My Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

I know you probably have my name on the “naughty list” (no doubt for the many reasons stated on your dossier), but let me explain…
I try to be good all year, I really do, but some things are just beyond my control. For example:

People generally annoy me. Exhibit A: the crazy drivers, who don’t seem to understand what a turn signal is used for, or what a red light means. Exhibit B: the salespeople who remain on the phone with friends while ignoring me, the paying customer. How about the ones who roll their eyes and “tsk” when I ask them to look for an item in the storeroom? How about the fact that I cannot shop anywhere without being asked my phone number, my email, or my zip code. Since when did shopping require the exchange of so much personal information? Exhibit C: the cashier who, without the help of a calculator, cannot figure out how much change to give on a $2.50 purchase after I hand him a $10 bill. Am I’m really required to be nice to these people 24-7? Can you check the fine print on that, please? There must be a fine-print weasel clause somewhere on the contract.

The world is a crazy place. There seem to be too many situations that require anger, outrage, and disbelief. I cannot help but get angry when I read about a child who was tortured to death by a parent because he/she “wouldn’t stop crying” – a child who was returned to that parent by DCF because of a breakdown in the system. I will always be outraged when an animal is starved and beaten, and the abuser is allowed to walk free because of insufficient laws. I cannot believe that people will ignore a homeless person on the street, but will spend money on tabloids to find out the latest news on their favorite movie star. My only wish is that I will never lose the ability to feel anger, outrage and disbelief when it really matters.

The flesh is weak, and the temptation is too strong. For every time I called my brother a bad name, for every time I stole something from his room, for every time I tried to get him in trouble with our parents by blaming him for something that I did, I couldn’t help myself. He usually deserved it. If he wasn’t making fun of me, he was punching me, calling me names, or, worse yet, just ignoring me. Our whole relationship during childhood was based upon a pyramid of lies, deceptions, and half-truths. But for all the bickering, for all the fighting, for all the battles we waged, we were always there for each other. We had each other’s back. I could always count on my big brother when it really mattered. And he knew that I would defend him against others no matter what. And we always knew, deep, deep down, the love was always there.


But sometimes, it is my fault. I know I have been guilty of making fun of others – some deserved it, some didn’t. I will tease and torment my husband for my own amusement, but generally he’s a good sport about it, and doesn’t seem to mind too much, which is probably why I married him. I will, on occasion, answer the phone with a foreign accent, in an attempt to liven up the day. I make up my own names for things, especially if I believe the “normal” names to be too boring (ie: flutterby instead of butterfly, flog instead of golf, or skissors instead of scissors) This trait confuses and exasperates my husband more than anything else, I think. It’s probably why I do it. I will often make up my own rules when playing a game (Monopoly is more fun when you’re an playing an Enron exec who just happens to be president of the bank, and can take funds at leisure). I can be very stubborn, short tempered, and I tend to put off doing unpleasant tasks (ie: chores). Keep in mind, I am only mentioning those indiscretions that are rated PG-13 or better. (the R-rated will need to be put in a different kind of letter).

In short, yes, I have been naughty this year, Santa. I have been selfish, greedy, and a little bit grumpy. But for all my weaknesses, for all my faults, I was hoping you could still see your way to granting me just one Christmas wish. Just one simple wish. Well, two actually.
1. World Peace. I know you’ve been asked about this one many times, and it’s still a work in progress, but it would be really great if this was the year it could be accomplished.
2. Bring our troops home safe and sound to their families. I know this kind of ties into wish #1, but just in case you can’t deliver #1, than you can at least try for #2.

Thank you Santa.

Giving VS Donating

This Christmas season, I started thinking about the way in which I give gifts, and the way I receive them.

Most other seasons, I'd go out, buy a gift (or gift card), and send it on it's way without another thought. This year, however, I pondered turning that "gift" into something that was truly needed and wanted. Let's face it -- most of the gifts we get during the holidays are things we don't need, things that will just sit in a closet or in a room -- unopened and unused. I kept thinking about what a waste that was -- a waste of money, time (spent shopping) and energy (in wrapping, mailing, etc). So, this year I broke with tradition, and decided instead to give donations as gifts. Basically, I took the money I'd normally spend on gifts, and donated instead to worthwhile charities in honor of the "recipient". This year, the following charities benefitted: St. Jude Children's Hospital, Nature Conservancy, World Wildlife Foundation, and Big Cat Rescue. Next year, I'll choose all new charities.

