CHRISTMAS EVERYDAY

One of my all-time favorite Christmas stories is "Christmas Everyday". I am a collector of Christmas stories and I ran onto this story one day when I was at the library looking for Christmas stories to add to my collection. I can't remember who wrote the story, but it is an old-fashioned story written back in late eighteen hundreds I think. Anyway, it used to be a tradition in our family to read that story every Christmas. Now we didn't read it on Christmas Eve, because for this story to have meaning, you have to wait until Christmas Day Night - when Christmas is over and you are sick to death of all the food, and sweets, and wrapping paper, and gifts, and family, and if one more person skips up to you and says, "Merry Christmas!" you are just going to scream! Been there? Oh yeah.

This story is about a little girl who has a wonderful Christmas. She jumps up and runs to see what Santa has brought her and she opens all her gifts and then goes outside and plays in the snow all day and comes in and eats way too much Christmas dinner and way, way too much candy and sweets and goes to bed in a bad mood (like most everyone does on Christmas). In fact she has such a wonderful Christmas day that she wishes it could go on and on forever. She actually wishes that it could be Christmas everyday forever. Well, it just so happens that the Christmas Fairy (you didn't know there was a Christmas Fairy did you?) hears her and decides to grant her wish. So that night she goes to sleep and the next day she wakes up and it is Christmas again! She can hardly believe it, but it is true! She jumps up and runs to see what Santa has brought her and she opens all her gifts and then goes outside and plays in the snow all day and comes in and eats way too much Christmas dinner and way, way too much candy and sweets and goes to bed in a bad mood. What a wonderful 2nd Christmas day!

The next day it happens again and the next and the next and the next. Pretty soon it's not so fun any more! She gets perfectly sick of eating turkey and she starts to hate candy and sweets and she hates wrapping presents and taking them to people so she just throws them over the fence and yells, "Take it you horrid thing!" People start getting so many presents they have to shovel them off the sidewalk, and turkeys get so expensive that people can hardly afford them. People run out of money because of buying presents everyday and get put in the "Poor House". Everyone starts hating her because the word has gotten out who it was who wished it would be Christmas everyday. Finally she decides she has to do something about it so she writes to the Christmas Fairy and asks her to take back her wish, but the Christmas Fairy doesn't answer her so she has to write everyday for the rest of the year. Anyway, finally the Christmas Fairy grants her wish and puts Christmas back to just once a year.

Which is, thank goodness, just the way it should be.

Fear Factor

Well, I'm about done with all the Christmas concerts. I have one more to go next Sunday. Last Sunday I went to one where several choirs and groups were performing. I was singing with one choir and playing for another choir. I was looking over the program when I got there and saw my name on ANOTHER MUSICAL NUMBER! YIKES! I didn't even know we were doing it there! It was a number we had done at another concert, and I guess she forgot to tell me we were doing it there also. Anyway, thank goodness I had my music with me. That number was "The Coventry Carol" with piano, violin and harp. The number I had to accompany the choir for was "O Holy Night". It was a different piano accompanyment than just the standard "O Holy Night" you always hear. I rate it up with the more difficult numbers I have ever done. In fact, one part I just basically had to memorize, because it was so difficult, I couldn't look at the music and at my hands at the same time. I normally don't look at my hands much, but in this part they are jumping all over the piano so you have to. Anyway, I practiced and practiced and practiced. I played it perfectly at home. I played it perfectly at practiced. And I screwed it up at the performance. I didn't totally screw it, but I did lose my place twice at those two hard spots. I just totally lost where I was for a measure or two. Twice. The choir director said he didn't notice, but that was just because there was a lady playing the organ and a lady playing the violin along with me. Thank goodness for the cover. If I had been playing it alone, it would have been obvious. The thing that gets me though is the "fear factor". I can play it at home and at practice, but when you add the "fear factor" into it, that's why I screw it. I tell myself all the way up there, "You can do this, you can do this." But when I sit down to play it, my evil twin says, "No you can't, you're going to screw it up." And I do. I wish I could learn how to focus and block all that out. Well, I have one more chance. I'm going to play the same song next Sunday. Like I tell my husband whenever I get up to go up to the piano to perform: "Pray for me."

