Time sure flies when you’re cooking turkey don’t it?

Yeah, so Thanksgiving was a success.  The recipes I zoinked from Pioneer Woman went over smashingly.  For the most part anyway.  I brined the bird in the Williams-Sonoma brine just like she told me to.  I followed the recipes for her sweet potatoes, make-ahead mashed potatoes, cornbread stuffing, whiskey-glazed carrots, corn and wild rice casserole, pecan pie, and pumpkin cheesecake to the T.  And they all turned out just right.  Jeff and I weren’t big on the corn and wild rice casserole, but everybody else liked it.  Or at least said they did.  Maybe they were just being nice, it’s hard to say.  Nonetheless I can wholeheartedly recommend that, if you didn’t this year, next year you heed the wise words of wisdom from the Pioneer Woman herself.

She’s my new hero.

Enough about her though.

Let’s talk shopping.

Mom, Gram, Kennedy and I woke up at 4 am on black Friday morning in search of deals galore.  We were fairly successful in our endeavor.  Gram and I both scored one of those flat screen TV’s Target had front and center in their ad.  I probably would have felt really good about that had I not gone back into the store around 11am only to see that they had about a dozen of those same TV’s available to anyone who was interested.

Yeah, so I totally got up at the butt-crack of dawn for no good reason.

NOT. COOL.

Anywho.

When we got home later that day we read about the Wal Mart employee who’d been trampled to death by savage customers.

Can you even fathom that?

Jeff and I talked about it as we were falling asleep that night.  The thought of what we, as a society, are becoming is scary isn’t it?  I had one of my recurring teeth dreams that night.  The one where all of my teeth fall out and I’m left scrambling to spit them all out before they choke me.  It’s the only recurring dream I’ve ever had.  I looked it up once and learned that teeth dreams signify a feeling of helplessness.  A loss of control.

Considering that I went to sleep praying for the family of that poor Wal-Mart man I guess it’s not hard to see why that dream crept in to my subconscious again.

I’m sorry.

I meant for this post to be a lighthearted one.  And now I’ve gone and gotten all serious on you.

It’s just so terribly disturbing.

On a completely lighter note, but on the same subject, we had a run-in of our own with a savage shopper at the mall.

It happened in the parking lot actually.

There was a truck in front of us, that stopped at the main entrance in order to give the passengers front door service.  They were stopped there, completely blocking traffic for a good two minutes or so before my patience wore thin and I gave the horn a little tap.

I should tell you that these weren’t handicapped shoppers.  Or elderly people.  They were perfectly able-bodied young women.

Anyway, I tapped the horn and one of the women (who’d already started toward the entrance) hollered out an expletive in my general direction.  And yes, there were a multitude of other shoppers (children included) in the vicinity.  In fact, my own redheaded child was in the seat directly behind me.

Gram doesn’t take well to expletives being tossed haphazardly around so she rolled down the window and put a finger to her lips motioning to the crass shopper to hush her dirty mouth.

And them Mom chimed in from the front seat, wishing that same crass shopper a very Merry Christmas.

Surely you’ve heard of ‘killing with kindness’, no?

Anyway, the crass shopper proceeded to offer her own bit of Christmas cheer, in the way of a flipped bird, and we’re not talking turtledoves, if you get my drift.

Anyway, after our little parking lot exchange I think the four of us were slightly intimidated to actually go into the mall.

We’re all bad to the bone from the confines of our four-door sedan but should we have run into those four motley gang bangers once inside the mall we may not have been so bold.

We just took extra precaution to avoid Hot Topic and Spencer’s.

Luckily our paths didn’t cross.

I can see the headline now: Four Generations of Shoppers Mauled in Local Mall After Granny Hushed a Savage Shopper.

Oy vey.

Be careful; it’s rough out there.

Nine years ago today it was Thanksgiving.

I wasn’t home cooking or eating.  Or celebrating with family.

I was in the hospital, a twenty-two year old mother having just delivered her third daughter.

Laying in that hospital bed, reeling from Cassidy’s diagnosis, I struggled to find a single thing to be thankful for.

Over the course of the following seven days all of that would change.  Only I didn’t know it then.

All I knew then was that my baby was damaged.  I knew not how to care for her.  How to love her the way she needed to be loved.  How to go on.

I imagined the life we would lead.  It looked not even remotely similar to the one I’d been dreaming of.

But even in that place of despair, even in a grief so thick it swallowed me whole, even then, God prevailed.

