Happy New Years Eve

So, do you think they're going to defrost Dick Clark for the show again this year? It's starting to freak me out a little bit. I wonder what they've sprayed him down with so he doesn't disintegrate under the lights?

Our plans for New Year's Eve are decidedly mellow. We're going sledding in about 20 minutes on a local hill here. It's legendary to the natives, and so it doesn't matter if your land is flat as mine is. Everyone goes there regardless.

The first time I went, I stood at the top and thought "they have got to be kidding me... that's a freakin' ski-slope!" It's HUGE. Half of it dips out of sight when you are standing on top, adding to the terror. Though, to be honest, the worst part is walking back UP it. It takes about a minute or more to go down, and 20 to get back up. The kids brag if they make it five times. I think they're all turning into wusses. I used to go out and sled until the sun went down and my mother threatened me with death and dismemberment if I didn't come in. Anything for sledding, I say! (and fortunately there is a fire station nearby to tend to those of us who are walking Bermuda Triangles of Disaster.)

After that, we'll head home to hot chocolate and snacks, flannel pajamas, and hideous fluffy socks. Movies and video games are on the playbill for tonight, and the kids have begged to try and stay up until midnight. We said yes, but we're placing bets between us as to when they'll crash. And so goes the life of the married and boring. I miss those wild New Year's parties. I'm one of those who would have loved to dance until dawn. *sigh* I could still, but it would probably be with the cat.

And with all that, 2007 is coming to a close and I feel like I did so much, yet accomplished nothing. It just gives me a headache if I dwell on it too long. I'm going to do much more in 2008, I think. I'll graduate. I'll move into new territory once again for myself. That ought to be interesting, at the very least, and certainly worth celebrating.

I hope everyone has a wonderful (and SAFE) New Year's Eve!



(Thanks for all the feedback on the clothing dilemma yesterday, I went middle of the road and it turned out it really was jeans to evening gowns. Totally Bizarre, I've never seen anything like it. )

A Closet Dilemma

I'm not a clothes horse. I have plenty of clothing, but I'm not really a fashion diva.

Don't get me wrong, I like to dress up nice now and then, but really I'm just a jeans, t-shirt, and hideous fluffy socks kind of girl. So, my closet has various pairs of jeans and shirts from t-shirts to blouses and sweaters, one suit (which I was forced to buy) maybe one sort of fancy/club outfit, and several extremely nice classically styled ball gowns from times past which may someday come in handy should I make my escape after the prince finds my glass slipper and the pumpkin grows big enough.

And lots of fluffy, ugly, snugly socks.

Tonight we are attending some sort of huge holiday party. Invitation only, but many invitations sent out (as in over 200 people.) We asked whether it was formal or not, and we were given the answer that "it's both!" We were told, literally, that there would be senators in suits, and farmers in their overalls, and to dress as to how we would like to "circulate."

Er. K. ?

So... in my closet... I can rule out the ugly fluffy socks. Probably the jeans too... but the ball gowns might be overkill. Right? What the heck does a person wear to a party like that? I know this is a stupid post, but seriously.

Maybe I'll just hide under the table. With my ugly socks in my purse.

Resolutely

I don't like New Year's resolutions. I have decided that I am firmly against them. Why? Because they're usually all about looking at yourself and finding the worst. What is it about you that is awful? What DON'T you like? What should be be changing?

I'm not good with criticism from any quarter anyway, so to set up a situation where it's expected just grates on my nerves. I don't need a special time to pick apart who I am and say "this is awful." I do that anyway, practically on a daily basis - and it's NOT a good thing. Why make resolutions about that?

I have lots of things I could change:

* I want to be a size 2... OK it's not physically possible for my body frame, but hey. There isn't a woman out there who isn't told by some sort of input (media or friends/family, etc) that they should somehow be physically different. I often get the "if only you were really super thin you could...." I could what? Be smarter? Have a nicer set of kids? A better marriage? Win lotto? Give me a break! I'm healthy, I'm in my weight range, and yeah while I'd love to be all svelte and sexy, I'm strong and healthy. Being thinner would only change the label on the jeans I buy. That's IT. And it was the same when I was obese! Being thinner didn't change ANYTHING. So Mr. "be thinner" resolution can just bite me.

* I want to be fabulously wealthy. Yeah, who doesn't? But would it change much? No. I'd still feel the driving need to be something more than I am, to do something important. I'd still be finishing my degree right now. I'd still be painting. I'd still be writing. I'd just have a nicer computer. And really, I don't totally understand the one I have now.

I could go on, but what is the point? Everyone has a million "resolutions" they could make, but the fact remains that I believe resolutions shouldn't be made. I believe that a person should try their best every day, period, all year long. The idea of this one shot every January 1st to be a better person and have a more fulfilling life is limited. It's negative too. Why pick apart everything about yourself and start the year off like that?

So I'm tossing the resolutions. Resolutely.

In This Corner...

Christmas vacations are great, aren't they?

No, really. Great.

You get to spend all this time with your family. Close quarters.

Family closeness. Lots of closeness.

And bloodshed.

Seriously, though - does anyone else have the problem of missing that family time all year, looking forward to all those uninterrupted days together, and then once you are all together for an extended period of time you wonder why you chose this life for yourself, and did your husband/wife always do that or is it something new? And would they stop complaining about that, and turn that off already! How many times does it take to figure that out! And, HELLO! How friggen' hard is it to replace the trash-bag when you take it out, instead of leaving the trash bin open and empty for you to race towards it with dripping eggshells, only to find it needs a darn bag?!?!!

Er... maybe it's just me.

When is Christmas break over again?

Chocolate and Jeans

Yesterday we braved the shopping malls. The hands down most entertaining thing I witnessed was at the Victoria's Secret shop. Inside there were throngs of women. Outside, by an empty mall kiosk were about eight or nine men standing almost shoulder to shoulder, most with a stroller and a child. They clearly didn't know one another, but were comrades in their shopping-misery. It looked like a daddy-drop-off point!

Every now and then a woman would run to the front of the store, hold something up, and one of the men (hopefully the one that belonged to her) would nod or shake his head, and blush with a fierce embarrassment. I really thought the men would give the other a hard time, but amazingly they didn't. Maybe it was because they knew they were likely the next up on the block of frilly public displays?

It was a fascinating thing to watch, and I sincerely wished I could have hung around longer and observed... with a video camera. Unfortunately, Mr. Savy shooed me along, saying that unless I was going in to pick something out, it wasn't nice to stop and watch all the fun. Must be a guy-honor thing, or something. Don't stare at the men reduced to standing around outside with the kid while the wife holds up lacy panties in front of the throngs of after-holiday shoppers and calls out loudly for their opinion. The thing is, WHY don't they just go into the store with her? Is it because the store is pink? Are they that worried someone will happen by and say "My, my, Bob... I never knew you were... into this sort of..... thing. Uh... See you at work on Monday, then.. *cough*"???