And I gotta tell ya, at the end of this season's "shopping", I felt very good. Better than I have in a long time. I felt I was helping to make a difference, instead of adding to the problem. Maybe next year, in addition to cash, I could spend some time volunteering. Spend those "mall hours" at a charity doing REAL work. How great would that be? 'Tis a season for giving, after all! : )

A Day In The Life...of Koda the Wondermutt

7am
I get up from the couch and stretch. I accompany this with a loud and prolonged yawn. I I meander towards the bedroom door, and start pacing back and forth (making sure to click toenails on the floor as loud as possible, so they’ll hear the urgency in my step). After 5 minutes, I sigh loudly, and bang against the door, curled up, impatient for Them to awaken.
7:05am.
They emerge. They are groggy and walk unsteady. They seem to be moving on auto-pilot as they reach for shoes and leash. I start dancing around in circles, crashing into furniture, legs, etc. I allow only the briefest of seconds for Them to get the leash in place. When They open the door, I leap out, yanking Them with me. I lead Them to my private facilities and make Them wait while I spend much time on sniffing, eating grass, barking at squirrels, etc. After accomplishing all my other important tasks, I am now ready to commence #1 and #2.
7:15
They lead me back into the house. I follow them into the room where they keep my food, and watch while they measure, scoop, and place the food into my bowl. I want to be sure they don’t skimp. No matter what the vet says, I need more food. I must have more food. I will have more food.
7:20
They feed the cats. I wait until they leave the room, then attempt to steal from the cats. They catch me eating from the cats’ bowls. I am banished to the living room.
7:25
I watch as they make coffee. I feel I deserve coffee. I give them my best pleading look, my best starved expression, my biggest “sad eyes”, but no. They give me nothing. They tell me coffee is bad for me. So then why do THEY drink it?
8am
They sit down at the computers, getting ready for another day. I join them, laying down across their feet or wedged against the chair, making movement nearly impossible. They cannot leave the room without my company.
12:30
Lunch break. I graciously allow them to prepare lunch, then proceed to situate myself directly beneath their plates, should any morsels find themselves falling to the floor. If food is not forthcoming, I give them the "Woe Is Me" look. This generally works well. I volunteer for kitchen floor cleanup.
1:00pm
Back to the computers. I wonder how they can stare at a screen for so long. What can be so imporant when there's so many things outside to see and do? There are squirrels to chase, walks to take, dogs to bark at, and people to sniff. Not to mention oodles of trees and shrubs to lift a leg against. They don't seem to understand this. I sigh and drape myself across the wheels of Their chairs.
2:00pm
Potty break. I once again lead Them outside, where I do everything except what I'm supposed to be doing (which is #1 and #2). I eat grass. I bark at things are not there. I sniff every leaf, every tree, every insect. They finally catch me and lead me back into the house. They hand me a Greenie. I suppose this is some sort of bribe, inducing me to keep quiet and out of their way. It works for about 15 minutes.
5:00
They finally turn off the computers. He goes to retrieve my food. She gets ready for my walk. Do I have Them well trained, or what?
6:00
They sit down to dinner. Once again, I station myself at their feet - waiting. My hynotic eyes begin their work. It's only a matter of moments.
7:00pm
He is nowhere to be found. Probably in his game room again. He has to come out sometime, so I will wait. But there She is -- on the couch, reading, ready for some quality time with me. I leap and land on Her, all 67 pounds of me. I know she appreciates this gesture of love and admiration. But why are Her eyes bulging out of her head?
9:00pm
They are watching TV. I personally don't get it. What's so interesting about a box that emits funny noises and strange sights? I'm only interested when I see a dog or other animal on screen. That's when I sit up and take notice. I give a little "woof" to let them know I rule THIS house. Yessiree, this place is my domain. What? Oh. She is making me get down off the couch. I thought she understood that part of my job around here is to be "couch anchor". Guess she forgot again. I'll give her a little reminder later.
11:00pm
Time for bed. I start my sneak attack into the bedroom. I attempt to get on the bed, but She is wise to me. She makes me leave the room and closes the door in my droopy face. Does she not love me anymore? I'll show her. I'll wake her up an extra hour earlier tomorrow.
11:10pm
I circle the couch 5 times before collapsing. What a day. It's hard work supervising them all day. How would they ever live without me? I shudder to think. I close my eyes and dream of big open fields and an endless supply of chewie bones.

