Things Unseen - Why to Believe, and Why to Push It

It isn't just that I've had a couple of gin & sodas. It isn't just that it's The Holidays. It isn't that my good friend who really couldn't afford it footed my bill at the bar, or that by some weird God-related coincidence some random weird guy at the bar knew that this entire day swirled around and came back to It's a Wonderful Life and referenced it to me. It isn't because I am a spoiled brat and throw a lot of fits. Even if all of those things are true, that's not what it is.

What it really is, is that It Matters. No matter how much I feel like in any given moment, that it doesn't matter what I do, what I say, who I see or talk to, it really does matter. Just like if George Bailey had never been there for Mr. Gower, you never know when just being there matters the most. And you never can tell how the one time you made cookies with somebody, or read them a book, or made them watch a ridiculous Christmas movie, could be something So Big in their lives that they never fully recover.

Tonight I was feeling sorry for myself after sending my kids off to their dad's house for a Christmas celebration, and then I got into an argument with kids that aren't mine about Santa Claus and Christmas and believing. Even my own kids chastised me this holiday season about being too relentless with the Christmas Movies and the Christmas Music and TRADITION. Other kids think I am just plain nuts in my Santa Claus dogma.

I don't know how to say all of the feelings in my heart. All of the frustration for the 8 year old who tells me Santa Claus is a lie, because his parents believe in the importance of  teaching him to thank them for the presents they paid for. Or because perhaps they are afraid that as he grows older he will think that his parents lied to him about a mythical being. Or the 17 year old who doesn't even the know the name of Santa's reindeer because no one ever bothered to tell him. I probably sound petty when I say that it seems horrific to meet someone who has never seen White Christmas or Holiday Inn, or who has never laid awake all night listening for reindeer hooves on the roof of their house.

What baffles me is how you can expect your child to believe in a God that you cannot see or hear but banish so completely the wonder and faith of believing in Santa Claus. If there is anything of value that we can give our kids, it has to be the richness of believing in what we cannot touch or see. It has to be the mystery of Christmas Eve and the wonder of Christmas morning.

Years ago, as I slogged through the mess of my own spirituality in the wreckage of my soul as I was living in a hell on earth, I wrote a poem for my mother. It was shortly after my Grandma had passed away, the Grandma who had told me stories of brownie kiss freckles, mermaids at Twin Rocks on the Oregon Coast, and stories of fairies dancing in the ferns around Multnomah Falls. She told me the legend of The Bridge of The Gods, the ancient Klickitat brothers who fought over a fair maiden and wreaked havoc on the villages and lands of their people, ultimately destroying the naturally formed bridge over the Columbia River. In Punishment, their father, the Great Chief, struck all three down and they became the mountains: Adams, Hood and St. Helens, standing as mournful sentinels of caution to the native people. My grandma, with all of these stories, taught me faith in ages that have gone by before me, belief in knowledge that can not possibly be proven, and she is the reason I will always love, and always believe in Santa Claus, and even more, God. Don't tell me that there is an unseen world but that you are the only one with accurate information about it, according to your badly translated book of stories.

Christianity is in such an all-fired hurry to shun traditions and legends that originate before the advent of Jesus, because of their "pagan" roots - which interestingly, are ALL of our roots. There is history before Christ, y'all. Deal with it. There were miracles and mystics, and if God is yesterday, today and always, then most likely he was hanging out with the pagans before Jesus wandered along. Our little box of religion that is a few thousand years old puts a lot of limits on an omnipotent God, who, incidentally created all of the cultures behind all of the legends and stories and mysteries.

Here is the poem I wrote, and the belief that I feel compelled to share with my children and any others that I come into contact with. Because this is faith. Because it probably matters. Because I think my grandma had it figured out.

I believe in things unseen

In brownie kisses and faerie rings

I believe in gnomes and elves

And pixies that disguise themselves

I believe in sprites and nymphs

Mermaids and mischievous imps

Little things we never see

That hide in toadstools, rocks and trees

I believe there is a world

Of unseen things as we’ve been told

With lots of different creatures there

Irksome ones, and some that care

Now I think I understand

Why Grandma told me faerieland

Was not something I had to see

But trust my heart and it could be

Although this world I cannot see

I know it is as real as me

This trust has grown throughout the years

Throughout the joy and all the tears

And things unseen have grown beyond

Faeries dancing on the lawn

To faith in God and heaven above

And giving unconditional love

for Grandma Schiffman, 1997

Things About Doing Veteran's Day

I was supposed to substitute teach today, but the teacher I was subbing for actually didn't have the training he thought he did, so when I showed up, you can imagine the awkward conversation that ensued about how much he didn't need me to be him.

