Christmas

My Own Private Christmas

9 Comments

This is the day I’ve been waiting for. Two days before Christmas. Christmas Eve Eve if you will. Today I sleep until the Lord wakes me (instead of the alarm clock) then curl up with a nice, warm, artery-clogging breakfast, a good cup of joe and a cheesy Christmas movie… and Stanley, the cat. Naturally.

In my pajamas, wrapped in a soft blanket, the tree is twinkling and all of the presents beneath are wrapped in pretty paper, each topped off with a nice red bow. There is no more shopping to do. No more worrying about what to get and for whom. If they don’t like it… well… it’s too late now.

There are no parties to rush to or concerts and services to attend, therefore the Spanx, control top panty hose and tall leather boots are quietly stashed away in their respective closets and drawers. There is no fuss about a pair of flannel pants and old, college sweatshirt. There is no need for makeup. No one needs me today. And it is a thing of beauty.

Tomorrow, on Christmas Eve—when the family gatherings and church services begin—well, that will be another story. Today is what I like to call “My Own Private Christmas” with my own sacred practices and traditions. It is the gift that I give to myself… a chance to take a deep breath… and an opportunity to reflect on all of the beautiful people and things that make my life so full.

Were it not for all of them filling up the other 364 days of the year… there would be no need for a day like today.

Elf on the Shelf

16 Comments

For as long as I can remember I have been afraid of clowns, puppets, marionettes, ventriloquist dummies and even claymation. I’m not sure why. Nothing traumatic happened when I was a child that caused this unusual phobia (that I know of). But nevertheless it is there. If I see any of those things on TV or out in the world… I freak out, avert my eyes or flee the scene as soon as possible. I am also unreasonably fearful of nutcrackers. I think they are the creepiest things on the planet next to spiders and Donald Trump. So as one might imagine, Christmas can be a little unsettling for me what with all those larger-than-life wooden figurines standing around the stores, people’s homes and showing up unannounced in Target commercials, etc, etc. just waiting to spring to life when everyone is asleep.

Enter “Elf on the Shelf”… created for parents to use as a “fun” tool to curb the naughty behavior of their offspring this time of year when the kiddos are running rampant all hopped up on candy canes and such.

To see the official “Elf on the Shelf” commercial, click here. 

The idea is that Santa has sent his very special, magical elf to the child’s house to watch their every move and report back each night when the children are asleep (you know, with the visions of the sugar plums and all that crap) to the North Pole whether the child has been naughty or nice. And every night the parents “move” the Elf to another location in the house so that the notion of him being real persists in the child’s imagination.

Is it just me (and my unnatural fear of inanimate-objects-come-to-life projected onto this “toy elf” sitting on a shelf in the house… watching your every move) or does this totally creep the hell out of anyone else? I mean, I shudder even as I type these words.

My friend Jan is using the “Elf” and has been kind enough to send me some pictures of him in her house. I will let you judge the creepiness-factor for yourself…

The "Elf" warming his little frostbitten buns on the toaster.

And while I happen to think that any toy of this nature could be considered cruel and unusual punishment for a child, apparently the kids don’t seem to mind it too much. Some of them actually enjoy it… like Brady, Jan’s son.

There is another breed of the “Elf on the Shelf” idea in a cuter, cuddlier character named Christopher Pop-in-kins. I learned of him when our marketing director, Gina, talked about her and her husband’s nightly adventures placing Christopher around the house. And yet, for every story she shared about the creative places Christopher had “popped up”… there was a hilarious story to match of her children, Dominick and Giavonna, being more than a little freaked about him and his magic, come-to-life abilities.

Christopher Pop-in-kins

To each his own, I suppose. I just know that had the “Elf on the Shelf” existed during my childhood years… I’d probably be on a therapy couch somewhere, muttering about magical elves… and obsessing over whether or not I’d been naughty or nice.

C'mon... this IS creepy, right?

