New Years

What does New Years mean to you?

When I was a kid, it meant a party–usually at church or a church member’s house. I remember one NY when Dad had driven home a big truck with an air horn. He gave me permission to blow it at midnight. (He and Mom were going to a party down the street.)

So at midnight, I went out and gave the horn a few short blasts. When he came home, Dad asked why I hadn’t used the horn. “I didn’t want to scare anyone.”

“It’s New Years,” he answered with a grin. “You should have blown them all out of their beds.”

In college, I went with a guy to a New Years celebration in Tulsa. As Bible college students, we didn’t drink and we didn’t dance, so about all we did was have a decent meal and listen to some loud music while everyone around us got drunk and danced like fiends. Then we went home. I don’t even remember a New Years’ kiss.

After we married, DH and I tried going out to eat a few times on NYE, but that’s like the worst night in the entire world to go out. Barring none. The absolute worst!!! So we gave it up after just a time or two.

I hear about people who make reservations six months in advance at big hotels for the celebrations, but I’ve never been one of those.

So what’s to do on New Years these days? Well, I cook a fun meal (I’m thinking about having brats this year) and we watch a few movies before going to bed. Usually before midnight.

But I love the new year! It’s a new start. The old is gone. Wiped out. Pfffft! And the new is here, clean as a sheet of new paper.

I belong to a loop that sets goals each week (mostly about writing) and the next week, we report how we’ve done. We also set yearly goals.

Each year, we get a new loop address because, as I said, the old is gone. Both successes and failures. You can’t live forever on an old success. You have to continue to work toward new ones. And in the same manner, you can’t let old failures stop your progress.

Yeah, I know ditching the old loop’s edress and getting a new one is symbolic, but hey. That’s the kind of guy I am.

The hardest thing on that loop is setting the right kind of goals. Goals must be something I can actually make happen.

For instance, I can’t set a goal to get an agent. I can set a goal to write the best story I can, submit my work to agents, cross my fingers, wear a rabbit’s foot and a four leaf clover, but only the agent can accept my work. I can’t do that.

Right now I’ve set myself a goal of finding a few good articles online about goal setting and time management to share with the loop on New Year’s Day. If they’re based on writing, that’s even better.

Any suggestions where I can look?     

Fed Ex and Me

I finally got my 2nd Christmas present from DH last night. The first one was an absolutely wonderful, fantastic, beautiful bracelet. Way more than I expected! But my great DH also had another one for me. A camera I’d been lusting after for a couple of years.

He ordered it, and paid extra to have it expedited so we’d have it at least by Christmas Eve.

The company he bought it from sent it right away. By Federal Express. It went to Memphis, and sat for two days. It did make it to Tulsa by the morning of Christmas Eve. I stayed home from work on Christmas Eve in order to receive it.

It didn’t come.

In fact, it stayed in Tulsa until the day after Christmas Eve, when everyone had gone back to work. When I got home from work on Wednesday, I had a door tag that said, “Will try to deliver on Thursday.”

When I got home from work on Thursday I had another door tag that said, “Will try to deliver on Friday.”

 DH took off work on Friday. Guess what? The camera didn’t come. There was no door tag. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

I called Fed Ex and spoke to a very sweet woman. “It was marked undeliverable and is being sent back to the shipper. But it’s still in the warehouse in Tulsa if you’d like to pick it up.”

Yeah, we spent $20 or $30 extra to get to drive to Tulsa and pick it up. Three days late.

With my son’s voice in my head, begging me to be nice, I said okay.

When we finally found the Fed Ex office, which is on the other side of beyond, there were two people working. A man and a woman. I explained what happened to the woman and she looked doubtful. She played with her computer, then said, “It was marked undeliverable.”

I answered, “Hey, your driver’s a liar. He said he’d deliver it on Friday, and he didn’t even try. Now he says it’s undeliverable. It’s not.” Then I went on to tell her about working and how DH had taken the day off to receive it, yada yada.

She took a break or maybe a nap, then talked to the other guy, who’d been listening through the entire thing. The guy said to the woman, “It must have been turned down.”

“It was not turned down.”

The man looked as if he were surprised that I’d heard him.

