Photo Per Day #20: Gingerbread House

By the time young boys masterfully glue the roof and walls of a gingerbread house together using a thick, sticky, viscous confectioners' sugar and water combination, thereby staving off structural collapse by a thread, they've lost total interest in decorating. Eat a disgusting green, mint, jellied candy. Spit it out. Throw the rest of the gummies on the roof (or at least the parts that you've bothered to frost). Open the other bag of candies and and throw it on the "ground." Call it a day.

Less Martha Stewart. More foreclosure.

Photo Per Day #16: American Picker

Would have posted last night but got home from Christmas with the bible study girls too late. Before the party, my girlfriend Meg and I stopped for a happy hour cocktail at Abilene . . .

. . . to see this guy. Fun!

Photo Per Day #12: Ornaments

Tis the season to decorate the Christmas tree. As such, it's that time of the year when I open a box filled with my very own, unique ornaments. Ornaments that my loving friends and family created and hung on the tree at a surprise party for my 30th birthday 17 years ago this month. (Sheesh!) You know that you're loved when everyone, bar one, selected the worst possible pictures of me. (It's really not that hard.) Ornaments of me as a baby with food all over my face. Looking miserable as a kid. Kicking my leg in the air at parties (i.e., knickers shot) as an adult. Holding cocktails at parties. You name it, I have it.

After almost two decades in a box, they're not faring so well so I decided to capture a few on "film." Today's image may explain why I am shorter than the rest of my 6' tall family.

Photo Per Day #6: OMJeeb

The box containing our nativity scene as labeled by the hubby.

Photo Per Day #3: Hungerford Urban Artisans

I'm trying to buy local this Christmas. As such, Son #2 and I went to the Hungerford building today and bought a few awesome presents from the temporary stalls of the Rochester area Etsy craftsmen's Craftmas sale and a gorgeous something-something from one of the resident artists.

Such amazing talent from traditional artists (e.g., painters, scupltors, jewelers) and non-traditional artists like a guy who recreates children's books with balloon art. Run, run, as fast as you can . . .  

There was a great design studio with heaps of colorful, adorable girls fashions.  I would have bought Son #2 a great monkey skirt but he declined.

Not only did I want to buy a few thing for myself (e.g., knit cap, bunny yoga statue), I want a studio of my own. For what, I know not. I just want to dance.

But This Year Goes to Eleven

Well, Christmas has come and gone. And so have most of my memories. I meant to post over that week but I was either busy with relatives and parties or asleep.

In addition to having a fabulous time with family and friends, highlights of the week included:

1. The dance-off at our neighborhood party where Son #2 took his shirt off and swirled it in the air like a Chippendale's dancer while slapping his butt. Um, not sure where he learned that . . . 
2. Watching all of the kids at the party breaking open the Christmas crackers to find they were filled with non-kid items. "Yea, I got nail clippers!" Or "Hey, what's this?" (Answer: a shoe horn. Awesome!)
3. Two signed contracts not to wake us up before 6:00 a.m. on Christmas day that were reneged upon at approximately 4:00 a.m. by one and 5:00 a.m. by the other. 
4. A very sweet note left for Santa (see below). Santa responded with his own note including details of the beer he shared with daddy along with something vile about flatulence. (The lesser known perils of riding in a sleigh behind nine reindeer.)
5. The loot. And boy was there loot. Drums. iPod Touches. Xbox Kinect and Xbox Live. And much, much more. (Heigh-ho, heigh-ho . . . )
6. Sledding in Mendon Ponds Park. God's natural half-pipe. 
7. Culminating, thankfully, with the neighborhood New Year's Eve party which was very quiet this year (vs. years past). 12:01 a.m.: time to go! 

Looking forward (I think) to what 2011 can bring.

Joy Joy for Christ is Born

If I could sing like this, I wouldn't have to lip sync in church. To think she's 15 years old. That voice is a true gift.

