Lord of the Rings marathon… c’mon kids. Who’s with me? Out with the old with a little harmless Viggo gazing.
While I was looking for things to be miserable about yesterday, I managed to put bad attitude on ice for a couple of hours. We finally got motivated enough to make a move to the ski hill at around eleven. We tend not to feel overly guilty about not getting up there over the holidays as the crowds can be wildly irritating. Wait another week and we’ll have the hill to ourselves.
Anyways, after 45 minutes getting everyone off their respective couches (ahem!) and screens, and into snowpants and all the other paraphernalia, we were out. 12 minutes, door to door. Goes into the Annals of Gratitude, as how fortunate is that? We even managed to get parking close to the lift. I was on Fidge duty, wrenching lower back and knees, bent awkwardly and uncomfortably on platter, while LoverMan(?!?) was to take the boys up the chair. One glitch. The feet of Sally Beasley Bean could not, would not, be squeezed, squished or crammed into brand new ski boots.
“Did the guy switch pairs on us?”
Cram, shove, wail, cram, shove, “ooooowwwwwwwwwww!….”
“Ummm… and I would know that, why?”
Cram, shove, wail, cram, shove, “They are hurrrrrtiiiiiiing my toooooooooooes!…..”
“They fit him in the store?!?!?”
Cram, shove, wail, cram, shove, “They doooooooooon’t fiiiiiiiiiiit!…..”
“Yes, you saw him walk around in them….”
Cram, shove, wail, cram, shove, “Ooooooooooowwwwwwwwww!…..”
“$%&*&%@!$@$&*%$#@#$%&*!!!!”
Beasley, with a little too much satisfaction, went to enjoy some poutine and hot chocolate in the lounge while we initiated our respective slopes. Zip got some great Dad-time.
Despite certain fear and apprehension anticipating another ear splitting, skull cracking (my own, of course) season of coercing- I mean, encouraging- banshee child down bunny slope… all was well. No screaming. No wailing. No shrieks reverberating off the valley walls. Not once, in our two runs, did I ever feel as though a dull knitting needle had been inserted into my ear and deep into the fleshy bits of my brain.
Did someone say sofa?
If this is one of our most bestest Christmases ever, why am I unable to get off the couch? Granted, it is a new couch. Soft and sinky and big enough for two without having to smell each other’s feet. However, big, soft, sinky couch aside, the afternoons render me almost completely useless. Sure, I’ll hang with the kids, play games, even read some, as long as I am prone and warm, and an activity doesn’t require otherwise, I’m in. Bear in mind that each of these activities is punctuated by brief, albeit heavenly, dozes. A new subscription to digital cable- hundreds of channels, movies (yes, some good ones) all day, hasn’t helped. While I have managed to not neglect the kids, the same can’t be said for the HoneyBear. My dog hasn’t been walked in… many, many days. I won’t let her make me feel guilty. Yeah, right.
Imagine in taupe with only chaise and loveseat… not a full sectional. It’s not this canvas, but a soft, snuggly chenille-ey sort of stuff; bright burgudy, purple and teal cushions for some pop along with pretty bright, burgundy and teal throws and my fave, somewhat worn, burgundy down comfy-ter… mmmmmmm.
Anyways, I digress… So, while I didn’t give it too much thought in those days before and after Christmas, now I’m starting to worry.
Perhaps it’s these overcast, dreary days. Maybe it’s that I have no plans, immediate or otherwise for earning any money (Gazette bits, aside). Perhaps it’s this decision to homeschool and the responsibility of taking on not only the feeding, watering, clothing and comfort of this little person, but also preparing him academically for the demands of life and all of it’s challenges.
Or is it simply the overwhelmedness that comes with the impending New Year and all of the new expectations that we attach to this annual changing of the guard, rebirth, reawakening? Somehow from this one last day of a month to the first day of the next, as we move from December to January, there is to be a renewed, dare I say, inspired, sense of one’s life and also one’s purpose. Oh, God…
I’ve recently become a dedicated convert of the concept of surrender, but could I possibly be misinterpreting this process?
Or, maybe it’s just simply a constant diet of wine, meat, cheese and cookies over the past two weeks that’s done it?
I have the world by the tail, or is it my oyster? Seize the day! Get some friggin’ perspective! At least just get off the effing sofa… and go eat a carrot, for chris’sake!
Overwhelmed? Nope. Disgusted? Nope. Sickened? Nope. A lovely Christmas morning.
Relatively speaking, this was the least consumptive -gifts/stuff, not food/booze- of any Christmas in recent memory. For a change, Santa went for quality over quantity and the result was a blissfully restrained Christmas morning. Despite the excitement of nine, five and three year old children, this was so NOT the mad, spastic, random ’rip ‘n run’ of years past.
Just lovely.
Our holiday party schedule began last night. After a visit to Santa at our local coffee shop, we all met here at our place at around four for an early Happy Hour. Good grief… Then at about 7:30 we all moved over to the neighbors for a “low-key, relaxed get-together” of a few couples (with kids). Well after the initial three and a half hours of Happy Hour consisting of beer, wine and various flavours of Martinis, ”low-key” sort of goes out the window. Beer, wine and various flavours, Martinis continued…
Well, essentially two down, five to go. I’m shooting a wedding this afternoon, so that gets thrown on the list of parties we have going on between now and Christmas Day. If there’s people and liquid favours, it qualifies.
