In less than three hours, a year (and a decade) will be over. I wasn't going to make a big deal about it, but I just can't let this day pass without pausing to reflect (out loud, apparently) on how much has changed.
Ten years ago, I had been married a little more than a year. I lived in a darling little apartment (well, actually, it was pretty damn run down, but we loved it to pieces), had two kitties and relatively few worries.
If you had asked me then what the next decade would bring? Well, I had a vague idea that somewhere along the way we'd buy a house, have a couple of kids and I'd quit my job to stay home and raise them.
I imagined I'd live behind a white picket fence, drop in regularly on my mom and pal around with the women who had been my friends since high school. I thought I'd learn how to cook, resign myself to cleaning and become the domestic goddess I was sure I was meant to be.
In short, I had no clue what was in store for me.
A lot has happened to me in the last ten years. I've struggled with depression. Changed careers a couple of times. Left behind all that was familiar to explore the great unknown (twice). Experienced more pain than I thought I was capable of withstanding—and more joy than I ever knew was possible.
There were years I wasn't sure I was going to make it. And others where I couldn't believe my luck.
But I wouldn't trade a single minute of the last decade. You know why? Because it took every one of those 5,256,000 seconds to get me to where I am today. They shaped who I am and helped me realize who I was meant to be.
They led me to the moment where I fed my baby her last bottle of 2009, kissed her good night and wished her sweet dreams. They brought me to my Tori—the best thing that's ever happened to me.
So tonight, I wish you all a very Happy New Year—and hope the next decade finds you living a life well lived.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
How to Survive a Holiday Visit Home (with a baby).
Guess what? If you're reading this, you've survived the holidays (or at least most of them). Congratulations! I think you deserve a pat on the back. We all do.
I, of course, spent the holidays in Detroit. With my family. Allllll of my family. Complete with two sets of moms and dads, various siblings, their children and even a great grandparent or two. Which was lovely. Also, stressful, emotionally draining and exhausting.
But I got through it with my smile (mostly) intact. Want to know my secret? I've got ten of them.
When traveling with a nine-month-old, bring ear plugs. Last time we went home, Tori was still at the stage where she (mercifully) slept a lot. Not so much anymore. And, let me assure you, she was not pleased with the seating arrangement. Which she vocalized with the most obnoxious of screams. For hours at a stretch. Luckily, our radio is quite loud (it almost drowned them out). Next time, there will be ear plugs.
When someone asks you if you want a glass of wine, accept. Ah, alcohol. It takes the edge off, doesn't it? It also makes it easier to ignore insults and feign interest. Errr, just as an example.
When in situations where openly drinking isn't appropriate, switch to "pop." This is something I learned from a more experienced pair of parents. See, cola can hide a multitude of alcoholic lubricants, all of which make anything more fun. But the other relatives? Will just think you're exceptionally glad to see them.
When celebrating Christmas with a multitude of children, bring wire cutters. Nothing can change excited giggles to frustrated screams faster than an overly well packaged toy. Enter wire cutters, the instant liberator. They made my husband the most popular man in the room.
When celebrating Christmas with an infant, lower expectations. Everyone was excited to see Tori open her gifts. Everyone, that is, except for Tori. She really didn't get what the fuss was about. Didn't even want to rip the paper. Eat the paper, sure. But not rip it. I'm pretty sure her lack of interest frustrated a lot of folks. But I? Thoroughly enjoyed opening all those extra gifts.
When sleeping in a strange bed, remember you might need help getting to dreamland. My best friends of the past week? Tylenol PM and Benadryl. No matter what the day had dished out, those little helpers made sure I was able to make my way to dreamland without first spending hours rehashing events.
When at the mercy of other people's cooking, remember the scale will eventually forgive you. Sure, I may have eaten more calories in the last week than I usually consume in a month. But it was all in the name of family togetherness, so my waistline had to suffer. The scale? Deserves a holiday too.
When surrounded by free babysitters, remember to take advantage of it. You know what I did this week? I spent more than two hours inside a single shoe store (DSW, I heart you). Obviously, I did not have a baby in tow. With two sets of doting grandparents within minutes of each other, Brian and I actually got to spend some quality time together. Without baby. It was almost enough to make me want to move home...almost.