The woman fiddled a bit more, left the room, then came back. I explained to her that I’d spoken to someone on the phone who said the camera was still in Tulsa, and she would put a hold on it so I could pick it up.

“I’ll have to talk to my supervisor.”

I wanted to speak to someone about their hiring practices

The woman finally returned. “I talked to my supervisor, and she’d going to try to find it. She just left.”

I honestly thought the clerk meant she’d talked to the supervisor on the cell phone, because she’d just left. “She left? Where did she go?”  

“Ma’am,” the clerk answered as if I’d just urinated on her foot. “She’s not driving all the way to Minnesota to get the camera. She’s gone to the warehouse.”

I didn’t answer the, uh, woman. Instead, I turned and sat down in a chair next to DH, and stared.  At her. For a long time.

She started getting nervous. “H-how long were yo-you out of town?”

“We weren’t out of town.” I made sure there was no nice in my voice.  ”We were at work. Like. I. Said.”

The clerk swallowed hard. Then she asked another question I’d already answered at least twice.

I answered without trying to be pleasant, and stared at her.

Finally another woman came in with my box and never even glanced my way. She had that look on her face that said they’d discussed me while they were both in the other room, and with a roll of her eyes said they’d decided I was too much trouble to bear.

She left without a word to anyone or a glance across the counter.

After proving I was me, I signed my name and was allowed to take my box and leave. As we started for the door, the clerk said, “Have a very happy New Year.”

“I will if I never have to come back here.”

On a happier note, I took Jackie King’s challenge and wrote three pages. Not last night, sadly. It was this morning, but they flowed right out of my fingers.

I’m wondering if my run-in with the clerk might have fed my Jazzy muse?

   

Everything but write.

This morning I’ve knitted a cell phone bag, read emails, read blogs, made an I-cord, cooked breakfast.

I even added snow to this blog. Did you notice? (Be patient. It takes a little while to kick in.) I’m not very good at that kind of thing, but someone else on wordpress gave really easy instructions, and I followed them. (Yay, easy!)

Check it out: http://wordpress.com/blog/2007/12/25/let-it-snow/

I’ve done all kinds of things–although none were very useful–except work on MMH, my current WIP. (WIP=Work In Progress)

Why? Good question. I don’t know why. I love the story. Love being able to maul on paper those who give me fits in life. So why didn’t I write?

Because it’s more fun to blog. I get fast responses when I send my stuff to the world immediately.

And I have very few people tell me my blogs aren’t quite perfect. (Maybe just a sister or two.) Lots of people tell me when I have problems with my WIP.

And maybe I’m a little bit lazy. Gasp! Yep, I admit it. But I get most everything done sooner or later.

As long as I’m blogging, I might as well tell you about yesterday. It snowed all day long. Sometimes the snow was tiny as sand fleas and sometimes the flakes were the size of half dollars, but all the time, it was beautiful coming down.

And it didn’t stick. The roads were wet, but not slick.

The camera my husband ordered for my Christmas present came yesterday. (Only two days late, although he paid extra to get it here on time.) But since there was no one here to sign for it, I didn’t get it.

I guess tonight I’ll drive into Tulsa and pick it up because I won’t be here when they try to deliver it today, either, unless they bring it to my work. And I doubt they’ll do that.

I’m really excited about this camera. It’s a digital, but the lens can be changed. I love having choices, don’t you? And I love taking pictures. The trouble is, with a digital, I don’t always print them out. Even though I have a photo printer (another dh gift from years past) I hesitate to use it. Don’t ask why. Maybe I’m lazy. <G>

I broke out my 2008 purse calendar this morning. I’m determined to get organized this year. Not just my time, but my life.

Now if I can just get Aunt Betty in gear and write, everything will be all right.

Heelies

I GOT HEELIES!!!! 

I got super gifts from my family for Christmas! If I told you everything, you’d think I was bragging.   But this is so cool . . . I got heelies. I told my kids I wanted them, and I got them.

Now I have to figure out how to “do” them. It’s harder than it looks–I tried it for a few moments before we took of for Sister Deb’s yesterday. It’s not easy to stop walking mid-stride and lift your toes off the floor.

Why did I want them? First, because they look like FUN. But the real reason I wanted them was the day I helped cook Thanksgiving dinner at church. Several little old ladies, standing in a group, complained about kids who wear heelies. “These kids had on those dang shoes with wheels in them when I was at the store. Just about ran me down, skating past me.”

