Category Archives: The Bigger Picture

Feb 7 2012

I Promise You: It Will Be Okay

Here I am.  I’m putting it all out there because hopefully this will help someone.  If you are squeamish or uncomfortable reading about someone’s struggles, then MAN ARE YOU READING THE WRONG BLOG.

A while back, I posted about bankruptcy, entitling it “Dave Ramsey Doesn’t Want You to Read This.”  The guru of self-sufficiency is pretty black and white about what you can and can’t do to get out of debt and pretty much states that bankruptcy filing is a cop-out.

Well, folks, that man is full of shit sometimes.  (Pardon me for not mentioning it earlier, but I might cuss just a little here).

Here’s what I will tell you about financial hardship:

1.  Don’t count on your tax return for money.  If you are expecting money back, don’t think about it until you have the actual check.  We were expecting a sizable refund from 2010′s filing and then were audited, and then they disallowed a big tax credit, and then penalized us TWENTY PERCENT, so that our refund dwindled away to nothing and is now a tax bill of over $1,800.

Even if we had been given the refund, the fallacy in this is that people plan their finances around the tax return all the time.  And then a lot of people spend it on recreational or luxury items (I consider something like a TV or a video game or a vacation a luxury item).  Personally, we were going to spend ours on bills, on filing our bankruptcy, on groceries, badly needed clothes, and car repairs.  Now we are starting from ground zero and figuring out a way to get through this mess without the tax money.  It is, as they say, what it is.

2.  Do NOT keep your burdens to yourself.  I’m not saying to write it all out on a blog, but if there’s someone with the power to help you or even to encourage you, talk to them.  I called our mortgage company today and talked to a very nice woman who is helping us to apply for a mortgage modification or loan assistance to lower our monthly payments.   We are filling out a hardship document for the hospital bills still owed for PC’s surgery of over 14 months ago, to see if they will forgive part or all of the bill.  The bankruptcy attorney said he will work with us to pay for his fees in installments, and will talk to the creditors to get them off our backs before our official filing.

DO NOT BE PROUD.  Pride does not buy groceries.  Explore the options available to you and if you think you have no options, talk to someone for a second opinion.   You will be surprised.

3.  Make a plan to change what you can.   I have applied for a second job, and am doing some contract work for a friend to help make ends meet.  We are living as frugally as we possibly can and are second-guessing every penny we spend to make sure it is for something we really need.  Again, don’t be proud.  Some friends were talking about getting together for dinner at “someplace inexpensive, like Applebees…”  Instead of going along and spending money we couldn’t afford, I straight up said “That’s not something I’ve budgeted for, so I’ll have to pass.”   Every penny counts.

4.  Turn to a higher power.  This actually should have been my first point.  But there it is.  Whether you believe in God or not, whether you pray or not, it should go without saying that if you have done all you humanly can, and you are still in a leaky boat, then turn to something or someone greater than yourself for peace, for inspiration, for healing and for hope.  Your higher power may be nature.  It may be the sun.  It may be Buddha, or Mohammed, or Jesus Christ.  Whatever you turn to in thanks for the good things, you should turn to for mercy in the bad times.

I have found in my life that things go VERY VERY badly when I think I can do everything myself.  I am brought to my knees and humbled when I realize the wreckage I look at is a result of my own negligence, or pride or overestimation of abilities.  Personally, I cannot live my life properly without  God’s help: I know this because I have tried and failed numerous times.

When you release your pain and your fear and your sufferings (whether your suffering is relatively lighter than another person’s is not a consideration here), but when you release those things to a power greater than yourself and say “I can’t deal with this so I am turning it over to you with trust that you will show me the way and not let me fall,” – when you do that, the peace and release of stress you experience is enough to get you through the next five minutes, five hours, day or week.

YOU CANNOT FUNCTION PROPERLY WHEN YOU ARE PARALYZED BY FEAR OR CRIPPLED BY ANXIETY.

The Bible says “He did not give us the spirit of fear, but of power and understanding.”

5.  Finally. No matter how dark it seems, no matter how out of control things feel, no matter how hopeless the situation looks, DO NOT GIVE UP.  How you got to this point is important to understand, but don’t dwell on it if it won’t let you move forward.  Look around and focus on something positive.

Never, ever, ever think to yourself that the situation you are in today is so dire that you can’t get through it.  History is littered with stories of people who overcame unimaginable hardships.  What if they had given up?

