PENSIEVE

Because sometimes "nothings" and "pretend" make me smile

Festivus is my favorite fake holiday of them all.  Its insanity makes me smile during the frenzy of the most won-der-ful time of the year...:)

Airing of grievances?  Feats of strength?  How can you not love it?

Wanna know more?  All you wanted to know and then some, right here :)

Get your own Festivus Pole here.

You can order Festivus Wine here.

Ah, yes, capitalism at its best--only in America can you celebrate a non-existent holiday and make buckets of money off a show about nothing!

Plus, it's got a motto, you just gotta love a fake holiday with a motto--It's a Festivus for the rest of us!

Fun and games over, I'm off to wrestle traffic as I pay for Christmas shopping procrastination in more ways than one!

I'm dreaming of a {red &} white Christmas...!

{Scroll down for Christmas Tour of Homes pictures.}

Two Christmases ago, we had just completed a home renovation that included~

• knocking out the wall separating our kitchen and dining room
• moving our dining room into our to-that-point unused living room
• making the previous dining room a "keeping" room.

I have no idea why it's called a keeping room, we simply picked up the name from a friend who had the same layout--a living space adjacent to the kitchen.  (Is it a Southern thing?  Anybody??)

That year, because the keeping room was fairly empty (and still is...), at Christmas, we bought a second tree and I divided the ornaments I had between the two; neither tree seemed completely dressed.  During after-Christmas 75% off sales, I stocked up on new ornaments for the next year (if you're razor sharp, you already understand would've been last year).  I didn't realize it at the point of purchase, but many of the new ornaments were red and white, and I thought it would be FUN to have a tree primarily decorated in those colors.  I couldn't wait til the next Christmas.

Which was last year.

Thing is, when it came time to purchase a tree, money was tight; but more than that, I was under a conviction to give more away to people in need so I decided to give up Starbucks for the month.  I asked my husband if he wanted to join me in my "sacrifice", and he said, "That's 20 bucks...why don't you give up something that's really going to hurt...like that second tree in the keeping room?"

It was one of those times I wanted to really hurt him...u n t i l  I thought about it, and decided it was excess, and we didn't need it...so I gave up both--my beloved caramel macchiatos and the second tree.  When it came time to decorate, I had no use for all those new ornaments.  Still nested in their boxes, I wistfully looked at them through their cellophane windows, trying to focus on that little bit of money I had "sacrificed" going to someone who might've had a need met instead of my "wants" satisfied.

This year, as I've intentionally minimized in other ways, to initiate ChristmasChange in our home, we decided to get that second tree for the keeping room.  A tree decorated in red and white.  It's a mixture of the new and old--I was happily surprised at how many old ornaments we had that fit the simple color theme.  And...it's a poignant reminder of sacrifice to me--I remember what I gave up last year, so it means more to me.  I know that sounds silly...I didn't do without a thing I needed when we gave up that tree, but somehow it has become symbolic of thinking of others.

If you're visiting from The Nester's Christmas Tour of Homes or didn't see it last year, I'd love for you to see my previous years' Christmas decor favorites.  Instead of taking many of the same photos for this post , I'd love to share my Red & White tree...colors which in a sense reflect Christ better than any others.  Red, representing His blood and life sacrifice, and white, His purity and holiness and cleansing of my sin (which didn't even occur to me until I put this in writing...hmmm).

These snowmen lights are one of my favorite parts of the tree; they glass snowman can actually clip on any light, allowing me to place them throughout the tree.

I've had this angel for 15 years; first year she tops a tree, though :).

    Homemade by my middle son; I think his part of "helping" was to sprinkle glitter.

I love these white squiggly dangles...which I'm pretty sure is NOT the official name of these icicle-y ornaments! 

It's nearby landmark and a hat tip to our hometown...:)

Thanks for taking time to visit ~ if you haven't yet, would you like to make my day and subscribe via email or in a reader?  Or stalk follow me on Twitter?  Let me know so I can return the favor! 