It took every ounce of strength in my body to trudge from the bed to the connecting bathroom.  I heaved myself over the edge of the tub and begged and pleaded for God to give me whatever it was I needed to carry on.

Later that night, or possibly the next one, it’s hard to say now, I watched a Dateline special on TV from that same hospital bed.

I watched as a couple talked about the fatal disease their child had.  I watched as they pulled him down the street in a wagon because he couldn’t walk on his own.  I watched and listened as, in the voice over, they sent out a message that I truly believe was meant just for me.  They said that when they go to the grocery store there is a young man with Down syndrome who bags their groceries.  They said that they would give anything in the world if their own son had Down syndrome instead of the disease that would, sooner than later, claim his life.  They said that parents of children with Down syndrome had no idea how blessed they truly were.

There were other incidents, similar to that one, in the months leading up to and immediately following Cassidy’s birth.  Times when God whispered to me, not-so-subtly helping me along.

I felt His hands physically lift me up as I cried tears down the drain of that bathtub.  I heard His voice in the thickly-accented words of a dark African nurse as she prayed with me at my hospital bedside.  I saw His promise in the eyes of my newborn baby girl.  A promise that assured me she’d be just fine.  We’d all be fine.

Nine years later I think back on those days as both the best and worst of my life.  Worst because I was desperate, broken.  Best because I came through it with a faith I’d not known before.

And that baby girl?

She’s made strides, let there be no doubt.

There was no way of predicting, back then, how far she’d go.  It was on a wing and a prayer that we set out on this journey, hoping for the best, refusing to consider the worst.

Every single day has brought it’s own challenges.  But with the challenges come triumphs, with the struggles, reward.

This time every year I am reminded of Thanksgiving, 1999.  How I scoffed at the irony of Cassidy’s arrival on that day.

Now, of course, I know better.  It wasn’t ironic.  It was a whisper.  And today?  Today, I’m thankful for having heard.

It happened this morning for the first time this season.

I was taking the kids to school and the DJ’s on the radio caved to a call in music request.  Before I could change the channel, George Strait’s version of Deck the Halls overtook the minivan.

Don’t get me wrong.

I’m a fan of Christmas music.  Really, I am.

Something about playing it before Thanksgiving weekend, though, seems off.

Of course, maybe our 80 degree temps are skewing my perspective.

Although, even Torri and Kennedy turned up their noses, saying, “they should wait until after Thanksgiving.”

I agree.

And then I came home and, after starting my first load of laundry and doing my morning exercise, I turned on the Today show.

I was a bit caught off guard to hear Faith Hill singing “Walking in a Winter Wonderland.”

Hello?

Apparently I stepped into an eerie time continuum in which Thanksgiving has come and gone.

Shoot.

And I didn’t even get any turkey.

Anybody want to share your leftovers?

Yeah so Jeff was out of town for a business trip again this week.  You may remember how during his past business trips I’ve had issues with the indigenous wildlife.  This week has been no different.

On Wednesday morning during our walk Jayce spotted a snake on the road in front of us.  He pointed at it, saying, “snake, Mommy, snake,” all from the safety of his jogging stroller, surely in an effort to protect his snake-fearin’ Mama don’t you think?   Anyway, upon closer inspection I discovered that it was indeed a snake.  A rattler at that.  A baby one even.  I’ve heard those are the deadliest kind because they are not yet capable of controlling their venom. 

Lovely.

This one in particular wasn’t what I’d call deadly.  He was what I’d call dead.

Just the way I like ‘em.

Moving right along though…

So today I took Torri to an orthodontist appointment.  After returning her to school I was taking the backroads home.  And by backroads I mean dusty, deserted, cacti-infested roads.  Really they could just as easily be referred to as front roads seeing as how they’re the ONLY roads that lead from our rural desert home to the school.  Ah, but I digress.

So I’m driving along doing my best to keep Jayce from falling asleep in the car.  I come to an intersection (if you can call it that) and as I make the turn I watch as a cattish animal crosses the road in front of me.  

I think I can honestly say that since having moved to Arizona four years ago I’ve yet to have a cat cross the road in front of me.  Cats aren’t really outside here much.  I suppose the coyotes keep them at bay.

Anyway, this cat in particular was on the large side.  More like a small dog.  But it wasn’t a dog.  Or a coyote.  I’ve seen my fair share of those too.