Moving on, we decided to shop the sales (of which there had been no advertising this year. Very strange.) People shopping right before Christmas generally have a lost and bewildered look to them. People shopping after Christmas are a bit more feral. Even though I didn't know what was on sale, other people did. I would hear cries from different directions, most like "Over here Gladyss! Door BUSTER!! See? These tops, $4.99. I don't care if they're the wrong size, we'll sell them on eBay. Load up!" So, I would just sort of sneak up behind the shoppers and see what they were looking at. I did get a couple of good deals because of the scary bargain shopping senior citizens that were thronging about that I wouldn't have noticed otherwise.

One of the things I was after in particular were new jeans. I've been getting by on old, cheap jeans. I end up ripping a pair? Why, just pick up whatever off the discount rack! Who cares? I don't have time to try anything on, dagnabbit! Well, it turns out that after a while you start realizing that you look horrible... but this is only after coming out of the stress induced catatonic state I've existed in for the last couple of months.

So, I was hunting for decent jeans, ones that I actually looked good in. Now, men don't get this. Jeans are basically jeans. Sure, now there are a few more styles, but let's face it: you can go from brand to brand and pick out the same size in all and see if the style works on you. This is not so for women's jeans. Each brand has it's own version of sizes and cuts. Each STYLE has it's own version of sizes and cuts too. So, you cannot say "I'm a size 6 in jeans." It doesn't mean anything. Not like a guy saying "I'm a 30x32." That means something for men, and you can find sizes that way, and aren't you all so lucky. (Me? Bitter? Nah.)

I think it's all a plot. It's well known that the industry has implemented vanity sizing, because a woman who normally wears a size 14 will generally be thrilled to death and make an impulse purchase if her new jeans say a size 8, even if there hasn't been any change in her body at all. We're shallow, we like the small numbers, and it's a good psychological game they play. Darn them. But it messes everything up with trying to find what actually fits.

We have to pull out the item, and physically hold it up like idiots trying to figure out what size it actually is. Then we end up trying on a million pairs, not because we love trying on new clothes, but because 99% of them are guaranteed NOT to fit. In this way, we are trapped in the store for hours. See? And you all thought we were just addicted to shopping! NOT so! We are being held against our will by psychologically planned out sizing!

My daughter was confused why daddy only had to pick out one pair of jeans, tried them on and viola! He had his new jeans. But mommy... mommy had to pull out 1,000 darned pairs and try them on as fast as possible trying to find out which cut, which fit, which whatever. And then, when she had a good fit and cut, she had the try on the different COLORS because those fit differently TOO!

So, I laid them out on the floor. One on top of the other (I'm sure I thrilled the security guards watching the cameras to no end "Hey, Jim, come look at this moron shopper! She's playing match-the-pants!") I showed her how some "Talls" were not actually longer than some of the other "medium/regular" pants (a big issue when you are tall like I am.) I showed her how the waists changed, and the other aspects. And then I showed her how the ones that matched up were different sizes, even though they were the same (very effective when I had a size 6 and a 14 that matched. Talk about vanity sizing out of control. Yes, everyone wants a smaller size, but seriously? I'd much rather just FIND my darn size and get OUT of the store. I am not someone who wants to shop for ages, I'm more of a "get in, get out" kind of girl.)

Of course she then asked "What size are you mommy?" To which I replied "I have NO idea, and this is why." I think she finally got it, but it helped that she too had to try on pants and they each fit her differently. It turns out they're starting with the weird sizing and cuts in the girls department now too. Mess 'em up young, right?

Once we managed to escape the mall, we actually had a couple of returns to take care of. I was already tired, so I almost killed the shopper at Wal-Mart who figured she was the queen of the world and literally body-checked me with her cart. I can't really say there have been many times in my history where I thought of physically retaliating, but this would be one of them because once I regained my balance I found that she had actually done it deliberately because I was in the way of the discounted Christmas merchandise. I counted to 10 several times, and reminded myself that jail was not where I wanted to spend my vacation, and then moved on.

I literally saw people fighting over the 50% off chocolate. I don't even know what to say. Is that last bag of Butterfinger Bells really worth scratching someone's eyes out over?

I must confess that we did buy some chocolate, but in my defense, it literally jumped out at me. I was walking by the discounted fancier chocolates when suddenly the Hershey's Pot Of Gold, chocolate covered pecan caramels (one of my favorites) actually jumped off the shelf and fell at my feet. Several boxes. Mr. Savy was witness to the whole thing and said if he hadn't seen it himself he would have thought I was telling tall tales. I figure it was the the brutal wrestling match over the candy going on in the aisle one over that dislodged the boxes, but who am I to question fate?

It was Mr. Savy who said "Well we have to buy them now! They're 50% off? Might as well get two, then!"

I think I'm in love all over again.

Christmas Hangover

Ok not really. I didn't drink a drop, but there was a lot of chocolate involved so I feel like I have a hangover. Or it may just be the horrid headache I have from two of the toys my daughter got: an iDog (from Santa that she keeps playing the same Kelly Clarkson song on over and over and over again, with many yips and barks from the stupid thing) and Squawkers (from grandma, who will feel my wrath.)

That darn bird will NOT shut up. Worse, the kids can record something and it'll squawk it back. Over. And OVER. AND OVER AGAIN!

AND she can use both the toys together, so the dog will play music and bark and dance, and the bird will mimic it back and dance too.

Why am I not drinking again?

My son got Lego's. Lots of Lego's. Lego's are quiet. Even when he makes little explosion sounds (like all boys can, it has to be something genetically coded on the Y chromosome or something,) he is SO quiet in comparison to the "SQUAAAAAAWK! ...I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly (irony, your name is iDog)....SQUAAAK! HAHA!!!! ... do what it takes till I touch the skyyyyy... HAHA! Sky HAHAHA!"

I got a gadget for Christmas as well. An intuos3. For some reason it is intimidating the hell out of me, and I haven't even opened the box yet. Last year it took me two weeks to take on my iPod. I know, I'm a wuss. But it isn't what you think!

Once I get going with a new gadget, I all but disappear from the world until I have conquored it. This looks really complicated, and it has the added issue of needing to finally learn my Nikon DSLR inside and out. And it opens up a lot of avenues with Dreamweaver, Photoshop, and other graphic programs... and wholly cow, you all may not see me until next Christmas once I start in on this thing. My kids might forget what I look like! It could be the end of the world as we know it!

Geeze, I might have to start selling photography again. I used to. But when I went digital I missed the darkroom and the lenses. Now that I have an DSLR... and this new gadget... hmmm maybe I could work out a Blogger's world tour, photographing portraits of bloggers for a big show. Now there is a way to see the world!

But I suppose that means I have to actually open the box.

Oh, and I'm not going to stop blogging. Fortunately I got over that little hiccup this year again. I haven't decided whether to keep on with the other blog or just get rid of it altogether and post my paintings here (I have a feeling it would be easier... but then again, my posts would get longer. And really, have I ever suffered for length of a post before?)

My Card

I'm going wish everyone a very happy *insert whatever holiday you want to hear here*, with a cool song below (it really is fabulous and will make you laugh, you have to hear the whole thing.)

A bite of the Apple

I decided to post this here instead of on my other blog. I finally finished my snow white painting, that goes with sleeping beauty.
(Sleeping Beauty, for reference - it's a trilogy.)

