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Amy
December Writing Challenge Day 7 Really Day 37 I hate Christmas. Well, there are three words I never thought I’d write. Because I don’t. At all. Oh sure, it’s hard to find the real meaning in the hordes of shoppers at the mall, or while being cut off in traffic on your way to the company Christmas party. But you just have to put a little extra love in your heart and assume that these people making you crazy have had a hard life and weren’t shown the Lord’s way. And dontcha know the people who seem determined to chip away at your faith and drag you down in their misery are the people without Jesus. They’re jealous that Christians have eternal hope. They don’t know it’s okay for us to be imperfect, a Saviour was sent for that purpose. So we just have to press on and try to set an example by being our very best selves. That’s what Christmas is about. And carrying it in our hearts all the year long. …
December Writing Challenge Day 6 (Day 36) The mystery gift. We’ve all been given something we didn’t ask for. Usually in my case it’s advice. In Chevy Chase’s Christmas, it was Aunt Edna’s jell-o mold, complete with cat food. The Secret Santa game has become wildly popular in recent years, and my favorite is always gag gifts for several reasons. #1) you don’t have to put a lot of thought into it. Just buy something fun. #2) you don’t have to worry about buying something everyone will like-that’s not the point! #3) I like to laugh. The harder the better. Preferably until my sides hurt and I’m crying. I have never been involved with the Secret Sisters group that circulates this time of year. I need no added stress in my life. I’m anxious enough without wondering if my gift was well received. Or shopping for something without going over budget. It’s agonizing enough trying to find the perfect gift for family and friends. Don’t make a mystery gift. It stresses people out. Wrap up some homemade peanut butter cookies and clearly label them. It need not be fancy. A zip lock bag inside a plain brown paper one will be as appreciated as anything I know. …
My oldest friend turned 91 this past July. This is a picture from his 90th birthday. Joe Woods was super intimidating when I went to work for the Co-op in 2001. He seemed gruff, no-nonsense, and had the demeanor of the remarkably smart. For someone as wet behind the ears as I was, the best I could hope for was to stay out of the way. But as you all know, Joe is none of the above, other than the exceptionally smart part. He loves nothing better than a good joke-as long as it’s not on him. He helped me approximately 14,788,923 times during my years there. He probably repeated everything he told me at least twice. I still can’t tell you how to kill duckweed in your pond without killing your fish. I do know that you better put the lime to your garden and water in the morning if you don’t want your tomatoes to get “the rot”. I also learned to never, ever, ever ride with him, even if it’s just to Frank Allen’s. I depended on Joe daily, and I never thought twice about calling his cell phone if he was gone to the post office or “checking on some corn” out in Wears Valley. That’s why he gave it to me. And I was his IT person. This meant I showed him how…
December Writing Challenge Day 5 (Day 35) The remote’s gone. We thought the remote had taken a dive this weekend. It’s only about 20 years old, the one I’m talking about. It goes with the surround sound system. All the words are worn off so I just use the buttons on the device. The remote has a bazillion more that I don’t know what in the world it could possibly be controlling, so it’s just safer all the way around if I avoid it at all costs. But it was fine, the batteries had just corroded. Isn’t that strange that it was still working fine until the last few days? Scenario 2: My uncle has a sometimes ghost. He hasn’t been bothered by the ghost since moving to the cabin, but at the old house the ghost was as much as an inhabitant as him or Aunt Bren. He frequently stole/ moved several objects, including the remote. So to hear things like, “The remote’s gone,” and the prompt response of “the ghost has got it,” was not in the least unusual in their house. No worries, he frequently returned whatever he took the day you stopped looking for it. But they’ve moved out on the ghost, and he now haunts The Puerto Rican on a Stick. …
December Writing Challenge Day 4 (Day 34) Star. Neil Gaimon writes in Stardust that a star is a person until it falls to Earth. His take is very interesting, and I strongly persuade you to read it. I say stars are magical celestial beings and we all get to be one for a little while. I think they’re shaped like giant kidney stones made of solid diamond, that’s why they sparkle so. I think stars are our hopes and dreams that were fulfilled before we lost our belief in magic. I think stars are the people we lost and missed and they decided to suspend themselves for a few minutes while we look. I think stars are beautiful no matter what they are and it wouldn’t hurt us at all to look towards them more often. …