I had a fleeting thought several weeks ago about life insurance.  About how my life insurance would take care of all of our debts and obligations, and how that money would fix everything.  But it’s just money.  I’m not paralyzed, I’m not disabled: I can earn money.  Would life for my family be easier if they had money instead of me?  Maybe.  But would it be better?  Absolutely not.  For as much as I fail, for as hard as I make things for them, for as difficult as I have been – I am still a blessing to someone, and they need me.

If you find yourself thinking life would be easier or better for someone without you (and believe me, I’m not the only one who has had that thought), I know it’s not a suicidal thought: sometimes it’s nothing more than a tallying of the inventory of your worth.  It’s a condemnation of your value. It’s a seemingly frank and objective assessment of what you have to offer.

And it’s wrong.

Like me, you may feel you have failed your family or yourself a thousand different ways.  Like me, you may be taking an accounting of your life and feel at times that you suck.  But I can promise you with 100% certainty that regardless of what you have done or imagined you have done, regardless of your feelings of futility, regardless of all the outside factors of debt or financial hardships or missteps: you are a blessing and value to someone.

Your checkbook may be worth nothing, but you are not your bank balance.  You are precious and priceless and a value beyond diamonds, to one or two or a dozen or a thousand people.

I know you are out there.  I know someone reading this got up this morning and thought “Everything is falling apart and I can’t do this and we will never get out from under this avalanche.”  I know that feeling.  I have that feeling.

But I’ve been through the avalanche.  I’m still digging out of the snow, in fact.  But if I see your hat sticking out of the snow, I’m going to dig for you and help you get out. People have done it for me.  I know how it feels and I’m here to promise you this:

EVERYTHING WILL GET BETTER.  Maybe not immediately, but work at it and you will get out of it.  I PROMISE YOU.

Jan 9 2012

The Blasphemy of Dissatisfaction

Just for the record, everything that has no home in our house after my organization projects has slowly been drifting back toward my home office, with the result that it looks like an office supply store threw up in here.

I am once again having difficulty with the piles of papers, receipts, letters, mail, bills, postcards….just piling up.  I have to start being merciless with this stuff.  So enough about that.

Yesterday, PC’s parents stopped in and spent a few hours with us on their way through town. They’d been in a nearby town picking up some furniture for PC’s mom, who is moving into her own place in a town not far from here.

PC’s folks have been divorced for more than 20 years and are currently both staying with PC’s brother and his wife.  My mother in law, Judy, just retired and moved from her community across the state to be closer to us all.  She’s only going to be an hour and a half away and we’re pretty excited.  It’s nice that PC’s parents get along so well and for Rabbit to have an afternoon with both Grandpa Bob and Grandma Judy was such a treat.

While talking to PC’s mom, we were talking about friends and family members who are going through some terrible struggles:  cancer, deaths in their family, sickness, marital troubles…

I started thinking that other than our current financial straits (which are only temporary), our life is pretty great.  I have a husband I love, and who loves me.  We laugh together and get along (most of the time) very well.  Our daughter is a delight.  We have a modest but comfortable home.  Our families are a great support and we have amazing friends.  We live in a city we love, PC is working full time, we have health insurance and my hall closet is organized.

Plus, I made two loaves of gorgeous potato bread this evening.  I’ve knitted three dish cloths after only learning to knit in the last week.  We have groceries, the laundry is all done and we have a down comforter, two great cats and lots of books to read.

To complain about any of this would be blasphemy, at least tonight.

Jan 1 2012

What If Every Day Were New Year’s Day?

I woke up this morning thinking “What if every day were New Year’s Day?”

Why should a random number on the calendar be the only time we feel that we’d shrugged off the regrets, disappointments and mistakes of the past, with a clean slate for the future?

What makes yesterday so vastly different from today for so many people that they make resolutions to change, dramatically, what they do or what they eat or how they live?

For the past few years, starting with the year my dad got sick, the year has ended with the thought “So long, 2009 [or 2010, or 2011] – you sucky year from hell.  2010 [or 2011 or 2012] has got to be better.”

That’s a lot of pressure to put on a whole year.  That’s a lot of setup for disappointment.

What if we treated every morning as a fresh start, the way we do January 1st every year?

“Hello Monday!  Sunday is over and looking back, I’m going to do better at keeping my thoughts to myself, speaking only kindness and being more responsible for my money.”

Or how about this?  ”It’s Sunday – the start of my week.  This week is my chance to let last week go, and move on with what I know I can do better.”

How about “Hello February 1st!  January had some challenges, but it’s behind us now and this month, I resolve to [fill in resolution].”