“Oh, you poor dear. Did they run you down?”

“No.”

“That’s good. Did that hit you at all?”

“No. But they pert-near did.”

I had to speak up. (At least I didn’t shout, like I wanted to.) “I don’t blame those kids for wearing them. They look like fun to me. I’d love to have a pair.”

I didn’t see it, but I have a feeling the LOLs just rolled their eyes.

But I realized then, I really would like to have them.

Now just keep your fingers crossed that when I fall, I go boi-oi-oing not splat!  

Christmas is over.

WOOHOO! 

I wonder if there’s anyone else in the world who finds as much relief from those three words as a mom? No more, “Did I spend the same amount on all the kids?” “Did I get the one thing they wanted most?” “Did I forget anything?”

No more marathon wrapping.

No more cooking food hoping to “make your tongue lap your brains out. ” (Saying passed down from my grandad.)

No more finding a place to stash stuff while the holiday decorations are out.

Just warm, blessed release. The kind that makes you want to lie down and sleep for a week.  Kick up your heels, go out and party. Shout for joy and grin ’til your face rips in two.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Christmas–

Being with nieces and nephews I don’t see for months on end.                                   Spending time with people I see every day but don’t get to really get together with. Telling the most important people in my life, in ways other than words, “I love you.”    

I love laughing my guts out–

While playing dirty Santa and seeing my BIL–a black belt in karate–win Oprah’s book brought by MS.                                                                                                                             MS winning a pink journal while playing Dirty Santa.                                                       Playing a game, and hearing big, tough guys sing “Like a Virgin” in falsetto.                   Going along with my SIL while she gently teases my dad’s wife about the book she got for Christmas.                                                                                                                                  Watching D’sW give as good as she gets.

BB told me before Christmas that DIL wanted to learn to knit. Now that was catnip to a knitter. <G> I had a ball (pun intended) filling her stocking with needles, books, yarn and a gift certificate to an upscale knitting store. And of course, I offered to go yarn shopping with her any time she needed me. (I think a knitting lawyer can only be a good thing. Don’t you?)

Besides, she loved my Christmas stockings. Here’s one last picture, then I’m putting them away until next year.

 

                                                                                   

Christmas Remembered.

I absolutely loved Christmas when I was a kid. Even as a teenager, I thought it was wonderful. I had a great boyfriend. He went to my church, so I got to see him even on nights when we couldn’t “go out”. He was a good guy, too. You know what I mean? Interested, but not pushy about . . . stuff.

When I was a kid, my grandparents, who lived next door to my parents, always had the family Christmas get together at their house on Christmas Eve. We got so excited because we’d be getting a gift and eating homemade candy and seeing cousins we didn’t get to see all that often. So naturally, as soon as I was dressed, I went to the party.

As soon as I arrived, the phone rang. Grandmother said Mom needed me to come home. When I got home, I found Mom needed me to get one of the little kids dressed. (She had three in a four year period, so it was hard to get them dressed at the same time.) I did what she asked, then scooted back to Grandmother’s. 

About ten minutes later, the phone rang again. This time a cousin answered. Mom needed me to come home. A little irritated, I trudged back home (maybe thirty feet between the two houses.) When I got there, she had me carry over the pies she’d baked.

I hadn’t been back at Grandmother’s long when the phone rang. Again. Grandmother stuck her head in where I was and said, ”Your mom needs you to come home.”  

Why couldn’t she think of everything she needed at one time? I wondered. I stormed home, slammed the backdoor and stomped through the kitchen. When I got to the living room door, I stopped and screamed, “WHAT IS IT THIS TIME???”

Then I opened my eyes. There, on the couch, was Mom, chatting with my boyfriend. Gulp. Talk about humiliated.

Mom gave me “that look”, then excused herself to finish getting dressed. My boyfriend never mentioned my display of temper (probably afraid to) but he did give me a beautiful necklace, which I didn’t take off for a long time.  

I learned a big lesson that day:

Always look before you scream so you’ll know who’s in the audience before you make a complete idiot of yourself.

Merry, merry!!!

Big deal dinner over, the rest of Christmas to go.

