The Christmas I Remember Most

Le Chrissimmissy I Le Rrrmemmbeerr Moste.

The Christmas I remember most is the Christmas my family will never let me forget. In fact this particular Christmas, and many thereafter, began something like this: In a lovely home, in a conservative neighborhood, in a cookie-cutter suburban Utah city, I was likely the first to awaken my poor old Gramma Merle who at night would wear a scarf around her head to protect her newly picked-through coif. Then I would crawl into bed with her where she whispered something like, “Elizabeth, it's 4:30 in the morning, don't you go and wake everyone up.” When she would fall back asleep, I would sneak back out of her sofa-bed, and traipse downstairs where I ogled the twinkling lights, the rotund home-made felt stockings and the largest stack of presents this side of middle-class America. Indefinitely, I became exhausted from awaiting the arrival of my competition, and fall back asleep on the couch. When each of them arrived, my six siblings and I would find our own special corner of the living room that we would deem 'Our Space'. This room is where the paper tearing would commence on the early morning of December 25^th, and 'Our Space' was where we gathered our own coveted booty. Pajama clad toddlers-to-teens became one-eyed, one-legged, grisly green pirates.

Mutiny against all order was the order of the day. The teens slept through Luke Chapter 2 while the tots sucked on their candy canes tossing their tangerines and apples aside. The sounds of shredding paper permeated the room with 'wows' and an intermittent 'thanks mom and dad', 'thanks Santa Clause'. The dimly lit basement living room was now the Cave of Wonders. Skis had fallen to the ground, new gargantuan stuffed teddy bears named Duncan were being drooled on and the newest video game console was bleep bleeping in an even darker corner of the room. After one seven year old girl (that's me) saw mounds and mounds of treasure and perused her brothers' and sisters' 'Spaces', she enviously declared, in the whiniest, (so I'm told), most pathetic voice for all to hear, “BUT I WANTED MORE!!!”

Now, growing up, perhaps the only thing my parents could ever be guilty of is providing too well for us seven kids. Certainly, I was dealt an earful by a watchful parent immediately following my ungrateful exclamation, but it is the lesson that I continue learning in the Christmases following that have made a powerful mark upon my life. Every Christmas, every sibling and both parents remind me of my selfish declaration. Especially at Christmastime, those words, “BUT I WANTED MORE” ring through my ears as I see others who are less fortunate. Ironically, now it seems, that each year I want for less than the year before. Perhaps this year I want for three things. I want the courage to forgive those who have trespassed against me, the humility to serve my neighbor, and I really wouldn't mind a pair of those sweater-boots everyone is wearing. So while that particular Christmas may have begun in an uneventful way, its never really ended. I'm sure years will pass, and I will still never hear the end of it. I'm grateful for that.

I published the above on my blog just in case it never gets published by Desnews.

Lil' Tidbits

So, it's been a month and a half since I updated my blog. I'm not very good at this, but I have been busy. I am currently writing another novel. The first novel was lost last October when my PC crashed, and since I wasn't ready for that character to die, I had to mourn her loss, it took a year to get over the mourning process, but I think I have put her to rest, and may resurrect her in the future. I have been doing research for my novel most every night and have the outline and some or most of the first chapter completed. My novel's heroine is Suzanne, so while I will not tell you what the novel is about, you may ask how she is. Some of you may know who Anadorinia is, this will give you a clue as to who Suzanne might be. Suzanne is a gamer, you see. She loves computers and all nerdy gothic virtual reality-type computer games. Don't laugh. I will never be an Ayn Rand, I may never even get around to reading an Ayn Rand novel, and most people will probably think what I write is complete drivel, but it must be done. Just a couple of funny things that have happened in the last little while. Richard and I went to Las Vegas for our eighth anniversary. That was so much fun- it was like an extended amazing date. We went to see 'Beatles Love' by Cirque de Soliel. It was amazing. So, I wanted to find a steal of a deal to wear on my super-uber date with my hot hunka love. So, naturally, I crossed the street from the Imperial Palace, where one should never spend the night, to the Forum shops at Ceasar's Palace. I had myself an Aztec Haute Chocolate- yes haute is spelled correctly. It burned all the way down and all the way out, but it was delicioso. So, then, I'm minding my own business, thinking I'm looking haute, when this very delicioso looking latino grabs my hand and pulls me into his shop. He looks at me in my eyes and says, "I din't min to be rrrude, but ckwhat doo yoo ckwhere underrr yourr (ch)eyes?| I'm like, "mmm...(embarassed to say) just some botanical cover-up sticky thing." "So, ckhow eld arrre you?" (Thinking he's going to flatter me by feigning to guess my age as a much younger twenty something) I say, "I'm thirty" He smirks and says, "Thirrrty-what?" Grrrrrrrr........."Thirty....years....old" Needless to say I didn't buy his damn products with smashed up 24 karat gold bits in it. There were some more funny happenings, I'll have to write about tomorrow- since Anadorinia and Corker have a rendezvous in Stormwind tonight.