Spanx: A True Holiday Miracle

10 Comments

I don’t know how they do it and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter how they manufacture something capable of shaving 5 to 10 pounds off of my “lumpy places” — just so long as they keep on doing it. Forever.

Packing a little extra luggage in the trunk is usually inevitable this time of year what with all the gathering, merry-making and drinking to drown out the sound of your annoying relatives as they get all up in yo’ biz.

But the question then comes—as you try to stuff that trunk full ‘o goodies into your favorite sweater dress or skinny black skirt—what the hell do you do with all of this stuff that’s accumulated about your butt, thighs and tummy?

Enter my holiday BFF: Spanx. Trust me, if you aren’t already a believer… drag your own larger-than-normal trunk to the store and pick up a pair. Or two. Or three. I promise they’re on sale right now.

PROBLEM.

SOLUTION.

It’s a bit of a trick and little bit of torture trying to get them on and off… but the results are so very worth it. Just imagine slamming all the cookies, chocolate, cheese, brandy, rum and yummy treats made with real butter and heavy cream that your heart desires and still looking stellar for the office Christmas party or New Year’s Eve bash.

As soon as they’re over you can go home and—after about 90 minutes of cursing as you wrestle your way out of your own private sausage casing—slip into the warm, forgiving embrace of your sweats… and no one will be the wiser.

The Last Gift

7 Comments

These tall, leather boots that look soooo great on and seemed like such a great and fashionable idea this morning… suck. My feet are killing me. My toes are numb and the balls of my feet are yelling curse words so loudly with each step that I take… I’m certain the kid stocking the shelves over there heard them call me a miserable whore.

But it’s OK, for I am almost done. There is but one item that remains on my list of gifts to buy for my near and dear ones this Christmas holiday. Being this close to the end somehow makes the pain worthwhile. Like the agony of the last few miles of a marathon I will push past it—vulgar feet stuffed into evil, leather boots and all—I can see the finish line.

This one item should be easy. It seems to be all the rage and everyone is talking about it. It’s been spotted at several stores. Thus it stands to reason that this particular purchase… my last purchase (did I mention that?) should be a relative retail breeze.

Ahhhh… more wrong I could not have been.

The item that everyone is talking about that seems to be one of the “IT” gifts of the 2011 shopping season… also seems to be the ONE thing that no one, and I MEAN NO ONE has ever even heard of. And I’m not talking about little, small-town, Mom and Pop village merchants peddling their wares to worn out Christmas zombies.

I’m talking about the Big Boys. The Big Box stores. The Gods of Greed… the Royalty of Retail… The Princes of Peddlers and Kings of Ka-Ching. You know, the ones who are supposed to have their sticky, little fingers on the pulse of every shopper?

Well, for some reason as this exhausted customer drug her potty-mouthed tooties from one shitty parking spot to another, fighting holiday gridlock the whole entire way… I was greeted with the same answer everywhere I went. It went a little something like this:

Me: “Excuse me, do you have any ____________?”

Oh, I should mention that I am purposefully NOT mentioning the gift until after it is given a week from now lest the recipient read this entry and either A. Feel badly that they are NOT receiving this “must have” item from their list, or B. Feel even worse that I had such a terrible time trying unsuccessfully to find the damn thing.

Big Box employee: “Any what? I’ve never heard of that. Let me check with management / some guy named Larry / this clueless-looking girl standing right beside me.”

Me: Silence accompanied by nearly-defeated-shoulder-slumping, followed by a huge sigh, followed by a prayer, followed by some hopeful breath-holding.

My feet: “You @!$%#. If you make us stand here or go to ONE MORE store after this, I swear by tomorrow morning I WILL TAKE YOU DOWN. And when you recover, you’ll be wearing flats until February. Do you hear me?”

Big Box employee: “I’m sorry. We don’t carry __________. We’ve actually never heard of that. Maybe XYZ Big Box Store will have them. Happy Holidays!”

Me AND my feet: “Already tried there, dumb @$$. Now shove it.”

But I was determined (as well as held hostage by my vital and angry appendages) that this store would be the last stop on our retail mission. The person on my list wanting ______________ would have to settle for Plan B. And that was all there was too it.