What Child is this, who, laid to rest
On Mary's lap, is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet

Hallelujah

Last night, due to a boss-related snafu, I had to drive back to work through the frozen tundra and grab a document from the fax machine. As I was driving home, the streets were quiet and blanketed with snow -- and Jeff Buckley came on the radio. Powerful song but even more gorgeous in the dark of night with the snow falling and Christmas lights twinkling everywhere. I heart Christmas!

Vacation Day!

Guess where I am? *&^%$#@#$%$^%&&^%$##(*%$#@^^

It's the most wonderful time of the year
There'll be much mistletoe-ing
And CPUs will be glowing
When coworkers are near
It's the most wonderful time of the year

There'll be meetings for hosting
Strategies for toasting
And driving out in the snow
There'll be scary client stories
And tales of the glories of
vacations long, long ago

It's the most wonderful time of the year

Photo Per Day #30: Creche and Burn

Ach. I missed the very last day of November. But in keeping with the spirit of the season, I have fully decorated my office. I put a couple of festive deer with a Christmas tree on my windowsill.

And I put a little nativity scene, purchased in Cancun a few years back, on my desk. Oh Joy!

But the more I glance over at Joseph, the more I'm convinced that he and and director Kevin Smith were separated at birth. Silent Bob. Silent Night.

 

My inner, underdeveloped Ansel Adams can now rest.

Photo Per Day #27: Kitten Proofing

This year, with new kittens, we're decorating the tree in all non-breakables. And, unlike prior years where the tree was decorated by little people (i.e., bottom loaded), all of our ornaments are now strategically placed at the top of the tree where they can't be swatted down by furry creatures. It's an equally bizarre lookin' tree only a few short years later.

So what must one do with all of the pretty bulbs? Shove 'em in bowls, I say (and then take a fuzzy picture).

Long December

I think I've spent the better part of the past week feeling completely overwhelmed. As much as I normally love Christmas, there's way too much to do and think about at this time of the year. And since I now have to work during my "vacation" week, I've been feeling a bit low, out-of-sorts, down in the dumps, sorry for myself, etc. I keep reminding myself that I am blessed to be gainfully employed in a down economy and that helps for a while. That and the countless fabulous gifts I received -- way too many to mention! Truly blessed, I am.

Christmas day here was our typical mayhem. The kids awoke at 2:00 a.m. and played not-so-quietly in Son #1's room while attempting to follow explicit directions, "Do not wake us up until 6:30 a.m." They kept chatting, laughing their heads off, and opening the door and peeking in to see if we were awake. We repeatedly feigned sleep. This tactic worked until 4:30 a.m. when they couldn't handle it any longer and came rushing in. Needless to say, they were finished opening gifts before 5:30 a.m. when the rest of the civilized world was still sleeping. Same bewitching hour as last year.

Now that the excitement has died down and the get togethers are officially over, we can attempt to regain some normalcy around here. Play the new Xbox. Put together a million Lego sets. Go snowboarding and sledding. Skateboard in Grannie's huge, unfinished basement.

Just last night, we relaxed over a game of Scrabble. With two boys under the age of ten, Scrabble basically equates to spelling a lot of "bad words," giggling and fielding the resultant questions that you don't expect quite so soon. "Hey mama, what does 'getting laid' mean?" (I told them it was like extreme sex.)

And just this morning, we began reading the Guinness World Records book because Son #2 wanted to show me the biggest boobs in the world. Fascinated and awestruck, Son #1 took out the measuring tape to see for himself just how gigantic they are. "Mom, come here. You gotta see this!" His teacher would be so proud of his practical application.

To quote the Counting Crows, it's been a long December but there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last . . .



To quote my dad, "I need a long winter's nap."

Little Humdrummer Boy

As if the constant "What can I do?" interrogations aren't enough, Son #2 woke up this morning and announced, "I had a dream last night that I was really bored."

Santa, please make it stop. I'm hoping that Christmas should take care of this recurring issue (at least for an hour or two).