All the backgrounds actually match colors exactly, it's just that the camera is picking up the wet paint differently.


Cinderella is the last on my list:

Uber-Sigh

It's that time of year again. NO, not that time of year. After a while, I tend to go through a period where I wonder why I am blogging at all.

My blog has no real theme, (it's fitness, personal, stupid, whatever) and I've shunted my art over to Color Me Kyra. Color Me Kyra is sort of self sustaining. I write in it when I've been painting (which I have, and will post pictures later.) But this one. Well, I am back to wondering "what's the point?"

Maybe it's because I've been in such a foul mood lately. It could be the mood-slide from coming down off of the hyper-stress of finals (and I am so sick of school too. At 32 years old, the fact that I have to concern myself with homework and tests is annoying to no end.) I also spent time helping a friend who is graduating this semester with the exact same degree look for jobs. Know what? There is nothing out here. Well, nothing reasonable anyway for a newly minted college student with a bachelors degree in business administration. We spent hours looking, because she wants to stay in Vermont. The best we found were literally glorified secretarial jobs that only paid $8 an hour. McDonald's pays more than that. She got depressed, I got worried.

There are other things going on, which I can't blog about (of course) that are also making me completely miserable. I can't give details, but I will say that it makes me want to crawl in my closet and not come out again. Which is why I am crawling into my studio instead. More productive that way.

But maybe I should take a break. Maybe not post except on my art blog until January 1st, and then decide whether to keep at it or dump it permanently, or maybe it is a mistake dividing the art from this and I should post it on here just to consolidate. Or maybe I dump this one, and just shut up and only paint instead. Maybe I just need a nap.

Maybe the mood will have passed (boy, let's hope all of the moods pass by then! )

Sandman, Baby

I'm grumpy today. I think my interrupted, totally unacceptable sleep is starting to take a major toll on me. I expected that classes being over and free time commencing that I would start sleeping again too.

I know, I'm an insomniac and that doesn't change for me, but things have been really bad with the high level of stress that came along with finals. I would wake in the middle of the night mulling over my strategic analysis, or worrying over the financial ratios, or wondering if I even remembered to do laundry so I'd have underwear for the next day. But now it's not about that. I'm waking up because my shoulder is sore, because I thought I heard something... or maybe Mr. Sandman is angry with me and having a good laugh at my expense.

It's frustrating because there is never a sleep so lovely as that taken during a good snow storm. The wind batters the house, the snow falls in opaque sheets of white, frosting all the windows with a surreal glitter. And there you are, all snuggled down in your flannel sheets, toasty, safe and warm. Usually snoring loud enough to break several noise ordinances (in Mr. Savy's case anyway.) You dream of things you have been savoring since childhood, and you start to appreciate why bears choose to sleep the entirety of the winter season.

I love sleep. I don't get a lot of it, but I LOVE SLEEP.

*sob* I wanna sleep!!!

I think I'll spend today in my studio. But it is snowing, with such lovely sleeping weather. And check out the sexy help who clears my driveway:

Alright, it takes a special person to find the "ooolala!" in the arctic circle look, but when you live up here you adapt.

Maybe I need to do more holiday cookie baking. And I haven't made my annual gingerbread house either!

The Day After

I must admit, the fact that finals are over hasn't sunk in properly yet. I thought I would sleep soundly for the first time in weeks last night. No such luck. I was up tossing, and turning, and even my cat got annoyed with me.

I kept thinking there was something I have to do, NOW. And there was - SLEEP, dagnabbit! I'm not a good person without sleep. So, I got up and ran a few miles at 5 AM when I realized this relaxing thing was out of my grasp just yet.

The problem with that was I started thinking about all the other things I need to do. I haven't actually caught up with laundry since October. Seriously. I don't even want to think about how long it has been since the floor was mopped (it's a bad sign that we have corn and sweet peas growing in the hallway, right?)

Then there is the last minute Christmas stuff I need to pick up. I should really do that too. And oh, but I wish I had a book to read - I'm all out.

For someone who has nothing to do, I have so much to do, I don't know what to do.

Mr. Savy stole my car this morning, so that eliminates some possibilities. I guess I'm stuck scrubbing the house.

Or I could lay on the floor under the Christmas tree and count pine needles while sipping spiked eggnog. Someone needs to do that, right?

School's Out!

This morning I finished my last final. YAY!

OK not my last last... I have one more semester to go. But, I'm done for the next four weeks! Four weeks of nothing! Or at least no books and calculations and research. I can do everything...or nothing at all.

Most likely I'll be doing laundry and housecleaning catch-up, but that doesn't sound nearly as much fun as the other possible scenarios I can come up with.

Life With Teeth

I seem to have had a lot of discussions lately about the style of the way one lives their life. There are so many different flavors and fashions, and even in one lifetime you can expect to go through several.

As a child, you pretty much have no choice. You must accept the style of letting everyone else tell you what to do, and do it (even if you secretly plot their demise while doing so.) Sure, you could fight it, but it usually landed you in hot water on multiple levels. So, in the end, you submitted while they watched you... and very likely rebelled when they didn't. The problem with the rebellion is that even then the choices you are making are because of someone else's for you. That is, of course, the ultimate irony.

As an adult, you have many more choices open to you. Unfortunately, being unceremoniously dumped into adulthood with choice and responsibility thrust upon you within the same tick of the clock, doesn't result in making the best decisions for you. Sure, sometimes you get some great results... but usually this is referred to as "those embarrassing years" or "my wild 20's". I did plenty of stupid things. I listened a lot, trying to stumble upon hints and clues to who I was supposed to be and how I was supposed to go through my day being that person. The fatal flaw in all of this (in the midst of about 100 others) is that I was still listening for someone else to tell me what to do, when I knew that wouldn't give me what I wanted.

Still, listening can help lead you to some concrete conclusions about what you want out of your life. But in the end, what has to happen is that you need to grab onto your own life and refuse to let go. All that time spent listening, and you probably didn't notice the others trying to grab on and wrest you away from yourself. They were there all along, they were even there in different guises during childhood. They were masked and operated with more guile once you were an adult, and yet all along they were simply maneuvering for a better grip.

Be this, be that! Be thin! Be strong! Be a proper! Keep your voice down! And Agree... Agree with EVERYTHING we say! Live up to these standards, and follow this path. This is where you need to be! This is the only person you ever can be.

All that time early on when you were quietly paying attention for hints and clues, and they knew it. Sneaky, aren't they?

Then, one day not long after you notice that there are certainly a lot of things others want you to be and do, you realize that "they" have become you. Suddenly you realize that it's now YOU who are whispering that you aren't good enough. You aren't smart enough. You aren't thin enough, strong enough, rich enough, savvy enough... you just aren't enough. Be this, do that, jump this high and then run over there, and know that you will never ever please me. All that quiet entanglement in silk soft ropes suddenly becomes laced with thorns of reality in there here and now.

And you did it. They helped, but YOU did it.

But maybe you haven't gone too far down their path. It's never too late, right?