Things I Think About

These are some random thoughts that just popped into my head the last few days. I thought I'd share them:

1. How can an ant can lift something many times his body weight, and not get back strain? How fair is that? And why don't we have that ability during a move?
2. The people who say there's nothing wrong with our healthcare system have their healthcare completely paid for by the government/taxpayers. Coincidence? I think not.
3. Why, when given the choice between tile, linoleum, bare floors, or carpet, does a cat ALWAYS choose the throw up on the carpet??
4. Why is the "season of giving" automatically equated with "how much" is spent on the giving?
5. Why do we spend so much time worrying about what others think of us, when we don't know for certain what those people really think? Or do we just all tend to have guilty consciences?
6. A new program should be implemented at all movie theaters: each patron is given a paintball gun before the show. Any talkers, cell phone users, etc. can and should be fired upon at will by the other patrons. The dry cleaning bill is the responsibility of the recipient of said paint balls.
7. I had a wonderful idea for a new reality show: It's called TV Exec Makeover. We take a bunch of overpaid, creativity-draining TV executives (you know, the ones who always have "suggestions" to make on how to improve the shows that don't need improving, canceling the shows that shouldn't be canceled, and promoting the shows that should never have been aired). We downgrade their jobs to being set hands on a moderately popular TV show, and force them to do the work of the Grunts. If they last the season (as underpaid, underappreciated, overworked, etc), they can return to their job. If they don't, they are thrown out of the TV business. I think this would go a long ways towards keeping the worthy execs, who really like TV and are dedicated to making it good. Let's bring back watchable TV, people!!
8. If someone asks for your opinion, and you give it, and they don't like it, should you really be surprised?
9. Why is it that the government is always so quick to cash your checks, but always so slow in giving you refunds?
10. When I was 10, I thought 30 was old. When I was 20, I thought 40 was old. When I was 30, I thought, my god, can I really be getting older? When did this start happening?? And why wasn't I told sooner that this was going to happen?

Lessons Learned from "A Christmas Story"

All I Need To Know About Life I Learned From Watching the Movie “A Christmas Story”

• Question Authority. Just because your mother insists “You’ll shoot your eye out” doesn’t mean you will. Go for the BB gun anyway.
• Try new foods – that meatloaf may very well be delicious if you give it a try. Eating like a piggy is optional.
• Expand your vocabulary. Your dad can help you with this. You’ll learn soon enough what’s acceptable to say in front of others – at the risk of getting the soap treatment. This is also a great way to spend quality time with the “old man”.
• Actions speak louder than words. A triple dog dare must always be answered, even if it means getting your tongue stuck on a metal pole in the schoolyard.
• Anticipating something is usually better than getting it. That secret decoder pin you’ve been waiting for may not be as great as you hope. Learn to accept the disappointment gracefully.
• Enjoy the journey, and focus less on the destination. Just because the store is closing in 10 minutes doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy the parade. Besides, Santa may not be in the jolliest of moods when you do sit on his lap. Ho. Ho. Ho.
• Be kind of animals. Otherwise they may steal your turkey and force you to eat a smiling Chinese duck.
• Stand up to bullies. This will also allow you to practice your newly expanded vocabulary, and gain the respect of your peers. Just watch out for your mom.
• Learn to be gracious and appreciative. Although that hideous bunny suit may be a “pink nightmare” to you, think about how much enjoyment Aunt Clara got in making it for you, and how cute your mother thinks you look.
• Sex education can be fun, especially when you glance upon a leg-lamp’s naught “gleam of electric sex” in the window.
• Learn from your parents. They can teach you useful things like how tame a menacing furnace, replace a fuse, or change a tire in less than 4 minutes. Learning their swear words is optional, and should only be attempted in the most dire circumstances. Otherwise, you’ll risk getting the soap treatment from Mom.
• Learn a foreign language. If for no other reason than to learn to properly pronounce the word “FRAGILE” (No, it’s not Italian).
• The best things come in small packages. Just because something comes in a big box doesn’t mean it’s a “major award”. It could be just a lamp.
• Bribery rarely works to your advantage. Just because you give your teacher the biggest fruit basket doesn’t mean you’ll get that A+ on your Christmas Theme.
• Some things can’t be fixed – you matter how much glue you use.
  