When I reached the area of the road where the cattish animal had crossed I stopped the car right there in the middle of the road and peered into the desert.  And wouldn’t you know it was staring right back at me, probably just as curious.

Upon closer inspection I confirmed that it was indeed a cat.  Only not the domesticated kind.  More like the bobcat variety.

So when I got home I googled an image of a baby bobcat.  The pictures I found didn’t look like the cat that had crossed my path.  It’s ears were certainly similar, but not quite right.  And the animal I saw was slightly spotted, not striped.   

Just for kicks I googled an image of a baby mountain lion. 

You know what’s coming don’t you?

Yep.  It was a baby mountain lion.  And that, of course, begs the question: where’s his Mama?

Wherever she is I would rather not make her acquaintance.

And Jeff has always called me crazy when I tell him how I’m scared to go walking in the mornings for fear of being eaten by a mountain lion. 

“There aren’t any mountain lions in our neighborhood.  But you definitely want to be on the lookout because I think the sky is falling.”

Whatever.

And the kids?  The kids find it hilarious that I keep a hammer in the basket of the stroller for just such emergencies.

Who’s crazy now huh?

*Editor’s note: This post is being filed under the “Times I Was Right” category for obvious reasons.

Merrie at Sleepless Mornings has the best memes.  She should totally be your new go to girl for memes.  I’ve recently declared her mine.  My go to girl for memes that is.  She’s not mine-mine.  You know what I mean.  Anyway…

She did this one the other day and I thought it looked like a ton of fun.  Basically you grab your iPod and you put your music on to shuffle.  This part works out well for me seeing as how I don’t have a regular iPod, but I do have the Shuffle.  You copy down the questions.  To answer them, you just jot down the title and artist of the song that plays.  She had some more specific instructions but I’m paraphrasing.  You get the idea right?

So here’s what I came up with:

If someone says, “Is this okay?” you say?  Come On Get Higher by Matt Nathanson

What best describes your personality?  Free fallin’ (the John Mayer version)

What do you look for in a guy?  The Way I Am by Ingrid Michaelson (excuse the commentary but Oh. My. Goodness.  you have no idea how true that is).

How do you feel today?  Fire and Rain by James Taylor

What is your life’s purpose?  I Don’t Trust Myself by John Mayer

What is your motto?  Pocket Full of Sunshine by Natasha Bedingfield

What do your friends think of you?  I Sure Can Smell the Rain by Blackhawk

What do you think about often?  Picture by Kid Rock/Sheryl Crow

What do you think of your best friend?  Stop This Train by John Mayer

What do you think of the person you like (in my case I’m assuming this refers to the person I married)?  White Flag by Dido

What is your life story?  Stupid Boy by Keith Urban (More commentary: I’m not one but I’ve sure come across my fair share!)

What do you want to be when you grow up?  Take Care of You by Billy Dean

What do you think when you see the person you like?  Belief by John Mayer

What do your parents think of you?  The Long Way Around the Dixie Chicks

What will you dance to at your wedding?  Clarity by John Mayer

What will they play at your funeral?  Lullaby by The Dixie Chicks

What is your biggest secret?  Rock & Roll by Eric Hutchinson

What do you think of your friends?  Big Girls Don’t Cry by Fergie

What is the worst thing that could happen?  Stitched Up Herbie Hancock/John Mayer

How will you die?  Hotel California by The Eagles

What is the one thing you regret?  Take It Easy The Eagles

What makes you laugh?  Boys With Girlfriends by Meiko

What makes you cry?  Say by John Mayer

Will you ever get married?  Love Remains The Same by Gavin Rosdale

What scares you the most?  Good Directions by Billy Currington

Does anyone like you?  Wave on Wave by Pat Green

If you could go back in time what would you change?  Everybody Knows by the Dixie Chicks

What hurts right now?  Say Hey by Michael Franti

What will you post this as?  Something Good This Way Comes by Jakob Dylan

See?!  Wasn’t that fun?  You should try it.

Thanksgiving is just over a week away and I, for one, am SO excited.  I’m looking forward to the cooking and the beautiful table.  I’m excited to see the family members who will be coming to break bread with us.  I’m excited for the Black Friday ads that will be spread out across the living room floor come Thursday night.  Oh, and I am so excited for the mashed potatoes.  Mashed potatoes, you see, are my favorite food and it’s been a terribly long time since I’ve made any myself.  And now that Thanksgiving is so close, I might just as well wait until the big day.  I admit that I’m already salivating over the thought of them though.

