Becoming Something

PLEASE fill out this anonymous sex survey if it applies to you.

I am looking for people who are or have been married who waited until marriage to have sex.  I don't care if you had any past experience;  I just want responders who were chaste with their spouse before marriage.

If you could do this for me, and I get enough responses, I will tell you about the results in a blog post/article about it.  It's for a good cause, I promise.

Just click here.

Thanks!

5 Reasons why I hate it when people Christmas carol to me.

1.  People show up at my house unannounced at the end of the day, when I'm tired and my house is messy.  I may or may not be wearing a bra.  Other women understand this worry; we don't want anyone other than our husbands to be that intimate with our nipples.  My dog might be speaking Satanic at the cat.  Lulu might be whining or crying.  Someone might be complaining that Daisy bit him or her.  And Jude probably isn't home yet to help me with any of this.  (The kids and dog, not the bra.)

2.  So, then I'm wondering, Do I invite these people into the aforementioned havoc?  Or, do I stand here with the door open and freeze (not a good combo with the no bra scenario) and heat the great outdoors?

3.  And if the caroling starts as soon as I open the door, is there even an opportunity to say "Come in, please."?  Can I gesture it?

4. Once people are singing, I am left to just stand there like an idiot and watch them sing to me.  I feel like I need to smile about it all, but not too much or that looks fake and feels awkward and hurts my face.  I'm used to smiling only so much, you know?  And I feel like I have to look at every caroler equally, not favouring any one.  If they are men, I don't want the men to think by me looking at them too much that I have a crush on them.  If they are women, I don't want them to think I'm into them either, or comparing myself to them, or whatever women think.  So, I have to pan the crowd with my eyes regularly, smiling then not smiling in a natural way.  THEN, when I'm looking at each individual person, do I watch their mouths or their eyes?  I always feel awkward about this when I'm listening to someone talk to me for a length of time.  Unless they're far away because then I can just look at their whole head. 

5.  I've very likely heard these songs before.  And yet, it seems like it would be uncooth to sing along.  Kind of crass, right?  So, then I have to bite my tongue.

So, basically, you think you're doing me a favour but what you don't know is that:

• my nipples are cold.
• my heating bill just went up $104.
• my dog is going to lose her brain and grow horns if I don't remove the cat from her field of vision.
• my smile is wearing out and I might need it later for people I love more than you.
• I'm worried you'll think I fantasize about you.
• I'm worried that YOU are worried that I'm judging your teeth (after all, this is what people who've recently had braces notice) OR that I'm gazing into your eyes.
• I am worried that you'll be hurt if I don't pay you enough attention.
• I'm bored, let's be honest.  Bing Crosby sings it better and even then, I use Christmas music as a backdrop.  I don't sit there and stare at my iTunes as it sings me Christmas music.
• my tongue is bleeding.  Not that there's any danger that I will outshine you if I join in, but it seems rude somehow.

So, while I know you think you have a pretty voice and you look so adorable with your rosy, frost-bitten cheeks, and you think you're lifting my spirits just admit it:    You need an excuse to go singing and I'm the excuse, because you feel a little bit sheepish singing all fancy at home with your family listening in.  Caroling makes YOU feel happy.  You are not doing me any favours.  I don't have hot chocolate sitting there just coincidentally waiting for company to come by (and I do make THE best hot chocolate ever in the entire universe and it will make you gain five pounds instantly).  And I'm most certainly NOT going to tip you.  If you're collecting money for some kind of charity, just tell me up front and I'll hand over the cash and count it money well spent. 

So, when the young women from our church come over tonight to carol to me and I am supposed to tell them I'm not interested, because they're acting out some symbolic "no room at the inn" activity and don't even know it, trust me:  I won't have any problems acting grumpy.

Daily Gratitudes

1.  I re-discovered how productive I can be when I don't spend the whole day on the computer.
2.  Our dog has been a little more low-key the past three days.  She is now going "down" after jumping up on me, when I say it, even without a treat.
3.  Jude is home to take care of me.
4.  This sunrise from this morning.  GA-GA.

5.  I love the way my mantle looks.  And my Christmas tree, with Baby's Breath inserted willy nilly.

(I wish I had an embroidery machine so I could put everyone's names on those stockings.  And in case anyone is wondering if I made the stockings myself:  AS IF.  Remember yesterday's Christmas letter?  It was a JOKE.)