When I was younger, the first of January was one beginning, but the biggest do-over for me always started on the first day of school.  Even now, the first day of school feels to me more momentous than the first of the year.  It was always a milestone to mark the beginning of a clean slate, a new set of opportunities, a fresh attempt to correct the mistakes of the last year and build something better.

What would happen if we decided to take the pressure off ourselves and this random time in the middle of winter, when things are in transition from the holidays and our households are in chaos from decorating and parties and travel and visitors  - what if we decided to just stop expecting a number that changes on the calendar to make everything better?

What if we decided that it is OUR responsibility, every day, to resolve to let go of yesterday (or last week, or last month, or the entire past year) and start fresh?  Instead of resolutions, we could make plans.  We can decide that each day is a clean slate, a new set of opportunities, a time to build something better.

Today I plan to be more patient with my family.  To keep the kitchen clean.  To make the bed.

This week, I plan to think of five new things I can do to build up my business.  To read at least three books that I haven’t read before.  To clean the bathroom.  To learn the basics of knitting.

This month, I plan to get my office cleaned and organized.  I plan to spend the month getting my garden planned out on paper and making a list of seeds and supplies I’ll need.  I plan this month to try to spend less than $150 on groceries, to see if it can be done.

Don’t make grand plans that defeat you within days.  Break your idea of success down into small achievable goals by the day, the week, the month.  Be kind to yourself.

Don’t think of the past day, month, or year as a defeat or a mistake or an apocalypse of misfortune.  Think of the good things from it, think of the things you learned, think of the motivation it has given you to do something differently.

Let’s not start our year focusing on what was wrong with the last.  Let’s start the new year or the new day focusing on how we can make this one better.

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For one of my favorite posts about doing new things in a new year, visit this post from January of 2009.

Dec 30 2011

Frugal Friday: Time is Money, Time is Free

Lest you think that my frugality is limited to groceries and food, let me remind you that I was raised by  two survivors of the Great Depression and am slowly turning into them.

We were raised on very little money.  We almost never had new clothes, or fast food, or new furniture.  There was no “teen line” in our house the way my friends’ homes had, there was sporadic cable television but mostly two or three channels.  My parents did not have gas service to the house and as a result, from the time I was ten years old, we did not have a working furnace or a water heater.  They heated the house with an old wood cook stove for years until buying a second stove to heat the living room and the rest of the house.

This was in the 1980s, folks.  Every day after school, my sister and I had to carry in firewood and we heated water in pots on the cook stove to use for bathing.

No, it’s not ideal and it sure wasn’t easy, but it was not child abuse, either.  (Although at the time, we might have argued otherwise).

Here’s what we did have, though.  Homemade bread and homemade tortillas.  A big noon meal every day of the week, which we often walked home from school for, with home-canned (organic) vegetables, homegrown (organic) potatoes and meat that was often from my brother-in-law’s ranch.

We had a large yard, a short walk to school and church, plenty of books, lots of family visiting, dozens of nieces and nephews to play with, and the opportunity to earn pocket money by babysitting or tutoring or getting a part-time job at a local restaurant or business.

We had library cards, access to the local college library, excellent teachers (and some terrible ones), nice parks and in the case of my younger sister and myself, we had pretty much free run of the upstairs of the house to do with whatever we liked, provided we got our work done.

My parents were middle-aged when I was a kid – the older siblings got them when they were younger with more energy.  By the time my sister and I were born, the folks were in their 40s and it was the 1970s.  They helped start a natural foods co-op in our small town, subscribed to The Mother Earth News and went organic in all their gardening.  My dad hardly ever threw anything away, which was a giant pain in the ass when he died and we had to sort through his crowded shop and piles of scrap lumber behind the house.

But in his glory days, he was remarkably self-sufficient and I like to think my parents taught us about how rewarding that could be.

For instance, yesterday I was homebound with my daughter. She is out of school until January 9th, and we’re trying to spread out activities so we have plenty to do during her vacation.

We spent the day thusly:  having lunch of peanut butter and jelly on homemade bread, with a side of raisins and clementines.  While we ate, we took turns reading out loud from “On the Banks of Plum Creek,” by Laura Ingalls Wilder, and Rabbit was thrilled when Laura got a fur cape for Christmas from the church because Nellie Oleson had been so mean bragging about her own cape.

We tore open three old pillows I’d had stored in the basement, and cut the fabric from an old skirt of mine (black with white outlines of leaves) into squares, sewed them into pillowcases, and stuffed them full of fiber batting.  Then we went through a giant basket of Rabbit’s outgrown clothes (the special stuff we couldn’t give away) and found her Little House on the Prairie sweatshirt. It was about three sizes too small so we cut the sleeves off and sewed it into a snuggly pillow.