Don't Worry, Be Happy

I haven't posted much lately. This is due to my life being so crazy lately. What with trying to shop and decorate for Christmas I've also had to squeeze in many music practices lately. I've attended one concert already and have one this weekend and one next weekend. Today was our last day of Seminary for the semester - WOOHOO! Besides trying to get the students Christmas gifts ready for the last day, we also did a class picture. But another thing that has kept my mind occupied has been an altercation between some students. It's one of those "he said this" and "he said that" kind of things. But ultimately it caused one boy to come to me last Monday and say he was not going to come to class anymore and wanted to join Home Study. At first he wouldn't tell me what started it, so I have learned bit by bit until finally I have figured the whole thing out, and sadly enough, it actually started about a month ago, maybe more. One of the boys made a comment in class, which another boy took as a racial slur. It was not a racial slur, and was not directed at the second boy, but the second boy took it as a racial slur against him. Now I agree that the first boy should have immediately said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded, please forgive me" but he didn't. I was there and heard the comment and I should have made him appologize. All I did, when the second boy tried to start up an argument was hold up my hand and tell them to stop, knock it off, and get to work on their assignment. Now this has escalated to parents being mad and going to my supervisor and their bishops. Yikes - why did I want to teach one more year? So now my teaching partner and I were informed today that we have to be the ones to fix it. So now, because we are into the Christmas break, we will have to try to get the 3 boys together- yes there is one more boy but I never have figured out how he is involved - and try to work this out. We were informed this morning that we need to get them together more informally and not make a big deal about it, and try not to focus on the problem, but to work it out so all are happy. Maybe we should just get the 3 boys and all sit on the floor and hold hands and sing, "Kumbahyah".

BOOKS

I ran across this poem in a catalog the other day, and I loved it - it described all the many books at my house:

Books to the ceiling, books to the sky.
My pile of books are a mile high.
How I love them!
How I need them!
I'll have a long beard by the time I read them.

Black Friday

How many of you went shopping on Black Friday? After last year I swore I would never go again. Last year I got up at 4:15, brushed my teeth, threw on some clothes and went to Office Max where they were selling MP3 players cheap. Yes, I got the 2 MP3 players I wanted and for the price I wanted. I was only about the 6th or 7th person in line. As I was happily leaving with my purchases, congratulating myself for not only getting up early, but picking a place that wasn't quite as popular as the Best Buy across the street, I heard a customer comment that they had been across the street and a fight had broken out. As I left the parking lot I saw a couple of police cars making their way, sirens blaring, to Best Buy. So I resolved to never do that again, and felt lucky that I hadn't been at the Best Buy. So this year I didn't get up to join in the craziness, but Friday night about 8pm, after my husband had put up the Christmas tree, I realized I still had enough time to run to Dillards to get that bead garland I wanted, so off I went. There weren't many people there, but I did get the bead garland at 33% off - what a deal!

FOOD

It's Thanksgiving this week, and of course our thoughts turn to food. My family has their favorites that they like every year - in fact every year I ask around if they want something different, but they always want the same things - Turkey (of course), cornbread stuffing, gravy, broccoli-rice casserole, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, pink stuff (do you know what pink stuff is?), black olives, rolls, pumpkin pie, pecan pie.

This made me think about myself as a child and I wondered what the things I remembered as my favorites back then. I think my all-time favorite thing to eat when I was young was a hamburger from Broncos Drive-in Restaurant. We didn't get them often, but I thought they were the best thing I had ever put in my mouth. I also thought the hamburgers at the elementary school cafeteria were great. Some other things that Mom actually made that were favorites of mine: Eggnog, Rice pudding, Steamed Carrot Pudding at Christmas with lemon sauce, hamburgers and hot dogs we used to cook down at Fontenelle Park or in our backyard, oatmeal, macaroni and tomatoes, fresh corn on the cob, chicken soup with homemade noodles, chicken enchilada, cherry cheesecake, Dad's homemade fudge, Mom's homemade peach jam.

Things Mom cooked that I didn't like: Spice cake, Thanksgiving stuffing, pizza, tamale pie, melted cheese sandwiches (she didn't grill them, just put a hunk of cheese on bread and put it in the oven), sour kraut with hot dogs, or beans and hot dogs. I always hated it whenever I would get up in the morning and Mom would tell us we were out of milk. She would cook pancakes but then we had to eat them with no milk to wash them down. Hated that. I hated even worse when dad would go out of town and sometimes we would go 2 or 3 days without milk. Hated that too. I also didn't like the Christmas candy dad would get. He loved hard candy and would buy ribbon candy and different "minty" hard candy, some hard candy with kind of gel filling. I never liked peppermint candy canes we got for Christmas. Mom's mince pie wasn't my favorite either.