The World's Best Family Christmas Letter from The World's Best Family

Dearest Everyone Who Adores Us,

Well, it's that time of year again when you clamour for news of our hoorahs from the past 365 days of our lives.  And I didn't even send out a Christmas letter or any cards last year (or the year before, I think-- surely a choice and not a by-product of disorganization) so hold on to your oxygen masks-- your anticipation-induced ailments are about to be healed.

In November of 2006 we moved from the Great White North to Civilization.  It's AWESOME here-- running water, grass, and dog walkers everywhere-- a sure sign of goodly people.  Montana and Josie were enrolled in Real School, French immersion even, for the first time ever.  I cried tears of joy and relief for a few days.  The kids are taught Latin at recess and they're very happy.

Jude became the new Chief Awesome Guy in a city an hour away.  The secretaries have built a shrine in his honour and he was in the running for a Nobel Peace Prize again but they gave it to some other guy who did something apparently important. Whatever-- it didn't mean anything to us anyway.  Family is what's most important to us. 

He was commuting in our awesome never-fail-us Saturn sedan that had over 160,000 kms on it until some 18-year old punk drove maniacally into Jude with-- I know this will be hard to believe but would I lie to you?-- a TANK, injuring Jude's left thumb.  He didn't mention the thumb injury on his report because he's so forgiving, but I admit that I occasionally wish he had so we could get a settlement.  I'm sure that injury would be worth $100,000 at least.  It's a very nice thumb.  So, we bought him a new car with an actual CD player.

January of this year we finally moved into the house that I designed and built myself in my spare time.  Holy Hanna, am I EVER talented.  I didn't even hit my thumb with the hammer ONCE.  (Ya, I built it old school-- none of this power this and power that stuff.) Oprah is actually having me on her show next February to demonstrate my perfect chiseling technique.  Oh, did I mention?  All of our doors are hand chiseled by me from a solid chunk of redwood trees.  You know those gaudy tall ones?  Ya, those.  Boy, they looked so much better when I was done with them. God gave us trees for things like doors and pencils and bracelets, you know.

So then this year Daisy started kindergarten and Lulu started preschool and the schools want to skip them three grades.  I think it's because I feed them organic raw meals five times a day.  Their brains thrive on this kind of diet; you should try it.

Montana has been playing the stock market and has made a total of 3 million in profit for some friends of ours.  Nothing too impressive but word is starting to get around.  He finished school this year, shortly after he was baptised, and is considering some fellowship options from Oxford, the London School of Economics or the Sorbonne. All via correspondence, of course, as we don't even let our kids go on sleepovers much less live abroad before the age of at least eleven. 

Anyway, Josie is also healthy and well.  She blew out all seven candles on her birthday cake this year so she has no boyfriends.  Phewf.  Seven is too young to be scared off by your girlfriend's dad's hunting rifle. She is modeling for Gap on the weekends.  Normally, you have to live in a city and spend all day chasing after such opportunities but Gap was kind enough to come to us when I explained that I'm too busy with the NASA business.  Oh! I totally forgot to mention.  Jude bought me a telescope last Christmas and I discovered a new universe.  I don't know how all those professional astronomers missed it-- it was RIGHT THERE.  So, we're discussing how to get over there to check things out and I called dibs first so they have to run everything past me. (I'm totally riding that rocket shotgun.  Have to look out for those Obama-sponsored illegal aliens, you know.)

And you know how dramatic and funny Daisy is, right?  Well, we weren't sure we wanted to encourage a theatre habit because you know how wicked those people can be, but...  Andrew Lloyd Webber called and he's come out of retirement to write a new musical called Avita and the Phantom of the Amazing Technicolour Awesomeness.  Of course, he wants Daisy to star in it!  Sweet, huh?  Ya, we're stoked.

You'd think that after three years, I'd be aching for another baby by now.  But there's no possible way to top Lulu, as I've been saying since she was born.  With her curly blond hair, big blue eyes, puffy red lips, everyone says she looks like a cherub and I'll have you know, she acts like one, too.  Other kids might get into the peanut butter and throw it everywhere but not Lulu-- she gets up at 5 am every day to make us breakfast and dust the ceiling.  Her eggs Benedict with fresh hollandaise sauce are TO DIE FOR. 