I'm bored, they told me
Humdrum pa rum pum
I have nothing to do
Humdrum pum pum pum pum
None of my friends are home
Humdrum pa rum pum
To play driveway hockey
Humdrum pum pum pum humdrum pum pum pum humdrum pum pum pum

So we placate them
Humdrum pa rum pum
With PlayStation

Baby It's Cold Outside

I have only heard my favorite (secular) Christmas song on the radio once this year. Boo friggin' hoo! But, for whatever reason, I keep hearing this. Ergo, I keep singing this. And, per my latest girl crush, I just downloaded the Leon Redbone/Zooey Deschanel version. So sweet. So really I'd better scurry . . .

Baby It's Cold Outside

Christine | MySpace Video

The Reason for the Season

I spent Monday evening with my bible study girlfriends and our kids filling shoe boxes with goodies for the homeless at the Open Door Mission (hats, gloves, socks, toothpaste, etc.). I spent Tuesday night with the kids at Cub Scouts as they filled plates with cookies for local families in need -- four dozen of which the hubby baked himself. (Thank you!) And I spent last night with my church girlfriends (a.k.a. the Kismet girls) enjoying one another's company over dinner. It was a nice, quiet, fun-filled evening in the midst of the snow covered Christmas rush.

This morning I was thinking about the holiday season and how people across the faith spectrum rally together to make the world a bit brighter for each other and for those in need. While I recognize that there are people of all backgrounds and faith traditions who devote their lives to helping others, I also recognize that Christmas often brings out the best in those of us (e.g., me!) who need a little more prompting. It's the time of year when non-believers and believers alike will give a bit more of themselves than they do throughout the year. When churches are SRO. When people go out of their way to share a little token of their appreciation with others. When we deck the halls with boughs of holly and share a glass of wine with our neighbors. (Mind you, the latter half of that sentence is a nightly common ritual in our neighborhood regardless of season.)

During any other time of the year, you can tell most people that you're a devout Buddhist and they'll think it's cool because we're trained from a young age to welcome, nay embrace, all religions (as we should). On the same token, at any other time of the year, you can tell most people that you're a devout Christian and they'll think you're a simpleton that needs a crutch. Born again Jesus freak. So I ask, why the double standard?

At this time of year, however, we can say "Merry Christmas" to others and it's not considered offensive. Is it because the holiday is sanitized? Because it's associated with Santa and gift giving and not with Christ? Our savior?

I wish that radical acceptance of people's beliefs, regardless of faith or sect, would be widespread year round. And I wish that radical change of my own behavior, my desire to give more to the world and dedicate my life to God, would be my driving force year round and not just on the occasional night out in December.

I want the spirit of the season to fill my very being every day of my life.

My Wish List

My mom asked me over the weekend what I wanted for Christmas. My answer: EVERYTHING. I personally think that I must be the easiest person to shop for 'cause I really do love everything I see. The more expensive, the better. Just kidding. It makes no never mind.

Military coat? Check. Hugs? Check. Zebra rug? Check. A clean house? Check. Cute prints from Etsy? Check. She & Him CD? Check. Jewelry of any type? Checkmate.

Speaking of which, isn't this custom necklace really sweet?



I would wear it while listening to this -- yet another soulmatesque song that my girlfriend Margaroo and I have in common. How can two people living in different hemispheres always, without fail, discover they are totally into the same bands? It's been happening for decades now, literally since the day we met. Crazy!

Archimage

Yesterday, I had two luxurious hours completely to myself while the kids were at a birthday party so I went Christmas shopping at one of my favorite little stores: Archimage. In addition to getting heaps of great stocking stuffers for the kids (and who wouldn't want bloody eyeball band-aids in their stockings?), I found gag items for the under $10 Christmas fiesta gift swap across the street next weekend.

I wonder what lucky neighbor will be boastfully toting this beauty around Wegmans in the new year?