Some favorite things at my Grandmothers were: dutch oven mutton, bread and milk with fresh onions and icicle radishes from the garden, Grandma's brown cake, hot cracked wheat cereal, a slice of homemade bread with homemade butter and homemade jam - put in a bowl with fresh cream poured over the top, sprinkled with sugar. My great aunt used to make the best pies in the world! My favorites were rubarb and sour cream raisin. I used to save my money so every year I could go to her cafe and order a piece of sour cream raisin pie on Pioneer Day.

I'm sure I had more favorites and more non-favorites, but these were what I could think of at the moment.

Who do you think you're foolin'?

Okay, Amberlilies started it, and now Delirious has joined in, so I guess I will "hold hands and go bowling with them." I'm talking about this reminiscing about childhood confessions. I've tried and tried to think of another incident when I teased one of my siblings. Can't think of one right away, but here are a few things I remember.

Inside Stories and I used to share the Master Bedroom. For some reason Mom didn't want to be upstairs, so was using one of the bedrooms downstairs. This Master bedroom was really like two rooms in one. It was two distinct rooms, but you had to go through her bedroom to get to mine, and there was no door or wall, it was just open. I had a closet, and Inside Stories got to use the walk-in cedar closet just outside the Master bedroom. Anyway, Inside Stories was the typical teenager that hardly ever cleaned her room. When she did, it was a major event - and an event that I looked forward to with anticipation. She only did it about once or twice a year, and she would go through every drawer, clean out her closet and clean out from her bed. The things that would come out from under her bed were actually kind of gross, because they were usually leftover plates of food that had fossilized. The reason I would look forward to it, was because when I was sure she was done, which at this point she might leave the room - and that meant leave the trash can unattended, then I would go in there and go through the trash to see what wonderful and marvelous things she might be throwing away so that I could rescue them and hide them away in my drawers. I never wanted Inside Stories to see them, because she would get mad that I had got it out of the trash. I felt that if she had thrown it away, then she didn't want it, which made it fair game for anyone who just might be casually passing by her trash can on their way to their room.

The other childhood incident that immediately comes to mind is the time when I skipped school. I don't remember exactly why I didn't want to go to school that day, but I do remember that Inside Stories wasn't going to school either that day, and she looked perfectly healthy to me, so I guess I thought if she could get away with it, so could I. So I refused to go to school. I have no memory of arguing much with my mother, but somehow I found myself dressed for school and riding in the car with my dad taking me to school. I was still refusing to go, but for some reason he thought that if he took me to school, that I would just be obedient and get out when we got there and go on in to class. Wrong. When we got to school, it was obvious that school had already started. There was NO ONE in sight. Every one was in class, I could see all the classes through the windows. Well if Dad thought I was going to go to school LATE he had another think coming. He argued with me. I wouldn't get out. He threatened me. I wouldn't get out. He yelled at me. I wouldn't get out. He came around to my side of the car, opened it and PULLED me out of the car. I hung onto the door and wouldn't let go. He yelled. I cried. I said I wasn't going. Finally he either gave up or realized how stupid he looked trying to pull me off of the door and he got back into the car. He tried the calm reasoning talk. I wouldn't get out (when he got back in, so did I). Finally he gave me an "out" but I don't think he meant to. He said something about me thinking he didn't love me. I thought "Hey, that's a good angle" so I used it and agreed with him. He started the car and drove back home. I thought, "Yeah! I won!" Not so. The minute we got back into the kitchen (I guess he needed to wait to get back where Mom could experience this too,) he turned me around and gave me the hardest spanking I had ever had in my life and then sent me to my room. I remember going up to my room and looking in the full-length mirror in my room to see if I had his hand print on my butt. I didn't, but it was glowing red!) That's all I remember. I don't know if I stayed in my room all day or not. But I went to school the next day.

A tribute to Paul Simon:

When I was a little girl

You know the devil would call my name

He'd say now, "Who do, who do you think you're foolin'?"