So I came home feeling a bit lost and also a bit disappointed that I no longer had a good excuse for avoiding the Eternal Plague of Unattended Things here at my house. After a few minutes of staring at Facebook, wherein are found all of the answers to life problems, I dug into the pile of severely neglected stuff and tackled it, all the while thinking there must be a better way to occupy my mind than long wait times on the phone for insurance issues, googling green chile mac n' cheese recipes and pretending to balance my checkbook. (Is that even a thing anymore?)

Wednesday is Veteran's Day. Originally, the holiday began as Armistice Day at the end of World War I, but evolved over time into a day set aside to honor all United States soldiers, men and women who have served, at home and abroad, throughout history. Commonly confused with Memorial Day, the distinction lies in the recognition of every service member on Veteran's Day, vs. the fallen heroes we honor on Memorial Day. It made me start to wonder if there was a more tangible way to do this than posting a flag-themed meme on FB and saying something nice and poetic.

But there is a more tangible way. Several, in fact, beginning with the simple act of a personal thank you to the veterans that you meet all day long. There are 23.2 million veterans living in the United States today. That is SO many. That means you can't get far without tripping over one of them. Tell them you see them, and tell them thank you. I personally have many friends on social media who have served. A private message to them holds a little more weight than a meme.

My friend Justin Peterson has headed up a program since he was 9 years old, raising money to sponsor military veterans for honor flights to Washington DC every year. Since 2009, Justin has helped to send over 1100 vets to DC. You can help out through his website jp4vets.com or directly at the Inland Northwest Honor Flight  site as well. (Justin takes no overhead/operating costs from his donations, FYI). What better way to recognized their service and sacrifice than by sponsoring an expenses paid trip to the war memorials in the Nation's Capitol.

Many national and local business offer discounted or free meals and services to vets on Veteran's Day. Military.com compiled a list of some of them, which is a great resource for our service members and their families. Additionally, while they might not be making any friends in the easily-offended-christian camps with their generic holiday cups, Starbucks announced an expansion to their college tuition program for veteran employees and their families, and that's a win in my book.

So in case you were confused about what Veteran's Day was supposed to be, other than a federal holiday that is a get out of jail free card from work and school, or in case you have considered DOING something about it...

Korean War Memorial in Washington DC

Things About This Christmas

This is a weird Christmas. It's weird for a lot of reasons, and maybe some that I can't even really explain, but mostly it's weird because it's like three days away and I am not entirely sure what I am doing.

The kids have this Christmas with their dad. It's his turn, and although I am relinquishing them to him, I am doing it grudgingly. Even though on my Christmases with them I whisk them away to the coast and their dad doesn't get to see them at all, I still kind of expect to have them for at least PART of the holiday when they are rightfully his. Because, after all, I am the MOM. But this year, with raised eyebrows and pointed statements, he did insist on his right to keep them the whole time. So I am relatively kidless, which is strange. Christmas without kids is something that I have never experienced. Ever. When I got married, my baby sister was 5, so there have ALWAYS been kids. And now my sister has kids that I can borrow, or show up and crash their Christmas, which I am sure I will do, but as much as I complain about my kids, Christmas without them just plain blows. In fact, most things without them pretty much suck.

Sometimes I am so busy just surviving life with four+ kids that I forget that it is LIFE. And without them it is not. Not that the quiet times when they go away for a few hours isn't a divine intervention into my unraveling sanity, but when they're really gone, it's just... weird.

I realize - no, wait. I have had it pointed out to me, by one of my very astute and possibly bitter children, that I complain about them a lot. "write horrible things about us" was the exact phrase she used. And it made me sad, because really, I never meant to. The "horrible" things are also quite often the funny things to me, and the best way to keep it from being a festering wound that ends unattractively for all of us, I tend to vent in my blog. But I have to remember to vent about the good things. Like Aspen spontaneously scrubbing out the dog water dish when she discovered green algae floating in it. Or Natalee decorating the dogs for the holidays. Or Halle driving to pick up Natalee's friend in what is quite possibly the first errand that one of my children has run for me. HALLELUJAH! Here are the perks of semi-grown children! Driver's licenses! Other good things are when MacKenzie overcomes her will of iron and her pride (both gifts that I bequeathed to her) and tells me she's sorry. And then works on things. And when When quits blaming Aspen for messing things up and voluntarily cleans up Dagny's most recent "accident". These are the good things. Singing the wrong lyrics to pop songs together and playing out soap opera scenarios with the vintage Christmas Candle Angels. Drinking cream soda out of my wine glasses and actually being into old musicals and black and white movies. All these things are good. They are wins. They mean that not only are my children alive so far, they are even COOL. My kids know who Bono is and can categorize Frank Sinatra's musical catalog according to his singing age. They will gladly watch football, hockey, Jimmy Stewart and Peter Paul and Mary. They are quick witted and hilarious. They are independent and curious. They are brave and intelligent. All of them. Even When and my other daughter Amanda. Almost all of them will eat almost anything with minimal complaining, and will try new things. They do their own laundry, and 75% of them even put it away, which is more than I can say.