Merry Christmas and Happy Last-Minute Shopping everyone! My two bits of advice on locating that elusive last gift on your list: Have a back-up plan… and by all means… wear comfortable shoes.

Less is more.

11 Comments

Last night as I unplugged the tree I couldn’t help but notice how much less was beneath it compared to last year. At this realization, I smiled the whole way up the stairs and while I got ready for bed.

Yep. There are fewer presents beneath my tree this year and I couldn’t be happier. Sure its always fun to see a beautifully decorated tree with colorfully wrapped presents adorned with shiny bows and ribbons cascading out from under. But sometimes those mounds of gifts that may bring joy NOW, bring nothing but stress and misery in the months to follow when the bills come due.

I have known such misery. Maybe you have too. I have heard the scraping sound of the shovel digging deeper into the soil of my hard-earned resources. And I have peered into the hole as it grew deeper and deeper and deeper based on my poor decisions or lack of restraint.

Unlike many, I am fortunate that I have not lost my job or experienced a large financial shifting of any kind. But I am proud to say that the practices and wisdom of people like my mother and Lee—being my polar opposites when it comes to financial discipline and discernment—have begun rubbing off on me. The encouragement from my father to make smarter choices has helped as well. I am truly seeing the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel! And it feels both peaceful and exhilarating!

Fewer packages beneath the tree means I did not overextend myself by buying things I can’t afford or borrowing from my future to pay for my “present.” The people I love will still receive gifts from me, just not quite as much. Since when does the amount you spend reflect the amount of love you feel for someone? Since always I suppose. Since we’ve learned to worship the almighty dollar and ALL the “things” it can garner us… if only we had MORE.

I like having things and taking trips and spending money. In fact, I LOVE IT. A little too much. And just like everyone else… I want more. But I have to ask myself: How much more is enough? When does more cease being more if it comes at such great a price?

It has taken me almost 37 years, but I think I finally understand how less may actually be more. In learning to love the having of less… we make room in our lives for the enjoyment of financial freedom, peace of mind and so much more.

A Festivus for the Rest of Us

5 Comments

It’s that time of year again! But I’m not talking about Christmas. For most people, this time of year is all about Christmas. But for a dedicated (and perhaps obsessed) few, is also a time for celebrating the lesser-known holiday that is Festivus.

I, along with most of you, became aware of Festivus from Seinfeld, but it did actually exist before George’s father Frank Costanza (Jerry Stiller) made it famous in 1997. It was originally created by writer Dan O’Keefe back in 1966, who was the father of one of the writers for the show. So in this case, art really did imitate life.

I find 2011 a particularly good year to make note of Festivus because of the holiday’s emphasis on anti-commercialism. At a time when many people are having to “downscale” Christmas due to financial strain, perhaps it is even more important than ever to find “alternative” ways of celebrating.

One of the aspects of the Festivus tradition (besides setting up the aluminum pole and carrying out the Feats Of Strength) is my personal fave: The Airing of Grievances. Therefore, I have taken the time to compile a list of some of my own grievances. Truthfully, they are more like annoyances, but nevertheless, it was entertaining as well as cathartic to create this list. And I encourage all of you to do the same!

Here they are, in no particular order… My own personal Festivus Airing of Grievances:

  1. “I-see-London-I-see-France” extremely low-rise jeans
  2. The “Muffin Top” created by aforementioned “I-see-London-I-see-France” extremely low-rise jeans
  3. Twilight hysteria
  4. People on the road between 7 and 9 a.m. who aren’t going to work
  5. Bad grammar
  6. Low water pressure
  7. Bullies
  8. Celebrity “Baby Bumps”
  9. Anyone who calls a baby bump a “bump”
  10. People taking up the entire aisle at the grocery store and NOT budging even though they KNOW you are there and that you cannot pass
  11. Passive Aggressiveness
  12. Men who think women are second-class citizens
  13. Closed-mindedness
  14. Finding a garment that I absolutely love, only to discover that they are out of my size or color choice
  15. The one hundred million “talent shows” that are currently on TV. I mean seriously… enough with the singing and dancing already
  16. Michigan
  17. Dropped calls
  18. DVDs that skip or get stuck right at critical moments in the plot
  19. Claymation, stop-animation, nutcrackers, marionettes, ventriloquist dummies, puppets and clowns
  20. People who do not respect the importance (and necessity) of a good 12-hour sleep stretch
  21. Jell-o with fruit in it
  22. Internet pop-ups 
telling me I’ve won something when all they really want to do is give me a virus
  23. People continuing to call me Joann, after I’ve corrected them or they already know my name is Joanna
  24. Computer crashes
  25. Sarah Palin 
talking
  26. Michele Bachmann (with ONE “L” in Michele and TWO “N’s” in Bachmann)
  27. Donald Trump and his little hair pet
  28. Newt Gingrich mentioning his wife Callista by name 3,000 times in one sentence
  29. ALL of the Republican Party / Tea Party candidates AND the ones who refuse to admit they are going to run but hang around constantly (i.e. Sarah Palin and The Donald)
  30. The Duggar Family (sorry, I know they just experienced a very real and legitimate loss but why must we know every single detail of these people’s reproductive lives?) Why isn’t 19 enough? After all, eight was enough to entertain us in the 80s (If you don’t get the aforementioned 80s pop-culture reference… add yourself to this list)
  31. Drivers who don’t signal
  32. Products that don’t do what they say they’ll do
  33. Drivers who are slow
  34. The fact that ALL of the best TV programs are on at the same time on Thursdays
  35. Pre-existing conditions
  36. Magazines that are full of both airbrushed, anorexic models AND articles about why you should love yourself just the way you are
  37. Hidden fees
  38. People who don’t believe in birth control, but then bitch when… SURPRISE!!… They have another kid
  39. Radio stations that claim to play a lot of music and nothing BUT music, but in actuality have a 5 to 1, commercial to song ratio
  40. People who don’t understand or appreciate the cultural beauty and timelessness that is Seinfeld

Happy Festivus everybody! May you discover the joy and fulfillment of airing your own grievances this holiday season and all year long.

Poking the Chocolates and Trashing the Tree

10 Comments

My mother was an elementary school teacher, now newly retired. And as an elementary teacher she received many, many gifts at Christmas time from her students. It was so much fun every year on the last day of school before the holiday break to sort through all of her loot with her.

She would drag what seemed like countless cardboard boxes into the house and my sister and I would help her dig through the stuff looking for buried treasure. Which, to us, was usually candy.

Every year we could count on at least two items being among the goodies: a box of high-quality chocolates and a glass Christmas tree full of Hershey Kisses. Finding these thrilled my sister and me, as we realized we could comfortably ride a chocolate wave all the way till Santa came.

However, along with the arrival of these treats came some… shall we say… behaviors that drove my parents nuts. The first one being that the box of chocolates, though stocked full of creamy, chewy goodness, was also full of a bunch of weird crap that neither my sister or I cared to ingest.

The fruity ones, nutty ones, coconut ones and bitter ones were all flavors that we’d just as soon gone without… but who the hell could tell what was what just by looking? There was only one way to separate the good from the bad. And that was to poke them. So we did. Or at least I did. I don’t know about my sister as she still—as of this writing—denies ever having done it.

When no one was around I would tiptoe over to “the box” (that usually sat in some communal area of the house) and carefully select a chocolate that looked promising. I dared not bite into it for fear of it being one of the aforementioned nasty-flavored ones. Instead, I took my thumb and poked the bottom of it until its guts began to squish out, indeed revealing what was hidden inside.

If I liked it, I ate it. If not… I returned it to the box and no one was the wiser. At first glance they still looked the same and when someone picked one up only to discover the horror that lay beneath, well… that was a risk I was willing to take. Besides, for all anyone else knew… my sister had done it.