When traveling during the winter months, remember to be flexible. We were all set to come home on Monday. The car was packed, the kid was secured, and the dog was tied in. But winter? She had other plans. After seeing the highway was down to ruts, we turned around, going into the Holiday Visit Bonus Round.
When you finally get home, remember to appreciate the silence. Sure, it might seem a little quiet at first. A little lonely. But it's home. And in no time at all, you'll be back to dreading the next trip to the Motherland.
I, of course, spent the holidays in Detroit. With my family. Allllll of my family. Complete with two sets of moms and dads, various siblings, their children and even a great grandparent or two. Which was lovely. Also, stressful, emotionally draining and exhausting.
But I got through it with my smile (mostly) intact. Want to know my secret? I've got ten of them.
When traveling with a nine-month-old, bring ear plugs. Last time we went home, Tori was still at the stage where she (mercifully) slept a lot. Not so much anymore. And, let me assure you, she was not pleased with the seating arrangement. Which she vocalized with the most obnoxious of screams. For hours at a stretch. Luckily, our radio is quite loud (it almost drowned them out). Next time, there will be ear plugs.
When someone asks you if you want a glass of wine, accept. Ah, alcohol. It takes the edge off, doesn't it? It also makes it easier to ignore insults and feign interest. Errr, just as an example.
When in situations where openly drinking isn't appropriate, switch to "pop." This is something I learned from a more experienced pair of parents. See, cola can hide a multitude of alcoholic lubricants, all of which make anything more fun. But the other relatives? Will just think you're exceptionally glad to see them.
When celebrating Christmas with a multitude of children, bring wire cutters. Nothing can change excited giggles to frustrated screams faster than an overly well packaged toy. Enter wire cutters, the instant liberator. They made my husband the most popular man in the room.
When celebrating Christmas with an infant, lower expectations. Everyone was excited to see Tori open her gifts. Everyone, that is, except for Tori. She really didn't get what the fuss was about. Didn't even want to rip the paper. Eat the paper, sure. But not rip it. I'm pretty sure her lack of interest frustrated a lot of folks. But I? Thoroughly enjoyed opening all those extra gifts.
When sleeping in a strange bed, remember you might need help getting to dreamland. My best friends of the past week? Tylenol PM and Benadryl. No matter what the day had dished out, those little helpers made sure I was able to make my way to dreamland without first spending hours rehashing events.
When at the mercy of other people's cooking, remember the scale will eventually forgive you. Sure, I may have eaten more calories in the last week than I usually consume in a month. But it was all in the name of family togetherness, so my waistline had to suffer. The scale? Deserves a holiday too.
When surrounded by free babysitters, remember to take advantage of it. You know what I did this week? I spent more than two hours inside a single shoe store (DSW, I heart you). Obviously, I did not have a baby in tow. With two sets of doting grandparents within minutes of each other, Brian and I actually got to spend some quality time together. Without baby. It was almost enough to make me want to move home...almost.
When traveling during the winter months, remember to be flexible. We were all set to come home on Monday. The car was packed, the kid was secured, and the dog was tied in. But winter? She had other plans. After seeing the highway was down to ruts, we turned around, going into the Holiday Visit Bonus Round.
When you finally get home, remember to appreciate the silence. Sure, it might seem a little quiet at first. A little lonely. But it's home. And in no time at all, you'll be back to dreading the next trip to the Motherland.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Wishing You All a Very Merry Christmas.
Dear readers,
As 2009 draws to a close, I'd like to take a minute to thank you all for everything you've shared with me this year. A few months ago, no one but my very closest friends and family read this little blog of mine. And now? Now there's almost a hundred of you!
That might be small potatoes to some, but to me, it means the world. Thank you for being there. Thank you for listening to me whine, and for giving me advice. Thank you for laughing with me and for (virtually) wiping away my tears. Thank you for helping me navigate these first few months of motherhood and for assuring me it only gets worse.
