people noticed.

I (heart) the TSA! True, I haven't flown since 9-11 but if I ever do, I want everyone on my plane to be screened. Everyone. There is a whole lot of flap in the news about passengers feeling "violated" by the process and filing suit against TSA screeners. I wonder how violated they would feel should some terrorist make it onto their plane with a tampon bomb? (Of course, then they would file suit against the TSA screeners for NOT catching that.) If it keeps my plane in the air, I will start traveling in a bikini and flip flops to speed the process along. Scan me baby!

Auburn is currently #2 on the BCS poll. Nevermind that they are more undefeated than anyone else in the poll (Currently 11-0 while everyone else is still lagging back at 10-0) Strength of schedule my foot! Well at least we are the SEC West Champions! War Eagle!

Ticket pricing for the SEC Championship are ridiculous. I have convinced darling hubby that he can watch at home, for free, and enjoy nice food, and pause the game to go to the loo. Ditto sentiment on the BCS Championship should we be so lucky.

The Home Ec Baby

One weekend, not to long ago, we had a new edition to our family...The Home Ec Baby.
As the instruction sheet pointed out, she was also known as Baby Think It Over II.
We had anticipated The Home Ec Baby's arrival for a little over a week and when she came home, I, being the proud grandparent that I am, took this photo. Kit-Kat "named" her Skylar.



Skylar came with a wristband, resembling a Swatch, that the Home Ec teacher attached to Kit-Kat's wrist at school. The electronic wristband identified Kit-Kat to Skylar as her parent. Because it was tamperproof, much like the hospital identity bands, only Kit-Kat could wear it , so only Kit-Kat could care for her.

That concept began to wear on Kit-Kat not long after she got home. Yeah, that is Kit-Kat on the phone while "feeding" Skylar.

As Skylar became more needy during dinner, Kit-Kat came up with a creative way to make sure she could give Skylar her bottle and still eat herself. Yes, that is one of my toning sandals.

Apparently, Kit-Kat had a long night because in the morning, she begged for coffee. Okay, it's a frappuccino, but coffee just the same.

The second day started to go a little smoother, as Kit-Kat dutifully attended to Skylar's needs and recorded them on the sheet. She even dressed her in an old tee-shirt that was her own when she was a toddler.

By Sunday, she was such a pro,

that we decided to venture from the house, and carry the "baby" out in public. So we loaded up the car seat,

and headed over to Nunie's. We took this "four generation" photo for fun.

Surprisingly, during the trip to the store that followed, no one batted an eye as we passed through with Skylar in our buggy.

The next day, as Kit-Kat carried Skylar back to school, I couldn't help but be a little sad. Sklyar was that first taste of being a grandmother I had been talking about. But my desire to be a grandmother like my friends did not over-ride common sense. Kit-Kat is 15. She will be a mommy in due time, but not anytime soon and I hope the weekend cemented the idea that parenting is a big responsibility.

When Kit-Kat come home, she missed her too. But she acknowledged that she was not ready to be a real mommy anytime soon.

Veteran's Day!

Happy Veteran's Day!

To all those in all branches of our military, present, past, and passed on.

I am going to repost a blog I originally wrote three years ago, because I don't think I could say it any better today than I did then.

~En-JOY!
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(Repost...originally written & posted on Myspace on date listed below)
Friday, January 12, 2007

Patriotism & Thankfulness

In my previous blogs I've tried to be somewhat comical, but today I'm going to be serious.Given Pres.Bush's recent decision to send more troops to the Middle East, and the apparent terror attack on the US Embassy in Greece, I thought you might need to see another side of me.
My patriotism.

I was born and raised in tiny Leeds, Alabama, a city east of Birmingham just off I-20. Yes, that is also the home of basketball legend, Charles Barkley, ( a really nice guy once you get to know him, as most of us from Leeds do. He truly lives up to his quote "It's not what you have, it's what you give back.") but that is a story for another day.Leeds has been recognized as a City of Valor, having more decorated war veterans than any other city of it's size, in the country. (http://www.leedsalabama.com/consumer.htm)

This distinction includes three Medal of Honor reciepients; Henry "Red" Erwin, Alford Mclaughlin, & William R. Lawley.