Everyone is still asleep this morning. Not like when my boys were really small. They were up before the dawn, begging to see what Santa brought. After staying up until they were all asleep, it wasn’t easy to pry my eyes open and stagger to the tree.

Now I have to blast them out of bed to open presents.

On Christmas morning the first year I was married, Sister Lisa, who was in her early teens at the time, called my in-laws’ house where we’d spent the night and wanted to know when we were going to get to Mom’s house. I told her it would be a little while. We were just getting out of bed.

She was furious! She told me in no uncertain terms that they weren’t going to wait. She wanted to know what Santa brought ASAP, so they were going open gifts without us!

They didn’t. And she was over being mad by the time we got there so I didn’t have to smack her around. That time, anyway.

Back to last night. We had a rib roast, twice baked potatoes with shrimp and brandied mushrooms. Yummers! And we all ate too much. Way too much.

Afterward, DIL told us Santa Paws came to visit their house yesterday morning (Santa Paws visits all good dumb animals) and brought OS a Donald Duck DVD. Volume Three. We spent the rest of the night watching DD. Laughing outloud.

And napping.  

Today we’re going to Sister Debbie’s house to have soup and sandwiches and play dirty Santa. It sounds as if every family will be represented except Sister Lisa’s.

I wonder if that’s cosmic punishment for her being mean to me all those years ago? *snort*

LY, Lisa!

Celebrations!

So how will you celebrate Christmas?

We have the big deal meal this evening with our kids and our DIL. I’ll start cooking about 4:00 this afternoon, but no gifts get opened until tomorrow. After all, Santa doesn’t get here until everyone is in bed on Christmas Eve.

Then tomorrow, when #1 son and DIL get here, we’ll open presents, then go to my sister’s house for lunch. It’s so much fun to get together with extended family!

Speaking of getting together with extended family, we had our extended family/company Christmas party Saturday night. We had so much fun! Everyone got presents (I got 2!) They had a DJ plus a dance floor, and you’ll never believe it, but several family members danced.

I wasn’t one of the dancers, but my dad and his wife, my brother and his wife and my cousin and his wife were all tripping the light fantastic.

I was royally impressed with my cousin. I had no idea he could dance, but he and his wife, a CPA, were out there and they looked GOOD! Funny thing is, while they were dancing, they all looked years younger than normal. Made me want to jump in, too. But the songs were all slow, and it looks kinda weird to slow dance alone.

While they were dancing, I was informed that my SIL had swiped one of my gifts. Sweet, quiet person that I am, I folded my hands and sat quietly until she brought it back.

NOT!

What I actually did was start shouting my brother’s name and demanding that he call the management. The owners. The police!!!! Someone had STOLEN MY PRESENT!

I’d forgotten what a great actress I am, but apparently I rock because several women rushed over to check their purses to make sure they hadn’t been robbed, too. Little brother got a big frown on his face and said, “Did someone really steal it?”

I’d barged onto the dance floor by then. “Yes!” I answered, my fists on my hips. “And the thief is right here.” At that point I grabbed SIL, who squealed obligingly.

I told you I had a great time.

I wonder if I can talk them into a family/dance party for New Years?

And I wonder who I can get to dance with me?

Goals

It’s that time of the year again. Goal setting time. Some fun, huh?

I know people who set fantastic goals. Jaci Burton did a program for our writers’ group where she talked about setting goals. Talk about a pro! She knows how many days it’ll take her to write the book, when to start the promo, order the bookmarks, update the website. You name it, this woman has it under control!

I’m at the other end of the scale. There have been years when my goal has been the equivalent of, “Write a good book.”  

 One of my unpublished friends even sets goals about how many books she’ll read during the year, and what percentage of them will be about how to write!

Super Pro, Marilyn Pappano, sets out specific books she wants to finish during the year. And since she has a library residing in her head, just waiting for her fingers to download them to the page, it’s usually 5 or 6 books she plans to complete.

And if something beyond her control doesn’t hobble her (like family illnesses or editors) she’s good to go! She often goes over her projected goals. And she writes great books, too!

I shared my last year’s goals with you a few weeks ago, and I’m not quite ready to share my new ones. I’m just wonder if anyone out there has any words of wisdom for setting great goals.

Visualize?

