Family Bowl

A few years ago, we did away with the Christmas grab between the siblings and the cousins.  Which everybody was happy about.  In its place, my sister and I decided to take our kids bowling.  We did this for a couple of years and added people as we went along.  Last year, The Sis sent out an invite to the whole family.  This Sis with her Cutie Patootie daughter……………..

She found a bowling alley that is all of six lanes and let’s you bring in your own food.  There is a prize for high guy/girl bowler and I took home the sweet trophy I picked up off the curb for being the only chick to break a hunnerd.  Twice.  There was an assortment of door prizes…………mustache of the week, a Virgin Mary bread press, juvenile delinquent mints and a grow your own mermaid to name a few.  There was a prize for 2012 Nuptials that these guys won…………..

And the Hofmeister Ham Brother brought Me Scotty Snowman back to pass to the next family who is obligated to post pictures of his adventures throughout this year.

Like the previous year, a good time was had by all.  If you are stuck in the exchanging dollars gift route, I recommend A Bowlathon.  Besides counting the pins you knocked down, you’ll be counting your blessings, and if there’s no outstanding warrants, you can take a big, ol’ group pic and post it wherever you want.

On The Advice of Counsel

The Big Daddy works with a guy named Joe.  He lent his car to The BD recently when he had to go to a meeting and couldn’t get there by way of bike.  When I protested this plan, Joe told him to tell me to chillax, and if I had a problem with it to write about it on my blog.  I think I just did.

Anyhow, at the Annual Christmas Party, Joe told me he knows exactly what this blog needs to up the daily hits and make me a contender in the Big Bad Blog World.

Nudity.

Geez, that Joe has come to the the rescue of me and The Big Daddy a lot lately.  It’s like he’s a Superhero.  Or something.

Clean Up Clean Up

When my parents put up the Christmas decorations, oh me oh my, we’d all hightail it out of The Homestead.  It was STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEressful.  When I got older, I’d work the whole dang day just to have a good excuse not to be around for the disagreements and general crabbiness.

I am not like that.  I am calm.

Until it is time to put away the decorations.  Not only do I put them away, I organize them, organize the house, clean the house, and get my decorating mojo into gear.  I want to redo the whole place, and if The Big Daddy would just leave for a spell, I’d get in the car and go buy new furniture to surprise him.  I surround myself with chaos and don’t know what the hell I’m doing.  If you ask to help me I say that’s o.k. I’m not sure what I’ve got going here.  Then when you walk away I talk about how frickin lazy you are behind your back, and your back may have not left the room.  Oh, I’m a post-holiday delight for sure.

This is some of Christmas puked up on the dining room table.  The basement?  Oh my God.  Even worse.  It took me the whole day to get it together and when I was done The Teacher Girl stopped by and walked through the spotlessly clean house with dog crap on her shoe. 

Next year?   Old people Christmas.  Puny tree on a table in the front window that smells like moth balls, and I’m pretty sure I’m o.k. with that.

Whew

If you’ve read this blog from the beginning, you know that one of the reasons I vowed to start writing on a daily basis was due to my cousin’s wife, Carol.  Whenever I wrote something for my writers group, I’d send it to her to read, and she was enormously supportive.  Her presence among us has been missed greatly this past year, but when I meet up with her again I’ll be able to honestly say that I worked hard at this writing thing.

The other reason I have been able to do this the last year is because of Mark.  He is very proud of what I’ve written, even when he is often cast in an unflattering light.  He has pushed this web address on everyone he knows, and I have picked up steady readers due to him.  One day, I hope to make some money as a writer, but time will tell on that one.  I daily feel guilt about not contributing to the financial obligations around here, and there are many.  When we recently talked about it he said, “You brought home the paycheck while I was in graduate school pursuing my passion.  I’m just doing what you did for me.”

Well, I’d kind of forgotten about that.

I’m taking off until the end of the year to hang with my peeps and enjoy the holidays.  Thank you for reading this and passing it along to your friends.  As we head into the new year, I highly recommend moving any of those dreams from the back burner to the front.  Today.

In the meantime, when this guy sings this song…….oh my.  A most Merry Christmas and Happy New Year…………..

Early Christmas

Teacher Girl and Prince Charming are headed to South Dakota to spend Christmas with his family.  Whom we happen to have a big crush on.  They did this last year, as well, so we celebrate early with them before they hit the road.  It could be my most favorite time of the holidays because we have so much fun.  Secret Santa comes to town, we play a board game and since it’s a week before December 25th, nobody is tired and cranky.  The pics…

                          The Boy Child with wine glasses.  It’s good to be 21.

Prince Charming seriously likes his new slippers.  That tree????  Sheesh.

                         The Big Daddy got warm socks for those cold biking days.

                                                     New book. Yeah!!!!!

                          The Teacher Girl is about to unwrap something good.

                                       Mallie Bee looooooves her accessories.

God bless us everyone.  Oh yes.

The Last One

My dad loved Christmas.  He was involved in all of it, and before Martha Stewart even gave it a thought, he would go out in the yard to cut evergreens for our Nativity set.  When it came to buying a gift for Mom, he’d take one of us girls with him to help pick out something.  The year his cancer had come back, and he was knocked flat most days by his treatment, he was still determined to go out and find her present.  A few days before Christmas, we all went to the mall, Mom included, to shop.  Because I didn’t live close by and really hadn’t been able to help much, I offered to go with Dad while Mom and my sisters did their shopping.

Walking with him was a slow process, but we got to Mom’s favorite store and he took his time finding her something, and when he did he was pretty pleased with himself.  We had plenty of time left before we needed to meet up with everybody else, so I found a bench for him to sit on.  I still had some things to shop for and he told me he’d be content to rest and people watch.

I would go into a store, run out to check on him, go to another store, check on him.  This lasted nearly an hour and then we had to make the long, slow walk to meet Mom and my sisters.  He was exhausted.  Happy to have gotten out and more than happy to be going home to bed.

That was 22 years ago and I remember every minute of it, down to the gift he bought Mom.  I think we all knew that was going to be his last Christmas with us, and attempting to make it seem normal was a difficult thing to do.   For every time I approached that bench at the mall, I saw Dad……so sick and trying so hard.

Losing ####

I have been underweight my whole life.  Smallest kid in the class all the years I was in school.  Weighed 86# the first time I got pregnant.  I come from small women.

That changed a few years ago, when a few pounds crept on.  Then the next year, a couple more.  You get where this is going.  I can’t blame menopause because that happened ten years ago due to ruptured ovarian cysts.  That was the summer I lost 13# due to the mess my body was.  The good old days.

Today I ran into someone who is about 5-10 years older than me and T.H.I.N.  Really thin.  I told The Big Daddy about her when I got home and said maybe she’s one of those older woman who has an eating disorder.  Poor thing.  Or maybe she isn’t stuffing Fannie Mae candy in her mouth every time she goes in the kitchen.  Maybe chips and salsa aren’t her mainstay.  Maybe she exercises every day.  Really exercises instead of moseying around the neighborhood with her elderly dog.  Maybe she sweats.

I’m thinking that it’s time for me to stop listening to that inner voice that’s a complete whack job, and reverse course before I’m on the losing end of a bet to see if my fat ass could make it all the way to Des Moines.