I am not, nor have I ever been, a partier. Though since house fiasco 2007 and our subsequent and very fortunate extrication, I have lately been known to enjoy perhaps more than a nip or two…
After the wedding this afternoon, we are off to what will surely be another hummmm-dinger, given that this is not your typical BYOB/BYOF kind of gig. Our friends are going all out: food, booze, food, booze, great food and more booze. I think there will be a turkey involved. I’m not sure I’m up for it. However, since I like them a lot, I will make a very concerted effort to de-lame my sorry, now 39 year old self, and partake.
I have to keep in mind, though, hubby’s 44th is tomorrow and the expectations are high. Did I say high? What I meant was, completely unreasonable and totally, unequivocally devoid of any sense of reality. I will need every ounce of energy I can muster to be sure he is pampered, worshipped and honoured in the manner he would so really love to become accustomed. This… this is a challenge I’m not sure I’m up for…
Here are the submissions for the December Group Writing Project at MamaBlogga. Lot’s of interesting perspectives on The Best Time of the Year!
This has always been my favorite time of year. This year it is the absolute bestest, most favoritest time of year… any year. Here’s why and while some may apply every year, a special few are unique to this, Christmas 07;)
Mandarin oranges.
Snow days- I know it’s crazy, but I love ‘em.
Essence of cloves and cinnamon permeating from my new basket of pinecones (loathed by cleaning lady… must ransack all closets and drawers to find where she’s stashed it every week).
There’s a tree in my house, with lights.
I am a recent initiate to the infinite wonders of English Stilton. I cannot get enough of the stuff. I think it makes me smell funny…
A fridge stocked with cheese fondue… it is all about the cheese, no?
My kids are happy and healthy- not a runny booger among ‘em.
The top, front tooth of a fourth grader, lost. At long last… after many months a-wiggling.
‘Tis the season for birthdays…no not Jesus. Hubby’s… and My Own. The Last Birthday of my Thirties. Therefore, all of the above are just that much more significant.
Finally, out from under what could be considered no less than the most interminably trying, stressful, utterly excruciating project of out lives, I am content. It saw a polite, tidy end this month. A needed education in the power of surrender and gratitude. Freedom!
So Cheers! To The Group Writing Project and to this, The Best Time of the Year… any year!
We picked the boys up from the bus yesterday and headed up to get The Christmas Tree. We don’t have to go far as there is a partially retired Christmas Tree Farm about 5 minutes away. Drive a couple of kilometres up into the bush, off the highway, and the tree farm is quite obvious. Perfect pine trees, once meticulously groomed, growing off the tops of spindly, bare trunks, as if they’d all dropped their drawers. These tree farms aren’t unusual to our area, so the sight of pantless trees isn’t a rare one.
After careful analysis of several potential victims, here’s Manly Man taking down the Chosen One.
Conquerers of Tree!
No dummy, Fidge. Girl child wasn’t getting out of warm Jeep to kill some tree!
It was a great drive home from Calgary. Uneventful. Through the park and home before dark. Near Canmore heading west:
The last few days were spent in Calgary. A trip to the city. Not bad roads through the park, either way, thankfully. We stayed with Gramps. We had a night out with friends. We got new tires at Costco…
Costco… It has been about four years since I had been into a Costco. I had forgotten the sheer rush. The intense and mighty buzz. Just walking through the doors. At Costco, I am an Executive. I have a card that says so. With the flash of said card, I am welcomed in the door with a smile.
Mere moments inside and I am completely and totally overwhelmed with want- no, NEED- the spending drive unconsciously triggered. Are they pumping something into the air or am I just a sucker(one of millions given the friggin’ crowds), for rows on rows, pile after pile, stack upon stack, of stuff. The the ipod/cd player thingamabob, the 52″ TV, the all-in-one wireless printer/fax/copier/whatever, DVD’s, CD’s, the books: Beatrix Potter, Oprah’s Book Club, Rachel Ray and freaking Dr. Oz; sheepskin slippers, jackets, pj’s, rolls upon rolls- metres upon metres- of Christmas wrap, a $65 roast, cheeses, croissants. I looked at, gazed upon and considered it all. Every aisle. Power tools, batteries, endless paper products and garbage bags, batteries and frozen hors ‘doerves.
It’s a sickness. One I am ashamed to admit to. A sickness in that, despite the crowds, just being there was strangely, pathetically exhilarating. What was a stop for $540 (great deal!) worth of tires turned into a ridiculous amount of money… I know though that I am not alone. I can take comfort in the fact that nearly everyone in that tire lineup, that morning, went through that store. Clearly, Costco knows this, too.
Keep on going, and the chances are that you will stumble on something, perhaps when you are least expecting it. I never heard of anyone ever stumbling on something sitting down. -Charles Kettering
Most of our obstacles would melt away if, instead of cowering before them, we should make up our minds to walk boldly through them. -Orison Swett Marden
… when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason. - John Keats
Think of yourself as on the threshold of unparalleled success. whole, clear, glorious life lies before you. Achieve! Achieve! - Andrew Carnegie
As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives. -Henry David Thoreau