Rabbit played in the yard.  I talked to one of the neighbors.  I baked bread.  Later we read more from the book and then lost ourselves in our own books.  Rabbit took a nap.  In the evening, she helped me pick out fabric scraps to try to make an impromptu patchwork quilt. The squares didn’t line up evenly but it was a quick experiment and not meant to impress.  I took the resulting placemat-sized quilt top and sewed it to another piece of fabric to make a pillow for my rocking chair.

We didn’t spend any money on yesterday’s entertainment.  Saving material, getting creative with what is available, spending TIME together…these are the things Rabbit will remember.  This has been a huge revelation to me, the way we’ve spent our time together recently.

Yes, from my childhood, I remember my parents worrying about money. But I also remember my friends being envious of our homemade bread and my mom’s cooking, the nights we played cribbage with my dad by the heat of the wood stove, watching the public TV auction fundraisers with my mom, having TIME with them.

People say time is money – well sometimes it is.  But time is precious and free and valuable all at once.  It is the greatest extravagance, the greatest squander and the greatest gift we have to offer, especially to our children.

Do you spend time, or save time, or waste time, or give time? What will enrich your life the most? If you have children, how do you allocate your time with them?

 

Dec 25 2011

So This Is Christmas

This year, I was worried about Christmas.  I was worried because we have a nine year old daughter and limited finances and all the other superficial and deeper worries that people have in this economy around this time of year.

And then last night, we sat in church at a candlelight service, replete from the dinner we’d just enjoyed (roast beef from meat a friend had given us), surrounded by friendly people who didn’t know us from Adam.  Everyone was singing the familiar Christmas songs and then the readers would get up and read selected passages from the Bible, from Adam and Eve to the Angel Gabriel visiting Mary to Jesus being born in a stable and wrapped in swaddling clothes.

And Rabbit, my daughter whose Children’s Cartoon Bible is in tatters from being read cover to cover multiple times, would light up with each story and whisper loudly “Hey, Daddy! I know this story!”  She sat beside us in the pew, swinging her legs and drawing Christmas trees on scratch paper, and when the next song would start, she’d whisper “I don’t know this one,” or “Hey! I know this song!”

And we went home in the quiet dark to a house lit from within by our Christmas tree.  As I washed the supper dishes we’d left behind, my brother came in the kitchen door to share the evening with us.  We sat in the living room and opened family presents: PC’s dad and mom and brother had sent gifts for us and for Rabbit, and Rabbit had presents we’d made for her, and I had wrapped for my brother a photo of our Grandpa smoking his pipe – my brother had lost all his family photos along his way through struggles with homelessness and was thrilled to have that picture.

This morning, Rabbit ran into our room, breathless.  ”Santa came!” she whispered urgently.

And he had been at our house, to be sure.  A dear sweet friend in another state had, a few weeks ago, sent a previously loved and well-cared-for American Girl doll and stand to my office.  She had also ordered the accompanying book for the doll (Josefina, from New Mexico, 1824), some new moccasins, and sent along extra blouses and a skirt.  Another friend of mine had given us a skirt and boots for the doll.   Everything was wrapped up and put on the sofa for Rabbit, along with her stocking where we’d put a Pez dispenser, a package of earrings, and four pairs of socks.

It was magical.  Just absolutely magical. As Rabbit opened her gifts, her eyes shone.  She spent the morning changing the doll’s clothes and then held her in her arms as she curled up on the floor to nap in the sun.  As far as Rabbit is concerned, Josefina came from Santa.  She is utterly right:  the spirit of Christmas, of Santa, was borne out in the fact that generosity and love made sure our daughter had something to open on Christmas morning.

There wasn’t a huge stack of gifts under the tree, but the amount of love that went into those few gifts could have filled a stadium.

Christmas is about love.  The love that brought a child to save us.  The love that makes us into families of birth and families of choice.  The friendships that sustain us.  The small and large gestures that mean more than the givers ever know.

We should never worry about Christmas, even though it is inevitable that we might connect it with the things under the tree.  And I know things won’t always be so clear, especially as Rabbit grows up and falls under the spell of material things and what her peers have.

Today, though, I felt like a Beatles song.  All you need is love.  Love is all you need.  She loves you.  Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Dec 24 2011

Coasting Into Christmas

The last of my toughest holiday responsibilities are behind me, and now we coast through to Christmas.

