Sometimes I just want to go back to phone calls and snail mail. As much as I love the internet, love what it has done for us, I also have moments that I hate it. I know too much about almost everyone I know and I am realizing I have shared too much of myself. I read an article People Who Blog Are Self-Absorbed I can’t really argue that. I saw a pin on pinterest that inspired me that maybe it was time to leave my blogging days behind and move on to something new. I still want to write a book, write in general. But I need to take a break, at least for the near future from a personal intimate blog. Follow me on pinterest as that is one of my favorite places to be online. Thank you to all that were encouraging. This won’t be good bye, just a see you somewhere else.

Sometimes I just want to go back to phone calls and snail mail. As much as I love the internet, love what it has done for us, I also have moments that I hate it. I know too much about almost everyone I know and I am realizing I have shared too much of myself. I read an article

People Who Blog Are Self-Absorbed

I can’t really argue that. I saw a pin on pinterest that inspired me that maybe it was time to leave my blogging days behind and move on to something new. I still want to write a book, write in general. But I need to take a break, at least for the near future from a personal intimate blog. Follow me on pinterest as that is one of my favorite places to be online.

Thank you to all that were encouraging. This won’t be good bye, just a see you somewhere else.

That Little Weasel Part Two

Me:
So I extended the olive branch to him, no more awkwardness.

Nat:
That's nice. I would have set the olive branch on fire and thrown it through his window but that's just me.

“I don’t know if she’s my new best friend or is going to cut me up and put me in the trunk of her car.”

That Little Weasel: Part One

Me:
Is he here? (referring to ex-boyfriend)

Nat:
Where?

Me:
Behind me

Nat:
Oh yeah I see the little weasel now.

Merry Christmas! To all my friends and family. To anyone that takes the time to read my blog, when there are so many out there. I absolutely love this time of year, when the world is just a little bit more magical. Wishing everyone somewhere warm to go and someone warm to share it with.

Merry Christmas!

To all my friends and family. To anyone that takes the time to read my blog, when there are so many out there. I absolutely love this time of year, when the world is just a little bit more magical. Wishing everyone somewhere warm to go and someone warm to share it with.

Giving

I love giving gifts. There is just a tiny bit of anxiety I get when I wrap a gift in a gift bag. I anticipate the moment the person will look further in the bag, to see if they have missed anything.

It makes me feel like the gift wasn’t enough. Is there more? Nope. That’s it. You have the gift and some tissue in an empty bag. I try not to put an excessive amount of tissue paper, to prevent this, but it doesn’t always work.

You would think I would stop wrapping gifts in bags, but some have such odd shapes. It is easier to deal with my gift bag anxiety than try to find a box.

Dear Santa…are you there?

My mom picked me up one day from first grade, she had no idea that my little six year old world had just been rocked. It seemed just like any other day. It wasn’t even Christmas, maybe spring?

Sharon Figgs, the little monster that liked to tease me, that used to make me cry, she had reached a new level on this day. She had come to school with a doozy of a tale. “Your parents are lying to you, there is no Santa.” I remember other children crying. Yelling at her. Arguing with her. I just sat there. “My parents said they wouldn’t lie to me like all of your parents lie to you.” The words cut deep. 

My mom and I ended up at the grocery store to shop for dinner. I started to tell her what Sharon had claimed. My mom first put my mind to ease, that there was a santa. I can remember the moment like it was yesterday. I was playing with packages of meat.  And I said the words, the words that seemed to stop time. “I knew you would never lie to me.” When I looked up I saw a look on my mom’s face I can’t forget. Her eyes were glassy, her face so sad. All I said was “oh,” and looked down. 

That moment in the meat department would never be forgotten.  I think it could be considered my first broken heart. My mom took me home to explain the magic of Christmas. It was true as they say Jesus is the reason for the season, one of my favorite rhymes to drop to any of my non believing friends.

I didn’t feel lied to, I understood that they added magic to my little life. They never stopped giving me gifts from Santa. The idea of Santa is still special to me, because it’s the moment that you don’t take any credit for standing in a long line, paying too much money or wrapping it just right. All you care about is seeing the eyes of someone you love lighting up with joy. Will I be Santa to my own kids someday? Without a doubt.

As for Sharon I still run into her every few years. She seems to work at every grocery store in a 5 mile radius of my house. She says the same line every time I see her. “Remember me?!” Usually I stare at her blank. One day maybe I will finally say: Yes I remember you, you’re the bitch that tried to steal Christmas.

Christmas is a time for giving

Nat:
Hey do you remember that tray you left in my car?

Me:
No, what tray?

Nat:
The one you served your magic cookie bars on? For your work?

Me:
Oh yeah.

Nat:
Did you read the bottom of the tray?

Me:
No, why?

Nat:
It says "Do not serve food, may contain lead."

I want an operation…game that is

Operation. The only time my parents would hear that request from me. For the game of course. One year for Christmas that was all I really wanted. Those zany commercials, pulling out body parts, what was not to like?

I tore open all my gifts to find that I got exactly what I wanted. I set it up to play and was absolutely terrified at the sound it made when you touched the edges. It was a buzz from hell to my little ears. I couldn’t even get through one full game.

My dad kept reminding me that it was what I wanted. It was what I asked for. What I wanted. Quickly you learn the lesson of be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it.

A game where you pull body parts out of a man that resembles a clown. If your hands get too shaky, if you touch the body of the man, an incredibly loud buzz lets you know you didn’t do it right. Worst idea ever. Getting what you want isn’t always so great. Lesson learned.