Thank you.
This will be my last post for the next week or so—I'll be spending some quality time with my loved ones (and those who love to drive me crazy). But I'll be back soon (with plenty of new blog fodder, I'm sure).
In the meantime, have a very merry Christmas. May your days be filled with plenty of love, laughter, joy and whatever alcoholic beverage you need to get through all that family togetherness.
Hugs and kisses,
amber
Monday, December 21, 2009
The Ring.
For weeks, he’d been teasing me about my Christmas gift.
“You’re going to love it,” he’d say.
“It’s something you’ve been wanting for ages,” he’d hint.
“Hands down, it’s the most expensive gift I’ve ever bought,” he’d crow.
Which, to me, could mean only one thing. He had bought me a ring. An engagement ring.
When Christmas Eve finally arrived, he told me he was taking me out to dinner. And that I should wear something fancy.
So, thinking I was about to get engaged, I pulled out all the stops. My hair was curled (and sprayed) to perfection. My lip liner was applied with care. And my dress? Well, it was much too short and way too tight for my comfort, but I knew it was his favorite.
At the appointed hour he arrived in his steel chariot (a red Chevy Sprint) to whisk me off to dinner. Our destination? Olive Garden (hey, we were broke college students. It was fancy to us).
I don’t remember much about the meal. I imagine I had the mushroom ravioli, because that’s what I always got, but I was too nervous to eat much. Every time he took a breath or shifted in his seat, I was sure The Moment had come.
But it wasn’t until the dinner plates were cleared that he made his move. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a brightly wrapped box. A ring-sized box.
“Here. Open it.”
Fingers shaking, I ripped the paper off, revealing the burgundy velvet box inside. Taking a deep breath, I opened it, expecting to see the sparkle of a diamond winking back at me.
Not a plastic ghost.
But that’s what I saw. A Halloween ring featuring a smiling, Casper-style ghost. The kind you get for 25 cents out of a vending machine.
I blinked, thinking I was seeing things, but no. When I opened my eyes again, it was still there.
He chose that moment to start laughing uproariously. “You should see your face,” he said. “Oh man, what I wouldn’t give to have a camera right now.”
That’s when I started to cry. Quietly, so as not to alarm the other diners.
“What? Why are you crying? It was a joke! You’re supposed to be laughing!”
My only answer was a stifled sob.
“Come on, that wasn’t your real gift,” he said, fumbling around in his coat pocket. “I’ve got it here somewhere…here. Here it is.”
Sniffling quietly, I ripped the package open to reveal my second velvet box of the evening. This time, there were diamonds inside. Two of them.
He’d bought me diamond earrings. Beautiful diamond earrings. Earrings I later wore proudly.
But at that moment, all I could think about was the diamond solitaire that wasn’t. And at the sight of them? I cried even harder.
You know what the amazing thing is? When he finally got around to proposing a few months later, I actually said yes.
This post was written for the third challenge at Write of Passage. The assignment? Write about the most memorable Christmas gift you ever received. This, as you might imagine, wins. Hands down. Now go see what the other participants have to say for themselves!
“You’re going to love it,” he’d say.
“It’s something you’ve been wanting for ages,” he’d hint.
“Hands down, it’s the most expensive gift I’ve ever bought,” he’d crow.
Which, to me, could mean only one thing. He had bought me a ring. An engagement ring.
When Christmas Eve finally arrived, he told me he was taking me out to dinner. And that I should wear something fancy.
So, thinking I was about to get engaged, I pulled out all the stops. My hair was curled (and sprayed) to perfection. My lip liner was applied with care. And my dress? Well, it was much too short and way too tight for my comfort, but I knew it was his favorite.
At the appointed hour he arrived in his steel chariot (a red Chevy Sprint) to whisk me off to dinner. Our destination? Olive Garden (hey, we were broke college students. It was fancy to us).
I don’t remember much about the meal. I imagine I had the mushroom ravioli, because that’s what I always got, but I was too nervous to eat much. Every time he took a breath or shifted in his seat, I was sure The Moment had come.