But back to Christmas. And how weird it is. Because Christmas is Family. And Family is Kids. And Kids are gone. So it's weird. And my sister and her family have Christmas stuff with their other side, and I will probably end up with my adopted kids at the Middlesworths, and it will probably be fine. And fun. But still, weird.

Things That Are Dramatic

You say drama like its a bad thing. You tell me I'm too much drama - and you're damn straight I am. I'm a single mom with four daughters on a shoestring budget. Too many hats and jobs to count, volunteering, dedicating, overloading. Emotions are always high at my house. Even if I was an amoeba there would be drama. If I let the girls walk all over me and didn't get back in their face for the disrespect and insolence they throw at me. If I didn't send my 17 year old to live with her dad there would STILL be drama. The toilet would overflow. The flu would come. The fleas won't stop. And I will tell you about it. Because I am too much drama. 

You know what else is drama? The bald eagle that just dive bombed my windshield. The monster buck that stepped in front of my car out of the mist on Boulder pass. The raging inferno of a forest fire. The mighty Columbia River. All drama. Too much drama. Extremes of hot and cold, gentle and cruel, bad and good. 

Life is drama. Without drama, life is passionless. Blah. Sane? Perhaps. Boring? Absolutely. Without drama there is no passionate love song. No gut-wrenching tear-jerker. Without drama, who cares if some Dude died on a cross, or rose again. Who cares if He was ever born? Who cares about anything? Drama makes the world go 'round. 

The silly mystery of Christmas presents wrapped up in shiny paper is drama. Drawn out traditions and advents and pilgrimages are drama. Hanging on to family memories and paying hundreds of dollars to see loved ones for few days is straight up drama. 

Every bit of my life plays out like the worst soap opera you might imagine. You can't dream this stuff up - but it happens. Every day. Between real people. Silly fights and hopeless romances. Highs and lows. Ins and outs, feuds and alliances. Life ebbs and flows around us and changes and only the most detached are not touched by the pain and the joy and the DRAMA that is LIFE.

Could we stand for less weeping and gnashing of teeth? There's no question. Do I need to talk about every dramatic thing that happens to me? No. But I do, because that's how I deal. If I can't make fun of the drama in my life then it might eat me alive. I can't avoid it - it won't go away. And it's not only because I have terrible taste in husbands and some sort of aversion to gainful employment, it's because I believe in living life - chasing it down and wrestling every bit out of it. Life is short, and full of drama. Good drama, and bad drama, and excitement and grey times. I don't want a day to go by that I haven't seen for every hour that it is worth. I want to wring the life out of each minute, because someday they will all run out, and you never know if the most fun is hiding in the last drop. 

So I will take the drama, and the judgement that comes with it. I will go on living my life and enjoying it, enduring it, hoping it, believing it until the clock runs out. We only get one shot, and I want to make mine worth every second of the drama that it brings. 

Things About Giving (Back)

So, here we are, 17 "shopping" days to go, and while I am sure that there are some of you that are far more responsible than I am, and have all of your Christmas Gifts already wrapped and under the tree, those of us who have been accidentally holding out for the just right thing might be stuck between a rock and a Walmart. God Forbid.

Shopping online is easy, fast, and you can find WAY cooler stuff that Wally world offers. I know that we already missed (on purpose) Cyber Monday, but most places online still have a few days left before it's too late to ship by Christmas. With all of those options, and assuming that you, like me, have no where local to shop, other than Walmart (God Forbid), here is something to consider: I have found that all of the cool things that I pine for online can usually be found at a site that gives back to the global community. Sometimes these are small businesses, sometimes they are charitable organizations. But if you're gonna spend online, why not make it count twice, right? So here are some of my favorite online places to shop, and some of the coolest stuff you can find... and incidentally, I know if I post these links, the ads on my blog will correspond. And that is awesome. 

