Thirty Days of Thankful

Well I made it!  I was thankful for thirty different things, thirty days in a row, and not one of them was a sarcastic comment or backhanded anything. :)  It hasn't adjusted my attitude as much as I had hoped (not the sarcastic part of me, I happen to like that part) but I have noticed a little change in the way I look at the world, so it's a start.  Here is what I came up with:

Day 1. I am thankful Sam's ashes are home, and for the time she was a part of my life.
        2. Good Neighbors
        3. Happy hour on Thursday.
        4. Our beautiful fall this year.
        5. Thankful could be there for a friend, and remind her what a strong woman she is.
        6. People who challenge me and stretch my mind.
        7. My health.
        8. Getting to hear the voices of singing children, daily.
        9. Parents who take time to be a part of their child's education.
       10. Thankful to see the first snow with the kids, and be reminded of unbridled joy.
       11. Veterans (Veterans Day)
       12. Good coffee
       13. Anna
       14. Green Bay Packers!!!!
       15. Pay day!
       16. Hot bubble bath waiting for me.
       17. Cookies (and remembering to bring them home)
       18. CL reminding me to catch snowflakes on my tongue.
       19. The bee charmer. ♥
       20. Two Thanksgivings that I don't have to cook.
       21. Three day work week.
       22. Appreciative people
       23. Facebook connecting me to old friends.
       24. Wonderful Thanksgiving memories.
       25. Espresso maker and the rockin' cafe mocha I made.
       26. My sister who accepts me for who I am, even if she doesn't get it. :)
       27. My brothers, who drive me nuts, but always have my back.
       28. My in laws, and their families.  One big extended family to me.
       29. All of the children in my life, most of all baby pig nose, Hurricane Hannah, Tater, TAFKAP
             and C-biscuit.
       30. Well, I'm thankful that I was actually able to be thankful for something everyday, without being sarcastic. That is NOT easy for me. It wasn't the big attitude adjustment I was hoping for, but I can tell that it has made me more mindful of the little things in life. So quietly to myself I will continue to be thankful. :)

So I guess the experiment was a success.  Now I'm working on finding and keeping the Christmas spirit.  Oh, yes I am.  If it kills me, you, and several innocent bystanders.  Ho Ho HO!  There's a Beiber singing Christmas songs on my tv as we speak.  (heaven help me) I'm going to watch them light the tree in NYC! 

Merry Christmas

This picture says it all.  I feel trapped into "Happy Holiday's" at this time of year, and I'm tired of it.  I'm going to have to pc this blog, and I'm tired of that too.  The day I'm free to write exactly what I really think, well..... y'all better look out.  :) 

At what point did it become wrong to say Merry Christmas to the people you encounter during the CHRISTMAS season?  I know that it isn't the only holiday celebrated during this time, and when Hanukkah arrives I will say Happy Hanukkah to my Jewish friends.  I don't happen to know anyone who celebrates Kwanzaa, but if I did I would wish them that too.  I also know some people who are Jehovah's Witness, and if I see them, I'll just wish them a nice long weekend.  So what the devil is wrong with wishing me a Merry Christmas?

The answer?  Nothing.  I am done wishin' y'all Happy Holiday's.  I wrote it on my newsletter at work, and that's the last time.  Forever.  Most of you know I was raised Catholic, and immersed in it just about as deeply as one could be without taking any vows. :)  (Yes, I know that explains what my issues are in a nutshell.) I was so sheltered that I never considered there were people out there who weren't Catholic, and even when that realization happened, I certainly never thought about people not celebrating Christmas until probably my later teens.

I respect every one's right to worship or celebrate as they choose, or as the case may be, don't choose.  I am pretty liberal as far as most things go, but this ♫ We wish you a Politically Correct Holiday ♫ business is way out of control.  (this is the edited part..... ask me and I'll tell you. lol) 

When did this get so crazy?  For me, I know it was because of work, and within the last ten years.  We teach the kids diversity, which is a very good thing, don't get me wrong, but when we lose our own identity somewhere inside of all that, well that IS wrong.  My "Merry Christmas" isn't trying to convert you to something.  Ha, I don't have anything except apathy to convert you to these days.  I wish I did.  I'm not disrespecting your beliefs, I'm asking you to respect mine I guess.  Maybe that's it.  We've gotten so concerned about respecting everyone else and their beliefs that we've forgotten to respect our own.  I just want to wish you well, and yes I know, believe me I know, that the holidays are not a merry time for everyone.  If you want to wish me a Happy Hanukkah, feel free.  If you'd like to give me presents for several nights in a row, I'm down with that too. :)  I will sit down with you at your Kwanzaa feast, and learn about your values and traditions too.  If my African American niece understood it, we would be celebrating it and her culture to be sure.  Happy Holiday me and you're going to get a Merry Christmas back. :)  Complete with the "Ruthie" smile.