More importantly, Lulu's Family Home Evening lessons are so profound.  I never knew a kid who had all of Jesus the Christ memorized like that.  Her baby blessing did sound like she'd be a General Relief Society President one day but, of course, that doesn't matter to us;  we'd love her the same if she was a mentally challenged Muslim terrorist.  

We did sort of add someone to our family, though:  a Golden Retriver/lab mix named Izzy.  So many people told me I was "crazy" for getting a puppy but she has been such a blessing that I know I can speak for Jude when I say that he considers it a privilege to let her out at 4am to pee.  (Of course, the lack of snow is probably a direct blessing from the Lord to us for paying our tithing.)   So far, Izzy knows how to sit, come, jump like a frog, pee on command, poop in heart shapes, chew a bone, jump up on everyone, go back down when I have a treat in my hand, shed, and sleep happily in her crate all night (from day one, I might add).  Now, that may not sound like much, but in the interest of full disclosure, I should confess that I have also taught her to load the dishwasher without scratching my nice art ceramic plates with her teeth and to do it in under 30 seconds.  We're trying to get her to get that under 20 seconds and then David Letterman is going to have us on.

Our goals for this year are:

Jude:

• Bench press the new car.
• Win the Betty Crocker pie bake off again.

Natasha:

• Lose two more pounds so I can get back down to 80 lbs.  Gosh, I'm so fat.  Sigh.
• Convince church members to never bring a Jello concoction to a church potluck again.  Would you serve Jello to the Queen of England?  I REST MY CASE.

The kids really don't need any further goals.  They are just so advanced already.

Izzy:

• Grow some adult teeth.
• Get ovaries removed.
• Learn to sing the National Anthem.  In Pig Latin.

Well, I know that doesn't catch you up and tell you everything you're dying to know but this has already taken me away from the laundry long enough. 

We're not always perfect, I have to say. But one thing I've learned over time is that you can't be too hard on yourself-- it's okay to settle for "awesome". 

Merry Christmas everyone and long live Sarah Palin.

Love,

Natasha.

A truly miraculous story I wish was mine.

I absolutely know that God is real and that there are people around each of us who hold within themselves quiet stories of quiet miracles too sacred to share.  And I absolutely know that I could share some of these stories with some people and they would tell me I'm lying or deceived and that if angels visited these people, their skeptical minds would explain away such visitations and they'd be no better off.  Bruce C. Hafen said: "Science and history never do lead to absolute conclusions—for or against religious or other claims. Those disciplines are inherently subject to new evidence and new interpretations of old evidence."  That could be a thesis statement for a very long essay but I have no desire or energy to expound upon that thought except to say that I agree with it.

For those who know me enough to trust my sanity and intelligence and perception, I share the following story.

A few years ago, Jude and I were living up North.  One day we heard from our bishop that there was a man I'll call Luke who needed a place to live from Sunday-Thursday for three months.  He was on probation at a new job and didn't want to move his wife and son until he knew for sure everything would work out.  So, when his work was done on Thursday, he would drive two hours back home to spend the weekend with his wife and son who were living with his wife's mother. 

No one would offer Luke a place to live.  While it is our nature to be helpful, both Jude and I are very cautious about who spends time with our children and seeing as we will never get male babysitters or let our kids go on sleepovers, you should be shocked that we immediately decided to let Luke stay in our basement for that length of time.  If I remember correctly, and I think I do, we both felt like we should offer him a place to stay before I even spoke with Luke on the phone.  The deal was that he would repay us by fixing some things around our house. 

When Luke arrived I found him instantly likable.  His face was kind.  He was good looking with manly attributes:  worn skin, stubble, cleft chin, a worker's build, nice smile.  He had sort of puffy, rounded lips and brown eyes.  His hair was thinning.  He wasn't very tall but I could easily imagine that he was a busy man with the ladies before he joined the church.  It didn't take long before he was sharing with me his life story, confirming this suspicion. 