1) SEVENLY . This place is the bomb. Each week they feature a new 7 day "campaign", where $7 for each item sold goes to a specific charity or organization. I have done some research into the company itself as well as the charities it supports, and you guys, it's legit. It is staffed by volunteers, so shipping is historically sporadic, but during the holiday season they have ramped up and introduced a 1-2-3 shipping policy, where Day 1 you order, Day 2 they process, Day 3 item ships. Which means you've got a few more days to get your order in before Christmas. They have a slew of awesome t-shirts themed around the movements they support, including Autism Speaks, Mercy Ships, and Show Hope, this week's campaign, supporting US adoptions for orphans in Asia. As if all of that wasn't enough, you can also buy really really awesome products from companies like Krochet Kids, who provide work to impoverished families in Uganda and Peru, to produce one of a kind crocheted goods. I have this hat. It is RAD. 

 They also sell Giving Keys, which make really cool gifts-that-keep-on-giving, and Pendleton throw pillow covers. Need I say more? Sevenly is an amazing way to get your holiday shopping done AND give back.

2) Bravelets.com - this website is pretty awesome too. For almost any cause you can imagine, you can order a very cool looking bracelet and $10 of the cost goes to the cause of your choice. You can even set up your own cause... one that is near and dear to me is the Wildland Firefighter Foundation, so I ordered the braided leather bracelet, knowing $10 went straight to WFF. And I love bracelets. Especially cool ones that mean something. Who can't stand a little reminder to "be brave"? I know I can.

3) TOMS.com - talk about writing the book on charitable spending, Toms might be one of the best examples of how to do it. Not only is all of their stuff RAD, as in, I want it all, but for every single THING you buy, they give one to a child in need - all over the world. I mean, how cool is that? And oh, by the way, they have coffee now. WHAT???? BRB, got some shopping to do. 

4) OK, so this one isn't a charitable organization, per se, but it is a very small business, and they sell SO MUCH COOL STUFF, including Krochet Kids knits, and other fair trade, locally sourced stuff. I found Pulp & Circumstance when I had a few hours to kill in the cute little town of Newberg Oregon. I could have spent hours in there. And then I found their website. I have been hanging out on there A LOT. Although I haven't ordered yet, this is the first thing in my cart:

I know that there a lot more amazing places to shop online, with a little bit of looking, and maybe the extra bucks you spend count for extra Holiday Goodness because you know they are well spent. I could keep posting all night, but honestly I got distracted by all of my cool links and need to go back to my browsing. 

Things I Declare

In the spirit of National Fail At Life Week, I totally bombed on my NaBloMo commitment to post every single day in the month of November. (Sorry, Amaia.) Arguably, this can be overcompensated for by multiple daily blog posts between now and the end of the month, but in the words of that immortal philosopher, Thumper, "if you can't say something nice..." And I just haven't had many nice words.

Until today.

Maybe it was the triumph of finally, if ineffectively, grounding an insolent 17 year old. Or letting go of sleep depriving nightmares about things that ultimately, are out of my control, no matter which option I take. Maybe it was stepping up to the plate of responsibility and turning down something that I wanted in order to save something that I needed. Perhaps it's the acknowledgement that NO AMOUNT of worrying, freaking out, or denying will make certain things so. Maybe it's the undying affection of a blind, obese wiener dog, who would give anything for one good snuggle, or to sleep in the arm of a hoodie for the night. Or it might be that every single fail, all of the obstacles, and each pitfall that I have encountered lately all say the same thing to me, over and over: "you're hilarious". They giggle at my foolish attempts to control the evil universe around me, they mock my feeble swings at Looking Perfectly Together. And they remind me, over and over again, that I am, in the words of my gentle ex-husband : "more broken than anyone I know." And I am. Gladly. Because it's brokenness that brings healing. And growth. Even with the pain. The only people who aren't broken are the ones who aren't living.

All of that being said, I have some Declarations About Life that I feel compelled to make:

First, and Of The Greatest Importance:

It's The Holidays

So get with the program! It is now officially time for egg nog, snow, mittens, decorations, sledding, eating Too Much and Too Well, hot buttered rum and mulled wine. Gone are the doldrums of fall and the mediocrity of seasonless apathy. Now is the time to celebrate family and love and All of The Reasons that WE ARE. 

My next declaration to you, the Whole Universe, is that I am sorry. I cannot fix it all. And for the time being, I am going to quit trying. Also, I cannot control it all. Or even any of it. So don't look at me like that. All I can do is take the next step in the Best Way I can imagine, and if you see a better way, feel free to point it out kindly. But don't think I didn't try. 

Thirdly, in the order of global announcements, I believe in Kindness. But at some point, tough is better than kind. And after many moons of "falling on my sword" and "dealing with myself", etc, etc, etc, I think I need a cosmic minute to bust a cap in the A** of destiny. Because, dude, really? Enough is enough. Take your stupid somewhere else. It's certainly not ALL my fault, and until you stop dealing from the bottom of the deck, I'd rather not play. 