What I have discovered is that there are a million people waiting to step in and tell you how to live your life. Worse, in 99.9% of the cases you will not like their ideas for you. That old phrase, "you can't please everyone", is very real. It's just not physically possible, and yet they will certainly demand that you try.

After you stop trying to please them and start zeroing in on those things that you do want, that is when the real trouble starts. Maybe that's not where they want you to be going. Maybe it is, but it isn't far enough. And hey, even if you do succeed, do you really think it's any good? Plus they have you so well trained that even when they're not around, you fill in all those silences with every nasty thing that could possibly be said to discourage you.

So, basically you are putting out double the effort for every single thing you do for yourself. The effort to achieve the goal, and the effort to fight your efforts to get in your way.

Have you ever seen a dog attack with their teeth and refuse to let go? I'm not talking about those horrible vicious attacks on children or anything like that. Think about those training videos of police dogs that never release until it's alright to do so. I think about those teeth. Have you ever felt truly aggressive? It's that feeling where you hear the words in your head "Like hell!" or "Over my dead body" and mean them. If you are a parent, it's easy to tap into. The mere suggestion of someone harming your child probably has you gritting your teeth and thrusting out your jaw. What if someone tried to take your life savings from you? Whatever is most dear, you wouldn't let that happen without a fight - would you?

Then why let yourself be stolen away? For most people, by the time they realize they need to do something about their lives so it becomes their life, they have a fight on their hands. I know I did.

Be the perfect wife. Be the perfect mother. Be thin - you're never too thin. Sell useless fund-raising things, and be happy volunteering for any and all community projects. Shut up, no one wants to hear you. Give up your time, you have no right to it. If you are one of the lucky people, that really does make you happy... yet even then there will be so many things you can't meet. I couldn't meet any of them. Those things, those labels, those expectations were not who I was. I thought it would be simple to change tact and adopt a new direction, but it turns out that once they get their hooks in, they're murder to shake off - even when it's your own self. That's where the teeth come in.

Aggression isn't always bad. As a matter of fact, aggression is essential. You have to reach down inside yourself and find your teeth. Then you have to sink them in to what you really want for yourself and never let go. You may have to growl, and snap, and give a good show as well as a strong fight. But above all else, you must fight.

I have spent a lot of time here in the past showing the less toothy side of myself. The side that is wounded by opinions and words, and who rails at the world for the unfairness of it all (that's a nice way of saying "I whine like a fire alarm.") That side exists, it is part of who I am. But it is not the whole of who I am, and it no longer hinders who I am meant to be. It took a while, and the progress was inch by furious inch, but that is not who I am. So, I may show my blood sweat and tears on here, but understand that in real-life, I am not to be underestimated.

You shouldn't let yourself be either. So be fierce. Life your life with teeth, because without it you will be the one who gets bitten.

A Moment About Giving

I have talked about how the gift process works within our household, but not so much outside of it. It's very hard when you live so far from every single family member. You can't just bake up a plate of brownies with a nice card and say Merry Christmas to them. Even if you did decide to mail the brownies, the recipients feel it's not "enough of a gift."

So here is what I would like to know: What do you do about relatives/friends who it seems a gift is required while on a budget?

With rising costs so high and painful, it is awful just to go grocery shopping. So trying to provide a holiday for the family, without angering the extended family is looking very daunting this year. Shipping alone is a nightmare. I'm looking for cheap gifts that don't LOOK cheap. It's probably impossible... but I'm looking. Any ideas? By cheap, I MEAN cheap - we're talking about $10 each, maximum, because there are so many we have to send to. It's upsetting that the Christmas budget for the household is 40% or more just for "other" people.

But you can't not give, and I suppose it doesn't matter how much you give anyway when they complain no matter what. But it's never enough, never good enough, never whatever... but giving nothing is 10 times worse. (I suggested we go with the gift to a charity in their name, because then they can't complain without looking really bad... but I was told that they would probably sick the assassins on me.)

Giving used to be so much fun. I used to work hard to find something that meant something to the receiver. Something that made the gift more than just a gift. But for a lot of the extended recipients they didn't care how much work went into it, if it wasn't perfect, they felt negatively towards you. So that made it NOT fun to give (and no, not everyone gives to us either but it is expected that we do give to them by the upper hierarchy in the family.) Add that little piece of un-funness to the constrictions financially, and well... no fun to be had anywhere at all. I've never hated giving before. I do now, in this instance.

And what about outside of the family? I have had more lectures on how you are supposed to give money or other things to the garbage collector, mail person, UPS/FedEx person, etc. It's become similar to tipping in a restaurant. Remember, once upon a time, when you tipped because you liked the service? Now it's expected that you MUST tip even for bad service (just not as much,) instead of the restaurant paying a decent wage to their workers and then the tip being an extra bonus for them (I was a waitress, I've been there, I'm NOT down on the waitstaff workforce out there at ALL. And the people who don't tip for good service should be smacked upside the head, don't get me wrong. But there are other things in play here too.)

I know all of this probably makes me sound like I'm sprouting green fur and mumbling "Have a Grinchy Christmas!" But I swear I'm not. I truly wish I did have the resources to give to everyone I wanted to. At the same time, I don't like being told I HAVE to give to certain people because of etiquette.

So what say you on gifts, giving, and etiquette? (and any pointers about the lower priced gifts? Gift cards are out, because people see them and complain about the amount.)

Who Needs Black Friday

Everyone, media and rational people alike, go on and on about the chaos of shoppers on Black Friday. Black Friday has a double meaning: 1) The retailers make enough sales to be "in the black" and are finally making money, 2) It's the color of your eye after reaching for that last half-off-super-special-must-have and the 16 other shoppers next to you disagreed with your aspirations of ownership.

However, if everyone thinks Black Friday is bad, they haven't been in New England before a big storm. I'm not exactly sure if it's all of NE or just Vermont, actually. Maybe some of you can clarify this.

Vermont is rural. There are hardly any people in the state as it is. I believe that this is partly because they think that living closer than six acres to one another is "intruding on personal space." Of course, half the time they think the same thing about responding to a nice greeting like "Good morning! How are you!" by a perfect stranger. They warm up after you have been around long enough to generate some gossip, which thereby justifies your existence to them and results in acknowledgment (whether or not they snidely whisper "flatlander"* about you to others.) Don't get me wrong, there are some very very nice people here, and for them I am grateful. Then there are the Stepford wives, and some other characters that you really don't want to know about.

With so few people in the state, much less in specific areas, you would think that real crowds wouldn't be much of a problem. I lived in Denver and Chicago, two places that know how to do crowds on a grand scale, one of the only things which has ever made me grateful for being as tall as a street post (seeing over everyone makes you a lot less claustrophobic.) What could Vermont possibly offer in comparison to those horrors? Black Fridays haven't been all that impressive here, after facing the crowds at the Gurnee Mills Mall in Illinois which boasts something like 1-2 miles of shopping and a good dose of insanity for free (I lived very close to it.)

But that opinion was dashed to pieces when we heard the news one morning, many moons ago; a Nor'easter was coming. What's a Nor'easter? Sounds like a second bunny-holiday, doesn't it? It's a storm that backs into New England and almost always brings massive conditions with it. The last major one I recall was on Valentines Day this year, where we got over four feet of snow. While not all of the storms actually wreak that kind of havoc, the important point is that they have the potential to do so.