December Writing Challenge Day 3 (Day 33) Suicide. Geez. What a topic. I like to make light of things but there’s not a light side to this. So I plan to tread carefully, and let me apologize ahead of time if I inadvertently step wrong with my words. I am rarely eloquent. I am always sincere when it comes to something serious. Suicide will touch most of us at one time or another. I got a little practice while working as a dispatcher. As much as you can, in any case. We had these books, a protocol of questions to ask your caller for pretty much any life or death situation. But the callers always wanted to ask us the questions. And it was always the same: “WHY???” The short answer was we didn’t know, and it wasn’t for us to know. The long answer is as follows: Debt and gambling problems. People think they are worth more dead than they are alive and that their loved ones would be better off without them. So they take matters into their own hands and we’re left holding the pieces. Pain. I once knew a mighty fine man. When he was younger, he played professional baseball. He hurt his back. He was never the same. Time went by, he became successful at his career. He married and raised children. The pain never left him. So, at the brink of retirement…
I was taught to lie at a young age. I also had my butt busted at a young age for lying about the least little thing. It did not occur to me until this morning, at 38 and a half years old, that I was brought up a liar. I was frying bacon and eggs for a sandwich. I thought, “Oh, goody! We can use our new Christmas plates since this is just a sandwich and we don’t need big plates.” I then went over to the table and felt their heft as I lifted them. Maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea. I broke my new turtle glass the other day, and I didn’t want to risk these so early in their life. What if I couldn’t replace them? I mean, they’re just Wal-Mart plates but I really like them. No, not the Pioneer Woman ones they’re pushing. These are the Twelve Days of Christmas. I could just see me washing them and their soapy slickness slipping through my grasp and thirteen million pieces as it went everywhere. So I set the plate back down and thought, “Lets not and say we did.” Which. Is. A. LIE. But that’s a passable lie, since it was always used in jest. Like when I wanted to do something that nobody else did, like go to the store, or…
December Writing Challenge Day 1 Day 31 for me. Battery operated. I bought sixteen batteries the other day. I have two left. I filled a few of the candle light things that I set in windowsills and then two in a remote. Gone. It’s disgusting. And the little candles are already dead because I accidently left them on all night. Two different nights, since I’m in the business of full disclosure. But crap, we go to bed at 9, soooo… Seems like everything is battery operated anymore. And I’m sure when I was little my parents thought the same thing. I once had a “remote control” racecar. Remote control is in quotations because it had a cord, about ten feet long, that ran from the car to the controller, so that you had to constantly be on the move running behind it. I had some rechargeable batteries that I used for my Mp3 player but I’ve lost them. The charging port is still here somewhere, though. I saw it the other day. You would think there would be some sort of solar replacement in this day and age for everything that takes Duracells. And by the way, Duracell is the way to go. Don’t waste your time with anything else. Well. That’s about all I’ve got for this little topic. …
November Writing Challenge Day 30 Her couch. My couch? Well, my couch is dark brown cushy leather with nailhead studs, scattered with red damask pillows and a monogrammed blanket. It will take you hostage on chilly winter days or rainy summer ones. It is slowly beginning to show wear that I like to think gives it a little character. I say this because I can’t afford to buy new stuff for at least five more years. When it was new, if I sat back on it, my feet wouldn’t touch the floor. I’m short, sure, but it made me feel so petite. Now I’ve wallered (wallowed, I suppose is the correct spelling) it down and the cushions have compacted some. I remember picking out the furniture before a bithday dinner one night. It wasn’t my birthday, it was one to be endured because my friend’s family was coming and I couldn’t get my drink on. So I pre-gamed with a different friend. Somehow shopping for living room furniture seemed like the thing to do to fill the little bit of time before supper. I knew what I wanted, so it didn’t take but a quick perusal of the showroom until I happened upon the set. I got a “free” TV with my purchase and my salesman could not understand when I flipped my hand over the choices. “Whatever, it…
November Writing Challenge Day 29 In the fridge. My refrigerator is enormous. That’s good, because I cook a lot. I eat a lot, too. Here it is before Thanksgiving. I took a picture to show Taj, because he was all about me marinating my turkey and I’m like, but where am I going to put it after I marinate it? It’s not like Ziploc makes bags that big. And while he was all sealed up I could pile stuff around him. If he was in a pan, well, that ain’t gonna work. Yes, that’s a ham and turkey. No, I don’t feed twenty. Just me and Shug and my friend Brenda this year. I don’t know how to cook “small”, I don’t even know what that means. The best part of staying home for Thanksgiving is the leftovers. (And no bra. And the wine. All the wine.) It’s a long story of why we stay home and why family doesn’t come, so I’ll spare you. So anyway, today it’s full of leftovers. I’m so sick of looking at them, eating them, trying to create recipes…ugh. One more meal and I will freeze what I can and the the dogs will feast. Or gorge. Bug acts like he doesn’t know where to…