In my declarations I am in no way condoning the use of Christmas Music before-after Thanksgiving, or December 1st, or Easter, or whichever your family standard is. And I am not recommending busting Ye Olde Holly and Ivy out of turn with the Cornucopia. To each his own Holiday Observations. But as for ME and MY Irreverent, Ridiculous, Totally Overrun With Hormonal Emotions House, GAME ON. 

We're watching Elf tonight. Because It's The Holidays. 

Things Coming Up

I am inordinately excited about The Holidays this year. I have no idea why. But I am. I have been eyeing my Christmas Baldies (Chuck Taylors) for a couple of weeks now, anticipating their seasonal release. I have resisted the temptation to break out the Christmas music. Ok fine. I snuck one "winter" song into a playlist. It's supposed to be 18 degrees on Tuesday, so I feel totally justified.

In the spirit of all of the upcoming Holiday goodness, all of the people are selling all of the things. For instance, I am selling Scentsy. If you didn't know that, are pleasantly surprised and relieved since you have been looking for a consultant, or have a bunch of friends and want to have a party, mostly just to hang out with me, here is my website: Liv's Scentsy Website. Now is absolutely the best time to get stuff because they have winter/holiday scents like Goody Goody Gumdrop and Everything Nice, which make me want to eat the air in my house. Which is kind of gross if you've ever been in my house.

After that shameless pitch, somebody else, namely my friend Susan, is having a Jamberry Nails party.  (My friend Andrea also sells these I think, in case you know her or don't like Susan. But who doesn't like Susan, for Heaven's sake.) Someday I will write an entire blog about fingernails and why mine will always look like crap, but I accidentally/on purpose clicked on a link to these:

I have heard several people say that Jamberry is awesome. I haven't tried them because it's already been established that my nails will always look like crap. But reindeer? I mean come on. And especially when they are surrounded by little piles of poop. I can't resist. So I am taking the plunge. If my nails don't look like crap for a minute and have cute reindeers with poop on them because I have been successful, I will send you a picture. I am curious to get some Jamberry feedback from other users. But since my heart is somewhat set on the reindeers/poop, please hold your horror stories until after I experience my own to tell you. I am very disappointed that they don't have the "Gobble Me Up" turkey ones in grown up sizes, because, seriously? (As a disclaimer, I inherited my kitschy holiday-all-of-the-things ridiculousness from my Aunt Tracey.) 

So, I am off to order my  reindeer/poop nail sticker thingies, and believe in good success. And take on this holiday season, because I AM READY!

Things That I Concede

I have earned $2.86 so far from this blog. That makes me a professional writer, no? It is also the harbinger of wild financial successes in the future when somebody that has a lot of friends stumbles upon my incomparable writing skills and I become semi-famous. Because of this future success, it's ok for me to spend more money, right? Perhaps even money that I can write off as an "investment" in my writing? A certain loving husband chastised me when I used some perfectly edible food to stage some pictures that I took for a certain blog. The idea that perfectly edible food wasn't going to be perfectly eaten was more than he could handle, and he ended up picking the food off of the display to eat himself, lest it be wasted. Totally normal behavior for a husband, you say? Yes, unless that husband has a self-professed disdain for food in general and believes it is a "waste of time". Better to waste the time than the cheese garnish, I guess.

In addition to my impressive literary earnings, I accidentally picked up two hours of work yesterday when I showed up at the store on a day for which I wasn't scheduled at all. My wonderful boss let me stay and do some markdowns, which is one of my favorite things, since I can see all the amazing deals that I need to get, with the additional $4.00 that I was earning accidentally. Since Josh doesn't have any "big" or "steady" jobs right now, which means he half fills his days with hanging Christmas Lights everywhere except OUR house, and repairing 100 year old rocking chairs, I asked my marvelous boss if she could dish out some more hours to me. This was slightly puzzling to Josh since he knew even the part time work on my feet was making my pain worse, and cutting into my cooking time, but it all sounded very noble so he let it fly. Really the extra hours are my way of justifying my financial support of the store by purchasing pretty much every cool thing that is a good deal that we carry. I think Josh is getting wise to my ploy and I believe it is only a matter of time before he starts bribing said employer to write me out of the schedule. What he doesn't know is that I will probably just start hanging out there on my days off.