Anyway…

I’ve been having fun playing around with the menu.  I already bought my turkey even.  He’s a 17 pounder from Trader Joe’s.  I went the ‘all-natural’ route this year.  For 99 cents a pound I picked up a fresh young turkey without all the antibiotics and yada yada yada.  100%  vegetarian feed too.  Ironic isn’t it?

I’m trying some new things this year.  The recipes come courtesy of The Pioneer Woman.  I’m truly in awe of the recipes she posts.  Actually, I’m in awe of the photographs of the food she posts.  You will be too when you see them.

But this whole menu planning thing got me to wondering what kinds of unique dishes, or perhaps just unique to Thanksgiving dishes, other families will be serving.

Our family has spent the previous two Thanksgivings with our now temporarily-Texan friends, Kelly and Geoff.  Until we met them I never understood how people could spend holidays away from their families.  Now I get it though.  Good friends are really more like family than anything else.  Only they don’t bring along a cheek-pinching, too- much-perfume-wearin’, crazy great aunt who insists on calling you Darlene.  I actually don’t have one of those, but you get the idea.

Anyway, Kelly’s Thanksgiving dinner included a few things I’d never seen served before.  I’m still not sure if it’s because she comes from Delaware and they do things differently there or because she’s a really picky eater and she expanded the menu so as to have a bit more to choose from. 

The first year we celebrated with them at their house and she asked me to bring mac’n'cheese.  I have a love/hate relationship with mac’n'cheese (love the taste, hate the calories) so I was thrilled to have an “excuse” to eat it unabashedly.  She also served green salad, which, though it’s a very typical food, has never been a part of any other Thanksgiving dinner I’ve attended.

Not that the foods we include in our dinner are typical either.  Sure, my Grandma, (or mom, depending on who was doing the cooking) made the green bean casserole and the marshmallow topped sweet potatoes.  Stuffing and potatoes and gravy and cranberry sauce from the can all made an appearance too.  But somewhere along the line somebody got a recipe for a cranberry salad and now it too has become a standard part of our dinner.  And really, what’s not to love about cranberries, apples, cool whip, celery and chopped walnuts all coming together in a dessert that somehow makes it onto the table disguised as a salad?

So now you see why I’m curious.  What strange dish makes it to your Thanksgiving table?

Inquiring minds want to know…

This weekend marked one of my favorite occasions: date night.  Jeff and I went out on Friday in celebration of his 30th birthday.  Date nights are always a much anticipated phenomenon around here and this was certainly no exception.  We ate at a local upscale restaurant that boasts “great American cooking.”  The verdict?  Eh.  Not so much.  I did, however, discover a delicious new wine that I intend to search high and low for; I think it would make a most excellent addition to my Thanksgiving table.  It was from Seghesio Family Vineyards and it was absolutely fabulous.  Let me be the first to tell you that their 2007 Arneis is amazing.  So deeeeelicious.  I’d not ever heard of “Arneis” before but I’m glad that I took the server’s recommendation.  Even Jeff tasted it and didn’t wince afterwards so that’s sayin’ something.  Anyway, that was about the only good thing that came from our meal so I thought I’d share.

Moving right along though.

After our dinner we thought we’d really live it up so we headed directly to the mall for a bit of Christmas shopping.  I highly recommend Christmas shopping after 8 pm on the second Friday in November.  You don’t have to deal with huge crowds of grouchy shoppers for one thing.  And there are some deals to be found.  I’d like to share more but my lovely children regularly read this blog and if I were to spill details here there’d be a serious shortage of surprise come Christmas morning so we’ll just leave it at that.

Know what I don’t recommend?  I don’t recommend Christmas shopping after church on the third Sunday in November.  Nope.  No sir.  Just. Stay. Home.

We ventured out to the mall today after church for what I thought would be a quick exchange at JC Penney.  Apparently though today was the official shop-in-Tucson-holiday for the residents of Sonora, Mexico. 

And let me tell you that they came in droves.

Droves.

How do I know?

The sea of Mexican license plates in the parking lot was my first clue.  Seriously.  They outnumbered the Arizona plates ten to one.

And once inside the mall I thought for sure I’d unknowingly crossed the border by mistake. 

I would have asked someone where I made the wrong turn but nobody spoke English.

At least our neighbors to the South are doing their part to help aid in the recovery of our ailing economy.