Yesterday, Rabbit and I delivered gifts to meals on wheels clients; I had gotten an email from a member of our Realtor board that the organization in charge was desperately in need of delivery volunteers.  I called and Jim said I was the first one.  In the next 12 hours, they got two more volunteers, which were people I had recruited through facebook.  I guess nobody reads their email.

We took a load of gift bags and the list of names, and set off.  Rabbit would knock on the door and when the person answered, I’d say “We’re from Meals on Wheels and this is a little Christmas gift for you!”  Each recipient was completely dumbfounded, and then Rabbit would say “Merry Christmas! God bless you!”  I swear, she was more excited about giving these elderly folks their presents than she was last year to open any of her own.  It made my grinch-heart grow three sizes, I’ll tell you.  She is a keeper.

Afterward, we were exhausted and took two hour power naps with the cats.

I had been working on a drawing that a friend commissioned, of her nephew.  It was to be a gift for her sister and believing the adage that nothing makes a person more productive than the last minute, I finished it this morning.  I was up past midnight last night struggling to draw hair on this kid, and gave up and went to bed with a terrible headache.  I was back at the drawing table this morning and finally finished, sprayed the drawing with matte acrylic fixative, covered it with tissue paper and put it in a folder made from two pieces of stiff cardboard.

Then I had two hours of panic that the aunt wouldn’t like the picture.  She picked it up, though, and opened the folder and gasped and got teary-eyed.  ”You really captured him!” she said, while I tried not to point out that I hadn’t replicated the exact fall of his hair with my pencils and graphite sticks.  ”He’s so cute, and he’s so naughty!  You can just see it in his eyes!”  So I kept my opinions about my ability to draw hair to myself and thanked her for the check, and breathed a sigh of relief.

I had to make a trip to the Evil Empire last night for last minute gifts and a few foodstuffs: milk, peanut butter, bananas.  Some patching denim for Rabbit’s school jeans.  A denim needle for the sewing machine.  And stocking stuffers.  So I had to go to walMart.

I got Rabbit a pair of pajamas and a package of day of the week undies, as well as four pairs of new knee socks and a variety pack of earrings, including what will be her first hoop earrings.  Oh, and a princess Pez dispenser.  Everything but the pajamas and undies will be from Santa, in her stocking tomorrow.

Yesterday I made regular, knead the dough til your shoulders ache, wheat bread.  I used King Arthur Flour (which they do NOT sell at WalMart) and it was without a doubt THE best and most beautiful bread I’ve ever baked.   Both loaves looked picture perfect, and they smelled divine. The texture of the bread was gorgeous: fine crumb, soft, but not like angel-food cake the way store bread sometimes is.

You can slice bread evenly and quickly with an electric knife, which I did with the loaf above.

Today, I cooked a giant roast for our Christmas eve dinner and am waiting to serve it til after PC finishes watching his football game.  Then we’ll eat, then go to church, and only then (to Rabbit’s dismay) will we open Christmas presents.  She is dying to open them, even though she’s not said one word before today about it.  But she is READY.

Tomorrow will be Santa gifts and then Chinese food for lunch.  My big holiday meal is Thanksgiving. Christmas dinner can’t compete with Christmas presents, so we don’t even try.

May you have a beautiful and happy holiday with people you love.

Dec 10 2011

From the Heart vs. From the Mall

One of the best things I’ve discovered this December is that by purposely NOT participating in the Christmas events around us, I’m feeling more of the Christmas spirit.  I’m not out spending tons of money on gifts like we did last year after a surge in our income, mostly because this year we haven’t had that surge in income.

But it’s more than that.  The idea of having to really dig deep to think about what to give someone when you are limited to giving them something you can produce yourself from what you have around the house or the talents you have:  sewing something, baking, writing, drawing, creating….

It was easy last year to seize upon colorful toys and games and buy Rabbit a pile of age-appropriate and rather impersonal gifts.  Don’t get me wrong: she enjoyed them.  But this year, I couldn’t just give her something from Target or Toys R Us.  And in making something for her, the amount of effort that goes into it means that it has to count.  I wasn’t going to make something she might not like because then it’s nobody’s fault but mine for not thinking it through, and I’ve wasted a huge amount of time and precious resources from around the house.

This Christmas, I already mentioned, I’m giving her a tiny home-sewn doll comforter and two little pillows, for the American Girl doll a dear friend has sent on behalf of Santa.   So the doll is one theme of this year’s gifts.