Oh Turkey Day.. How Do I Love Thee?

I thought I might add these photos of the "kids", as they seem to signify the true spirit of Thanksgiving -- togetherness, and anticipation of the feast (that's Sage's tongue sticking out, like the Hungry Howie guy).

Another Thanksgiving is almost here, and this time Big Dave and I will be hosting it in our home. We (well, Big Dave, actually) will be cooking everything from scratch (except the pie crust), using the many fine cookbooks we bought in Savannah. My mom and dad will be our victims... I mean guests... and will be here for a couple of days. Yay. Sorry, did that not sound sincere? Lemme try that again... YAY!

I am looking foward to the oven roasted turkey, the cornbread stuffing with walnuts, the whippped taters, green bean casserole, the fresh roles with real Wisconsin butter. And, of course, the pumpkin pecan pie (layer of pecans on the pie crust). My mouth is already watering.

After the feast, we'll be playing a round of golf, to help work off all the evil food. But not real golf. Big Dave and I have made up our own rules in regards to the sport, and they are as follows:

1. Never keep score. It's much more fun to imagine your next hit as the "hole in one" you've always dreamed about, even if it's really your 10th swing.

2. If you don't like where your ball landed, just pick it up and move it to a more desirable area. 3. The "par" score is just a guideline. We've always found that the higher your score, the more talented you are, because you have more swings under your belt. Practice makes perfect, right?

4. Sandtraps are merely golf course decorations, and should not be taken seriously.

5. Any hitting of a moving target (squirrels, golf carts, fellow golfers, etc.) should be considered better than a hole in one, and extra points awarded accordingly. After all, you did hit a moving target -- do you know how difficult that is?

We add rules as we go, but so far, it's worked well for us.

Hershey on my Mind

Did you hear that? Listen carefully, and you'll notice the sound of my stomach busily digesting all the chocolate I have consumed over the past week. Yes, I spent a week at Hershey, and lived to tell the tale. I endured decadent chocolate desserts, a chocolate massage, and a chocolate-buying spree. I even ate steak sauteed in a chocolate reduction sauce (delicious!) I have visited my mecca, paid my respects (and money and some inches on my waistline), and can now lay claim to harmony with the universe. All is right with the world (insert big contented sigh here). Best of all, I can now say that I am helping charity whenever I purchase Hershey products. Why? Because a certain percentage of all sales go towards the maintenance and expansion of the Hershey School. The school was set up by Milton Hershey in the early 1900s to house and educate orphan boys. It was later expanded to include girls and children whose parents are struggling to make ends meet. There are currently about 1,400 students, and it's open to kids from all over the US, and the families do not pay a dime for anything. Their schooling, their clothes, their food, their upkeep, EVERYTHING is taken care of by the Hershey Foundation. They live in homes with guardians (parents, really). When they graduate, they can receive a college scholarship of $70,000 to be applied to the school of their choice. These kids are given a chance at a decent life -- something every child deserves. What could be better than that?

We also enjoyed some time in Amish country, rode in an Amish buggy, enjoyed Amish cooking, got lost in a corn maze (but finished after 2 hours), explored caves on foot and in a boat, and just generally enjoyed the beautiful countryside. Above are some photos from our trip:

(1) Me inside the Indian Echo Cave

(2) Photo from the parking lot of Hershey Chocolate World. (That's a world I could live in).

(3) Crystal clear springs in the IE Cave. The photo (which is sideways) doesn't do it justice -- it's an amazing site.

(4) Remain of the pumpkin patch on the farm where we did the corn maze. We just missed the Halloween celebration by a couple of days, but the maze was fun -- we did it at night with flashlights.