Luke was the youngest of eleven kids, the only one not breastfed, a completely irrelevant fact I share only because I find it kind of funny and sad.  His family was homeless at times, traveling like gypsies throughout parts of the United States, scrounging for food and working at a peanut farm at one point.  His father was about as abusive as they come with each of his children and with his wife and was later sent to jail for spousal abuse.  Luke was desperate for love;  he taught himself as much as he could about wildlife, animals, herbs, insects... all in an effort to impress his father and win his love, which, to this day, has never happened.  I'm not sure that Luke even finished high school before heading off to the oil industry but he was the most non-scholastic learned man we've ever known.

He made a lot of money working on the oil rigs in Alberta.  $80,000, about eight or ten years ago, for a single guy attracted a lot of women and bought a lot of drugs, alcohol and cigarettes.

Somehow, Luke was introduced to our church and that part I don't remember.  How he came to believe it was truly Jesus Christ's one true church, reorganized on the earth, I will never forget:

He had been meeting with the missionaries for a while and they encouraged him to pray for an answer and while he had been doing so, the answer had not yet come.  One day at work, he climbed a tall ladder to the top of some oil rig thingie.  The din of the machines around him were so raucous that he wore ear protectors.  If someone had been there with him, which I think was impossible, if I remember correctly, given the working conditions, and that person was screaming, Luke would not have been able to hear him.

While he was working he prayed about the same question he'd been praying for a while:  Is it true, what these missionaries have said?  Suddenly he heard a voice beside him simply and quietly say a chapter and verse of scripture from the book of Alma in The Book of Mormon.  He said the voice was so clear, so audible and so outside his head that he turned to look beside him, so sure it was a person beside him who had said it.   When he went home, he looked up the scripture and it was a direct answer to his prayer.

Luke was baptised and changed his life around.  He's a very hard worker and gives service to anyone who needs it, even if everyone else thinks they don't deserve the help.  He is very humble, forgiving, generous, has a good sense of humour and loves his wife and children so much that his emotion is almost tangible.  He is the kind of man you could trust with the key to the gates of heaven. Jude loves and admires him more than any other man he's ever known and when I asked Jude what fake name I should give Luke he said, "The name of an apostle...  James:  Jesus' brother."

I absolutely know that what Luke shared with me really happened.  I know that he is an intelligent man who converted himself from one kind of man to one that is completely different because of a powerful witness to the reality of God and of The Book of Mormon.  When Luke shared this story with me, it felt sacred.  The feeling that surrounded me, like a warm hug to the deepest centre of my heart, was so thick, I felt like I could bang my head against it and get a concussion.

The stories that people have quietly and humbly shared with me help me to remember what I've always known deep inside, despite being told otherwise by my mother:  God is real; he answers prayers.  We are spiritual beings having a mortal experience.

I admire anything that makes bad men good and good men better in a way that is lasting and, where that occurs, I see no justification for criticism.

Let me trod the path that leads me to peace and joy as I understand it.  You are welcome to walk with me, or you are welcome to send postcards from your journey;  I will enjoy your regales and wish you well.  But do not try to destroy my path:  IT IS MINE.

A book Jude and I want to share with you.

Me:  Brenda gave you that book?  Is she your quadriplegic roommate?

Jude:  No. Brenda is Sheila's niece and she was interested in me.

Me:  Oh, right.  So, what about Charlie's Monument makes you cry?

Jude:  I don't know.  I guess it's compassion, and sorrow over someone else's pain.   I was touched by his determination in just toughing it out.  In a situation where most people would simply ask themselves a question to the effect of, "Why this suffering and torture with no end in sight?" he developed a love for people that came from his trust in God.

Me:  I loved what Nellie said about his monument, how each stone symbolized him adding to his character.  Some stones represented forgiveness; some compassion; some, later, true love.  Thank you for giving this to Montana to read this morning.  What is incredible is how this story came about.  I thought it was just a touching tale pulled from someone's imagination.  But to read about how the author just started telling it, as if pulling a rabbit from a hat, to his youth religion class one morning, then later finding out that it was the story of his grandfather...   And the details of his grandfather's life being unknown to his father and himself until after Charlie's Monument was published....  The feeling that I had as I read this story behind the story was...  profound.  I know that what he said is true-- that this story came to him through inspiration.

Readers, I encourage you to try to find a copy of Charlie's Monument by Blaine M. Yorgason, published by Bookcraft most recently in 1980, ISBN 0-88494-389-5.  It is short and it's an ideal gift for a child or even an adult who struggles with being different in any way that is painful.