The other “behavior” was not revealed until all of the ornaments were removed from our real, live tree and my father would drag the tired tree through the house to the back door and outside where he would throw it away.

Feeling like a couple of princesses as we lounged around in our new fuzzy pajamas for two weeks eating Hershey Kisses in front of Christmas movies, my sister and I developed this habit of using the tree as our own private trash receptacle. It all began one particular day when we just didn’t feel like getting up to throw our Hershey wrappers away. She looked at me and then looked at the tree and launched the little balls of red and green tinfoil directly into its branches.

Forget that this caused a giggling fit that would last well into the New Year… we thought this was an absolutely brilliant solution to our ever-having-to-get-up-off-the-couch-during-The-Sound-of-Music-again dilemma. Brilliant, that is until my father noticed a trail of tree trash that consisted largely of Kiss wrappers, empty chocolate cups and napkins following him all the way out the back door.

Needless to say, our cover was blown. Until Christmas rolled around again… and one of us took the initiative to say to the other—with a twinkle in our eye and a tinfoil wrapper in our hand… aimed squarely at the tree—“Hey! Watch this!”

Christmas Catnip

5 Comments

It has long been a great source of frustration and vexation to me that December and the time surrounding the holidays is dubbed “the most wonderful time of the year” because, well… I find it to be more like the most exhausting time of the year.

Don’t get me wrong. It does have its magical moments for sure. But truth be told… between all of the holiday preparations, commitments and gatherings, nieces and nephews in winter sports and fielding 100,000 questions from family and friends about any future wedding plans… finding time to write has been a little more challenging.

That is why—for this Monday’s post—I am sharing with you something Christmas-ey that I hope will make you smile…

Stanley, my little Christmas helper…

For you fellow cat owners out there you know that all the catnip in the world cannot compare to the sheer bliss found in the bottom of a paper bag… or on the inside of the leftover cardboard tube when the wrapping paper has been used up… or in a pile of crumpled tags, receipts, tape and ribbon scraps. 

And don’t even get me started on their magnetic attraction to the low-hanging tree ornaments. Suffice it to say that for at least one member of this household… Christmas truly IS the most wonderful time of the year.

Have a great Monday everyone… only 12 shopping days left. If you don’t have that special something for that special someone yet… My advice is to get out there and get it over with or else there’s a good chance it will wind up beneath someone else’s tree.

A Little Low on “Ho Ho Ho”

10 Comments

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m having some trouble with Christmas this year. I am finding myself somewhat depleted of the whole “holiday spirit” and I really don’t know who or what to blame.

I have no real reason to be blue. I am gainfully employed, newly engaged and have a wonderful family and fiancé with which to spend the holidays. I am practically done with my shopping and proud to say that I didn’t go over board. I put up a sparkly tree along with a few other decorations and am in the process of wrapping. I’ve been watching some favorite Christmas flicks on TV… but that is precisely where the merriment ends.

I have no desire to listen to Christmas music, attend holiday parties or events. The lights going up around the neighborhood don’t captivate me or give me that “warm, fuzzy” feeling they once did. And I swear if I hear one more commercial about “that perfect gift” one more time — I am going to smash the offending broadcasting device with my hammer.

What is wrong with me? Did I lose my Christmas gene on my last birthday or something? Perhaps my “issues” with Christmas have nothing to do with an internal flaw and everything to do with the collective behavior of society. The emphasis placed on material items by manufacturers and the people who buy into it hook, line and sinker… The MUST DO mentality when it comes to certain “traditions”… The excess… The rushing and the rudeness of the masses…

I think what put me over the edge this year was an experience that I had this past weekend. We were doing some shopping at a store on the OSU campus. After deciding that we’d done all the damage we were going to do in that store before moving on to the next, we got in line at the register.

While waiting patiently for our turn, a tall, attractive woman dressed in all black bursts through the door, struts across the front of the store and rushes the counter, ignoring all of us waiting in line as she barks at the cashier: “You have a sweatshirt on reserve for me.” (Yes, I’ve intentionally placed emphasis on the word “me”).