Are you a believer in "it's the thought that counts"...?

 

One of my favorite gifts ever received was a box of Kleenex.

It was winter and I had a cold, in college and broke, and while the dorm bathroom toilet paper might have been two-ply, to my red and raw nose it more closely resembled sandpaper than pillowy softness.  But it was free and endless, and being a beggar I was no chooser, so I did the best with what I had.  

One afternoon in the midst of my sniffling and sneezing misery, I walked into our room to find a new, unopened box of tissue perched atop my laminated dresser.  Cradled in the comfort of student uniform--sweats!--Cassie looked up from her I'm-sure-compelling textbook and smiled.  

"I got you a surcie," her voice and eyes twinkled.  

I looked at the cube and it clearly said "Kleenex" and in my mind I attempted to re-hear what she had just said, trying to figure out how "tissue" or "Kleenex" could sound like a completely different word.  All I could muster was, "What did you just call it?"

Juggling knives & very.mean.cats at work AND hosting our second party for the second Friday in a row (yes, I'm posting THIS in the midst of a cleaning and cooking frenzy--can I get a witness from anyone who knows me in real life???), I a l m o s t forgot this post published just after midnight at (in)courage.  Nothing would make me smile bigger if you continue reading over there :)!  While you're there, stay a while...you'll leave feeling greatly encouraged!

Hope, full

{I'm joining a special holiday Blog Carnival hosted on Blog Nosh Magazine.  Our theme is "hope".  Thanks to our sponsor, Tide Loads of Hope program, which is putting its money where its mouth is when it comes to helping others; in essence, offering hope to those in need!}

I'm sure it all started with visions of sugar plums, dancing 'round my head like Coyote's stars after Road Runner smacks him in the head with a cast iron skillet.

At some point in Christmas Past, these are my illusions of grandeur: 

Children (freshly scrubbed, neatly dressed and mannerly) joining my husband (dressed in a crew neck Christmas sweater and slacks) (yes, slacks, that's kind of important) and me (pearls and a June Cleaver dress, bosoms unnaturally pointed and waist the size of Scarlet O'Hara's--let's be realistic--after giving birth to Bonnie Blue) decorating tree and home.  Efficient and precise, my husband, would string the lights as the children tenderly unwrapped each ornament, taking time to recall memories or giver attached to each.  Aussie, head resting on crossed paws in front of a fire's roar, would gaze sleepily upon our merriment.  I'd stop long enough to serve hot chocolate with mounds of whipped cream and offer home made cookies, each a Martha Stewart masterpiece.  I'd hesitate with intention to capture the moment, wanting to catalog the scene in my heart and mind, not daring to interrupt the feng shui with camera and flash.  There'd be much laughter and story telling, and one of us would eventually find our way to the piano, where we'd all join in a hearty performance of the "12 Days of Christmas".  They'd always let me sing "Fiiiive...goooolden....riiiiings!" because they know it's my favorite.

Well, buckets of rain on my delusional Rockwell-esque Christmas parade; the Road Runner must've smacked ME upside the head with a skillet!   When all is said and done, I'm pretty much the one who does it all. 

This year, dripping martyrdom and attitude, I found myself wondering "Is it worth it?"  They'd notice, of course, but would anyone care if I didn't decorate our home?  

I toyed with it. 

I dared myself.

I thought "if this isn't radical Christmas change, I don't know what is!"

Somewhere between evergreening our mantle and stringing garland on entryway stairs, it occurred to me why I would invest so much time and energy into a holiday tradition.  It's not tangled in the wrappings of gifts given or received.  And while I so delight in spending time with family and friends...and inhaling the scents and tastes of the Season...I realized my true motive--why I care about serving my family in this menial, thankless, beautiful way--it's a simple expression to honor a King. 