But it wasn’t until the dinner plates were cleared that he made his move. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a brightly wrapped box. A ring-sized box.
“Here. Open it.”
Fingers shaking, I ripped the paper off, revealing the burgundy velvet box inside. Taking a deep breath, I opened it, expecting to see the sparkle of a diamond winking back at me.
Not a plastic ghost.
But that’s what I saw. A Halloween ring featuring a smiling, Casper-style ghost. The kind you get for 25 cents out of a vending machine.
I blinked, thinking I was seeing things, but no. When I opened my eyes again, it was still there.
He chose that moment to start laughing uproariously. “You should see your face,” he said. “Oh man, what I wouldn’t give to have a camera right now.”
That’s when I started to cry. Quietly, so as not to alarm the other diners.
“What? Why are you crying? It was a joke! You’re supposed to be laughing!”
My only answer was a stifled sob.
“Come on, that wasn’t your real gift,” he said, fumbling around in his coat pocket. “I’ve got it here somewhere…here. Here it is.”
Sniffling quietly, I ripped the package open to reveal my second velvet box of the evening. This time, there were diamonds inside. Two of them.
He’d bought me diamond earrings. Beautiful diamond earrings. Earrings I later wore proudly.
But at that moment, all I could think about was the diamond solitaire that wasn’t. And at the sight of them? I cried even harder.
You know what the amazing thing is? When he finally got around to proposing a few months later, I actually said yes.
This post was written for the third challenge at Write of Passage. The assignment? Write about the most memorable Christmas gift you ever received. This, as you might imagine, wins. Hands down. Now go see what the other participants have to say for themselves!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Banishing the Baby Belly: The Don't Ask Don't Tell Edition.
This week, I have consumed brownies, Christmas cookies, fudge, hamburgers, pizza and junk food galore. Not to mention copious amounts of wine and beer.
Yep, it's the holidays.
You know what that means, right? I didn't get on the scale this weekend.
But you know what? My husband weighed himself, and he's all like, "Gee whiz, I seem to have lost two pounds. I wonder how that happened?"
Bastard.
Don't worry, he knows I'm kidding (mostly).
Oh, and I probably won't be getting on the scale next weekend either. See, I'll be seven hours away from my scale, and I don't know about you but I don't trust other people's scales. I just don't (also, it's a good excuse).
So that's my total cop out. Anybody out there share my pain?
Yep, it's the holidays.
You know what that means, right? I didn't get on the scale this weekend.
But you know what? My husband weighed himself, and he's all like, "Gee whiz, I seem to have lost two pounds. I wonder how that happened?"
Bastard.
Don't worry, he knows I'm kidding (mostly).
Oh, and I probably won't be getting on the scale next weekend either. See, I'll be seven hours away from my scale, and I don't know about you but I don't trust other people's scales. I just don't (also, it's a good excuse).
So that's my total cop out. Anybody out there share my pain?
Friday, December 18, 2009
The Meaning of Christmas - A Comedy Sketch
I actually wrote this a couple of years ago, but it never fails to make me laugh, so I thought I'd post it here. Now, if y'all will excuse me for a minute, I need to talk to my mom. Mom, this is not intended to be at all autobiographical so please don't get offended at anything in here, okay? 'Kay. Love you.
OPEN on a cozy Christmas scene, with two couples, one in their late 50s the other in their early 30s, sitting together sipping eggnog.
MOM: So how was the show?
DAUGHTER: You mean church? How was church?
MOM: Well, you know. With the decorations, the candles, the singing... it’s all the same, really.
DAUGHTER: The service was very nice, thank you. Just the thing to kick off a nice holiday.
DAD: Right. Just in case Christmas has anything to do with the church anymore.
DAUGHTER: Excuse me?
Her HUSBAND pats her knee comfortingly. DAD downs the last of his eggnog.
DAD: It’s about the money. That’s all it is.
DAUGHTER: The money.
Dad: Sure. Those Christians just needed another reason to suck money out of everyone’s pockets. So they invented a holiday, threw in another service…
MOM: Fill the church with mood lighting, sing some pretty songs, give everyone a little wine…
DAUGHTER: That’s communion wine!