Once a Nor'easter is announced, it spreads like wild-fire through the community. Everyone is talking about it to anyone that will listen (it's probably the only time I have ever seen Vermonters talk to strangers without being forced into it because of a job or something.) There is excitement, there is fear, there is... a mass convergence upon every grocery store, everywhere. If you have ever wondered what you should buy before a nuclear attack, you simply need to observe Vermont grocery stores before a big storm.

At the biggest store, all eight lanes were open with people ranging from 8-12 people deep each with a cart piled high with enough groceries to last them until 2020. Maybe eight lanes of 12 people doesn't sound like much, but let me assure you that this is generally an entire town's population. A representative of each family is in attendance. The gossip about the storm is never ending, as people compare strategies on how to deal with it. There are shoving matches over the salting equipment, and arguments over the bottled water. It turns out that people can be just as vicious over a can of tomato soup as a tickle-me-Elmo.

There is a Nor'easter coming. They have been whispering about it on the news for a few days now, but not predicting any snowfall amounts. That has been the most conspicuous thing about all of it. Usually they're so darn happy to tell you that we're going to be buried alive (they're rarely correct.) So... what's changed? On the Today Show, Al Roker started talking about three feet of snow, and when they went to our local guy he (FINALLY) very quickly said "oh, only MAYBE a foot..." no worries, right?

The weathermen are acting darn suspicious. I'm not the only one that thinks so. I went to pick up some eggnog and apples at the store, and they're jammed to the gills. I'm just glad I don't have to arm wrestle over anything else, since I just did that big Wal-Mart trip two days ago. I was kind of hoping to not sport any black eyes over the holiday.


*Flatlander: a term annoying Vermonters use to try and make themselves feel superior to anyone not from Vermont. Traditionally, it was used to identify people from New Jersey and thereabouts, indicating that they're not from the mountains. But now it's used to label anyone not actually born in Vermont, no matter how long they have lived here and how nice they are.

Sticker Shock

One small quick stupid question, semi-related to the post below. It had been a while since I had been shopping, but I was shocked at how prices of sky rocketed. The worst, oddly enough, was liquid fabric softener. I buy a generic brand that was always $1.99 a bottle. The name brands always ran around $4 a bottle. Last night the CHEAPEST was well over $6 a bottle, with name brands topping $10! I looked closer to make sure it was the same size, same number of loads, etc.

Has anyone else seen a very dramatic increase like that? (The whole trip cost me 30% or more than normal. It was enough that I won't be back. Might as well keep it close to home, why drive two hours for THAT?)

Wal-Mart Winner

A lot of people are not fans of Wal-Mart. They insist on going to Target (usually pronouncing it "Taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar jaaaaaaaaaaaaay"with a flip of the hair and a tilt of the nose.) I understand, really. We don't have ANY Targets here, but I do like their store better.

I have heard the horror stories of the Wal-Mart customer crowd. It has been referred to as the Ghetto-Mart, among other things, referencing the people who seem to shop there and think that changing out of their pajamas isn't required or that tube tops are (by men and women alike.) There are the one's who haven't showered, and are clearly there to purchase soap (we hope.) There are the screamers, the child-slappers, and "pull everything off the shelf and onto the floor and leave it there, just because" shoppers. We know that these people existed in nature before Wal-Mart, we're just not sure where they all congregated.

Well, out here we have another breed of shopper that is far more terrifying than all of those combined. I submit to you: the Hunt Club.

These shoppers show up in full-on camouflage: big stomping mud boots coated in unidentified stuff that drops off with every step , some sort of hip wading snow pants suspender things, and a t-shirt or turtleneck - ALL camouflage patterned. They look as if they haven't slept or showered in at least a month, and they all congregate around the live ammunition counter debating whether taking out a squirrel with an Uzi is cheating (and how much meat that varmint has left afterwards, cause squirrel on crackers just can't be beat.)

Well, this crowd was in full force last night when I made a trip to the Super Wal-Mart. I would wager that about 1/3 the people in the store were members of this group, it was a bit frightening to be honest. But, I figure they have to Christmas shop too.

Why look, they're over there by a shelf marked "scents"... must be where they keep what they consider manly cologne or something. Right?

If you have hunting knowledge, I'm sure you know the horror that followed. You're probably already hiding under your desk at this very moment. For hunting-virgins like myself who prefer to think a deer is pretty and move along, you might be wondering what kind of "perfume" do they carry in the camouflage section? Why, deer pee, my dear.

Apparently these guys had to try it on too.

If you have never smelled this stuff, well... you are really lucky. All non-camouflaged people came running out of any areas nearby. The hunt club, however, gathered round like bees to a spring blossom, while bellowing with laughter and comparing memories of "smells" and how they felt it compared with what they smelled in the wild. Therein followed another lively debate about orange hunting vests and how they were for sissies. Then another round of "scents" ensued as they looked for just the right one, while some of the group broke off to buy more bullets (rounds?)

Where was I? In electronics, trying to find a CD I promised to get, and wondering if it was possible to die from an odor alone. The things I do for Christmas.

I found the CD and then bailed as quickly as possible. You are told to never go grocery shopping hungry, because you will buy everything that looks even remotely good to you. Well, I can tell you that there is danger in the opposing direction as well. Never shop when you think you're going to die of odor-poisoning. It was hard to not just turn and bail, but when you have to drive two hours round trip to the stupid store sometimes you just have to stick the hard stuff out. After about 20 minutes, I thought I was starting to feel better when that smell hit me full on again.

I was on the opposite side of the store, so I couldn't figure it out (I'm slow.) I thought perhaps I was having a flash-back. A sort of post traumatic smell episode or something. No such luck.

A good group of the hunt club was coming around the aisle in front of me, each with the biggest box of generic beer I have ever seen perched on their shoulders. Bullets, Beer, and Deer Pee.

There are just no words. In my experience, these guys now hold the winning spot for worst Wal-mart stereotyped customer. Maybe I should make them crowns.

Early Weather

It's snowing... AGAIN. Now, Vermont is known for being a snowy place around Christmas, but I have a big revelation for you. In the past eight or so years I have lived here we have gotten hardly any snow in December. What snow you do get is fast on its way out because it warms up enough to melt.

I have had snow on every single Christmas without fail, though. Even if the grass is still slightly green, for some reason a dusting of flakes will fall while we're opening gifts on Christmas morning. But that doesn't mean that it's a Winter Wonderland or a White Christmas in the strictest of terms every year. As a matter of fact, even though we got a dusting of snow on Christmas last year, it warmed up so significantly in January that there were actual buds on the trees! Ok, that is really unusual, but so is this much snow in December. There seems to have been snow nearly every day. This is the kind of weather we get in late January and February!

However, it just so happens that I LOVE snow. I know, all you sun-babies are shaking your heads at me (my own father included, he would get a condo in Hades if he could.) But I do. I love the white stuff piling up. I love making snowmen. I love how cozy your kitchen, how warm your bed, how safe against the world your house becomes. I also love cross country skiing. I never quite make it to the "trails" that are about 30 minutes away. Instead, like a child, I zoom around my yard. Now, my yard IS 11 acres, but just the same... I'm sure my neighbors just add it to the "she's an idiot" list.