I guess if I was working less I could pay more attention to the ornaments disappearing gradually from the lower half of the Christmas tree that somehow magically wind up in tiny pieces on the dog bed. I could also spend more time on the couch, watching daytime TV since we got a set of rabbit ears, and maybe even vacuuming once in awhile, even though I swore I wouldn't vacuum since Josh won the battle and purchased an upright instead of a canister this time. I told him I wouldn't be caught dead using an upright, so he agreed to make the kids do all of the vacuuming. I guess that's a win for everyone, except the kids. I have to admit that the little vacuum we got seems to be pretty handy - down the road I will give you more feedback, once it has survived the Christmas Tree season and is still holding it's own. Other than the fact that is is navy blue and has a boring same like: Sanitaire System_Pro, I could almost like it. The handle folds down to make it highly portable and easier to park on the lower bunk bed of a 15 year old as a gentle reminder that she forgot her chore. After years of cleaning houses and using every upright vacuum that WalMart sells, I have a root of bitterness toward the gross smelling, ineffective machines. As if the broken down old Kenmore Canister with the electrical shorts and smoking powerhead was so much better, but for the first five years it was a good little beast. And at least IT was red. Really the question comes down to which machine disperses the smell of pine needles after vacuuming under the Christmas Tree the most efficiently. Someday when I am a wealthy author, I will have one of those gorgeous little Miele canisters that come in lovely colors with names like Nautilus and Olympus and almost make you think that vacuuming is sexy. But for now, Josh can win. I really have to choose my battles wisely, and I'd rather have a boring vacuum than one less Pendleton Blanket. I mean really.

Things That Trouble Me

So here's the thing. I got my self in trouble with that last little gem I wrote, and have decided henceforth and forevermore that I will only write about myself. Ok, myself and my boy. And maybe my kids. Especially my kids, since they will always be mad at me no matter what, and my boy, since if he is mad at me the only person that really cares is not even a person, but the puppy Dagny, who will be distressed that she can not reach both of us at night when he is sleeping on the couch. Any way, I need to limit myself to poking fun only at people within my immediate circle since theirs are the only responses I can reverse manipulate and control.

So about myself. This is actually an excellent time to say something about myself, and that is this: I am in a TREMENDOUS amount of pain these days. Like, take the pain I was at last year around this time, twist it, bend it in half and stomp on it and you'd almost be there. Sometimes I think I must be faking how much pain I am in to myself, since I still manage to muddle through work, but then I realize that I haven't made my family a decent meal in Many Days and I know it must be for real. I try not to whine, but this usually results in me glaring angrily at people who have no idea what they did to piss me off. I have discovered, in this last 14 months of almost constant pain, that being crabby and snappy doesn't solicit me much sympathy, but people are much more likely to do nice things for me, like heat up my rice pack, or get me an ice water or a shot of whiskey, if I am very sweet in spite of my pain. Especially Josh seems to respond ever so much more gently when I whisper sweetly that I love him but I am hurting like a son of a chukar. Another indicator that my pain is not pretend is the impulse I have had in the last several days to actually post a prayer request on Facebook. I mean, who does that, other than... oh wait, only talking about me. Luckily I have enough pride and dignity to not admit my need for intercession and so I just go on suffering. Mostly I was concerned about religiously discriminating against my wildly varied list of friends, since I don't have any idea how to ask a Buddhist to intercede, or a Hindu to Hind or A Zenist to Zen, and I was concerned that the responses on any such status would cause the next religious crusade and it would be all my fault. I have enough guilt to deal with, like for never cooking decent food for my family anymore. I just don't need that additional burden.