DAD: Whatever. It all adds up to some wide open pockets.
DAUGHTER: And the whole birth of Christ thing…
MOM: Just an excuse to fleece the congregation.
DAD: If you ask me, that whole story probably started when some disciple found himself with a problem on his hands… virgin pregnant with the son of God sounds a whole lot better than knocked up teenaged whore when you’re trying to get someone a husband.
DAUGHTER finishes her cup in one gulp, then reaches for her husband’s glass and drains it.
DAUGHTER: Looks like we’re ready for a refill. Anyone else?
MOM: Oh, I’ll get it. You’re having such a nice talk with your father.
MOM leaves room, humming “We wish you a Merry Christmas” under her breath.
DAD: Just as an example… how much did you give tonight, Dudley?
HUSBAND: It’s Bradley.
DAD: Sorry about that. I’ll get it one of these days. You’ve been married such a short time.
DAUGHTER: Yep. Eight years. The blink of an eye, really.
DAD: That long? And still no grandchildren? Dudley, you should get yourself checked out. There might be something wrong.
DAUGHTER: DAD!
DAD: Well, you know, procreating is part of your Christian duty!
DAUGHTER: How would you know, Dad? You’re an atheist.
DAD: Oh, I know all about that Christianity stuff. Don’t kill your neighbor...
MOM enters room, bearing tray with eggnog, and begins handing them out.
MOM: Unless they’re Muslim!
DAD: And honor thy mother and father.
MOM: Unless they spend your inheritance before they die. Then you get to shoot ‘em.
DAD: Oh and let’s not forget—don’t covet thy neighbor’s wife…
MOM: But his children are fair game.
DAUGHTER: Alright, you guys. That’s enough. Can’t we just have a nice Christmas Eve for once?
DAD: Sure. Wouldn’t want to ruin what that nice church of yours started.
DAD gets up and stands in front of her, hand out.
DAUGHTER: What are you doing?
DAD: Waiting for you to pay me.
DAUGHTER: What, for the sheer pleasure of your company?
DAD: Well, money’s what Christmas is about, isn’t it? And we’ve given you a comfortable chair, some good alcohol…
MOM: There’s pumpkin pie in the kitchen!
DAD: And there’s pumpkin pie in the kitchen. I think that should be worth double what you gave that church of yours.
DAUGHTER Fine. Hang on a sec.
DAUGHTER slams out of the room.
There is an uncomfortable silence.
DAD: So, Dudley, how are things in that critter clinic of yours? Cut off any balls lately?
HUSBAND: No, but we’re having a post-holiday special next week. Maybe you should come in…. You could even bring the dogs.
DAD: (Surprised Laugh) Right, maybe I will.
Uncomfortable silence lengthens. DAUGHTER re-enters the room, towing an unkempt looking older man.
MOM: Samantha? Who’s your friend?
DAUGHTER: This is Jack.
MOM: And Jack is here because…
DAUGHTER pulls out her checkbook and begins writing.
DAUGHTER: Well, because I’m about to give Dad double what I gave the church. And the church is supposed to use our money to help the less fortunate. So I thought you two might like to use what I’m giving you…
Walks over and slaps the check in her stunned father’s hand.
DAUGHTER: To help poor Jack here.
JACK holds his hand out to MOM.
JACK: It’s nice to finally meet you…. I admire your shoes every morning when you walk past my alley.
MOM gingerly shakes his hand.
MOM: Is that the coat I threw out last year?
JACK: Probably. Red is my color, isn’t it?
MOM: Why is he here again?
DAUGHTER: Well, you’re much better people than the Christians, right? So why don’t you use my money to give Jack a nice hot meal—and maybe a bed for the night?
JACK: Oh, are y’all Jewish?
HUSBAND: No, they’re atheists.
JACK: Oh. Atheists. Well, that’s a relief.
DAD: A relief? Why?
The doorbell rings as Jack pulls a gun.
