Elfing Around

I have been accused of being somewhat of a Grinch when it comes to Christmas. That is completely untrue. I like Christmas. Really. I pinkie swear. Even if I may grumble about the overspending. And the crowds. And the materialism. And the heartburn. And the party/potluck circus. I don’t know where folks got the impression I don’t like Christmas. Unless it was the fact that I didn’t put up a Christmas tree year before last. Or that the 2006 tree was a skinny prelit number I propped up in a corner right before the big day and spent about fifteen minutes decorating. Or that I quit putting up our outdoor lights. Or that I spent a total of about three hours shopping for presents last year. Come on, guys. Just because a gal doesn’t wear jingle bell earrings and a Santa sweater from Thanksgiving until December 25th doesn’t mean she doesn’t like Christmas. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a yuletide junkie, but I have Christmas spirit. It’s just shy. It doesn’t like to come out of hibernation until around December 20th.

I haven’t always been this way. I used to get really revved up this time of year. I think the death of my nephew in 2000 took the wind out of my ho, ho, ho. He used to spend Christmas eve and Christmas morning at our house, and his absence looms large this time of year. Also, all of our extra obligations during the season started to spin out of control. We could hardly keep up. I felt like a train had mowed me down by the time the holidays were over. Two years ago I started to push back. I didn’t have any choice. It was either that or collapse because in 2005 Papa T. had eye surgery in late November and required a lot of after care. In 2006 we were in the midst of a remodeling project and spent the weeks before Christmas sleeping on a mattress on our dressing room floor. I went into self preservation mode, started saying no and caught a lot of grief over it. Finally, I’m ready to dip my toe in the yuletide waters again and am wading in slowly. Even though I would gladly settle on just a Christmas eve church service, dinner with family and no gifts, I will jingle my bells a little bit this year.

I put up a tree on the day after Thanksgiving. The big one, not the skinny one Teen Angel called a weed. I put a few decorations around the house, and I’ve stirred up a bread starter I will use to make bread for the neighbors. I loaded Christmas music into my iPod last weekend, and I have purchased three gifts. My first holiday party is tonight. And just to show that I’m not a Scrooge, here’s a little gift for you. Thanks to the good folks at Office Max, you can hit this link and watch me shake my booty in an elf suit. When it’s over you can paste your own face in it. Ha! There you go. Merry Christmas, dang it. Ho, ho, ho and jingle all the way. Now, go Elf Yourself while I cook some cocktail wieners for party #1.

Band Geek

I have spent all my creativity this week building a float for our Christmas parade, so I'm resorting to cheap laughs today, readers. Enjoy a few of my old school pictures I found while trolling through mama's photo albums. These are band pics. One day when I have enough nerve, I'll show you the cheerleading and basketball pictures. Trust me, this is enough for one day. This is fourth grade band. Check out that hairdo. I was cutting edge with the shag. I'm also wearing my favorite clogs evah. They draw your attention down from my knobby knees. This is fifth grade band. Bad hair day. Bad hat. I couldn't keep it on my head while marching down the street. Give me a break. It's hard when you have to tilt your head to play the flute and balance a big ugly plume that weighs as much as you do.
This is sixth grade band, 1976, the year of the bicentennial. You can't see my knickers. You don't want to see my knickers. Well, you probably do, just for grins, but Tina C.'s big head is blocking my legs. It didn't take much. My legs were pretty skinny. I got to sit by Eddie B. while taking this picture. That's why I'm smiling. I thought he was hot.
And this is pep band. I'm wearing my favorite jeans in the whole wide world. I loved the patchwork stuff sewn on the bottom. I thought it was cool. Mama liked that trend, too because she could get six months more wear out of them by adding material after they got too short. I'm wearing my saddle oxfords but you can't really see them. Those were my cheerleading shoes. We took a lot of group pictures that day. I was multi-tasking my footwear.
I can't find my 7th and 8th grade band pictures. I'm kind of glad. I wacked off my hair in 7th grade, and those pictures are downright awful. I loved band, but my musical career ended when I hit high school. I found my true calling there on the pom/dance squad, which is probably the source of all those Rockette dreams. And I have some goofy pictures to prove it, complete with boots and sequins. Yeah baby!

Guilty as Accused

I made fun of a man I know the other day for buying a Richard Marx CD. Chick music, I laughed. Then he pointed out the Bob Marley CD I had in my case, which he was holding at the moment. Hmm. Okay, so my music tastes are kind of eclectic, too. In fact, anyone who looked at my iPod and tried to size me up based on my music selections would be downright confused. I have everything from gospel to heavy metal. Amy Grant sits right next to Amy Winehouse in my Nano. How’s that for juxtaposition? In all fairness to this man (Ha! Richard Marx??) I thought I should fess up to a few of my guilty pleasures. These little treasures reside in my collection, and you are allowed to laugh at them.

