Sunday, November 24, 2013

Calendar Confusion

As I continue my campaign to immerse myself in the holiday frame of mind this year, I find I'm still having trouble wrapping my brain around this one. Thanksgiving is a mere five days away. And, as yesterday's Countdown to Christmas alert on the Hallmark Channel so cheerily showed, Christmas is 32 Days away. 
Make that 31 Days. 
Still so much to do!
I have presents to buy, a pink tree to score, and wrapping accouterments to procure. Then the wrapping itself. Those are just the things that HAVE to be done. There are still things that I WANT to get done, as well...I WANT so badly to send out Christmas cards, bake some goodies and give them away to my favorite people, and revel in the glow. I want to feel like I have time to FEEL CHRISTMAS! And I feel like it's slipping through my fingers like sanding sugar. Or melting snow. 
Not that it feels warm enough for snow to melt. In fact, I've spent pretty much all day freezing my tuccus off, even though I'm safely tucked indoors at my favorite home-office-away-from-home-office. It's a frigid day outside, as well, which might be one reason that the idea of decamping is a dreaded one. I hate cold. With a passion. Too bad that fiery hatred of cold doesn't do anything to warm me up inside...
Anyway, back to the conundrum at hand––FEELING the season. Hmmmm. Maybe it's time to buckle down and find that tree, so that my apartment is visually bathed in the warm pink glow of my newly found festiveness.
More updates to come...


Saturday, November 16, 2013

Anything But Boring

I don't know about anyone else here, but if I'm perfectly honest, most of the time I feel like the most boring person on the planet. For me, an exciting Friday night generally includes dancing with my Dirt Devil as we chase away the little bit of dirt and dust that might have accumulated on the apartment floor over the past week, sniffing the pungent odors of eau de Windex and Scrub Free as I'm scrubbing down the bathroom, and folding laundry as the latest string of Say Yes to the Dress and House Hunters plays in the background. A swingin' single I am not. So am I boring?
Perhaps yes, perhaps no.
But for me, there are moments of greatness even in the mundane. And even those are far less than the greatness that God is holding out to us, if only we reach for it.
In his book Boring: Finding An Extraordinary God in An Ordinary Life, Michael Kelley (B&H Publishing) challenges us as readers and fellow Christians to "see the greater purpose in the seemingly small and mundane details of life...When Jesus enters a situation, even the most mundane things become extraordinary." 
So what exactly does this mean, and how can it change us? Look at your life and be present. Appreciate the gifts that God has given you and continues to give you. These are the things that make our days far from ordinary, even if they seem boring on the surface. We are here, now, and God has a specific purpose for each of us. We are far from boring.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Value the Vets

It's Veteran's Day, and to all the men and women who serve or have served, I say Thank You. You do so much for every one if us every day, and too often you go unrecognized for these sacrifices you make. 
Thank you, too, to all the spouses of these service members, their families who serve right along with them without reward or pay. You give to us by being their support, by sticking by them and loving them. The ring on your finger forms an inextricable link to their uniform, and your heart beats in time with theirs.
Veteran's Day is all bout saying thank you, for taking a minute to remember that we would not be the country that we are today without your selflessness, without your call to be who you are, without your dedication to that uniform and everything it represents. You are a warrior for all of us, and for that you should be celebrated. 
Wherever you find yourself today, know that there are people who may not ever know you personally, but think very highly of you and are grateful for your service. Those boots march for us as you march into danger, those uniforms form a tapestry of strength as you become our first line of defense. You draw and define the battle lines and fight evils in our honor.
For all if this, we honor you.
Thank you for being brave for us––we're proud of you. Thank you for making and keeping us free.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Sweet and Savory

Wow, I can't believe its Sunday again already! I'm not ready for this, are you? I blinked and it was Friday, then I blinked again and it's Sunday! Time whips by with an insane speed, doesn't it? 
Not that I'm complaining about what was accomplished this weekend. Far from it, actually.
Yesterday was one of those happily unexpected days of prolificness...Is that a word? If not, it should be. 
I'm hoping today follows suit, but one never knows, does one? I'll just have to play it by ear and see how it goes, see how quickly the fingers fly over the keys and the mind composes what looks to be a masterpiece.
The sky is a beautiful shade of blue and perfectly temperate, a happy gift in the midst of what were a few days of gloomy, cold misery. These are days to savor, like a rich piece of chocolate melting slowly on the tongue. These are the days that make me thankful and remind me that every minute really does have something to treasure and hold, if only we pay attention. 
The holidays are coming with warp speed, and I'm hoping that this year I'll allow myself to notice, to stretch them out and find their magic. 
Too many years recently I've allowed myself to forget why these days exist: To be together. To give back. To remember that life is good and extraordinary. The turkey might be forgotten in the freezer until too late, the mashed potatoes might be gummy. But there are stories to make from these days of Whoopsie Daisy. Make the Uh Oh! an Aha! and find your unexpected sweetness...Remember the five second rule and realize that things don't always go like you've planned. Sometimes they turn out better.