Well adding to that idiot list is the fact that after all these snowy days, it JUST occurred to me that I could have been zooming around my yard skiing. Apparently my brain processing this snow is at a near stand-still. It was only as I was searching for snow pants to take the kids to the bus (because I am in my indoor running gear - I know my neighbors think I am an idiot, but standing out in this would probably qualify me as insane and I'd hate to be committed for the holidays) that I grabbed my ski pants and thought "Hey.... now wait just a minute! I use these for.... SKIING! Don't I?"

So now I am trying to decide whether to brave the garage, pull out all my gear, and give it a go or not. By braving the garage, I feel I must qualify this with the fact that last night I opened the door to turn out the light and while all the pets were inside the house there was a HUGE amount of scurrying and scratching noises coming from the far corner of the garage by my ski equipment. I'm scared to even consider what it might be. If it's mice, they've unionized. If it's possums... it'll be Mr. Savy's job. If it's worse, I'm moving.

Unfortunately, it's semi-raining, which makes it a probably not. I'm just frustrated it took me this long to realize I could have been out having fun. Clearly college has not been good for me.

Up, Up, UP! and Away?

I did something I'm pretty excited about last night. I booked a plane ticket to go and see one of my best friends. I have only one friend from my past, the rest I am better off without. I met this girl (I know I should say "woman", we're in our 30's for crying out loud, but to me she will always be "that girl") at Water World in Colorado when I was 10 years old. She was looking for a watch she lost in the big wave pool, so I decided to help her look for it and we hung out for the rest of the day.


About two weeks later we found out our fathers actually worked together and were friends. We never really forgave them for not introducing us years before that, but we managed to move forward. We have grown and changed, sometimes falling out of each other's favor, but always coming back. I have 99% male friends, because I seem to just get along better with them. This girl is my only female friend who I am truly close to. I saw her briefly about three years ago, and it was six years before that. She has married, and is now divorced. So much has changed from when we were running around like hooligans at the water park.

So, I finally booked a ticket to go and see her - all by myself. It's a little unnerving since I never get to do anything by myself, I'll probably have no idea what to do with myself, but I will be flying to Texas in January!

But do you know what this wonderful sweet woman (girl) did? She signed us up immediately for a High Ropes course. Look at this:

"The chance to challenge yourself in the realms of high ropes elements is a not only a life changing experience, but a blast at the same time. You will be walking on ropes over 50 ft in the air, swinging from platforms, balancing on edges, with the risk factor taken out by qualified instructors, belay and other safety equipment."



Maybe she's still miffed about the whole hating her boyfriend thing in Junior High?

I'm kidding! I'm totally looking forward to this! I'd say that I plan on taking pictures, but I think I might be a bit preoccupied with not falling to my death (if anyone could die while being guided with safety rigging and instructors, it would be me.) I have very little fear of heights, minus a "cliff fear". My fear is to be standing at the edge of a cliff with nothing to hold me back - I always feel like the world is tilting and trying to dump me off. Give me a railing, and it's no problem though.

I am a little nervous, because back when I tried out the flying trapeze I wasn't able to turn myself upside down without freaking out. But maybe it was the swinging that was so scary for me, since I'm so affected by motion sickness I can't even weed the garden because of the motion of getting up and down. Maybe this will be perfect, and I'll run across poles and wires like the most graceful of cats! Rawr!

And I'll have the back-up plans and sketches of what to paint on my cast should I flatten myself. It's good to plan ahead!

Because It Won't Be Perfect

A lot of people are annoyed by fitness. If a fit person goes jogging by, many will tend to make snarky comments devaluing the person or the activity (out loud, or just internally.) I have found that what the attitude really is about is that they feel deep down they should be the person out there jogging, and that the person jogging by them is somehow a judgment of their failure to exercise.

Beyond being a professional artist and now a full time student (again *sigh* almost done!) I'm also a personal trainer. I mostly deal with out of shape people who want to lose weight, because they're my favorite. I have been there, and I know what it is like. I love watching people discover their own strengths and power over themselves.

Unfortunately, these people also have tailored concerns and excuses that continue to hold them back. Some of them will fight you to the death over the excuse, because they really don't want to be there. They don't want to give up whatever benefit they are getting from their current lifestyle in exchange for the new one. The worst part is, what holds them back in fitness is most certainly holding them back in the rest of their lives. I know, because I have been there too.

Some of the excuses make me want to tear my hair out. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I was training a woman, and a man came over and started explaining how women shouldn't lift weights because no man wants a strong woman, and we might turn all masculine, and then where would we be? A few years ago this would have simply shocked me into silence, but not now. I've heard it so many times, yet I am always amazed. How do these kinds of prejudicial lies keep perpetuating, and why?

Only a very few women with a hormone issue or using steroids need to worry about packing it on, and frankly - the ones on steroids are after that on purpose. And about the part about women are not supposed to be strong? Bite me. I will open jars, move boxes, lift heavy objects, and move furniture myself, thank you very much. If I need help, it will be in partnership with someone else, without me standing there like useless fluff directing traffic. Strength trumps weak and frail any day, and it is NOT ugly. As a matter of fact, in the personal training realm there is a big difference in training for strength verses bulk in muscle. They are NOT the same thing. Now go pass that TRUTH on for a few rounds, would you?

I have heard from numerous people who don't want to set foot in a gym simply because they believe everyone already judges them every waking minute of the day, the last thing they want to do is get on a bike in front of some fit person lifting weights and have them judge that too. These are usually my online clients, who I can't show up on their doorstep and drag them into the gym personally. Want to know a secret? If someone is able to pay attention to YOU in the gym while working out, they're the ones who are being wimps. There is not a single real workout I have done where I paid attention to other people. Why? Because you must focus to workout effectively. You lose focus, you drop a barbell on your foot, or twist your ankle, or fall out a window (it could happen.) The only thing real people working out are thinking about is "I want a shower. step one, two... lift three four... I don't care what they say, these shorts do SO ride up, dammit!"

And lastly (though really, there are so many excuses I could write a book on them,) the biggie... *drum roll*.... "Why bother? I won't look like *insert famous person/or person standing by you with perfect body* no matter what I do. What is the point? I'll never look like that."

So that's it? Without perfection, you just give up? Seriously?

People are NOT perfect. Yes, there are some people who live charmed lives. They have hit the genetic jackpot and risk going down in the history books as the best specimen of womanhood or manhood in the universe. They have million dollar paychecks, drive fancy cars, and have people hanging onto every word they say, hoping for a crumb of acknowledgment in return. The moon waxes and wanes for them, and sun shines just a little bit brighter through their windows.

But that isn't you, so why bother doing anything? Why workout, you'll never have perfect thighs, or be three inches taller. Why write that book, you'll never be a best seller. Why try at all? Why not just go home, bury yourself in your bed and wait for reincarnation to occur so you can file an appeal for better selection the next time around?