Jude and I just silently read it together, on our sofa, without really intending to.  Both of us were crying during and afterward and I need to point out that Jude almost NEVER cries.  He eats nails for breakfast and sleeps on a bed of broken glass.  (He is only just learning how to cry and I think it's wonderful.)

Our son read Charlie's Monument this morning and described it as the most powerful book he's ever read (and he's been reading novels since he was 3-- no joke).  Tonight in his prayer, he thanked the Lord for a father who understands him and who gives him great things to read to help him.

I hope you're able to find it and enjoy it.

Daily Gratitudes

1. My ability to see.  Makes reading a whole lot easier.  Braille is a wee bit intimidating.
2. The pumpkin and cheese stuffed ravioli we had last night with fresh butter and freshly grated parmesan.  It was so good I almost cried.  Thank you, Jude, for buying it.
3. All the beautiful Christmas ornaments I've collected over the years.
4. My 3-year old's perfect delightfulness.
5. Sleep, dear sleep.

Natasha has never...

...watched Star Wars.  Tried to watch it on tv, first night of our honeymoon in a Banff chalet while playing cards but I couldn't get into the horrible special effects and sci-fi-ness of it.  Plus, if I was too tired to be excited about more traditional honeymoon-like stuff, I was probably too tired to be excited about Star Wars.

...eaten chili.  I had a sort of almost vegetarian chili once. I think it was just tomato sauce and beans with some spices, on rice.  Not real chili.

...made out with a woman.  In case you were wondering.

...broken a bone.  I did crack my middle finger once when a window came crashing down upon it, like a guillotine.  Jude said it was karmic payback from saying to him jokingly earlier in the day, "If I wasn't Mormon, I would flip you the bird right now."  And the reason I said that was because he was talking to a man at the door who was selling calenders for the Rotary Club and the calenders would be personalized with our birthdays and Jude couldn't remember mine.  Even though we'd known each other for a hundred years. He knows the MONTH.

...been able to whistle.  Not really.

...used a Mac.

...made a pie.  I make things I like and I don't like pie much.  The crust is just dry and flavourless and the flakier it is the MESSIER it is.  It's not really sweet or salty.  I don't understand the appeal.  If I ever do make one, I will make the most ambitious pie ever.  With 3D detailing that makes it look like Jude's face and when you cut into it, it will laugh at its own jokes with this funny little "Mmmm?" sound that is impossible to duplicate when trying to.

...swam in the ocean.

...been to a music concert.  Not even NKOTB.  :-(

...made a Jello salad.  World, you are welcome.

...seen a handgun in person.

...been dumped.

...watched Spongebob. 

...desired to watch Spongebob.

..."faked it".

...had a blood transfusion.

...finished a quilt.

...had fake nails.

...water skied.  I have TRIED though, but not for long.

...skied down a hill larger than a "bunny".   I've always been terrified of skiing but I'd be willing to try it again.  In Whistler.  Hint, hint.

...thought the Macarena was cool.

...been on television, that I know of.

...enjoyed a Shepherd's Pie.

...burped.  EVER.

(Two of these are lies.  Yes, you may guess which ones.)

Instruction Book for Jude in The Event of My Death

Dearest Jude,

I might die one day.  No, that's not meant to be a joke-- it IS still yet to be determined.  I could be translated right up into the sky like the entire city of Enoch; it may not be a likely scenario but don't write me off just yet, huh?  Also, Christ might come in a couple of years and kick off the super-cool Millenium.  OR... science could get really kicky soon and offer some cell refurbishing-- get rid of my drooping eyelids, furrow wrinkles, grow my hair back, and pretty up my liver.  It's not outside the realm of possibilities.

BUT.  If I do die, there are a few things I want you to know.

1. You have to get married again.  While I'd like you to marry Sara because she'd make you laugh and would be a great mother, and she's so warm and forgiving of people's foibles, she deserves someone who isn't hung up on his dead wife.  She will be too good for you in that respect.  So, you should find a nice widow on LDSsingles.com.  No, that's not weird.  It's reaching into a larger pool of fish.  Sure, you could go to the pet store and pick out a fish, or you could go to the ocean.  You're more likely to find someone better than me at the ocean than the pet store.  You also have my permission to find someone even younger than me.  A few years ago that would have broken some laws, I think, but now I'm getting to a respectable age, it just might work.
   
