Kids Will Be Kids

Spending Christmas Eve waiting on Cornish Hens to be done and for Communion at West Acres to take place is a relatively new tradition for me. I say that, but as I turn the big 33 in a couple of days the math to divide my life into equal parts gets really easy. And for a third of my life I have been doing just that. It sounds like such a long time when I say it that way.

Regardless, this year was different. After the service at church we said good by to Suegro, A.K.A “Papa”. My mom was here to join in the festivities and the evening had a grim outlook when we had to tell Suegro good night. All in all, the spirit of Christmas is a tough one to snuff out. The waiting for food and laughing with family was the same. And yes. I shed a tear or two at the church service.

The thing is, no matter how old you are, no matter how new something may seem, no matter what life throws at you, Christmas will bless you just by being in the midst of it’s spirit. Imagine what it will do when you embrace it.

It’s Not Easy Being Green

With all of the hoopla about conserving energy and reducing waste. I thought it would be a good idea to do a little conserving myself.
What I found out was, over the coarse of a week, I produce alot of trash! Not only that, but I have been throwing away things and buying things that have tons of extra packaging.
Deciding to send a strong message to the marketplace Benjamin Franklin style, I was going to boycott the extra packaging products and spend more time and money on products that have less packaging. I hate to turn my back on my marketing brethren, but the 4th P of the 4 P’s of Marketing is Placement. Otherwise known as Distribution. This is where the marketing guru’s get us. They know for a proven fact, that we like shiny, colorful things. We flock to them. After some time and careful consideration, I decided that instead of trying to plug the dam with my finger, that I’d just hold on like the rest of the world and embrace our self-impending doom.

Y or Y not?

The letter “Y” can change a lot. Happy certainly isn’t the same as happiness. I know I get pissed when someone spells my last name without one and it seem to soften the flint of an otherwise difficult name to say i.e. Cutty, Gunny, Baby,. Starting to get the picture? It can completely change a fish to fishy. No “Y” brings about images of open seas and aquariums and the other makes you curl your nose. And let’s face it. A fair and a fairy are way off. I guess the one rule of thumb that sticks out in my mind. If you have to put a “y” on the end of class, It’s probably not.

The Culprit

It all began Tuesday morning. I got up, felt great, got a shower, and got dressed. All except for my shoes. After chasing Gabby around and trying to stay within the boundaries of my routine We were all running a couple of minutes behind schedule. She had finally landed on her little pink chair and Amber was finishing up with her own hair. I went to retrieve the ever illusive baby hairbrush from the guest bathroom along with the Flintstone vitiamins. Which, by the way, would soon be emptied onto the counter to find the last orange “dino”. Gabby has systematically removed and devoured the purple characters, leaving only the red ones. For some reason she either prefers them and is saving them until last (the captain crunch berry theory) or she absolutely hates them and won’t eat them at all. We will only be able to tell after the last orange Barney and Betty are gone. I reached down like normal and grabbed my shiny black dress shoes. I pulled the left one on and took another step towards the brown living room chair that will temporarily reside in our bedroom until Christmas is over. I took another step, hoping to pull the other shoe on effortlessly in stride on my way to sit down and lace them both up.
That’s when it hit. My weight shifted. I moved slightly the wrong way. Whatever it was I knew this feeling all to well. With all the anticipation of a soup bowl on passenger train drivin by Casey Jones himself, my back gave way. The bone on bone grinding that results in the finality of a disc slipping pop. The next two months flashed across my mind to inform me of my future hobbling. I hit all fours. There was no where to go but down. The sharp pain is followed by the debilitating loss of mobility. I was trying to bear the pain and I must have looked very silly to Gabby.
Kids are great though. She simply got on all fours and began helping me look for what ever it was that I dropped. Needless to say, Priceless!