1. The Best of Disco-What do you expect? I’m a child of the 70’s. Besides, who doesn’t like Donna Summer?
2. Aldo Nova/Fantasy-He melted my butter all the way through the early 80’s, serenading me every time I had a broken heart, which was often.
3. The Best of Poison- Lord forgive me for I know not what I do.
4. Barry White’s Greatest Hits-Don’t go there.
5. Disco Kings-Sorry. I’m a repeat offender.
6. Essential Eddie Money-“Shakin” was me and M.’s song. That’s all I’m tellin’. This is a family friendly website.
7. Joan Jett and the Blackhearts-Because I love rock n’ roll.
8. K.C. and the Sunshine Band/Just the Hits-Because I like to shake, shake, shake my booty.
9. Meat Loaf/Bat Out of Hell 1 & 2-#1 is a classic. I can’t explain #2. Must have been a sale at the BMG music club.
10. Rick James/Superfreak-It brings back memories of the skating rink. So does “Double Dutch Bus”, but I can’t find it. I wonder why?

Anyhoo, I could go on and on. That’s enough shame for one day. If you care to share your favorite guilty pleasures, so right ahead. If not, well, we all know you’re hiding something.

A Smile for Miss Kay

It’s raining here again today….a steady drip, drip, drip for the second day in a row. I figure those raindrops are tears from heaven for my friend Miss Kay. She died this morning after an ugly struggle with cancer. I’m so very sorry she’s gone, but I’m glad her pain is over. She didn’t deserve the suffering she endured during the last few months. How do you say goodbye to such a fine lady? With some tears, sure, but mostly, I want to say goodbye with laughter. That’s because she brought so much light into my life. She always made me smile.

I met Miss Kay seventeen years ago. She and her husband owned a duplex that Hubby and I rented when we were starry eyed newlyweds. She was never really a landlord, always a friend. I liked her immediately. Her laugh was infectious, and she was plain spoken, but never with a sharp tongue. She was able to tell me how crappy my nails looked and how badly I needed a manicure without hurting my feelings. “They’re your jewels, honey, not tools”, she said. I rarely mailed our rent to her in the two years we lived there because a stop by her house was better. It always yielded some lively conversation. I was always amazed at her positive attitude, given the heartache she’d suffered over the years; a failed first marriage, the deaths of her parents and the birth of a severely retarded child that was eventually institutionalized. She rebounded with a second marriage to a wonderful man and the birth of three children. They built a good life together and had many good years. She busted through life’s ups and downs with a high spirit and a hearty laugh..or two..or three. For years she laughed at Hubby’s run-in with her mother’s remains. Actually, it was a prosthetic leg that went tumbling down into Hubby’s arms as he was digging through some shelves in a garage behind the duplex. He didn’t realize it was fake until he had screamed like a girl, tossed it on the floor and nearly wet his pants. It scared the bejesus out of him, and left us rolling on the floor. You didn’t mind that she laughed at you because she was always laughing at herself.

Even when we bought our own home (two blocks away) and moved out, we stayed in touch. Hubby became a caretaker of the duplex, mowing the yard and keeping an eye on the place for the last fifteen years in exchange for some storage space in that garage. Mostly though, he did it for Miss Kay and her husband. Miss Kay was always grateful for his help, and each year showered him with some kind of overly generous gift at Christmas. We ran into each other at the grocery store, Sam’s and other places around town, always spending a while in the middle of an aisle catching up on kids and work. Each time I saw her, she had a smile, even when the world wasn’t turning her way. Each…and…every…time.

We knew in recent weeks she was not in good shape but didn’t know until last Tuesday that she was near the end. The family didn’t know if she would make it through Thanksgiving. In typical fashion, she hung on and pushed through, probably for her family’s sake. That’s Miss Kay, generous to the end. She let go early this morning, and I hope she went peacefully. I’m sorry she’s gone, but I’m glad I knew her. She was a fine example of how to live life. I will shed a tear or two for Miss Kay over the next few days, but I know I will find many smiles among the memories. Thanks for the laughs Miss Kay, and say hello to Jesus for me, will you?

Thirteen puppies!

Take a walk with me down memory lane for just a minute and observe the picture to your left. Let's call it a ghost of Christmas past. Mama finally let me borrow some of her old family photo albums so I can make copies of some pictures, and I found this little gem. Actually, I found enough blog fodder for the next two years, but I don't want to get kicked out of my family, so I'll have to be choosy about what I post. This picture of me and SuperCop makes me smile. This is around around 1972 or 1973. Our Irish setter, Shannon, had her first and only litter of puppies several weeks before Christmas. She had thirteen puppies! We ended up with only twelve because the runt of the litter didn't make it. I'm not sure if he just wasn't strong enough or if he got mashed in the crowded refrigerator box/bed we made for Shannon and her puppies in the warm basement. We loved those puppies and wanted to keep them all, but mama and daddy said no, so we hugged and squeezed them and dragged them around until they went home with new owners. I was sad when each one left. Aren't they sweet? And isn't SuperCop cute with those cheeks and red hair? This photo just screams the 70's don't ya' think? The potential for laughs is all over the place.