Is that really how you want to go through your life? There is no real judgment in the gym, but I promise you that there will be judgment about leading a life in a "if it's not perfect it's not worth it" manner. It is actually insulting to everyone around you. We're not perfect, are we not worthy of existence either?

Perfection is overrated. Perfection is the end of the line, what do you do after perfection? There is nothing left, because you can't improve upon perfection. There is no growth, there is no change, and stasis does not exist in real life.

You are NOT perfect. I don't care who you are, you are not perfect. But your imperfections are the best traits you have. Imperfections give you the opportunity to grow and develop who you want to be. When I sculpt, an imperfection in the stone can be very aggravating at first. You had a plan, a vision, and now that vision will never be realized. This is often the point where the artist must walk away (and cuss a blue streak for an hour or two.) But they come back, do you know why? Because the imperfections in the stone are like a voice, the voice that is trying to tell you who it wants to be in spite of itself. And so you begin carving again, allowing for the imperfection to guide you in a new direction. By the end, you have something new. Something you never saw coming, and yet here it is. Not just beauty despite the imperfection, but beauty because of it.

We all have imperfections, but they are a boon not a curse. They are the elements that make you who you are, and if you listen to them and work with them you can create your own special brand of perfection that no one else can match. It isn't where you set out to go, but it is where you are meant to be.

So stop holding yourself back. Put the excuses away, to laugh at when you have accomplished so much more. No more excuses, because they are the real failures, not you. Go out without fear of judgment, without influence via lies, and be your perfect imperfect self.

Wrapping It Up

I've noticed that my titles all come out with a double holiday meaning lately. That wasn't my intention with this post, but I'm always up for a double-bonus pun as much as the next Christmas freak. What I was actually going to refer to was that I finished my last huge project in my class from Hades. I slaved over it yesterday and today until my derriere went numb, and I started babbling about competitive intelligence and strategic alliances with wreaths and candy canes and Mr. Savy pulled me away from the computer and forced me to watch a double-header of Reaper to clear my mind.

I'm down to just one class with any homework in it, and three finals (I already finished two other classes early.) By next Tuesday I will be free from all of it! And then I'll be bogged down with Christmas cards and gift wrapping with the additional hazards of paper cuts, ribbon entanglements, and shameful scotch-tape incidents.

Tis the season, right?

I took a break when I finished and played DDR (Dance Dance Revolution) with my nine year old on the Playstation. I have only played it a couple of times, while my daughter has been toiling at it for months, and I was so proud I did well on a song until my daughter said "Well, of COURSE you did good mom.... it's on BEGINNER."

Gee, thanks.

No, really.

I was just happy I didn't fall over and put my head through the wall. I can spar, I can bench more than my own body weight, I can run a marathon... I CAN NOT COORDINATE MY BODY IN DANCE. I don't care if it's aerobics or doing the tango, you are barking up the wrong tree with me. I think I was born with magnets in various joints, and sometimes they repel one another, and other times they attract, adding up to the most graceless woman that you read before you today.

What can I say, Barnum & Bailey's would hire me in an instant for their clown troop... assuming they had the insurance to cover the tent falling down on everyone while I danced, causing the elephants to rampage and the trapeze artists to revolt. Fortunately the only real dancing I do is on my own where no one can see me and call the police. The cat might alternate between scandalized and terrorized, but he's close to the only casualty if you ignore the self-inflicted injuries I end up with. It's all good.

The last random thing I just had to share was from one of my eavesdropping sessions. As a parent, one of the major perks is listening in on the kid-convo. It's not only a right, it's a requirement. Sure, they're young, but someday I'll be able to seriously disrupt their lives with things I have heard. It's an important skill to develop.

Tonight I was listening to my kids as they were brushing their teeth before bed. At first I wasn't sure that I had heard them right, and then they got louder...

"brababababpabaaaaa! I am.... T-H-E........... FLOSSINATOR!!!"

"Save my molars, Flossinator! The evil cavity forces are attacking! Toothpastinator was damaged and went down the drain! Whatever shall we do?"

"NO one beats Flossinator! Flossinator beat everyone. Flossinator powerful, stomp evil cavity.... stompstompstomp.... HERE! Take this floss and fight back!"

"All teeth-kind are so grateful Flossinator!"

".... I'm OFF to save the dog!!!!!....ummm hold on Sis.... HEY MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!"

*choking on laughter, tears streaming down my face, trying to compose myself...* "Uh yeah?"

"Do dogs floss? Cause they have teeth.... and bad breath. They floss right?"

Uhhhhhhhhhhhh..... do dogs floss... This is a trick question, isn't it? Shoot! Thinkthinkthinkthink... "Uh, dogs have teeth, and flossing is beneficial whenever you have teeth!" HA! I rock. That was a good answer, you KNOW it was. If I said no, he might have pretended to be the dog and not floss anymore.

"Oh! Right! Thanks mom!...... BAHAHAH! I am the FLOSSINATOR! Saving all the teeth, in all the mouths! I fly now! WooooooooOOOOOOOooooooooooooSHHHHH!"

"Bye Flossinator! We'll miss you!"



I'm not kidding. That actually happened. I laughed so hard I still have a stomach ache.

Winter Frost

Winter really has settled in here. Yesterday I was cold almost all day long. I never really got to that "comfortably warm" point, and today has been very similar. It's so amazing to me that the world can be so hot that a swimsuit feels like wearing arctic explorer gear, and then a couple months later you would wear six sweaters under a sleeping bag if only they were in fashion.

There are other sources of warmth besides sleeping bags though. At this very moment, our new puppy is snoring in my lap, happy as can be after a visit to the vet (I think he's just thrilled he's not there anymore.) The clouds are heavy, and I have Christmas lights on inside with the Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack playing - my new #1 favorite Christmas album. I think it always was, but I only bought it this year. It reminds me of when I was small, in my feetie-pj's, watching the snow and making Christmas wishes.

I have been doing a lot of thinking about Christmas and what it was like as a child. For me, when Santa still visited, I was filled with far too much energy derived from too many sugar-plum dreams and anxiety over both the school holidays and the whole Christmas event. It was so exciting I could barely contain myself!

My children love Christmas too, but it's different. I think that is partly due to my efforts to really establish that it is the holiday season and all the time we get to spend together doing things that is the most important, and presents are just a small element of that. For me, as a kid, it was most certainly about the presents. I knew all the religious stuff, I knew all the carols... whatever, where's my stocking? The stocking was always the BEST part. Chocolate and little trinkets and things that were just so neat! And lets not forget getting a toy... now that was Christmas.

There were never a lot of gifts under the tree, or a lot of toys in my room. I had one baby doll (wasn't into babies, but I needed one if I was going to pretend to be a girl instead of a tom-boy with the other kids) and two Barbies. A couple stuffed animals rounded out my collection, and that was it. I think that toy production has seriously evolved and kids have SO much these days, so getting one more thing under the tree is no big deal like it was to us growing up.