JACK: Well, I’d feel bad about this if Christmas meant something to y’all, but since it doesn’t… well, God would want me and mine to have your stuff. The meek shall inherit the earth and all that.
He opens the door and a parade of homeless men enters. A few break off from the pack and approach the family, who squawk and yell as they begin to tie them up. The others begin dismantling the room, TV, stereo, Christmas tree and all.
MOM: This is all your fault, Jerry!
DAD: My fault? How is it my fault?
MOM: All those things you were saying. You made God angry!
DAUGHTER: Oh, now you believe in God?
MOM: I never said I didn’t believe in God.
DAD: What? Yes, you did, just now.
MOM: No, I didn’t. You just assumed, Jerry. You always assume!
JACK: Would the four of you shut the hell up! You’re ruining my holiday!
A homeless man gags them with duct tape as the lights go down.
THE END
OPEN on a cozy Christmas scene, with two couples, one in their late 50s the other in their early 30s, sitting together sipping eggnog.
MOM: So how was the show?
DAUGHTER: You mean church? How was church?
MOM: Well, you know. With the decorations, the candles, the singing... it’s all the same, really.
DAUGHTER: The service was very nice, thank you. Just the thing to kick off a nice holiday.
DAD: Right. Just in case Christmas has anything to do with the church anymore.
DAUGHTER: Excuse me?
Her HUSBAND pats her knee comfortingly. DAD downs the last of his eggnog.
DAD: It’s about the money. That’s all it is.
DAUGHTER: The money.
Dad: Sure. Those Christians just needed another reason to suck money out of everyone’s pockets. So they invented a holiday, threw in another service…
MOM: Fill the church with mood lighting, sing some pretty songs, give everyone a little wine…
DAUGHTER: That’s communion wine!
DAD: Whatever. It all adds up to some wide open pockets.
DAUGHTER: And the whole birth of Christ thing…
MOM: Just an excuse to fleece the congregation.
DAD: If you ask me, that whole story probably started when some disciple found himself with a problem on his hands… virgin pregnant with the son of God sounds a whole lot better than knocked up teenaged whore when you’re trying to get someone a husband.
DAUGHTER finishes her cup in one gulp, then reaches for her husband’s glass and drains it.
DAUGHTER: Looks like we’re ready for a refill. Anyone else?
MOM: Oh, I’ll get it. You’re having such a nice talk with your father.
MOM leaves room, humming “We wish you a Merry Christmas” under her breath.
DAD: Just as an example… how much did you give tonight, Dudley?
HUSBAND: It’s Bradley.
DAD: Sorry about that. I’ll get it one of these days. You’ve been married such a short time.
DAUGHTER: Yep. Eight years. The blink of an eye, really.
DAD: That long? And still no grandchildren? Dudley, you should get yourself checked out. There might be something wrong.
DAUGHTER: DAD!
DAD: Well, you know, procreating is part of your Christian duty!
DAUGHTER: How would you know, Dad? You’re an atheist.
DAD: Oh, I know all about that Christianity stuff. Don’t kill your neighbor...
MOM enters room, bearing tray with eggnog, and begins handing them out.
MOM: Unless they’re Muslim!
DAD: And honor thy mother and father.
MOM: Unless they spend your inheritance before they die. Then you get to shoot ‘em.
DAD: Oh and let’s not forget—don’t covet thy neighbor’s wife…
MOM: But his children are fair game.
DAUGHTER: Alright, you guys. That’s enough. Can’t we just have a nice Christmas Eve for once?
DAD: Sure. Wouldn’t want to ruin what that nice church of yours started.
DAD gets up and stands in front of her, hand out.
DAUGHTER: What are you doing?
DAD: Waiting for you to pay me.
DAUGHTER: What, for the sheer pleasure of your company?
DAD: Well, money’s what Christmas is about, isn’t it? And we’ve given you a comfortable chair, some good alcohol…
MOM: There’s pumpkin pie in the kitchen!
DAD: And there’s pumpkin pie in the kitchen. I think that should be worth double what you gave that church of yours.
DAUGHTER Fine. Hang on a sec.
DAUGHTER slams out of the room.