   
2. You have to learn how to do pony tails, okay?  Braiding you can get away with not learning but ponytails are a must. And learn to use that hair straightener on Josie's thick hair.  When children look unkempt, they are not treated as well by teachers and other adults as children who look more tidy.  Unfair, but true.
   
   
3. You have to water the plants on the kitchen island or they'll die.  I know that doesn't seem fair to give you more lives to maintain, but I can't water them from where I am.  I'm kinda busy becoming awesome.  Seriously, start watering the plants now and then, okay?
   
   
4. You have my permission to tweet for me on Twitter so I can beat death.  Nothing says addiction like Twittering from your grave. 
   
   
5. The best gifts can be found on Etsy and I'd prefer it if you'd support budding artists and artisans and stay at home moms over big box department stores.  Keep that in mind when picking gifts for the kids. Especially the girls. My favourites area has a bunch of great stuff.
   
   
6. Please don't let my girls become catty, jealous types.  Please emphasize kindness and intelligence over looks when you compliment them.  But know that they're going to probably fight over clothes.  When I figure out the answer to that, I'll stop by for a visit.  I'll be the translucent one.
   
   
7. Make sure the girls read Little Women before they leave the house for university.  The Penguin copy with all my highlighting.  The one you bought me when I was 17ish.
   
   
8. As if I care what kind of casket I'm in.  No matter what you put me in, my complexion will look terrible against the backdrop.  Save the money for LDSsingles.com.
   
   
9. I'm sorry about the giant photo mess on our computers.  I haven't developed photos in years, nor have I categorized them.  I really was terrible at that, huh?  But instead of being annoyed, remember:  I took all those photos. You did not.  Without me, there wouldn't even BE any photos, or kids to take photos of, or fantastic birthday parties decorating those photos.
   
   
10. You have to press *82 and then *98 to get to our phone messages.  The *82 is what we press to make our private number show up on call display.  Follow the prompts from there.

I'm sure I will continue this list as the months and years go on.  How practical am I??

Love, 'Tasha.

Daily Gratitudes

1. Dancing with Jude this morning to Wondering Where the Lions Are, in the kitchen, as it came on CBC Radio 2. Why were we listening to newsy Radio 1 all these years?  Music is a much better way to start the day than news about the American economy and another homicide in Alberta.
2. My kids have good manners.  I think.  I'm pretty sure.
3. My planter's fasciatis in my foot is better.  Might get the missionaries to walk the dog tomorrow.
4. Sleeeeeeeeeeeeep.  In my cooozy bed.
5. My Twitter friends.  They're fun.  xo, Twitter Friends!

31 Reasons to smile and 29 reasons to be annoyed.

Reasons to smile:

1. A knock on your door that brings a beautiful tin of chocolate and caramel covered popcorn you didn't know your husband bought.
2. A husband who buys anything sold by a kid at our door.  Crap, now our secret is out.
3. Rain on a tin roof.
4. Unexpected warm weather in November, after hearing from someone that Farmer's Almanac predicted a very cold long winter. Unless winter goes into July, I'm thinking, not so much "long".
5. Blog comments.
6. That reflex sucking thing that babies do in their sleep.
7. These slippers in rainbow.  Totally want a new pair for Christmas since I accidentally wrecked mine. I wear a 7. I'm just saying.
8. Friendly cashiers who aren't afraid to be human instead of robotron.
9. Baby's Breath throughout a decorated Christmas tree. Trust me-- it looks very beautiful in a Victorian way.
10. Forgiveness and unconditional love.
11. Discovering a new song you want to listen to 30 times straight.
12. Jude Law phoning you to invite you to dinner because he finds you irresistible.   Hey, it could happen. 
13. The sweet, tiny, slim body of a 3-year old, all curled up in sleep.
14. Buying the latest issue of House and Home magazine and realizing that a bathroom in there greatly resembles your own and even has the same cabinet pulls from Restoration Hardware, same size, too.  And the same Asbury hardware from RH.  COOL.
15. A perfectly poached round, slightly runny egg.
16. Modern day plumbing and toilet paper.  Think of the alternatives.
17. Glancing at the clock on my computer and having it say 11:11 or 12:12.  That happens to me a lot.
18. Soft puppy ears.
19. People who can whistle. (I cannot.)
20. Volkswagen and Apple commercials.  
21. Knowing your husband's smiles and being able to say, "That one with the dimples, that's all bashful and boyishly cute is #2."
22. Micro black felt tip pens.  Or rollerball if necessary.
23. People who still send out cards and use nice stamps instead of generic ones.
24. When children say they're ready to go to bed at 7:30.
25. When my husband doesn't shave for a day or two.  (Or three. Haven't been able to convince him past day three, though.)
26. Chocolate.  Evidence of God.
27. Harbours with boats docked. 
28. The first fish a child catches.
29. Cesar salad with REAL bacon and homemade croutons and homemade dressing.
30. Farmer's markets.
31. Children's literature with beautiful artwork and stories you actually don't hate reading over and over.

