Love Is

One of my favorite people in the whole world just made the cut to be featured in this:
http://www.refinery29.com/love-definitions#slide
Beth is just too damn cool.

So, for me, today...

Love is waking up with a killer migraine, no medicine, and wanting to wallow in bed for the rest of my life, but getting up anyway to change someone's diaper and play "Santa" to someone being "Frosty the Snowman."

Love is a husband who drives halfway across one of the largest cities in the US to track down one of the only boxes of migraine medicine available right at that moment.

Love is telling Carolena that I feel better and we can go out to lunch today. Love is Carolena showing me a dingy old penny in her pocket as though it is a special secret while whispering that she is going to buy lunch today for all of us.

Love is waking up each morning in this beautiful life that Chris and I have built together.

Know When to Hold 'Em and Know When to Fold 'Em

I don't play poker (just because I don't know how, not for moral reasons you weirdos). I don't play poker, but I do know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em.

And by that I mean the one handmade item I've been working on for months, the one item I planned out last year and put into motion this fall, got folded last night. Well, not literally, as it is lying in a big heap on the countertop, but I finally set it aside as a loss.

Kelly was supposed to receive a beautiful handmade surprise from me this Christmas. I've been working on it and working on it and working on it.

But, mama said there'd be days like this, and it was time to set it aside. Evidently, announcing months ago "I'm not going to be too anal about this because I want it to look homey" resulted in a project that looks like Prince Gerhardt made it.

When I make something for someone I like to pour love and good vibrations into it. Though I love the idea of what I was making (which is why it's still a secret), the reality made me grumpy. So, there was that. Plus, last night when I imagined Kelly's friends asking her about the item and her saying that I made it, the humiliation that washed over me made me realize it's time to call it a loss.

So, December 8th, here we are. Nice to see you. Joann's, watch out here we come. New day. New plan. Luckily I have until Epiphany to get it together.

Clergy Spouse Confessions

Life on this side of the church can be strange. Beautiful. But strange. Especially when it comes to the laundry.

Recently I washed what I would estimate to be 30,000 white tablecloths belonging to our church. Is that my job? No. Was I happy to do it? Sure. I'm a mom. What's a few more loads of laundry? Like a few more drops to Niagara. Plus, I like helping out in ways that require little more than dumping things into the washing machine, dryer, and then sending them out the door with my hubby. That's easy cheesey. Yumm... cheese...

The laundry around here can get weird though. It seems common place now to search black shirt collars for forgotten collar studs abandoned by their wearer and sure to rip holes in my bed sheets (true story - the hole was totally round like a crop circle).

Black shirts fade to gray and yet continue to fall out of my dryer warm and ready to be hung. No need for ironing work shirts around here.

Albs are a different story. When I head toward our laundry room and see a large white ghost hanging out nearby it I know it's time for the oxiclean. Ring around the collar (eeww - tmi), port wine stains (yummm... wine...), and candle drippings are just a few of the things that can grace the alb. Have you ever ironed a huge tablecloth that has a hood and billowing sleeves? Yes? Great, then you're ready to be part of a clergy family.

Our laundry is never ending. If I were to write one of those online quizzes titled something like, "Are you ready to be a Mom?" one of the questions would be, "To what degree is your sanity based on the amount of laundry you do?" and if people answer in such a way that demonstrates a strong correlation between amount of laundry looming and sanity, I'll recommend they get a goldfish instead.

Escalators

Remember last week when I gave up caffeine cold turkey for like three or four days? No? Me neither. Yesterday I had three cups of coffee and limited myself (it was hard) to one Diet Coke at lunch.

Yesterday Carolena announced that she no longer going to ask Santa for a bike but instead is now going to ask for a real live wombat.

Is There a Doctor in the House?

This morning as Chris was leaving for work he stopped to say this:
"If your dermatologist turns out to be a handsome Scandinavian man again, please let him look at your body this time instead of just giggling and letting him only examine your face and arms."

My husband just told me to take my clothes off for gorgeous Scandinavians with names like Dr. Handsome.

Deal.

Here's hoping my new dermatologist has a sub in the office today!

*This is officially the least "becoming Leona" thing I've ever posted.

Giving Thanks Without Giving Anything?

This Thanksgiving was very low key in our house, which made it a little odd, but full of thanks and love nonetheless. That day I had time to reflect upon Thanksgiving and it occurred to me that we, as a culture, treat Thanksgiving Day as Opposite Day. We set aside a national day of giving thanks, and then what do we do to practice this thankfulness?

We get together with people we love rather than people who are disenfranchised. Is this thankfulness? Well, yes, but perhaps not in it's entirety.

Then, we cook a ton of food and eat it. We eat all day until we are full. We call that appetizers. Then, we sit down to a Thanksgiving feast and stuff more food into our already full bellies. Once the meal is over, we take some time to lie on the couch and "make a little room" for dessert, which we then indulge in freely. Is this thankfulness? No, I believe this is called gluttony.

Then, that evening and the next day we (not my family in particular, but culturally speaking "we") crowd into stores for Black Friday. We push and shove and heap things into our arms. We buy and buy and buy. Is this thankfulness? Nope, I'm pretty sure this is hoarding.

What a strange way for us to spend our day of thankfulness. As far as I can see we don't do anything that exhibits thankfulness other than offering thanks before one of our meals that day. Our Thanksgiving doesn't actually look like giving thanks does it?

All of this has led me to think that it might be impossible to truly give thanks by taking instead of giving.

Alfred Hitchcock Presents

As I was falling asleep the other night I found myself in that weird twilight zone somewhere between being awake and being asleep. I was asleep enough to feel like I was somewhere else entirely, but awake enough to know it was a memory and not a dream. Perhaps I had fallen into a pensieve? I was sitting in the front row of a packed theater. Sitting on either sides of me were my mom and siblings. My dad was on stage wearing... well... how can I best explain it?

My dad was dressed as Norman Bates dressed as Mother.

How's that for an unsettling image of the guy who tucks you in at night?

I vividly remember watching the performance. It was an Alfred Hitchcock Behind the Scenes kind of show in Disney World. Near the end of the show a bright light shone in the faces of me and my family and a camera cut to the four of us in the front row. Blinded by the light, we were surprised when Norman Bates suddenly appeared in front of us dressed in full Mother regalia and wielding a knife. I remember my family around me jumping in surprise and all of us laughing. I am sure that I initially jumped, but I remember instantly thinking, "That's not my Dad. They've switched him out" and sitting back into my chair. I remember knowing without a shadow of a doubt that while my dad would willingly dress as psychotic Norman Bates in front of a hundred people, he would not, even in jest, come after his family with a knife.

Yeah, my dad, he's a pretty cool dude.

If anyone ever wonders where I got my strong sense of family and insane sense of humor from... look no further than this guy:

 

He can also be held liable for my uncommonly strong love for caffeine, the Twilight Zone, and A Confederacy of Dunces. He's a man of many fine tastes if I do say so myself.