Okay.  Last but not least I have to send a big thank you to one of my favorite blogging girlies, Soliloquy.  She and her husband, Spin, seem to have differing viewpoints on precisely when it is okay to erect the Christmas tree.  And the exterior Christmas lights.  Their little marital spat has evolved into a series of pretty darn hilarious posts on Soliloquy’s blog.  It started when, with a little encouragement from one of her commenter’s, Soliloquy decided it fitting that seeing as how Spin was 14 days early with the holiday decor, he should have to compensate with fourteen gifts.  Staying true to his name, Soliloquy’s hubby put his own spin on the gifts and has been slightly tongue in cheek in his giving.

Soliloquy isn’t impressed but it’s crackin’ me up.

Last week Spin decided to give a gift to the “man” of one of Soliloquy’s readers.  A generous gift at that.  A $50 Home Depot gift card in fact.

I bet you’ll never guess who decided to chime in with his own pithy comment about being the spouse of a blogger. 

Uh-huh.  If you guessed my man then you’d be right.

I gotta give Jeff credit though because his entry was a little funny.

Okay, okay.  It was downright hilarious.  But don’t take my word for it.  Go have a look for yourself.

So thanks Soliloquy.  And Spin. 

And since we’re talking Soliloquy and Spin I have a confession to make.  I’m going to forewarn that it’s a tad stalkerish.  Maybe even more than a tad.  Some might consider it creepy and obsessive in fact.

I had a dream about them.

In spite of the fact that I’ve never met either of them face to face.

I had a dream that Jeff and I and our kids were visiting them in their home city.

We met them on the street and watched a parade together.

I’m sure there was more to it than that but as dreams often do it escaped me long ago.

Probably for the best.

So, what exactly does that say about me?

Who says I’m spending too much time on the computer.

As I approached my 30th birthday I was a mess.  I really can’t say why I was a mess either.  All I can say for sure is that something about the departure of my twenties completely freaked me out.  It may have a had a little something to do with the subtle changes in my slightly less youthful appearance.  And then of course there was also the fact that in spite of me crossing under that thirtysomething threshold, my dear sweet husband was still a safe distance away.  He was 28 in fact.  And I was SO not cool with that.

But today, my friends?  Today is a day for celebration.

Guess who is joining me in the thirtysomething club?

You guessed it.  My love.  My best friend.

And, staying true to character, he is completely unfazed by the passage of his twenties.  He has displayed not an ounce of anxiety.  Not a hint of dismay.  Not a trace of concern.

Some time ago, well before my own milestone birthday, I asked him if turning 30 would be difficult for him.  I know he was 100% honest with me when he told me that it wouldn’t bother him a bit.

Now, if you knew my husband you might think that it wouldn’t faze him because he is the most happy-go-lucky guy around.  There was more to it than that though. 

He told me that as a boy he looked forward to a lot of things.  Many of them had to do with typical guy stuff, but the one that applies to this particular birthday is not your typical guy thing at all.

He actually looked forward to turning thirty because that was when, in his idyllic young mind, he imagined he’d be starting a life.  He’d be newly married.  He’d be settled in a career.  He’d be raising children.  And wouldn’t you know it, here he is, turning thirty and measuring up to every single one of those.

There are so many ways to measure a man.  By the success he’s earned in his career.  By the numbers in his portfolio.  By the car parked in his garage.

None of these measurements, though, truly tell the story of the man behind it all.

The story of the man is told through the eyes of the children he reads to before tucking them in bed at night.  It’s in the way he comes home from a hard day and, instead of retreating to the garage, rolls up his sleeves and pitches in with the homework and the bathing and the dishes.  It’s in the way he takes a deep breath and smiles when his wife asks him for the third time this week to water her plants.  It’s in the way he drives a sedan instead of a manly SUV all because it helps out with the family budget.  It’s in the way he sings “Take me out to the ballgame” to his newborn son because he believes it helps him fall to sleep.  It’s in the way he teaches his daughter, a daughter with whom he shares no blood, to swing the bat and keep her eye on the ball.  It’s in the way he puts air in the tires of the little neighbor girl’s bike because her own dad isn’t around to do it.

It’s in the way he lives and breathes.  It’s in the way he looks at his family.  It’s in the way he loves.

This husband of mine is not an average man.  He’s an uncommon good.  My once in a lifetime.  He’s a man I regard higher than any I’ve ever known. 

He is thirty today.