There is an uncomfortable silence.
DAD: So, Dudley, how are things in that critter clinic of yours? Cut off any balls lately?
HUSBAND: No, but we’re having a post-holiday special next week. Maybe you should come in…. You could even bring the dogs.
DAD: (Surprised Laugh) Right, maybe I will.
Uncomfortable silence lengthens. DAUGHTER re-enters the room, towing an unkempt looking older man.
MOM: Samantha? Who’s your friend?
DAUGHTER: This is Jack.
MOM: And Jack is here because…
DAUGHTER pulls out her checkbook and begins writing.
DAUGHTER: Well, because I’m about to give Dad double what I gave the church. And the church is supposed to use our money to help the less fortunate. So I thought you two might like to use what I’m giving you…
Walks over and slaps the check in her stunned father’s hand.
DAUGHTER: To help poor Jack here.
JACK holds his hand out to MOM.
JACK: It’s nice to finally meet you…. I admire your shoes every morning when you walk past my alley.
MOM gingerly shakes his hand.
MOM: Is that the coat I threw out last year?
JACK: Probably. Red is my color, isn’t it?
MOM: Why is he here again?
DAUGHTER: Well, you’re much better people than the Christians, right? So why don’t you use my money to give Jack a nice hot meal—and maybe a bed for the night?
JACK: Oh, are y’all Jewish?
HUSBAND: No, they’re atheists.
JACK: Oh. Atheists. Well, that’s a relief.
DAD: A relief? Why?
The doorbell rings as Jack pulls a gun.
JACK: Well, I’d feel bad about this if Christmas meant something to y’all, but since it doesn’t… well, God would want me and mine to have your stuff. The meek shall inherit the earth and all that.
He opens the door and a parade of homeless men enters. A few break off from the pack and approach the family, who squawk and yell as they begin to tie them up. The others begin dismantling the room, TV, stereo, Christmas tree and all.
MOM: This is all your fault, Jerry!
DAD: My fault? How is it my fault?
MOM: All those things you were saying. You made God angry!
DAUGHTER: Oh, now you believe in God?
MOM: I never said I didn’t believe in God.
DAD: What? Yes, you did, just now.
MOM: No, I didn’t. You just assumed, Jerry. You always assume!
JACK: Would the four of you shut the hell up! You’re ruining my holiday!
A homeless man gags them with duct tape as the lights go down.
THE END
Thursday, December 17, 2009
It Ain't Easy Being Green.
For the first half, heck, three quarters of my life, my motto was something like "blend in at all costs." I wanted desperately to fit in. To be a cool kid, a social butterfly...a rock star.
So I tried.
I bought the right brands of clothes. Used the right words. Drank what everybody else was drinking. Did my very best to become one of the Borg people.
I really did try.
But you know what? It didn't work. I am none of those things. I am a square peg in a sea of round holes. A redhead in a world that prefers blondes. To put it bluntly, I am a geek (your first clue? I know what the Borg are).
So I decided to change my motto. These days, it's pretty simple: Be yourself. Or at least try.
It's remarkably freeing, that motto.
It's allowed me to start wearing the clothes I love for the first time since I was a kid. Things like swingy polka dot dresses on warm summer days. Skirts and tights instead of jeans on comfy Saturday afternoons. Mismatched socks (when forced to wear socks), because, well, why not?
It's made it possible to finally admit that, all things considered, I'd much rather stay at home and read a book than hit the bars. After all, the action between the covers of a book? Is generally much more exciting than anything that happens while crammed shoulder-to-shoulder with stinky strangers in a club.
It's even helped me accept my wallflower status. Because let's face it. Some of us aren't meant to be the life of the party. Besides, if there weren't a few of us hanging back watching the action, there would be no audience for those who need one. And then what would they do?
It's not easy being green. But it's a heck of a lot easier than trying to change your spots.
This post was written as part of this week's Writing Workshop over at Mama Kat's. The prompt I chose, in case you haven't guessed yet, is 2.) What is one of your life mottoes? There's lots of other brilliant writers taking part this (and every) week, so head on over there and check it out.
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