Another thing that would, at any other time in my life be kind of a big deal, but since I am in pretty much a steady 8/10 on the pain scale is somewhat muted in importance, is the fact that I married the Grinch. This is huge cause for concern when one realizes that the entire point of living for 365 days a year is that 20some of these days in December are jam-packed with warm fuzzies and ginger bread and wrapping paper and all kinds of wonderful, superficial things that remind me that I AM LOVED. I understand the crisis of commercialism in our culture, and the perversion of the true meaning of Christmas, which was actually some fertility ritual... but for me, every bit of the Christmas that we celebrate here in the good old, spoiled rotten USofA, represents the people that I love and that Love me. Family, Friends, Present, Past, even Future. I cannot get enough of the feeling that every silly Christmas carol and Jingle Bell connects us all to a common theme of WANTING happiness for each other. I do go a little overboard on presents, because I FINALLY have an excuse to give Everyone In the Whole World something that I just know that they will love. And I know that every time they see it, even if it is to put it in a yard sale box, they will think of me (hopefully with some guilt in the yard sale scenario). Josh is insistent that none of this is the true meaning of Christmas and that we should be ashamed of our superficiality. Technically, he is correct, as usual. But I can't help but thinking I am somehow failing in communicating the depth of my desire to just love on every body this time of year. In a nasty turn of events, it happens that my love language is gift giving, and somebody gave me an excuse. This is quite unfortunate for my honorary Jew of a husband (he has been legitimately dubbed this by our close Jewish friend) who prefers to make layaway payments on our monthly groceries so we don't have to spend over $50 at one time, regardless of what we have in the bank. I appreciate his budgety sense of propriety, and the balance he brings to me, most of the year, but come Christmas, I have run into the ironic coincidence that he has more or less run out of work, and every present I buy becomes the incarnation of a power bill or a tank of gas. It's a perpetual conflict for me as I look longingly at my online shopping carts and frantically search retailmenot.com for coupons for my favorite websites to somehow justify the piles of boxes on our porch. We tend to find ourselves at odds every so often these days, and if he could only be human for a moment and figure out how much fun The Holidays are, presents and all, we would get along ever so much better. :) It doesn't help that both of our older kids are on an ungratefulness campaign to become Snottiest Offspring of the Year, and he is desperately tired of being argued with and chastised by two know-it-alls in Converse and Bobby Pins. I get that. I really do. They really deserve coal and switches these days, but I am fairly certain that at 15 and 16, I didn't deserve much more, and it was about that time that I was surprised with a green leather coat that was the answer to all of my childish prayers. Obviously since my Wonderful Husband was the picture of a perfect youth, he not only was never mouthy and insolent, but he also never got a Christmas Present after he was 10, which resulted in his pragmatic approach to a giftless holiday. Maybe I will get him counseling sessions disguised as golf lessons for Christmas. That might be the greatest idea I've ever had. Other than rolling the gingersnaps in sugar AND cinnamon before baking (this turned out to be delicious).

So, back to myself, my earnest goal is to have a real dinner in the crockpot before I leave for a long day of work, and to spend all 8 hours brainstorming a way to pay for more and more Christmas presents that will have no ramifications on our heating bill. Obviously I need a raise. Or to take up knitting. I had great intentions to make most of my holiday gifts this year, but all of my creative fantasies were dashed with the onset of a nearly full time job and the allure of a couch that has been sitting lonely without me all day long. Oh yeah, and finally finishing Battlestar Gallactica. Fantasizing myself as Starbuck is a nice switch up from Angelina Jolie, and also makes me feel less guilty for drinking and acting insanely.

I would like to add, lest I frighten off even more friends than my last spew did, that in spite of my pain, I am still quite happy, and intend to stay that way, in spite of my status as Mrs. Grinch and the stress of hiding online purchases. I love this time of year, and not even snotty teenagers or fiscally responsible husbands can steal away the giddiness of waking up to a glowing christmas tree, the smell of pine needles in the vacuum, and a puppy chewing on ornaments that date back to the late 1970s. I love my family, my friends, my puppies, my job, my whole life. If I have to hurt a little to pay the bill for having this good then I guess that's ok. This is heaven. All we're missing is snow. And some home cooked food. And more presents.

Things That I Miss

It's The Holidays. There's pretty much nothing about The Holidays that I don't love, unless you count little squabbles with a "somewhat petty" husband about the cost of Christmas Gifts and Holiday Feasts, or not having enough leftover stuffing to really feel quenched. But overall, I just adore this time of year. This year is nice, because for whatever variety of unjustified reasons, and a healthy dose of prozac, I am overall, as happy as I can remember being. Maybe it's the ridiculous puppy that wakes me up in the morning chewing on my arm - or was that my husband doing a zombie impression? Or maybe it's the smell of Peppermint Dreams, which may be my newest Scentsy favorite (call me shallow). Or maybe it's sorting out 17 boxes of glorious Pendleton Blankets and being able to tell the story behind each one because I am totally geeking out and reading the blanket books in lieu of Wisdom Searches every day. Sorry Dad, but Proverbs got worn out. Anyway, I am content, but not in a things-are-ok way, more content in a things-are-warm-and-fuzzy-and-even-if-you-are-a-little-bit-of-a-jerk-it's-nothing-a-gingersnap-latte-won't-fix kind of way. The one pang of sadness I have is for the friends, and the family that I haven't or won't see this season. I miss my besties from back home, even though back home is really here, now, I miss lunch (and breakfast) at the Mustang Grill, Karaoke and crispy chicken salad at the Whitebird. I miss sledding with 20 people and hot chocolate and snowplowing down sheep creek road in a pickup. I miss dark nights on friends couches with cheesy movies and doing dishes in hot sudsy water with my best friend. I miss BBQed turkey and Backwoods Cigars. I miss hockey practices, hockey games, expensive Canadian Lattes that have some magical ingredient I still haven't found anywhere else. I miss my kids still thinking everything was cool, instead of nothing is cool. I miss making chai lattes every morning to be picked up en route to work by only the most privileged of friends, who probably didn't even like chai but liked the excuse to stop by. I miss so many things, but look forward to recreating some memories with new friends, like smashing together Gingerbread Hovels and stacks of hundreds of puffy sugar cookies in indeterminate shapes. I can't wait to cruise Bend looking for the BEST Christmas Lights and fight with my teenagers over who gets to wear the cool snow pants. I am excited to go snow shoeing at night, in the dark, seeking out a bonfire with the aid of a warm thermos full of hot cocoa and schnapps. And I am excited to go home and visit at least some of my old friends. Some places you can never really go back to, and that's ok, I've still got the smells and sounds and warm fuzzies in my head. But dropping in at Christmas for a hug and a frantic download of community gossip is enough for now. I can say that my Auld Acquaintances haven't been forgot - but I'll still raise a cup of kindness for Auld Lang Syne.