The other theme is cooking:  I made Rabbit two pot holders.  This child loves to have anything that is made for grown ups in the kitchen, but in a size scaled for her.  At dinner, she likes to find the tiniest biscuit, the smallest piece of pizza, the little fork, the short glass, the small plate.

She loves to be in the kitchen, and I figure that at nine years of age, I need to start letting her help.  Her uncle called today and asked what to get her.  I asked if he would look for some little miniature loaf pans and maybe a muffin tin, which we can set aside as being strictly for Rabbit.  I’m also going to get her her own cookie sheet, her own pair of tongs (which she calls “choppers”) and a few other things that we’ll keep in a drawer or bin just for her in the kitchen.

At the store, I’m going to get her some of her own ingredients and a bin to put them in in the kitchen.   Once a week, she’s going to be in charge of dinner, with some help.

And finally, as part of her Christmas present, I’m going to find a photo album with those self-stick pages if they still make them, and put in it hand-written recipes of her favorite dishes that we make here at home.  This way, she can have them now, and take them with her years from now when she’s older.

I know that not all little girls are Suzy Homemaker, but Rabbit totally is.  That’s not what she wants to do with her life, but it’s something she loves, and I see no problem in giving her a good start with sturdy equipment, her own apron, her own potholders, her own recipe book and spatula.  I wish I’d had those things and those experiences with my own mom.

Who knows…?  Years from now, maybe she’ll open that recipe collection and remember cooking with me.  Maybe we’ll put pictures of her cooking alongside the recipes.  Maybe letters from me to her.  Maybe not.

Consider, if not for this Christmas but for next time, trying really hard to come up with something you don’t have to necessarily buy, but something you can make for someone you love.

I saw a quote on Pinterest yesterday:  a gift rule for children.  ”Something they want, something they need.  Something they wear, and something they read.”

What are some of the most memorable gifts you received as a child, if you had to choose from gifts that someone made for you that were out of the ordinary, homemade or tailored specifically to your personality?

For me, there were a few:  a hand-knitted hat from an elderly lady across the street.  A hand-carved wooden crochet hook my dad made one year when I was about nine.  Most of the gifts I received have faded from my memory thirty plus years later, but the homemade ones still resonate.

How about you?

Dec 6 2011

Gift Perspective and Ribbon Candy

A supremely wonderful person sent a package in the mail today for Rabbit – something to have from Santa under the tree.  A very well-loved and nicely re-strung and cleaned American Girl doll, along with a stand and two spare outfits of clothing.

It arrived at my office today and the receptionist and I opened it and oohed and aahed and sighed over how much Rabbit is going to love this doll.  I got pretty choked up because we were a little nervous about what there would be from Santa under the tree this year since our finances are stretched to the absolute limit.

But this evening, I started thinking about what we could do for Rabbit for Christmas and I remembered some really cute fabric I’d bought over a year ago.  Pink with purple kitties, and purple with pink kitties.  We never did anything with the fabric, but I’m considering piecing together a couple of small pillows and a miniature comforter for Rabbit’s new doll.

We also have fabric that I may ask my sister to help me sew into an apron for Rabbit, and this week I’m going to scour the thrift stores for some small baking pans in cute shapes for Rabbit to have for herself. The EasyBake oven she got last year just isn’t doing it for her, but if I have some small loaf pans and cookie sheets, she can make her own things while I’m making larger batches for us.

She’s a HUGE fan of cooking and baking, and this would be a thrill for her.

Additionally, I have a Groupon (purchased a LONG time ago) to redeem for a Mixbook photo book, hardbound.  I can upload and arrange all the best of the pictures from this past year online, including pictures from our trip together out to visit my mom, pictures Rabbit took when we went on our little photography excursions, and pictures from her own camera.

Finally, a plain old-fashioned scrapbook (if they even make those any more) and glue sticks for all the little pictures she cuts out of magazines and the pictures she draws.  And, of course, new socks and new undies.

Last year she got so much stuff she forgot about half of it.  It’s going to be a less is more holiday, to be sure.

Tonight is St. Nicholas night – December 6th is the Feast Day of Saint Nicholas.  As per generations of tradition in my German family, we put Rabbit’s boots outside this evening and while Rabbit was downstairs getting her laundry basket, there was great knocking on the windows.  (My knuckles still hurt).

She ran upstairs, wide-eyed, and ran to the door.  There, next to her boots, was a bag of peanuts in the shell and a box of ribbon candy.  There was an orange in one boot and a bundle of gold-foil wrapped chocolate coins in the other.  She was ecstatic.