Reasons to be annoyed:

1. When someone answers a YES/NO question by asking another question.
2. Cheap, ugly buildings when we must have technology to make beautiful architecture easier and more affordable to make than back when people made it all by hand.
3. That fake way that journalists speak, ENUNCIATING every OTHER word WITH...  dramatic pauses.
4. Reality tv and the overuse of the word "amazing". It should be a requirement that all reality show guests carry a thesaurus.  Seriously.  Not EVERY person is "amazing" and certainly not by virtue of being blond and 23 with a cute giggle.
5. The overuse of the word "seriously".
6. Getting my fast food order wrong EVERY... SINGLE... TIME. 
7. People who murder someone and then burn the body so the cause of death is unknown.
8. Stupid drunk drivers surviving the accidents they create, while everyone else in the oncoming vehicle dies.
9. Tweaking a product in a barely noticeable way and then expecting me to watch a commercial about it.
10. Half naked people everywhere at the summer fair.  Many of them who don't even look good that way.
11. Commercials that call some perfume chemical laden piece of trash a "room freshener", like I'm too stupid to know that some of 400 chemicals that are banned in Europe don't "freshen" a room.  I have over twelve room fresheners in my house. They're called WINDOWS.
12. When people act like they're experts on everything and offer their advice before asking questions to understand the situation on which they're giving advice.
13. When people wait for you to stop talking just so they can say their bit, without even acknowledging what you said.
14. Getting sick on Friday and better by Monday.
15. Not being born with red hair.
16. Calling me by a nick name I didn't give you permission to use.
17. Every time you go to look at an ingredients list on a package, you ALWAYS turn to the French part first.
18. Getting up at 4am to let the dog out to pee.
19. People thinking I don't have the right to tell them how permissive they can't be with my dog.
20. When people think that smoking is a right and therefore their second hand or third hand smoke is my cross to bear for them.  If you're allowed to breath noxious chemicals into my throat and lungs, causing me pain and making me stink, I think I should be allowed to punch you in the gut.  Hey, it doesn't cause cancer.
21. Over commercialized nothingness:  "All new!"  "Revolutionary!"  Toothpaste is not all new. It's been around for a loooong time.  Revolutionary?  Like, how revolutionary?  French revolutionary?  American revolutionary?  No?  Then shut up or get a thesaurus.
22. When food is brought to me in such a way that each bite is not equally delicious.  Example: toast that doesn't have jam evenly spread;  pizza with just a few rounds of cheese.
23. Spam followers on Twitter.  People following you because you're one of the thousands they've added to their follow list just so you can see their website link.
24. Late charges costing more than the rental.
25. Having to pay for a library card at all. That's just wrong, Alberta.
26. When people bring a bunch of Jello and weird concoctions to a church potluck and put it on the "salad" table.
27. When my dog puts her paws on my keyboard. 
28. The gobs of wasteful packaging,including countless wires, that goes into displaying Barbies and other relatively mindless toys.  The cuts I get on my hands trying to open that awful packaging.
29. Carefully collecting your recycling for two weeks, putting three boxes out for collection and having 90 km winds start up and throw it and the boxes everywhere.  Boxes still missing.  Guess Mother Nature doesn't want to be saved.

(I know. The second list is put out with more gusto than the first.  I'm tired.  Very tired.  Tired generally=moody.)

Et tu? (And you?) What are your reasons to smile or be annoyed?