Things That Excite Me

I cannot begin to describe the fits of giddiness that I was thrown into this morning when The Punch Brothers posted THIS on Facebook.

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If there's two things I love it's Holiday Music and All of These Bands. Which is more than two things, but who is counting? ME! But mostly just the days until this thing is released. And yes, I already preordered on Amazon. Go check out Holidays Rule and be cool like me. I can't freaking wait. I should pre-apologize to Josh right away for already boring him this holiday season. What is it with these people and their need for more variety than one multi-artist album can provide? I mean really. 

In other, less exciting news, I got the job at the Pendleton Outlet. Now I have to learn how to dress like a grown up and conduct myself in a manner befitting a retail clothing salesperson. Tips, anyone? I hope they play good holiday music there. Really, it's a part time seasonal position, and already the 15 hours a week is making me claustrophobic. But then there is that dangling, shiny carrot of an employee discount. Visions of throw pillows dance in my head. 

I went for my first in a series of facials with Clare at Luna Healing Studios yesterday. Really it was my second facial with her since she did a test drive Jessner Peel on me a couple weeks ago, but we decided to start a whole thingy to try to fix my face for real. After she got done giving me a "microderm abrasion" I asked her what it was. Turns out, it's pretty much what it sounds like - she sandblasted my face with tiny little crystals and a really sucky vacuum thing. All I kept thinking of as she ran it over my cheeks again and again was Will Ferrel in the mail room in Elf sticking his face to the mail tube. Again, you can tell it's getting close to holiday season when I have the uncontrollable urge to watch Elf. I will wait until after Halloween. I will. I will. Obviously Halloween calls for scary movies like Gaslight with Charles Boyer, or Charade, one of Audrey Hepburn's all time greats - or the ultimate murder mystery - Laura with Gene Tierney and Dana Andrews (*swoon). Or, in the case of this Halloween, Snow White and The Huntsman, since Josh is leaving overnight and he refuses to watch anything with Kristen Stewart in it. I really don't blame him, but I have this morbid curiosity to watch her not-act in the movie that was her demise. Or at least a great launch into celebrity villiany. But back to my facial: After Clare got done sandblasting my face, she decided to do another Jessner on me. Ok, I thought. The last one wasn't too bad. It only stung a little and my face didn't totally Frankenstein out like I expected. In fact, I was pretty happy with the results. Turns out, if you sandblast the first 12 layers or so of your facial skin off BEFORE you put the Jessner acids on it, it burns like a sonofablender. I cried like a little girl, but kept telling Clare that I just had something in my eyes which she furiously tried to dab out. I am hoping next time she just takes a blowtorch to my face to save time. My face is still a little burny today, but I am hoping we timed it just right for it to blister over and peel off for Halloween. Mask Schmask. I just slough off my own skin for my zombie costume. That's real commitment. No, in all seriousness though, I am pretty excited to see the results and trust Clare almost implicity. Almost. She really is great at what she does. I am a little curious if she has a facial that's a little more cuddly for the next round. Not that I am a wimp or anything....

Speaking of cuddly - even though I know you all have the impression that I live in my sweatpants under my Smokey Bear Pendleton Blanket (soon to be accessorized by new throw pillows), I generally am up and going at least by lunch time, and since I have to be at High School Cross Country Districts this afternoon, and provide the weekend commute for the cello, and try to vacuum at least a quarter of the Truck hair off the couch before we have a big "end of summer" (what? so we're slow!) BBQ tomorrow with like 4 whole friends, I should probably go take a shower. Plus I am hoping the water will quell the burning of my face for a minute. But first I am gonna listen to all the demos for Holidays Rule again. At least three times.