LifePundit

A Christmas Meme

Thanks, Sassy, for tagging me for a Christmas meme -- my first:

1. When people say “Christmas” you immediately think….

Depends on whether it’s October and I’m standing in Target noticing the Christmas displays (in which case it’s a stream of non-spoken profanity), or it’s the beginning of December and I’m feeling depressed and wanting to run away from home until it’s over, or it’s Christmas Eve and I’m all set and can’t wait to hear the church service start with, “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful.” It gives me chills and fills me with awe.

2. Favorite Christmas memory: I have so many. Probably one of the best was seeing my father, who was in his 60s at the time, ride around the neighborhood in his pajamas and bathrobe on the new bicycle my mother had given him on Christmas Day. (One of the worst was having my mother-in-law tell me I hadn’t peeled the potatoes correctly – a family tradition known as “The Potato Torture” – or making another guest, who happened to be Jewish (what does he think Christmas is about after this?) re-wash the crystal because it had water spots – or having to clean her bathrooms after Christmas dinner while others vacuumed and did other housecleaning jobs. We had to get take-out Chinese for supper because she threw out all the Christmas dinner leftovers because she didn’t like them cluttering up her refrigerator. I’m sure there are meds for this but we’ve found no way to get them in her system legally.)

3. Favorite Christmas song or carol: Old, old carols, usually by Anonymous. I love the “Lu-lay my little tiny child” one. I probably know all of them. When Lily couldn’t sleep as a baby (and older), I didn’t know lullabies but I knew Christmas carols so I sang them to her. She knows most of the verses, even some of the ones where I made up the words. (Lucky her.) By the way, I’m not a good singer. But I lift up my voice and make a joyful noise. Surely that gives God some pleasure. It’s sure fun for me.

4. Favorite Christmas movie: “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

5. Favorite Christmas character: Jesus, then Mary. Imagine being in her shoes?

6. Favorite Christmas ornament or object: A stuffed but plastic-headed Santa Claus my parents gave me as a child. He’s got a white beard (plastic) and yellow plastic hair like a baby.

7. Plans for this Christmas: A wonderful time with my husband (who is hysterical) and daughter and animals, then an easy but delicious Christmas dinner (husband smoking the turkey) and my in-laws are coming over, then I’m leaving to go to the nursing home to sit with my mother.

8. Is Christmas your favorite holiday? Yes. Even though I have a love-hate feeling about it. It’s all too much. You’re supposed to be really happy and it’s all supposed to be wonderful, but that’s rare. Jesus’ life was filled with pain and suffering at times, and we need to just be “real,” like he was, rather than guilty when we can’t make our celebration measure up to past years or our dreams.

This year is the first without one of my favorite people, who died a few months ago. My mother is fading away, as is my father. There is both sorrow and joy at this season, and we need to feel free to acknowledge both.

I'm tagging:

Angry Buttons
Enola
Doug
Groovyoldlady

My First Award

Many thanks to The Sassy Southerner for awarding me the Bodacious Blog award. I have no idea what it means, but I'm feeling very bodacious and that's always good, especially if there's anyone around to feel bodacious with.

A big thanks!

Seven Random Facts

The Sassy Southerner tagged me with the meme, "Seven Random Facts About Me." So here goes:

1. I was daydreaming about my new puppy in fifth grade and wishing that there was a club for kids that would teach us how to teach our dogs tricks when I heard the teacher ask, "Who wants to join?" And since I thought it was a dog-trick-teaching club, I raised my hand and nearly jumped out of my seat waving my arm back and forth. She picked me! That's how I ended up a member of the Children of the Confederacy. (I didn't last long. Weak Kool Aid. Cemetery visits. No dog tricks. And my poor mother had to go down to the records office and get my great-grandfather's honorable discharge papers from the Confederate States of America army to prove my pedigree to get me in, too.)
2. In an unrelated act, I married a Yankee who won't let the dog come in the house.
3. The dog knows three tricks: sit, shake and speak.
4. Oh dear. Four random facts to go. I went to a dermatologist for a while who told me, quite seriously, that I smiled too much and it was wrinkling my face. His nurse told me when he left the room that she was sure that was why he never smiled. If you keep smiling, people don't notice you have smile wrinkles because your face is wrinkled into a smile.
5. I'd rather go to the beach than just about anywhere.
6. I wear Thymes Eucalyptus cologne. My Yankee husband doesn't like perfume, so I wear it when I'm not with him. Sometimes I get too excited and put on too much.  I think it made my client have a sneezing fit today in a meeting. Nobody said anything. It was just a feeling I had, part of my enormous guilt about just about anything. The stuff smells really, really good, though. Wish my mother-in-law were allergic. Lots of possibilities there.
7. I collect two things: coffee mugs from places I've been (and only places I've been) and feathers I've found on the ground that were shed by birds of prey, if you consider a pelican a bird of prey. I love pelicans -- their unlikely flight and plummeting dives speak to me of God. I also have feathers from hawks and barred owls I found in my yard. I'm filled with wonder whenever I look at them. The cat doesn't touch them for some reason.

Now, the deal is I'm supposed to tag other bloggers I barely know. The Sassy Southerner already tagged My Life is Murphy's Law, which is a fun blog I'd never visited before. I'm tagging:

• Kazoofus.com
• Electric Venom
• Heart to Heart
• Wiping Up Snot
• Because I Said So
  
• Angry Buttons

Novel idea

It's time. I have hidden from my novel long enough. I should say "novels" because I've started at least two. I've had some short stories published and a couple of plays produced, so for some reason, I believe I'm supposed to write a novel. Novel idea and all that. So sorry.

But how to pick up where I left off? Maybe I shouldn't even try. A different person was working on those stories. I have different stories to tell now, if I haven't blown it by telling them all here....

Maybe I should start over. But there's nothing worse than a writer with a string of failed projects. I read that somewhere. Sounds terrible, doesn't it? A string of failed projects.

Sounds even worse to keep beating your head against the same wall. I think I get to have a fresh start, even though I'm going to tackle the same story.

It's a family story. A mystery (no blood or any foul play, just intrigue). Something I've always wanted to know more about. Like what happened.

So, since the truth is lost (stories die with the people who lived them), I'm going to come up with a truth, like all good fiction; it just won't be THE truth about what happened.

I'm excited but scared. Writing my blogs has made me realize that writing is fun and its own reward. (I am a professional freelance writer, so my usual reward is money, which is a pretty good reward for getting to stay home and do what comes naturally, though I'm not sure that some of the stuff I get paid to write about is all that natural a topic for me.) Blogging has livened up my life. Thanks for reading and for the encouragement. I'm going to keep this up -- and have also started a couple of blogs for my writing -- one directed to goal achievement, and the other for whining. Since I reveal who I really am there, I'm probably not going to link to them here, though I'm not sure why. Probably if you requested the links in a comment I would e-mail them to you. I'm that high security-conscious.

And I've got another goal. I'm going to lose 10 lbs. in 8 weeks. (I need to lose more but I'll do it 10 lbs. at a time. Heck! If I'd quit gaining, that would be progress.) If I reach that goal, I get to go buy myself a killer outfit (complete with jewelry) at Chico's. Or somewhere else if all their clothes are ugly that day.

This Sandwich Generation stuff is tough. Paul went to the ER yesterday morning because he woke up deaf in one ear, which you may not have known, is considered a medical emergency. He's fine and can hear today. The assisted living place called this morning because they were going to send my father to the ER again, he was doing so poorly. I went up there. He'd quit eating and was disoriented, among other things. I made him a pimento cheese sandwich with his favorite kind of pimento cheese and bread from his favorite bakery. He ate it all and it perked him right up. No ER for him! Tomorrow he plans to go to the garden.

My mother didn't know me, though she smiled.

Writing, like reading, is a great escape. I get a month to get organized in my mind, then I'm off.