The tradition of Christmas is rooted in the hope
offered by a King who Himself embodies hope...
who not only offers hope, but IS hope.

Last night, I caught the end of "A Charlie Brown Christmas," in particular Linus' recitation of Luke 2:8-14, his response to Charlie Brown's meltdown over questioning the meaning of Christmas.  It ends, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

The holidays are filled with unending hope
because of their genesis. 

Believers and non-believers alike are moved during the holidays, perhaps more than any other time on the calendar, to consider and act on the behalf of those in need.  They--no, WE--become vessels of hope because of our investment in other people's lives. 

We manifest hope by ringing bells and dropping coins in red kettles...

...by packing shoe boxes full of gifts...

...by sponsoring a child and releasing them from material and spiritual poverty...

...by praying for our friends, those IRL and those online...

...by being generous...always...

and sometimes by washing clothes for someone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~

So...I decorate our home.  A simple offering for my family.  Delusional ideals of what "Christmas" is supposed to look like have been replaced with remembering.  Refocusing.  "Giving" in the best sense.  These decorations are symbols of hope to me, constant reminders to be hope to those who need it most.

I really should thank my family sometime :).

~~~~~~~~~~

Loads of Hope for the Holidays

Please join us at Blog Nosh Magazine as we share stories of hope this holiday season in support of the Tide Loads of Hope program, a mobile laundromat offering laundry services to families affected by disasters. 

Share your own stories of hope, along with Blog Nosh Magazine, Velveteen Mind, and a gathering of inspiring bloggers, and enter your own post link in the blog carnival below.  Visit Blog Nosh Magazine to explore featured bloggers as well as three featured posts selected from carnival participants listed in the linky (that could be you!). Lend your voices now, then participate live during a two day event in New Orleans, Sunday and Monday, December 13 and 14, as we tweet stories of resilience from laundry recipients and volunteers on the ground.  Follow along on twitter via #loadsofhope and be sure to follow @TideLoadsofHope.  Learn more about how you can extend hope to families affected by disasters by visiting http://tideloadsofhope.com Blog carnival hosted by Blog Nosh Magazine, sponsored by Tide Loads of Hope.

How do the holidays fill you with loads of hope?  Do share!

The grass is always greener, even when it's white

When we moved to the Tennessee Valley from South Carolina six years ago, I couldn't have been more excited about living in an area that had snowy winters.

That was the year our hometown had a 100-year record snowfall of 18 inches; during the 14 years we lived there, it had maybe snowed 5-6 inches twice.  During this same "snow event" that showered our South Carolina friends, we received--if I'm not mistaken--124 snowflakes; a heavy frost produces more sparkle and shine.

Saturday morning I woke up to the whispers of my 12 year old--"Look at that, Mom!"

Through sandy eyes I looked at him and blinked, confused. 

"No...look at THAT!" he demanded, finger pointing in the opposite direction...my window.

A surprise snowfall had blanketed our yard in cotton and white, and snow chunks were still falling. 

I grabbed my camera, braved the elements, and started shooting--a kid in the candy store--

 

 

 

 

By lunchtime, 40 degrees erased the evidence.  The snow might've been gone, but thanks to my BFF Ms. Nikon, it was hardly forgotten :).

Your turn:  Do you have a favorite capture from the above series?  Would you mind sharing in comments which one and why?  Feel free to link posts with snowy pictures of your own, too!

 

 

 

Discovery

Leathered and lined, his face hints a story of life knocked hard.  I think "those incredible blue eyes of his are almost a waste," and immediately I'm ashamed of the thought.  They're perfectly matched pools of turquoise.

Of course, I know he's homeless, and he knows I know, and at first I speak to him out of pity or some pious sense of obligation.  I have a hard time not noticing his teeth--has he ever seen a dentist or has it just been a matter of years?--but his shirt is clean and tucked, and I can tell he spent time getting ready.  I wonder where he showered.