We keep the gifts small and only one from us and one from Santa (plus stocking.) The grandparents usually send several as well, which makes for a bigger Christmas than I ever had Which was really only one toy beneath the tree each year, along with some various clothing items like socks and underwear (no relatives sent us things for the most part.) I cannot imagine what it would be like if I went all out. My friend spent over $1500 PER CHILD this year, and her kids are the same age. What do you buy a kid under 10 with $1500? It boggles the mind.

I thought she was the minority, but she isn't; I am. She suggested I was a Scrooge for not "making it big" and that I didn't know what it was like to give the kids everything they really want and see how happy they are at that moment.

I disagree. My kids are pretty thrilled to make gingerbread houses and fudge with me and Mr. Savy, they love to decorate and hang out by the fireplace just lolling around with a book with everyone together. They also like their gifts that they get, even if it wasn't all 3,000 things on their list; I have never heard them complain or be depressed about it even once. I don't think I am a Scrooge, I think I have just spread the holiday over the month, rather than putting it all into one moment... and since that's really all about making it last, I would think a Scrooge would hate that even more.

But on one Scrooge note: I refuse to get into debt over a holiday. So that does play into this as well. But even if I did have the money to shell out thousands of dollars for everything they want at Christmas, I wouldn't.

So maybe I'll go meet up with Jacob Marley for a drink later after all, if that is what makes me a Scrooge. I kind of thought tons of gifts were a bit much anyway. Even with only getting one toy under the tree, I didn't envy the kids who got more. I loved my new toy and got incredible enjoyment out of it, which I cannot say the same for my own kids when they are given too many with everyone combined. They don't seem like they know which to play with, and how long, and then it just sort of fizzles and doesn't look as wonderful as my one perfect toy way back then did in the end. I'm not trying to deprive them, but to give them something that will last.

And with that said, I have three questions for you:

1) What was the BEST gift you ever received for Christmas/Your major holiday (no matter where it falls in the year)?

2) What was the WORST gift you ever received for the same holiday?

3) What was the best gift you ever GAVE? Why?



I think my best gift I ever received was a set of paint brushes and paint when I was about eight. Seems it caught on.

The worst was a used, broken, completely useless toy sent to me by a relative.

The best I ever gave was to my brother: an iguana. I got permission from my mom, saved up for months, and hid the stinky thing in my closet for three weeks until Christmas. But it was worth it, I don't think my brother spoke coherently for a couple of days, he was so thrilled.

Under The Stars

This morning at 3 a.m., what were you doing?

I was standing outside in my Nanook of the North coat (it makes me about 17 times my size, I figure besides fending off the chill it makes me a formidable target for the bears, wolves, and coyotes) looking up. If there was a moon, it had already set at that point. There were no clouds and the sky was a deep inky black, peppered with millions of twinkling stars. The wind had gone, and there was absolutely no noise from anything at all - including the wild life. I can only imagine that this is because it was SO DARN COLD OUT! Seriously, my toes were alternately burning and going numb.

Beauty and pain, all in one. What a world. I was waiting for the puppy to do his business. I HATE this part of having a new dog. Ugh. And the barking from 3:30 a.m. until 6 was a real treat too. He's lucky he's so darn cute.

Back to the stars. Have you ever had a moment where you felt so entirely insignificant that you just start questioning everything? And after you do that, you start wondering about other people, and why are they so mean sometimes? And what about that thing you said yesterday, why the heck did you say it? And should you really have bought those pants, because seriously...

Yeah, I don't do well on a complete lack of sleep. Add that to freezing temperatures and a dog that won't piddle even though he's been fairly clear he needs too, but that bush is just so darn interesting... and well, there you have it; a recipe to make me question life, the universe, and everything (42).

Today was Q&A. It went fine for me. "L" was a deer in the headlights, and I had to whisper under my breath "you need to answer SOME of these" so I didn't get in trouble for answering the bulk. Whatever. It's done. Over. Fini.

I have ONE week of classes left, and one week of finals - but technically my last final is on the 18th. 12 Days!!! I can make it. I can make it. I can make it.

Surreal Is as Surreal Does

Wow, that day I had yesterday is going to go down in the books for me. I went to bed Monday night wondering over the snow and ice falling and whether or not I would even have school. Or if the kids would end up with a snow-day, but I didn't, and I would have to drag them to my business presentation. Or if I would just drive off the road along the 40 miles of mountain roads I have to take to get to school. Or if I'd just pass out in front of everyone when I did.

Am I a positive thinker, or what?

I woke up, there was only enough snow to make the roads a pain but not enough to close school. Mixed blessings taken, I went and lifted weights, focusing on the upper body so I would STOP talking so darn much with my hands during my presentation. FYI, it didn't work. Apparently adrenalin numbs muscle soreness rather effectively. I probably looked like I was either signing in ASL or trying to land a plane during the presentation...and frankly, a plane crashing through would have probably been a good thing, but I'll get to that.

I got into my suit, fielding my daughter having a fit about having to go to school (she's still working on getting over the pneumonia but she is better,) and then checked email, where it looks like I just sold another painting (Neil, you rock!) So with that exciting boon, I was out the door.

I made it to our premeeting for the presentation. One group member was there. One was not. The missing one... we shall call her (sorting through some very apt, but inappropriate names) "L". L was 15 minutes late, and could have cared less. She came in, and then said something to the effect of "So... like, what am I presenting? What slides? What am I supposed to say? I don't get it."

My other team member almost leaped over the table and throttled her right there. I kept my cool until about the 8th or 9th thing. At that point my hands starting shaking from restraining myself (I wish I were kidding) and I set everything down, took a deep breath, and explained to L that I was frustrated. No cussing. No mean words. I amaze myself sometimes. It was like a nice alien had control of my body, because what I wanted to do was slap her upside the head and explain that since we have been living and breathing this case for three months, she ought to know what it's about AND what we wrote. But hey, you have to contribute to know that, right?

L bombed her portion of the presentation. I mean B-O-M-B-E-D it. My team mate and I had to lengthen ours by 10 minutes each (and we were already talking 15-20 minutes before that) to meet the required time, and to sound like we knew what the heck we were saying. I was literally a pool of sweat which was alternately embarrassing and disgusting.

Afterwards, my teammate and I ditched the idiot and went back to my house where we split a bottle of wine... and then some. The afternoon was passed in a lovely pink haze, ripping apart "L" and laughing ourselves silly. It was a good thing.

Hours later, pink haze gone, we were at dinner when a call came in. I have been very slowly looking around at other puppies. A more snugly breed. Just looking. I went and saw some Chihuahuas. Now, I have to say - I know some people love them, but the short haired ones look like rats to me. Or hairless cats, depending on their size, neither choice being flattering obviously. The ones with hair just seemed kind of... I can't explain it. Just not poofy enough, I guess. And Mr. Savy is all about the poofy in his pets.

So Mr. Savy suggested just looking in the paper and finding out about Pomeranians. Just to see what's out there. I left a message with one number that was local, but then didn't think about it. Last night, during dinner, the woman called back. She explained how she's been breeding them for 10 years, she's a registered AKC breeder, etc. She sells the puppies for $750 (the going price in the paper that I saw in general)... BUT here's the thing. Her and her family are going on vacation for a month. She thought all the puppies would be sold by now, but instead she still has