I snagged the above pick from Carissa Riddle's Facebook page.  It reminded me to write this.  Thank you, and hey!  MERRY CHRISTMAS! 

OH, one other thing.  I attended my nieces "Holiday" concert at Lake Superior Elementary last year and was pleasantly surprised to find *gasp* traditional (not religious, don't get your undies in a bundle) Christmas music on the docket.  Afterwards I made it a point to find Mr. Howard, the principal, and THANK him.  It was about damn time. 

Intolerous!

The spell checker is going to go wild on this one! 

Yes, I know that isn't a word.  It is a Hannahism.  My niece Ashlyn is lactose intolerant, and for whatever reason, the goovers think it's hilarious.  Their cat is also, and back a few years ago Hannah shouted out "Piggy is lactose intolerous!" (the cat, not her sister) So, that's where the word intolerous comes from.

I love milk.  I have always been a huge milk drinker, but stopped buying it when I moved in here, because it kept going bad.  Half the time I don't eat here, and in the warmer months I will always reach for iced tea.  So in the last four years or so I've rarely had a glass of milk, but thoroughly enjoyed it when I did.  That is, up until a year ago.

When I had the girls for five days last New Years I made hot buttered Cherrios for Ash and I one night after the goovs had gone to bed. (they aren't fond of them) We sat down with our snack to play Monopoly, and I had a big glass of milk.  Now, O's are really salty, so I had a second big glass of milk.  I paid for that the rest of the night.  I was thinking I had a tummy bug, but woke up in the morning just fine.  Then the next night I had a glass and immediately had tummy trouble.

Inconceivable!  Me?  Lactose intolerous?  That just can't be!  Well, it is.  It's so bad now that after one small glass the other night my tummy hurt.  I had a splash in my cafe mocha this morning........ not good.  Why?????  Ugh.  No I'm not drinking that soy crap, don't even bring it up.  I forget who I was talking to about getting older and all of these weird things happening, like suddenly becoming lactose intolerous, and she assured me that many of these oddities right themselves again as time goes by.  I sure hope so!  I long for the day when I am "tolerous" again!

Yes, the irony that my cat's name is Milkie does not escape me.   :)  I'm still tolerous of her, mostly. 

The Goblet Incident of '76

I will come clean, I'm guessing at the year.  I would think that my brother and I couldn't have been more than five or six when it happened.  I'm still wondering how I didn't get the blame, because heavens it certainly couldn't have been HIS fault.

I'm fairly certain the holiday we were celebrating was Thanksgiving.  We didn't usually go to Aunt Mary and Uncle Clate's for Christmas.  We did for Easter a lot, but it was dark at five o'clock dinner time, so that leads me to believe it was Thanksgiving.  Aunt Mary had set a beautiful table, the lights were out and we were dining by candlelight. (this must be where I get it from) They had a small kitchen, no dining room, and we were crammed in there like sardines.  I was sitting across the table from my brother Jerry, who else was there, or where they were sitting is all a blank to me, but my brothers face is as clear to me as if it happened yesterday.

Now I must tell you that in my Aunt Mary's eyes my brother Jerry could do, and never did (except perhaps this day) anything wrong.  A very clear favorite, that's for sure.  My best example would be the Christmas my sister and I got purses from Mexico, and my brother got a car.  A red jaguar.  Not a matchboxer, a car big enough for him to sit in and peddle around.  Bastard.

So there he sat across the table from me, angelic little cherub that he was. (not) Grinning at me like a crazy person.  I looked back at him, confused, wondering what was up, and then noticed he had a death grip on the water glass stem.  (Who gives little children glassware?) His eyes bored into mine with that evil little glimmer he has, my eyebrows shot up, and POP the entire top of the glass popped right off the stem!  The glass smashed onto the table, water everywhere.  Much Auntie concern about the little lovie being cut, and comments on the weakness of the glass.... my eyes rolling so far back I'm surprised they didn't stick. 