Asking for ideas for Christmas traditions and home made gifts.

This Christmas we will stay at home.  Our in-laws, strangely, want to be left alone and that's fine by me-- for years I've been anxious to start our own Christmas traditions.

But it's looming up too quickly for my tastes.  I am distracted by new dog owning and feeling tired and I'm feeling indignant that the world can't stop for me. 

And then ten days after Christmas is Montana's 9th birthday.  SIGH.

I suppose I'm excited to put up our Hammacher Schlemmer prelit gorgeous fake tree.  (Didn't think I'd ever do the fake tree thing but this one is really nice and it was molded from a real tree.)  The only thing I really collect are Christmas ornaments.  I hate matchy-matchy anything, especially trees. So, I have a variety of ornaments, some Christopher Radko glass, some made from nature, some made by the kids, some I've had since I was a baby.  And it looks beautiful that way... meaningful.

It really bothers me that we have no Christmas traditions in our family, yet. (Actually, I just thought of ONE:  Our local church puts on a very well done nativity reenactment outside complete with animals and reading from Luke and the singing of Christmas songs.  I'll try to record it this year and put it on my blog.) I'm also bothered by the excessive commercialism of the season.  I'm getting really weary of commercialism in general, particularly all the websites and blogs and email newsletters that revolve around nothing more than telling people to BUY THIS! BUY THIS!  I've reached my limit.  I'm done. 

I read an article in Wondertime magazine about a mom who was also "done".  She and her family experimented on a Christmas without any purchased gifts.  Brilliant, I say.  One idea she had was to allow her son to be the boss of her for the day.  The best gifts are always homemade or experiences. 

So, I ask you:

1.  What are some Christmas traditions your family practices or would like to practice?
2.  What are some meaningful gift ideas?

Some homemade gifts I've given in the past:

• homemade books, cut from card stock and bound, with favourite quotes inside or lists of reasons to smile
• I interviewed people who love Jude and asked them what they loved about him and made a handmade quote book for him.
• a day-by-day calendar titled 365 Reasons Why I Love Jude, with hand cut, handwritten pages and yes, 365 different reasons.  Which were REALLY hard to think of;  no matter how much you love someone, you don't love them for 365 different, unique reasons-- TRUST ME.
• painted picture
• handknit hat and scarf
• an iPod for Jude with a playlist category of songs sung for him by the kids with words I changed around to show love for him, a love letter read by me, and songs that he likes that I transferred from cassette to mp3.

I would love to hear your ideas for making Christmas low stress and meaningful.

Daily Gratitudes

1. Cheesecake.
2. Opportunities to meet and talk to strangers and hear their stories.  I had a lot of fun doing that recently.
3. WiFi.
4. Beautiful old architecture.
5. Sushi and 20-something-year-old boys who give me their sushi to finish.

On-the-spot poem, understood by three.

[$100 for you if you can tell me what this means.]

Spirit vulnerable.

Limbo
chokes us out
stifles life
gasping.

The fault falls off
my shoulders
shaking exhausted
this burden
--shouted,
whispered,
yelped,
angrily,
sarcastically,
sullen-ly?--
suddenly heard only
a few yesterdays ago.

Too weary, however,
to be grateful
enough.

Far, yet not a world away.
Doable.
Answer's yet to be.
I puzzle it out in my mind.
Only knowing of magnetism,
and how part of the mush
that is me
now distributed permanently--
I'm not made of elastic, you know.

Having to say goodbye
without a hello.

Heart beats
double time,
halving life expectancy.

Say goodbye.

Take this fiery material
--warms, destroys--
beget something newish
hoping for sustainability

hoping for something that
won't annihilate my will
to live this story

love rightly.

Eyes screwed tight.
Fingers crossed.

Daily Gratitudes

1. While the dog pooped right on the floor, only feet away, we didn't even smell it. Her Acana dog food is so healthy, there's no smell, just like they promised. AMAZING.
2. Grey's Anatomy is on tonight. Weird plot aside, good thing after a crappy day. No pun intended.
3. My new multicoloured cotton thread bracelets arrived in the mail. Thank you Etsy. Thank you lady in Britain.
4. Jude brought home supper. Again.
5. My long, celery green parka. Perfect for resentful dog walking on deceptively, obscenely cold days.