Friday, November 8, 2013

Not a Good Look for You

I've been looking over my blogposts from last month, and I realized just how much I was letting my worry edge into my writing. Well, maybe not so much edge as shove its way into. And I hate how gloomy and hopeless it made me sound. 
Yes, I worry.
But if we're honest, all of us worry, right? If you don't worry about something on any given day, I think you might be in the minority, and a very fortunate one at that. 
I have a great tendency to worry and an even greater tendency to let it get a viselike grip on me to the point of being overwhelming. Like a bride wearing an overpowering mass of whiteness that completely swallows her up, my worry was wearing me, rather than the other way around.
And it's not a good look for me.
It's not a good look for anyone. 
God designed us to be triumphant, to live our best lives in glory to Him. And living in constant worry and fear isn't doing that. It's giving in and living a defeated existence. A life lived in fear is only half lived. 
I don't know about you, but I want to live a full, happy life that shines. 
That's a look that's good on anyone. 
So with that in mind, I want to rip that worry apart at the seams and wear the sparkle, rather than the fear. I want to rock the runway.
Maybe not literally, but you get my point. 
I want peace and joy to be my best accessories.
Time to clean out the closets and get rid of the tattered mess.
I want to wear only what looks good on me.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Typeography

It's not an HP or a Dell or a Mac-anything. It has no operating system, no battery or cord. It doesn't hum with the rhythm of some electronic power source. It's not portable or mini, and it has no screen. If you tried putting it on your lap, it would probably break your legs, and lifting it requires Herculean effort. 

But this piece of machinery––this beautiful piece of equipment made of shiny black steel and studded with keys, their round white faces poking up from the hulking inkiness of this colossus––just as thoroughly represents industry and creativity and communication as any of the most up-to-date gadgets on the market. 

Maybe more so. 

After all, this antiquated mass of metal is the precursor, the harbinger of things to come.

It is a typewriter. 

And not just any typewriter. A Remington, from sometime in the early 1930s, when writers sat in offices heavy with smoke and thick with sarcasm. When women were "gals" and men were "fellas," and the closest thing to an email was a telegram. When "cut and paste" was done with actual scissors and glue, when the end of a page margin required the swift movement of hands to shove the paper drum back into place until a magic bell dinged. Fingers were well-muscled from aggressively typing keys, fingertips blackened with the ink of a thousand ribbons.

True, I might never have plans of actually ever using this wonderful piece of history, but as it sits proudly on the shiny white surface of my desk at home, my typewriter is a reminder.
It speaks of progress, of innovation. Of respect for the written word. Of the importance of communication. 

More personally, for me it also represents an affirmation. An unspoken show of support for me and my dreams of being a writer. A confirmation that the people I love believe in me and see talent in me. 
This Remington might not be on the leading edge of innovation; but for me, it's priceless. 

To Uncle Michael, Kevin, and Grandpa––how can I thank you enough for the joint effort made in finding my treasure? I love you all.

   

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Finding Festive

I know it's only the beginning of November, but there's no escaping the upcoming Christmas festivities. I may be well on my way gift-wise (at least,as far as my niece and nephew and sister go...) I have to admit, I'm not mentally prepared. This has been such a strange year, and I've lost my footing as to just where on the calendar reality has us. If I'm really and truly honest, the past few years have been strange as far as Christmas goes, and I haven't really allowed myself to get fully in the spirit of things. 
I really want this to be different, so as part of that, I've been taking advantage of Hallmark Channel's early embrace of Christmas movies. Their Countdown to Christmas movie marathon is now on rotation in my daily TV viewing, if for no other reason than to give me a little reminder that Christmas is coming soon, and I really should take the time to enjoy it. 
This year, I want to put up a tree. And not just any tree. A PINK tree. Yes, a pink one. I have a new apartment and a new life on my own, and darn it, I want to take advantage of the fact that no one can object to a really-freaking-pink tree.
So I'm keeping my eyes open and hopeful that I'll soon stumble upon the perfect pre-lit pink specimen. I need a little sparkle to light up the holidays this year. I need to see a daily reminder that there is magic still to be had. That Christmas is supposed to be full of joy, not only for the itsy-bitsy people known as children, not only for the in-love people of the planet. 
I need to be tickled by excitement. I need to be tickled pink.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

The Lost Hour


Sure, in theory, we "gained" an hour. But did we really?
If you ask me, it feels much more like we lose an hour with the time change––after all, to make use of that hour, one would have to wake up an hour earlier, as the tail end of the day is shortened. At least, for those of us who are not high on the Night Life. 
And I, for one, am not. While I might not be someone who gets many hours of shut-eye, I do feel like it's time to roll up the sidewalk and tuck in for the night when darkness falls. I'd rather be home than romping around in the blackness, however well-lit it might be. 
Call me a fuddy duddy or a kill-joy, that's just the way I am. And so, consequently, I feel like that so-called "gained" hour should actually be considered a loss. After all, it means earlier dark, earlier time to roll up the sidewalk.
Once upon a time it didn't bother me so much, but that was before. 
Life has changed a lot since then––the clock has slipped and slided. The years have reshaped the night and what's to be found there. And for now, I retreat to safety. Where dark is outside my door and not welcomed inside. Where light is within reach. Where shadows can be chased away.