Then, she gives him a new goblet. (duh)  The table settles in to the murmur of visiting family and feasting.  Jerry looks at me, and then my glass.  I shoot him back an "are you nuts?" look.  No way am I going to follow that one up.  I did not just fall off the turnip truck.  I would have gotten in trouble, and probably blamed for my brother doing it the first time.  So he continues eating for maybe five minutes, then I notice him grinning at me again, his little fist strangling the stem of the water glass.  My eyes go wide in alarm, but I didn't really think he could make it pop off like that again.  Do I tattle?  Nah, I decide to see where this one is going to go, and try to keep myself clean out of it.  Suddenly POP!  Off comes another one.  It shoots into the air still intact, and then smashes on the table.  This time mostly empty.  My Aunt is shocked.  My mother is not.  I don't remember what happened afterwards, but I do remember hearing "GERALD EDWARD" coming out of my Mom, and snickering to myself.

It's funny, I can still see that evil little grin he had on his face as if it were yesterday.  My Aunt probably went to her grave believing she had faulty stemware.  :)  Kids, don't try this at home.  Ugh, I'm so tempted it's killing me.  Happy Thanksgiving!  Keep the stemware away from the kids.

Ghosts of Thanksgivings Past

When I write what I am thankful for tomorrow on facebook, it will read something like "I am thankful for all of the wonderful Thanksgiving memories that I have made over the years."  I have the gift/curse of a good memory, although half the time I can't remember what the heck I'm doing, or looking for, my recall of past events is amazing. 

I'm sitting here trying to think of just which memory to share, there are so many!  I think this year I will go with my earlier ones.  Of course I remember making hand turkey's in art class, and thanksgiving place mats at school.  I always think of my Mom making her dressing (ugh, giblets) after supper dishes were done on the night before the holiday.  The smell of the celery, onion, and sage filling the house.  She called it dressing, not stuffing, and it had apples in it.  I liked it, just not the little extra parts (giblets).  I always picked them out. 

Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Joe would sometimes come from Madison to share the holiday with us.  My very first real Thanksgiving memory is of a blizzard holding them up, and sitting outside my house in full snow gear, in a huge snowbank, waiting for them.  I couldn't have been more than six.  Another memory, probably the following year has me sitting in a car with Aunt Dorothy outside of Presidents liquor store, it was sleeting that time.  Uncle Joe was inside getting supplies for the holiday.  Then we flash forward a few years and my brother and I were playing in the woods, skating on some frozen pond water, killing time while waiting for them to arrive.  No snow that year, but cold.  I might have been ten.

Sometimes the holiday was at our house, sometimes at my Aunt Mary's.  We didn't do Thanksgiving with the Meys side, and my Grandma Meys must have gone over to Aunt Pat and Uncle Bill's house during those early years.  She and sister Eva Jean were definitely there with us in my later teens though.  I believe the water goblet incident, as it has come to be called, happened on Thanksgiving.  What?  I haven't told you the water goblet incident?  Ha, that will be my turkey day blog tomorrow.

When I was twelve, I had my first "boyfriend" ask me to "go" with him right around Thanksgiving.  He called me on Thanksgiving night, and I still remember part of the call.  (awwww) That would be Rick, for those of you keeping count. :)

Somewhere around this time things changed.  Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Joe moved to Utah, and Aunt Mary and Uncle Clate started wintering in Texas.  Now it was just our immediate family for Thanksgiving.  My Mom was the church secretary at St. Anthony's, and she would invite the housekeeper, Dorothy Baker, and the priest, Father Pius to join us.  I remember lots of laughter, and checker games.  Then the later teens where my Grandma Meys, and Aunt, Sister Eva Jean would join us too.

Funny thing is, though Wally and I were together for most of those years, I have no Thanksgiving memories of him.  He was always out at his Grandma's farm hunting.  Lots of memories of my siblings and Vicki and I playing outside during the holiday break from school though!  I'm trying to think if I even saw Wally when I came home........OH, the Wiley story.  I didn't see him when I came home in '87 for Thanksgiving. He was in basic training.  He called though, and the operator had a southern accent.  I was laying in bed sleeping in and I hear my sister say  "No, I wont accept the charges, I don't know any Wiley."  I came flying out of bed yelling " It's Wally you dummy!"  On the other end he's yelling "Katy it's me!"  Sheesh..  :)

So I sit here laughing, although almost everyone in this blog is gone now.  They are good memories, with good people, and good times.  May we all make many more happy Thanksgiving memories this year.