Right now, she and PC are watching TV together before she goes to bed.  He’s recovering from his man-flu (cold) and will hopefully be back at work tomorrow.   And in the morning, she’ll open another window on her Trader Joe’s 99cent Advent Calendar before school, and after school she’s going to her aunt Joan’s house to have supper and help decorate their Christmas tree.

I have to always remind myself that what we want for her isn’t always what she wants – most of the time, she’s just content with simple things, as long they’re wrapped in gift paper with shiny bows, and as long as we can all enjoy them together.

Nov 22 2011

The Sun Comes Out and I’m Thankful

Well, I’m sure yesterday’s post was a merry little sunbeam for readers.  I apologize.  I was overwhelmed and freaking out.

And even though I’m stressed, I have to remember to hold it together for the sake of our daughter, who doesn’t need to see me flipping out.  I remember my parents stressing about finances in front of us kids and although there are people who say it’s important for children to understand reality, there’s something to be said for not letting kids know everything.  Many times, I felt personally responsible for my parents’ shaky finances as a result of things that were said in times of struggle, even though I was just a little kid.  I don’t want my daughter to feel that way. EVER.

And then there’s the fact that things could be WAY worse.  At least we are healthy.

Here are some things I am thankful for this week:

1.  My husband and my daughter.  They are so much better than I deserve and are the anchors that keep me from flying off into space from fear or selfishness or self-doubt. They love me, even when I don’t deserve it.

2.  My extended family, my in-laws, my nieces and nephews.

3.  My friends, who always manage to say or do something to pick me up, even when they don’t realize I need it.

4.  That down comforter we were given this past week.  That thing is a splendorous thing of glory and makes me feel so snuggly and happy every time I get under the covers.  *sigh*

5.  Can you be thankful for cats?  Because I am. Hazel is a kindred spirit, sticking close by me whenever I’m upset (or eating) and cuddling up with her grumbly purring when I’m in bed.  And Flower is such a little gentleman, a cool cat who smiles and snores while he’s awake, and it cracks me up when he stands on his hind legs and massages my butt with his front paws while I’m standing in the kitchen.

6.  My colleagues, who make going into the office so welcoming, who make me laugh and understand the stressful nature of this business.  Just today, I laughed so hard with a few ladies at the office that I was in tears.

7.  Led Zeppelin.  Robert Plant.  The Beatles.  James Morrison.  Stevie Ray Vaughan.  Alison Krauss.  Family Force Five.  Gungor.  Red Hot Chili Peppers.  Eva Cassidy.  The Wailin’ Jennys.  And a million other artists whose music makes me happy and at peace…or at least lets me rock out in the car and sing at the top of my lungs and lower my blood pressure, or dance in the kitchen with my daughter.

8.  Oh, the sweet balm of reading.  How do I ever feel like life is hopeless when I can open a book or my Kindle and lose myself in someone’s words in a matter of minutes?

9.  My blogging community – the friends who know about me even though we’ve never met in person; the friends whose lives I follow through a computer screen, whose encouragement and support are as important as that of people I know “in real life.”

10.  And finally….Xanax.

Nov 15 2011

Personal Reflection And Inevitable Rant

That whole turning-over-a-new-leaf and resisting-the-compulsion-to-be-a-sarcastic-bitch phase of my life lasted exactly nine days and blew up like a backed up sewer line this evening.

I guess I didn’t mention my decision to be much nicer to the people in my life but it stemmed from my youth retreat the first weekend of November.  I had a deep and forbidding sense of disaster and disappointment in myself when I sat and took a personal inventory of the way I talked to people, the way I looked when people talked to me, and the thoughts I let out of my mouth without filtering them first.

I thought about how words can hurt and how my mind jumps to the sarcastic comment far more frequently than a good person’s should.  I thought about how the tension in my house was thick and how my daughter’s shoulders sagged when I would caustically tell her to give me space and how my husband would coldly reply to my nagging words when I really got going.

I thought a lot about the golden rule, and karma, and the laws of attraction and the theory that we are the average of the five people with whom we spend the most time.  I had to almost physically shake myself, sitting there on my air mattress late that Saturday night, and said out loud “Oh, man.  I am so mean.”

And I am.  I know that on this blog, I have the opportunity and luxury of presenting myself to readers in a way that quite often makes me sound like a wise and loving woman who is overflowing with affection for her little family, who bakes bread and reads and is funny and obsessed with groceries and Tupperware and Robert Plant.

