Thursday, December 24, 2009
Overheard...
"Abrielle, today is the last day you have to be really, really good; then you can just be normal..."
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Dear Elves...
Dear Elves,
I wont to be a elv just like you. Cus my mom sed that Santa Clos coud do majik and trn peopl in to elvs. I wunt you to reit a lettr to send me infrmashin.
Your Frend
Carsten
I wont to be a elv just like you. Cus my mom sed that Santa Clos coud do majik and trn peopl in to elvs. I wunt you to reit a lettr to send me infrmashin.
Your Frend
Carsten
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Not Feelin' It....
I'm one step away from being Scroogy this year. I honestly don't know what my problem is. I am usually FANATIC about Christmastime. Tree up day after Thanksgiving, Decorations up the next day. Shopping done, wrapped, and mailed. Batch one of Cinnamon Bread made and eaten before December 5th. Batch 2 by December 10th. Batch three by December 15th.....etc, etc....
That's considered "Normal-Shelly...."
This year....I just realized that Christmas is 10 days away. Seriously. I looked at the calendar yesterday and said, "Whoa! Christmas is next week!!"
The tree went up about a week ago and I just finished the last bit 2 days ago. The Christmas decoration were unpacked (thanks to Elf #1), but were not placed anywhere in particular until the threat of the entire church youth group coming to my house last Sunday whipped me into action (I have some pride still...) 1st batch of bread made yesterday. Christmas shopping....well....let's not go there.....Remember the Friends episode where Chandler and Joey bought everyone presents at the last minute from the local gas station? Maybe my kids would appreciate a nice air freshener......
I cannot find the antidote. Christmas Story (bible version)? A Christmas Story (Movie)? Christmas Candy? Caroling? Lights? Decor? Gifts? Wrapping? Nothing has worked.....
I think this year I'll just smile and nod and wait for New Years.....
That's considered "Normal-Shelly...."
This year....I just realized that Christmas is 10 days away. Seriously. I looked at the calendar yesterday and said, "Whoa! Christmas is next week!!"
The tree went up about a week ago and I just finished the last bit 2 days ago. The Christmas decoration were unpacked (thanks to Elf #1), but were not placed anywhere in particular until the threat of the entire church youth group coming to my house last Sunday whipped me into action (I have some pride still...) 1st batch of bread made yesterday. Christmas shopping....well....let's not go there.....Remember the Friends episode where Chandler and Joey bought everyone presents at the last minute from the local gas station? Maybe my kids would appreciate a nice air freshener......
I cannot find the antidote. Christmas Story (bible version)? A Christmas Story (Movie)? Christmas Candy? Caroling? Lights? Decor? Gifts? Wrapping? Nothing has worked.....
I think this year I'll just smile and nod and wait for New Years.....
Thursday, December 3, 2009
An Open Letter...
Dear Stuff....
We have had a long, glorious relationship. Perhaps that is why I feel I can speak freely now. You are driving me crazy. Really, certifiably crazy. My family can vouch for this.
You are everywhere I turn. The desk, the counter, the couch. This afternoon I sought respite in the one place I thought would be free of your persistent presence, but alas, there you were on the toilet seat.
I admit, it has not always been this way. There was a time when I looked upon you with desire. We were inseparable. Five moves, 3 states. It was you and me. Together. You were worth the extra long moving truck. the additional rent for an extra bedroom, the extra boxes and wrapping---just for you.
It was not in the forecast for us to remain that way. Really, the forecast is at fault Hurricane Rita changed us. I left you behind during our flight (or crawl, as the case may be) and upon my return, things were ... different. You looked different. Felt different. You hadn't made the cut. You were not in the trunk. You weren't "needed," "necessary," or "important." You were left behind. Had the winds not shifted, that could have been the end of you then.
Have you felt my gaze? I often look at you and wonder why we have been together all these years. Upbringing? Yes, I admit, I was reared with stuff. Lots of it. Trinkets galore. A Pledge-dusters dream. But I swore you off. I declared myself liberated, yet there (and there, and there, and there...) you are. I wondered if you were fulfilling some deeply repressed need in me. Did your presence make me feel loved? Secure? Safe? No, just irritated and annoyed.
I thought I had conquered you. I declared myself victorious. Trash! Goodwill! Salvation Army! There! Proper homes for you. Retrospectively, I see that my declaration was premature and I let down my guard. Did you creep back in? No. You are too vain for that. You hauled yourself in a UHaul. I felt your draining presence from the front seat of the SUV. You fed off of my energy across three states and two time zones, leaving me empty, decrepit, languid....
You are my thief. You steal my time, my energy, my patience, my garage. I want them all back. Yes, including the garage. Both sides!
Yes, my stuff. We must part. It's for the best. You deserve a proper resting place, someone who truly loves you; or at least doesn't view you as a plague. I bid you adieu, auf wiedersehen, sayonara, buh-bye. There is no sentimentality left that can save our relationship. Please accept your fate and move on...and out....forever....
Freely....Shelly
We have had a long, glorious relationship. Perhaps that is why I feel I can speak freely now. You are driving me crazy. Really, certifiably crazy. My family can vouch for this.
You are everywhere I turn. The desk, the counter, the couch. This afternoon I sought respite in the one place I thought would be free of your persistent presence, but alas, there you were on the toilet seat.
I admit, it has not always been this way. There was a time when I looked upon you with desire. We were inseparable. Five moves, 3 states. It was you and me. Together. You were worth the extra long moving truck. the additional rent for an extra bedroom, the extra boxes and wrapping---just for you.
It was not in the forecast for us to remain that way. Really, the forecast is at fault Hurricane Rita changed us. I left you behind during our flight (or crawl, as the case may be) and upon my return, things were ... different. You looked different. Felt different. You hadn't made the cut. You were not in the trunk. You weren't "needed," "necessary," or "important." You were left behind. Had the winds not shifted, that could have been the end of you then.
Have you felt my gaze? I often look at you and wonder why we have been together all these years. Upbringing? Yes, I admit, I was reared with stuff. Lots of it. Trinkets galore. A Pledge-dusters dream. But I swore you off. I declared myself liberated, yet there (and there, and there, and there...) you are. I wondered if you were fulfilling some deeply repressed need in me. Did your presence make me feel loved? Secure? Safe? No, just irritated and annoyed.
I thought I had conquered you. I declared myself victorious. Trash! Goodwill! Salvation Army! There! Proper homes for you. Retrospectively, I see that my declaration was premature and I let down my guard. Did you creep back in? No. You are too vain for that. You hauled yourself in a UHaul. I felt your draining presence from the front seat of the SUV. You fed off of my energy across three states and two time zones, leaving me empty, decrepit, languid....
You are my thief. You steal my time, my energy, my patience, my garage. I want them all back. Yes, including the garage. Both sides!
Yes, my stuff. We must part. It's for the best. You deserve a proper resting place, someone who truly loves you; or at least doesn't view you as a plague. I bid you adieu, auf wiedersehen, sayonara, buh-bye. There is no sentimentality left that can save our relationship. Please accept your fate and move on...and out....forever....
Freely....Shelly
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