First of all there's the pretzel pants I'm wearing. Stunning. I loved those pants. It was one of many fashion faux pauxs I would commit over the years. And look at my crooked bangs. I could never sit still when mama trimmed my hair, so I walked around with crooked bangs a lot. She used to lay a piece of masking tape across my forehead and cut it off, leaving what was supposed to be a straight line of bangs. It never worked. It wasn't her fault that I wiggled like a worm in hot ashes. Check out the artificial Christmas tree with homemade snowflakes. I loved cutting snowflakes out of paper. I was a regular litter bug at Christmas, leaving a trial of paper scraps behind me wherever I went. My very favorite part of this picture, though, is the cardboard fireplace. Now, I remember these being very popular back in the 70's, and I felt pretty uptown because we had one. I especially remember hanging our stockings on it and digging in them Christmas morning for goodies. It's certainly not something the editors of Better Homes and Gardens would publish today, but back then it felt pretty chic. We've come a long way baby, since the 70's, but I have a feeling that in about twenty years when we look back at photos of Christmas 2007, we're going to get the same kind of chuckle out of lawn inflatables, dancing Santas and fiber optic trees. Keep that in mind when someone takes your picture this holiday season. Now, let me see a show of hands. Who had the cardboard fireplace? Come on. It's okay. There's no need to be ashamed. Repeat after me...my name is (insert name here) and I'm a victim of the cardboard fireplace.......

Every Time A Bell Rings....

The Hula's rang the Salvation Army bells today. Me, Hubby, Teen Angel and Sissy manned the doors at the local Wal-Mart for two hours ringing the chimes of America's favorite Christmas charity. We had a fine time. It's always fun to meet and greet people and get into the holiday spirit, but the sight seeing is a blast, too. As mama says, you see a little bit of everything if you stand there long enough.

There were plenty of cute kids. They all wanted to put money in the kettle, and most parents let them. Their stubby little fingers reaching up to drop in change just melts my heart, especially when they give me a big toothy grin. We saw happy kids, grumpy kids, short kids and tall kids, even kids with other kids. Several were coming to the doors dressed in their finest red outfit, no doubt headed for the photography studio. Others were just there to shop and take in the wonder of the mother load of toys within those concrete walls. Their excitement made me smile. Oh, to capture that wonder again. Where does it go when we grow up?

We saw a standoff over a primo parking space. Both cars sat there, nose to nose, daring the other to back away. It lasted for several minutes, and about the time I thought one of the drivers was going to bail out and start a fight, the other car slid into reverse. Ho, ho, ho. We watched another woman drive around the lot ten gazillion times, searching for a parking space close to the door. She could have walked across the lot, made her purchase and been on her way in the time she spent circling for a landing. We flagged down a city bus for two shoppers who didn't quite make it to their stop in time. Five birthday cakes left the building while we were there, and lots of wee ones must be getting Mega Blocks for Christmas this year.

We made conversation with an eccentric man who explained how he'd given away all of his money to his kids, and then moved away so they couldn't find him. As he was locking up his bicycle, he unknowingly dropped a rock of crack cocaine out of his pocket. I didn't know what it was, but my former law officer husband did. "Crack? That's crack?", I hollered liked a hick when he was gone. We watched as the maintenance man swept it into his trash bucket and waited to see if bicycle man realized his rock was missing when he returned. Apparently, he didn't. He was too excited about his new tennis shoes which he put on before heading home. We watched twin boys get an attitude adjustment for their temper tantrum. We saw roughly half of Hubby's former parolees. They might be a tad embarrassed if they knew he can read lips and "read" what they said about him. Ho, ho, ho. We also saw a lot of friends.

Mostly, we were impressed that it was the poor who seemed to have the most generous spirit. It wasn't the folks in BMW's and nice clothing who donated the most. In fact, those people seemed to give the least. It was the people who looked as if they could use a little help themselves who put the most money in the kettle. Perhaps, because they understand the need. I've seen it time and time again, whenever we've rung bells for the Salvation Army and collected canned goods at a Christmas lighting display. I always walk away, shaking my head, amazed at the generosity shown by the poor. It makes me dig for those quarters and dollar bills when I walk by the kettle. I don't want to be the well dressed woman in the nice car who just keeps walking. I have to answer to Grandma when I get to the pearly gates, and she would thump my head if I didn't help. Ho, ho, ho.

Taste Test

Thursday 10:40am Hubby-"Is that dressing going to be fit to eat?"
Hula Girl-"Yes. I think so."
Hubby-"Hmm."

Thursday 5:30pm Hubby-"Your dressing passes the test."
Hula Girl-"Thanks."
Hubby-"I was worried about it."
Hula Girl-"I could tell."

Dear Grandma B.,
Guess what? The dressing turned out okay. I'd give it a B+. I cooked it about ten minutes too long but that was because I was stuck on the phone with the AT & T folks over a voicemail issue, and I didn't get the pan out of the oven quick enough. Thanks for the tip on the vinegar that came rushing back to me yesterday morning. Appreciate it. Any tips on how to keep from whacking your spouse with a spatula?
Love,
Hula Girl