He was always one of the earliest arrivals to our class; I suppose that's the real reason I struck up a conversation with him.  Had my girlfriends been there small talk would over flow with kids and commitments and sincere-but-seldom carried out promises of "getting together s-oo-n".  Instead, I learned Rick's wife had died weeks after their wedding day, decades ago, and he had never remarried, never had children.  I learned he served in the military.  I learned he was a short order cook but kids didn't like to work with him because "I make 'em work too hard."

One week Rick told me he wrote poetry and that he was an artist.

The next week he showed me.

He says, "You know how I told you I like to draw?"  He pulled a double folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket.  "Well, here's something I drew."

  

The casual observer probably wouldn't see what I see.  I know Rick stays near the mountains and this is likely what he sees every day.

He wasn't done.  "I wrote a poem, too."  Out comes another folded piece of paper, chicken scratch on an old church notepad.

Or was it much more than that...a simple reminder to open the books whose covers I judge?  A lesson learned every day in childhood, but sometimes forgotten as years obscure our view.

Rick had no idea what he was teaching me.

  

Two of the BEST all-time television moments

After writing about Stephen's comical-but-unintended double entendre, I scoured the YouTube vault for two of the FUNNIEST moments in television history.  If I say Art Linkletter's "House Party" (the precursor to "Kids Say the Darndest Things") and Schweddy Balls, you'll know exactly what I'm talkin' about.

The first one is sweeter than sugar and will leave you giggling for days, a throwback to simpler times when cheap tricks weren't necessary to force a laugh.  The second one?  Well, it's salty and maybe even unsavory and gives just about any James Bond movie a run for its money, but the first time I saw it?  I had a new-found appreciation for NPR and a craving for "...popcorn balls, cheese balls, rum balls". 

Enjoy 12 minutes of comic genius ~

{If you haven't seen this SNL skit, it reminded me of Stephen's tongue tangle about two minutes into the clip....}

Stinky feet and smelly balls

It is a dreaded moment when my son steamrolls into my car after soccer practice because of what happens next:  he takes off his cleats.

The carpet of my van is a lint brush for his grass-covered socks--bad enough on its own--b u t, the noxious vapor that escapes his shoes is almost visible.  I don't even have to see what he's doing to know when they're off, my nose threatens mutiny from my body!  If his foot odor could be bottled and sold, it would strip paint, kill weeds and disintegrate the funk in kitchen drains across America.  We'd be rich.

A friend of his told him about a product that would at least help the lingering smell in his shoes, Sneaker Balls.  We found them at a local shoe store, and for only a few bucks, I figured it was worth a try.  Stephen thought they were really cool, so I knew I wouldn't have to remind him to use them, he'd remember on his own.

A few days later, our Sneaker Ball purchase far from my mind, Stephen said something that dropped my jaw and almost landed him on restriction til high school.  It's important to know Stephen is an "innocent", at 12 still more boy than teenager.

"Hey, Mom...wanna smell my balls?"  

With military precision I snapped around to face him, ready to jerk three knots in his head.  Dancing eyes and eager, he extended an open hand with a pair of sneaker balls nestled in his palm. 

Continuing, "Careful, they're really strong!"

Backing down from my stance and sniffing one of the balls, I wondered if he knew what I had initially "heard".

I couldn't decide if he mastered a perfect poker face or simply was clueless.

If it's possible for both, I think he nailed it...;)

$150 Spa Day Giveaway Winner!

Unbelievable, people.... FOUR people whose number came up on Random Integer Generator DID NOT INCLUDE CONTACT INFORMATION for me to let them know they won the $150 Spa Gift Certificate, a wonderfully generous giveaway compliments of Pepperidge Farm.  Fortunately, it didn't take long to find someone who did give me a way to let 'em know.

Congratulations, @PetRescueBarbie.  And Merry Christmas :).

Random Integer Generator

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13	

Timestamp: 2009-12-07 22:19:51 UTC