And I know, with complete certainty, that he is living every bit of the life that that bold young boy dared to dream.  

I’m so thankful that he invited me to play a starring role. 

Happy Birthday baby. 

Whatdya say we tear up these next thirty years together?

Stephanie at Metropolitan Mama recently tagged me for a meme.  A holiday meme at that.  Here’s the scoop: I get to tell you seven things about me (as related to the holidays) and then you can play along if you like.  A perfect meme for the beginning of November don’t you think?  So let’s get started.

1.  Ever since we moved into this house I’ve wanted to host a HUGE Thanksgiving.  In a perfect world both my family and Jeff’s would come together and have a beautiful meal followed by a leisurely walk through the neighborhood and an evening of Black Friday strategizing.  Then we’d all settle in for a few rounds of Taboo or Cranium and lick the last bit of pumpkin pie from our plates.  Bailey’s Irish Cream and hot toddies would flow freely as would the laughter and tidings of good joy.  Idyllic isn’t it?  Unfortunately there are a number of reasons why my little fantasy will likely never work out.  Probably for the best though really.  Want to know why?  Read on.

2.  I have a terrible aversion to raw meat.  Especially raw meat that is still attached to the carcass of an animal.  Namely turkey.  I love cooking.  I do.  But there are few things I hate more than preparing a bird.  You know that little bag inside the cavity of the turkey that contains the neck and gizzards and other parts that should have long since been thrown away?  Yeah, that repulses me.  And reaching my hand inside the cavity to retrieve that bag ‘o goodies?  I vomit in my mouth every time.  And by every time I mean both times that I’ve done it.  When I lived closer to home my mom or grandma would do it for me.  When Jeff was away in Iraq and his family came to spend Thanksgiving with the girls and I, my mother-in-law had the honors.  I think Jeff did it last year.  Really, any other capable body in close proximity is better for the job than I.  See.  Now you understand why God didn’t mean for me to host a huge meal which would likely require the roasting of not one, but two turkeys.  My stomach is turning just typing that.

3.  We have an elf.  Our own personal elf.  His name is Doogan and he comes to visit us each and every year.  The exact date of his visit is never known ahead of time but it has always happened after Thanksgiving sometime.  He sneaks into the house while we’re away (elves are well-versed in sneaking don’t ya know) and leaves behind ornaments for the kids along with notes telling them how they’re coming with regard to the naughty/nice list.  He’s a silly elf.  After all these years he still can’t spell the kids’ names right.  They do get a kick out of that though.

4.  One tradition we haven’t been very traditional with is the singing of happy birthday over a candlelit birthday cake on Christmas Eve, before or after church.  It’s something we started doing years ago when the kids were itty bitty so as to instill in them the awareness that the holiday is, and should always be, about Jesus, not so much about Santa and Rudolph and Doogan.  I wish I could say we’ve done it every year.  It’s something I really was fond of though and I’d like to be better at keeping the tradition as Jayce grows up.

5.  I’ve never had a white Christmas.  Not a single time.  I’d like to remedy that though.

6.  There are certain foods that make the Christmas season complete.  I can’t imagine a Christmas morning without homemade cinnamon rolls, egg casserole, and hot cocoa.  Oh, and of course “the smell of Christmas” as Torri calls it, brewing on the stovetop.  It’s just orange juice, cloves, cinnamon sticks and orange slices brought to a boil and then reduced to a simmer.  But without it, Christmas doesn’t smell nearly as sweet.

7.  I love the holidays.  I really do.  I love the cheery holiday tunes and I insist on playing them.  Even though Jeff could totally do without Christmas music because he is of the mindset that if Christmas music was really good they’d play it all year long.  I also love the sweet smells of holiday baking and the flicker of the lights on the tree.  I love the gold and the silver, the red and the green.  I love the holly-rimmed dishes you only pull out once a year.  I love the jingle of the bells and the chill in the air.  I love the childlike way I feel on Christmas morning.  I really do love all of it.  In spite of the love though, I can’t stand lingering Christmas decor.  Those same bells that invoke a sense of joy on Christmas Eve make my skin itch with anxiety the very morning after Christmas.  You know those people who leave their trees up well past New Years?  I’m not one of them.  I’m a do-er.  And seeing all those decorations that need to be dusted off and put away until next year gets me in a get ‘em up and out mode. 

Bah humbug yourself.

Okay, so there’s my list.  Where’s yours?