God Jul (Merry Christmas)

My Dad’s family has gathered on Christmas Eve longer than I’ve been alive.  My grandfather immigrated alone from Sweden as a young man. He married my grandmother and had seven children. I’ve lost track of how many descendants there are now.  A few years ago, my aunt started decorating one of her trees with old photos of all the cousins when we were little kids. The toys under the tree are all ones we remember playing with. They’ve certainly been around longer than I’ve been alive. 



A shot of apricot brandy has always been part of the evening’s entertainment. It is passed around by the patriarch of the family. He hands you the shot, and you salute him with a hearty “Skol” (cheers) . Not sure how or why it was ever started or if it is even a tradition in Sweden, I just know it goes down smoothly, warms you up and it wouldn’t be Christmas without it.



Things change. Children grow. People pass on. I hope to carry these traditions on though, so my children can say they remember them for as long as they’ve been alive. I think it is important.
Does your family have Christmas traditions you still practice?

Barn Carolers

We’ve all been busy around here, rehearsing for the big event.

“The first Noel…”



“the angel did say…”



“Was to certain poor shepherds in fields that they lay…”



*silence*

Louise? Louise, you’re up. It’s your turn.

“Do I look like I want to sing?  Louise, doesn’t sing no stinkin’ Christmas songs.”



Some of us are in a more festive mood than others this year.  Hope everyone at your house is in a caroling mood.

Come on everybody once more from the top.

“The first Noel…”

Their Mugs on a Mug

Through blogging, I have met some of the kindest, most talented people I have ever known. Tonya, at Flat Creek Wool & Pottery, is one of the best. I’ve followed her for some time now, watching her little one grow up, while wondering how on earth she manages to accomplish what she does with a toddler in tow. Her pottery is beautiful, I have purchased a few of her yarn bowls as gifts and even one of her famous Ewenice mugs for myself. So, when she said she was taking orders for custom mugs I jumped at the chance.

I sent off a couple of my favorite photos and she worked her magic. First, Louise.



then Peter.



How cool is that? I now have their mugs on a mug and can enjoy their company anytime I want. Next best thing to bringing them in the house.

Tonya even sent along Peter as Christmas ornament.



And included one of her super-cute note cards.



The woman is crazy talented. Check out her etsy store. You’ll find good things there.

NOOOOO!! It just can’t be!

It’s the G word. I mean. I love the little kid that will soon be part of my daughter’s family, but Grandma? Grandma”! Are you kidding me? It doesn’t really hit you until you see it on a package.

*faints*

We celebrated Christmas at my mother’s house yesterday. I walked away from it knowing two things.
1. I’m officially old.
2. My daughter and her fiancé are made for each other.



Here they are, sporting the gifts they exchanged. Clearly, it was meant to be.

The Spirit of Giving: Why I Won't Give To Some Christmas Charities

You've probably already seen this photo. It has been all over the internet. It sums up how I feel about this holiday season in just two words.



I've never been a fan of all the hype and grotesque consumerism that goes on this time of year. Well, never is not the right word, I'm sure I was all about it when I was a little kid.

There are two Christmas seasons in my past, that stand out more than any others, that have greatly influenced my distaste for the excess. First, was the year my parent’s divorced. I was in the fourth grade and struggling to learn my times tables. My Dad had taken an apartment in town, above a flower shop. You had to climb a rickety stairway on the outside of the building to reach it. The stairs were only treads, with no back to them. I always thought I was going to slip through them and fall to my death. Luckily, I never did, and looking back now I realize the worse that could have happened would have been a sprained ankle.

The apartment was very small, but had an open kitchen/dining area and living room that made it comfortable. It was sparsely furnished with cast-off furniture that friends and relatives had given Dad. I can remember he had old wooden barrels that he turned upside down to use as end tables. There was plenty of room left to put up a Christmas tree, just no money to buy one. I didn't know that at the time. If you would have asked me then, I would have told you my Dad was rich.

My Dad often piled us kids up into an old Chevy passenger van and went out driving through the countryside on safari, making up stories as we drove. This Christmas was no different, except this time we were hunting the perfect Christmas tree. Anybody could go to the store and get an artificial one, or go to the tree farm, but not us. We were going to go out into the woods and find our own. Just like the pioneers! We drove and drove--probably in circles--faces plastered to the windows, hoping to spot "the one". Finally, we stopped, Dad pulled a saw out of the back and we started tromping through the woods. We found the straightest, tallest tree in the bunch, cut it down and dragged it back to the van. Boy, were we ever proud of ourselves.

When it came to decorations for the tree, Dad had none. Not a single one. One of my aunts gave us a tree stand, a strand of lights and some funky turquoise ornaments; I'm sure she was thrilled to get rid of them. She owned a gift shop in town and we picked out a beautiful angel tree topper. I don’t remember if we paid for it or if she gave it to us. Then we popped popcorn and strung it for what seemed like hours. When we were finished, we had the gaudiest looking Charlie Brown tree you'd ever seen.



But you know what? I still think it was the best one we ever had. It wasn't the quality or quantity of the decorations that was important. It wasn’t the number of presents under the tree. It was the process. The can-do attitude. The memories made.

The other Christmas that stands out in my mind, was the year my daughter was born. I was only 19 years old and dirt poor. I mean there were weeks I couldn't scrape together enough money to buy a box of macaroni and cheese ,let alone a loaf of bread, poor. I mean, if it weren't for the Women Infants and Children’s government program I don't know how I could have fed my baby, poor. Had to make the choice of buying gas to get to work over eating, poor. These were not good times.