We all turn our attention to her majesty—aware now of the faintest sound of crickets chirping in the background—while trying to comprehend this sudden display of rudeness and utter disregard for EVERYONE ELSE already in line at the counter. Now I know that this story is playing out all across the country right now, most likely coming to a register near you… but it was my first such encounter of the season.

Fortunately, the cashier asks the woman to wait while she finishes taking care of the customer with whom she is the middle of a transaction. And the woman huffs while she must wait like some wretched peasant. We pay for our items and leave the store around the same time as she. And we see that she has parked her shiny, black Lincoln Navigator right in front of the door.

As we back out of our parking spot I couldn’t help but notice a HUGE magnetic cling the size of a billboard on the side of her vehicle. It read in big white letters against a black background: “Don’t forget to keep the CHRIST in Christmas!”

Really? I thought to myself… And all this time I’ve been wondering where in the world my “holiday spirit” could possibly have gone.

Spike my Egg Nog… Please

7 Comments

Tis the season for beautiful twinkle lights and fancily-wrapped presents… A time to celebrate the joy of giving and count one’s blessings whilst surrrounded by those we hold dear. Yet for many people… Tis the Season of Overcommitment. Overcommitment of time. Overcommitment of money. Overcommitment of energy. Overcommitment of worry and resources.

Years ago, for me, this used to be (sing it with me, you know the tune) … The Most Stre-ess-ful Time of the Year… They’ll be much over-charging and customers barging for the Greatest Deal… Yes the most Stre-ess-ful Time of the Year!

I know it doesn’t exactly rhyme, but I think you get the idea.

In two words: It sucked. There were cards to be sent… Shopping to be done… Pageants to rehearse… Concerts and live nativities and office parties and gatherings with friends and gatherings with family to attend… Obscene amounts of food and wine and chocolate followed by more obscene amounts of food and wine and chocolate to be consumed… and before I knew it I didn’t know what was buldging more… The bags under my eyes, my muffin top over my favorite pair of jeans or my Visa envelope come January.

I am now on a personal mission—you might say—to restore the joy and peace that is, by the way, SUPPOSED to be the purpose of the season in the first place by ridding myself of the commitments, obsessions and stresses that typically accompany holiday-related things.

I don’t send cards. My friends and family don’t need to hear me paint a far-prettier-than-reality picture of my life by reading some fluffed-up letter full of superlatives and exclamation points.

I set limits on gifts and I stick to them. And when in doubt about what to give to my seven (COUNT THEM… S-E-V-E-N) nieces and nephews… money is always a safe bet — and an amount of money that I can actually afford as well.

I don’t do pageants. Someone else can stay up until midnight every night for the three weeks leading up to Christmas and sing the solo. I’m done. I much prefer the sleep. I might attend the pageant… if I feel like it.

I choose carefully the events that I commit to. At 36, I am beginning to understand my physical and mental limits when it comes to the amount of myself that I have to “spread around.” If I feel too thinly spread. I just say no.

The food, wine and chocolate… OK… THOSE are OK. They are called “coping mechanisms” and that’s why I’ve learned to keep a larger size of jeans in the closet. That can be our little secret. Let’s just call it Christmas Grace, shall we?

Please don’t misunderstand. I am not a scrooge or anti-holiday. I do find infinite joy in lounging on the couch and staring at the twinkle lights on the tree late at night while watching Cousin Eddie slurp egg nog from a moose cup in his black dickie / white sweater combo on National Lampoons Christmas Vacation…

I do find infinite peace in closing my eyes during the Christmas Eve candlelight service while the soloist (who isn’t me) sings my favorite Christmas Hymn, Oh Holy Night…

And I absolutely find infinite enjoyment in watching my nieces and nephews glow as they show me their loot on Christmas morning with all the excitement they can possibly muster after only four hours of sleep.

But just in case you DO see me at a party or pageant or family gathering this holiday season, please do me one solid favor… and spike my drink already. Trust me, it’s really best for all of us.