Or what happy party goer will be proudly serving gin & titonics next summer? (Whoever it is, I'll be there. These ice cube trays serve as an open invite, right?)


Lastly, I got a little magnet for my girlfriend/co-worker Jennifer who is in a constant battle of the sexes with her husband of a gazillion years.



Seriously though, if a man speaks in the middle of a forest and there is no woman around to hear him, IS he still wrong?

This is just the tip of the iceberg (no ice cube pun intended). I did way too much damage in one little store in return for nothing substantive. As I heard in church this morning, Christmas is like being mugged. It comes rushing in, empties your wallet and is gone in a flash.

But it's still fun!

Gabba Gabba Sleigh

I’ve recently decided to take a deep breath when someone compliments me and ingest it. It’s been a rocky start but I dooooo believe it’s worth the effort.

Usually, when I get a compliment from a client, of course I say “Thank you” but I shallowly then think to myself, “Uh, that’s what you paid me to do.” Conversely, if I think I performed poorly on something (or at least could have done a better job preparing, presenting, listening, responding, etc.), I berate myself for hours, days, months, years: whatever it takes to feel really, really awful about myself.

But why do I, and others like me, allow ourselves to wallow in self-loathing over an overblown perception yet brush aside callously any real appreciation?

I need to put an end to this. Stuart Smalley here I come.

With that said, my favorite compliment over this past week of taking stock/giving thanks came from my coworker, Jenn. For an upcoming Christmas party at a not-for-profit agency for which I volunteer, each Board member was asked to come with a small “you-nique” gag gift that really reflects his/her personality. Huh?

I was at a complete loss for what I should bring. I don’t collect anything (but dust bunnies), have any hobbies, or really connect/associate myself with any one thing, etc. So I asked Jenn what she thought defined me with the hope of a gift-inspired idea. She thought for a few seconds and responded with a go-go dance move, “I kind of see you as a hippy chick. Like Goldie Hawn popping up on Laugh-In but with some punk rock thrown in.”

Love that! Love that! Love that! Problem solved.



Merry Christmas (I don't want to fight tonight).

Let Them Know it's Christmas Time

Monroe Golf Club hosts an annual women's holiday party on behalf of the Society for the Protection and Care of Children. I attended the first year that we moved home but, since then, have only dropped off presents for my angel on the day of the event -- usually around lunchtime.

Last night, I stopped by after work and was overcome with emotion by the sheer number of gifts lining the lobby. Bags stuffed to the brim with toys, dolls, games, stuffed animals, you name it. On the floor were hula hoops, bicycles and electronics.

As I drove away, my car parked between a Lincoln SUV and a Cadillac SUV, I began sobbing. There must be hundreds of kids in the protection of this one agency alone. Not to mention the countless others whose names and wish lists are written on paper angels that hang on Christmas trees in churches across the city (including mine).

How many kids are in desperate need right here in our little city? I feel very blessed to be able to share even a small portion of what we have with one boy in need.

I pray that our family's angel, "Anthony, XL, age 12," has a very Merry Christmas.

Ring in the Season

Long weekend. Fabulous meal. Awesome family. So much to be thankful for.

Caught up on missed episodes of Glee. (Mr. Schuester. Hot.) Watched the parade. Watched The Longest Day (which is strangely compelling for nine year old boys and painfully boring for eight year old boys--what a difference a year makes). Played basement soccer. A little driveway hockey. Played Life. Star Wars Monopoly. Connect Four. Had my girlfriend across the street over for wine. Avoided the Black Friday shopping stupidity. Decorated the house and tree. Helped Son #2 make a gingerbread house. And now, excitedly, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

(This list reads just like my diary in the fourth grade except that every entry that summer said pretty much the same thing, "Played kickball." And then I listed every player: Misty, Alexis, Rich, Mary, Sallie, Chris, Christine, Dave, John, James, etc. Fascinating stuff.)

Anyhoo, isn't this Kate Spade ring perfect for the holidays?

I'd be the envy of everyone. Everyone!