Monopolize?

Prioritize?

Think I’ll do a google search for articles on the subject, but here’s the beginning:

1- REVISIT MY YEARLY GOALS EVERY MONTH TO CHART PROGRESS.  

Christmas Traditions

When I was a kid, my dad would take all us kids out to chop down a Christmas tree. In our part of Oklahoma, it’s usually cedar. Not the most beautiful tree in the world, but for the first 22 years of my life, I thought they were gorgeous!

Dad and Grandad would pick out several with good shapes and watch them throughout the year. Then the first week of December, we’d all pile into a pickup (if you use the back roads, you can usually get away with way too many kids in a truck. At least you could when I was a kid.) Then we’d go out and chop down several, pile them in the truck’s bed and haul them home.

Mom usually got first pick, then we’d take one to Grandmother, Grandma and anyone else who’d mentioned they wanted a tree.

I might have failed to mention that around here, cedars grow without being planted. They grow anywhere and everywhere they want. They grow like humongous, great smelling weeds. These days the state will even pop for the ticket if you want to eradicate them from your land! So back then, my dad was always happy to get rid of several if he could.

 This is our first Christmas tree after DH and I got married.

When I got married though, my husband was less than thrilled with cedars. So for a few years, we took turns. One year we’d buy his spruce or pine and the next my cedar. Then he developed a severe allergy to cedar.

Now we have artifical trees. AND I LOVE THEM. No more watering the trees. No more trying to keep the dog from drinking the tree water. No more needles in the carpet from not keeping the tree well enough watered. No more having to drag the dried up tree out and finding something to do with it. (Nothing sadder than a dead Christmas tree, is there?)  

I love putting on the ornaments, no matter what kind of tree we have. It’s not just that they’re blingy and gorgeous, but they bring back wonderful memories. The tree topper in the living room looks just like one Mom gave me years ago, that got broken in one of our moves. Several of the ornaments in the living room belonged to Grandmother, so I have lots of happy memories connected to them. Oh, and I hang her gloves on there, too.

The ornaments on our family room tree are rife with happy recollections. The popsicle stick ornament our BB made in preschool. The picture ornaments BB and MS made at church as well as the apples that say, Southside Christian Church, 1988.

Some of my ornaments were given to me by friends, so they have tons of meaning. Our oldest ornaments are old and ugly. They’re made of cloth so the babies can knock them off and not hurt themselves or the ornaments, and I love them even more than the rest. 

DH even found a piece of an ornament I bought years and years ago. I remember feeling guilty for buying it because the set of three was so expensive.  Over the years they’ve all been broken, and we have only the inside of one left. Happy times!

Another tradition from my childhood was a day filled with candy/cookie making. Mom loved Christmas. She treated it like a short-lived career every year. She’d get a list of exactly what each kid/person wanted and shop, shop, shop until she found exactly the right thing. She’d decorate the house and the yard so it looked like a showcase–even with a cedar tree as the center piece.

One year, she colored a picture window sized nativity scene, then rubbed baby oil over it and when it had dried, she fitted it into our front window. At night, with light shining through it, it looked like an expensive stained glass piece.

And each year, not long before Christmas, she’d spend the entire day making fudge, divinity, peanut brittle and cookies.

Do I do all that? Uh–no. I make the worlds BEST cashew caramel corn every year, though. Honestly, it’s so good, I have trouble sharing it. YUMMY! And I make fruitcake cookies that one of our favorite customers in Pryor gave me the recipe for.

I’ve made the caramel corn two or three times so far this year, and plan to make the cookies today or tomorrow. I guess that’s my tradition. (And gaining weight every year because I can’t keep my hands off is another tradition.)

When we lived in Pryor, it was too far to come home on Christmas Eve and again on Christmas Morning, so we started having a really special meal for just us on CE. The first year we had Cornish hens–one for each of us. (The boys were really little then, and thought it was super to have a whole little chicken of their own.)

A few years later, at the request of my DH, I stopped making the Cornish hens. Now I make a standing rib roast and twice baked potatoes. Yummers!

Traditions are a wonderful thing to have . . . but a horrible thing to let control you.

I hope your Christmas is happy and healthy! And that you gain a few pounds so I won’t be the only one buying diet books for New Years.