Somehow, I don't know if it was because of the WIC program or what, but somehow our name ended up on one of those adopt-a-kid for Christmas lists. I had no idea. So when someone showed up the day before Christmas with a huge box of gifts for my 6 month-old, I darn near died. You'd think I would have been grateful or overwhelmed by the generosity, and I guess in a way I was. But more so, I was humiliated. Absolutely humiliated. I swore right then and there my name would never find itself on a list like that again.

It wasn't that I was ungrateful, please don't think that. We just didn't NEED it. Sure, the diapers they included were helpfu,l but the toys? She was six months old for crying out loud. What I needed was a better job. I needed an education. Or some other method of improving my situation. We didn't need toys.

There are plenty of folks out there who donate to these Toys-for-Tots type programs, and I would never want to come right out and discourage this. If you are feeling generous, and this makes you feel good then by all means continue. However, I choose not to participate. I have done it in the past. I guess I felt obligated to give back or whatever. Now though, I don't feel that encouraging consumerism is the right way to give. Having been there/done that, I'd much prefer to donate to a cause that provides the children with books, for instance, or the adults with a scholarship or teach them to grow their own food. Something, anything that will help them become self-sufficient and gets their name off that list. Things happen. People fall on hard times. When they do, they need a helping hand, not a box of toys. There are a lot of people out there right now that don’t want to be on that list any more than I did. Give. Just give wisely.

Before I Kick the Bucket

A high school friend, I've recently reconnected with, has started an adventure club based on the book 500 Things to Do Before You Kick the Bucket. Each month, she schedules something from the list for the club members to participate in. The activities vary from easy to borderline crazy. For instance, I was grateful this month she wasn't able to locate a mechanical bull for us to ride and scheduled a visit to a train show instead. Whew!

When I first read the book, I was surprised how many of the things I could already mark off my list.

2. Learn to waterski.
4. Go tubing down a lazy river.
5. Go kayaking.
6. Paddle a canoe.
8. Take a helicopter ride.
9. Take a hot air balloon ride.
18. Jump off the high dive.
22. Ride a motorcycle.
23. Ride one on the worlds fastest roller coasters.
28. Ride in a limousine.
36. Try caviar.
38. Make bread from scratch.
43. Order only dessert.
45. Plant a garden and grow your own produce.
51. Create a family tree.
61. Tell your life story to a stranger. (I believe this blog qualifies, yes?)
63. Buy your favorite childhood story.
64. Watch reruns of a television show you loved as a kid.
65. Climb a tree.
66. Ride on a tire or tree swing.
68. Twirl a hula hoop.
70. Attend your class reunion.
88. See the circus.
91. Attend a laser light show at a planetarium.
99. Sing at a karaoke bar.
103. Start a collection.
105. Make a snow angel. (I confess I do this a lot.)
113. Look at the moon through a telescope.
124. Write a letter to your political representative.
125. Volunteer on a political campaign.
127. Shake hands with a U.S. president. (Bush, Sr.)
132. Buy a membership to your local museum.
134. Witness a solar eclipse.
142. Skip in public. (Doesn't everybody?)
143. Have a pillow fight.
161. Learn to can fruit.
163. Take a first aid class.
164. Learn CPR.
170. Attend a Renaissance festival.
183. Visit Mammoth Cave in Kentucky.
197. Visit the Lincoln Memorial.
200. Visit the Capitol Building and watch Congress in session.
270. Read a classic novel.
272. Write a children's book, even if it's just for your own children or grandchildren.
274. Learn how to play "Chopsticks" on the piano.
280. Visit the Grand Old Opry.
284. Attend an opera.
287. Attend a performance of Cirque du Soleil.
359. Take a cruise.
366. Snorkel in the Caribbean.
410. Attend the Indianapolis 500 (well, of course).
413. Learn to drive a stick shift.
431. Take a horse-drawn carriage ride.
433. Ride an elephant.
451. Adopt a pet from a shelter (ahem, got that one covered.)
454. Tour an aircraft carrier.
455. Visit a historic battlefield near your home.
459. Visit the WWII Memorial in Washington, D.C.
463. Visit the Korean War Veterans Memorial.
464. Visit the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C.
473. Make an anonymous donation.
483. Gather friends and sing at a retirement center.
495. Break a bad habit.
499. Be kind to a stranger.

I was also surprised at how many things will NEVER happen, such as skydiving and bungee jumping. I guess that rules out “facing my greatest fear” of falling as well, whittling my list down to a mere 497 things to do. So what do you think? Have you marked all these off your list? No? Well, then are you up for a challenge? Let me know and maybe we’ll try a virtual club.

The Story of the Three Wise Men

So, this one time, these three camelids were hanging out on the street corner, when they noticed someone shoot a road flair in the sky. They knew that should mean something to them, but they were up late smoking frankincense the night before and couldn't remember exactly.



But, this camelid dude named Harold knew. It was a challenge to take over his street corner. He was tired of being in charge anyway, so he sent the three home boys out to initiate the new leader...



(ring ring, ring ring)

I’m sorry, I need to interrupt this story, I'm getting a phone call.

“Hi Mom. Huh? What? What do you mean they RODE camels? Ohhh…”