But anyone who knows me in real life knows that I have a very sharp tongue and can easily leap to the catty in a nanosecond if I don’t stop myself.  This doesn’t mean that the person on this blog is not real: if anything, on the blog, I am more my true self than in person because I go deeper than I do in a surface conversation.  I can filter myself and throw away the ugly things, or put them aside, and focus on the way I want to be always instead of the way I am most times.

You know the rants?  That’s pretty much me about half of the time in person.  And it can be fun for a while, but pretty soon even I get sick of it.  I want to be a calm and nice person who stops herself before making a comment that could hurt someone’s feelings.

For nine days, I’ve done pretty well.  I’ve been patient with my daughter, kind and patient with my husband, calm at the office, hopeful with work, positive among colleagues.  Then tonight, I just suddenly felt it all pile up and wanted to punch the world right in the throat.

It had been so long since I’d said something acid and catty and mean-spirited that I was itching to just go haywire and cut loose.  I’m not proud of it, I’m just being honest.

I didn’t indulge in the cattiness, but dammit, I thought mean things for about two straight hours.

Someone on Facebook had a wall post that said something to the effect that “Jesus love’s you when your down.”  It was all I could do to not post a response that told them “Jesus loves people who know how to spell and when to use apostrophes.”  It is a terrible thing to have these thoughts.

My daughter was doing math homework and they are starting division. She didn’t know the difference between division and subtraction and I wanted to tell her to just wait til school the next day and have the teacher go over it because I had no desire to help with freaking homework.  Instead, I gritted my teeth and tried to help her and tried not to just tell her the answers.

I sat in my car in front of the library and thought terrible and judgmental things about each stranger who walked past me.  I looked in the mirror and thought terrible things about myself.  When I got home, I finished making dinner and the biscuits on the chicken pot pie were doughy underneath.  There was too much pepper in the sauce.  I made too many dirty dishes and there was a fine grit of pulverized dried leaves underfoot and the dishtowel basket was overflowing with dirty towels and rags.  I wanted to burn the kitchen to the ground and drive off into the sunset.  But my car is almost out of gas and really, I should just go to bed.

I suppose in reality, the fact is that nobody can be perfectly nice all the time.  At least, I can’t.  Once in a while, I have to step away and get these terrible thoughts out without saying something to someone that I can never take back.   So here is my list, not directed at any one person, but in general, at statements, behaviors or personalities that universally make my hair fall out in clumps and my sarcasm gland secrete acid into my brain and my tongue turn forked like a serpent’s.

1.  Plurals do not require apostrophes.

2.  Your (possessive) and you’re (contraction for you are) are two separate and distinct things and if you are allowed to have a driver’s license and a facebook account and the right to vote, you should most definitely learn the difference between your and you’re.

3.  Don’t freaking touch me.

4.  Don’t follow me.

5.  I don’t want to shake hands when your hands are limp and sweaty.  You give me the skeeves.

AND OKAY NOW IT’S JUST FULL ON RANT BECAUSE THIS IS MY BLOG AND IF I DON’T GET IT OUT HERE, I WILL SAY SOMETHING TERRIBLE TO A PERSON IN REAL LIFE.

6.  Please for the love of all that is holy, do not wear pajama pants outside the privacy of your own home, no matter how casual the setting.  Just…wear regular pants.

7.  It’s not a news channel.  It’s not news.  It’s not the truth.  It’s not something I want you to talk to me about.

8.  I will unfriend you if you use the word “retarded” as a casual phrase about something you find lame or ridiculous.

9. Yes, I’m rolling my eyes.  It’s my physical response to listening to someone and trying to prevent my muscles from reflexively punching them.

10.  At the end of the day, it’s very sort of, I mean, basically, you know, like, duh, for real and absolutely.  I hear these sprinkled into conversation and I develop hives.  And see #9 for my reaction.

11.  If I see one more cleverly spelled baby name I will take a hammer to my own thumb for relief.  ”Heaven” should remain spelled that way, and not backward to make the name “Nevaeh.”  You know why? Because that’s stupid.  Yeah.  I said it.

I’M FEELING ENDORPHINS NOW.  I’M FEELING MY BLOOD PRESSURE GOING BACK TO NORMAL.

I could go on and on but I should stop now.  I’m a terrible person.  I’m not nice, not the way I want to be.  Or is niceness just the ability to keep the mean thoughts to oneself?

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know when to keep my thoughts to myself.

Tell me in the comments: are you a nice person? I mean, are you a person who thinks nice thoughts and says nice things?  Are you sarcastic?  How are you different in real life than you present yourself online?