Bill Lawley was my grandfather's cousin and a boyhood companion.Read more about him here ( http://click.medalofhonor.com/www.airforcehistory.hq.af.mil/PopTopics/MOH-bios/Lawley.html )

One of my favorite stories of their friendship, was when he accidently shot my grandfather in the leg, while chasing a wounded rabbit. My grandfather carried that bullet the rest of his life. He'd tell the story, then rub our fingers along the side of the bullet, lodged just to the inside of his shin, above his ankle. I always thought it was a funny little story.

I do not recall ever seeing Alford McLaughlin, outside of pictures, but I remember vividly the first time I ever met Red Erwin. Severely burned from a phosphorous bomb, he barely resembled anything human. His face was disfigured, he was missing his nose and an ear and only had two fingers on one hand. When I was small, I was terrified of him. He personified what the boogeyman might actually look like. It was not until I was older, when I learned how he was injured, that I understood and appreciated his sacrifice. When he would come into the store I worked at in high school, I remember he was quiet and kind, and had very nice blue eyes.

In November of 1999, Alabama legislature named Highway 119 "Medal of Honor Highway" and dedicated it to these heroes.(http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y29/hrhjustjoythe1st/MOHhwy.jpg )

Everytime I hear the National Anthem played, I cry a little. Always have. Have you ever noticed that it was written during and about the heat of battle? I am reminded, each time, of Americans that have fought for this country and my freedom.Military families currently top my prayer list.They are what is keeping our military going. So many parents, both mothers and fathers, are currently serving our country. Families having to get by, day to day, with their loved one so far away.

I wonder if they are hurt by some of the things they see other American's saying about the war. The crass, insensitive comment made by John Kerry springs to mind. I know I'm ashamed to admit people like him are Americans too. I wonder if he thinks about that when he hears the National Anthem.

If freedom was something that everyone had to work for, like a salary, do you think that we'd appreciate it a little more?

The Lawley family boasts a long line of military service: not only my grandfather, but all his brothers, my father, and brother as well. My husband's family has a rich military history also.My husband, his father, an uncle and both grandfather's also served our country. I am certain they followed the example of generations before them, who felt it was not only a duty, but an honor.This dedication to service is also found in the families of my friends. My best friend's father lost his leg in Vietnam, before she was born. Even though I see him often, I can't begin to imagine what that was like.Cyndi has never known him any other way.

Cyndi, Darling Hubby, Me...we all learned early on, what is probably the most valuable lesson any American could learn: our freedom isn't free.I take a lot of things for granted in my life, but that fact is not one of them. I wonder if the war protesters realize that they have the right to assemble freely and protest, because someone died for it? Or may die for it tomorrow.

I have friends in all branches of service, all across the globe. Some are in harms way as you read this. Some are unpacking from their assignments, some are packing for deployment.Cyndi's little brother Sean will soon be deployed to his second tour of duty in the Middle East. Here at home are his wife and three small boys, ages 6,4 and the youngest nearly 2.Over Christmas, we talked about his first tour. He told me about not being able to shower for nearly two months; having to burn their clothes because of a possible bio-threat; sand in everything; the unimaginable heat and the surprising cold; going for weeks with no mail, then getting a month's worth all at once. He was different from the person I used to know. Harder somehow. As he spoke, it was all I could do not to cry and grab him and hug him and tell him thank you, over and over again.

I know that there are people right now, boarding buses somewhere with their little signs, to go and demonstrate about Pres. Bush's latest decision. And that is all well and good for them.But I challenge them to use just a portion of that energy to say "thank you" to someone preserving that freedom of speech.

As for my family from Moody,AL, we would like to say THANK YOU to our military personnel. We are praying for you as you serve.