The days seem to be dragging by, every one pretty much like the previous. No, what's dragging is me. I'm off my game.  I didn't do New Year's Resolutions this year when I was in the "all things new and every thing is possible if you plan for it" stage. I was still trying to recover from oral surgery during that time. That bit of space between when the old year ends, and the new is just beginning but hasn't fallen into a rhythm yet, is special. There's magic in it. The inner reflections are deeper, purer, and not rushed. Now that we've been in the swing of things for some time, it feels like that window is gone.  Hmmmmm, I wonder, is it too late to try and recapture some of that magic and lay out a game plan for the rest of the year?  I feel stuck. And I haaaaaate feeling stuck. I need some high adventure, some fun, some action! Ah haaaaa, football withdrawals!! Orrrr, two of my daughters not getting along, that's always a major bummer for me. Could also be, I have so many stories/writing projects in the works, that I'm not really making steady progress on any of them. Ok, time to re-group, re-structure and organize!!! It's also time to see if I can find any recorded football games - I need to get fired up!

Well Valentine's Day came and went - good riddance I say. Valentine's Day is no fun when you don't have a "special someone", or when the one you love is being a pain in the ass. I had a multitude of errands I had to run yesterday. During football season my car radio is tuned to NFL news or other football talk. Since football season is over, the sports stations are talking baseball, basketball and hockey. Eeeeww, eeewww, eeewwww - not a fan. So driving around I tried to find music I liked. Ha! Friggin love songs on every single station! Even the Spanish speaking and Vietnamese speaking stations! Could not escape the love songs. Eventually I turned to Christian radio, all I got out of that was guilt. Couldn't escape the visual signs of love in the air either. It was all over the place. There was a friggin flower/Valentine's Day stand on every corner! If it wasn't a full blown stand, it was some little Mexican dude or dudette selling roses out of buckets. At one point, feeling particularly ornery, I had the urge to run my car right through one of those tents and scatter love petals from here to kingdom come!

Ah, I'm not really an ogre when it comes to love. And I don't hate Valentine's Day. I'm really a big softie and appreciate love in all its forms of expression. I think I was just having a bad day yesterday. It's almost a year to the day that I had to put my Ginger down. This is killing me. I've been in tears, or on the verge of tears for days now. I can't stop thinking about her and I miss her so much. A part of me died with her I think.

Piper and I had our own celebration of Valentine's Day. We went to the nursery and bought ourselves more plants for our patio. Flowering plants. I don't know where we will fit them in on our patio, we have so little room out there now as it is. But it seemed like a flower sort of day and we like the ones you can put in the dirt and let live on. We'll make room. We always seem to have enough room for one more flowering plant.

But here's how the day ended. As I was getting ready for bed, Piper called me from the kitchen. Her voice held the unmistakeable hint of anxious distress. I went to her immediately. As I came around the corner to the kitchen I saw her standing frozen in the hallway. She pointed to a spot on the floor in front of the oven. I looked. I saw a gigantic black mass. It took a full minute to register that I was looking at the biggest cockroach I'd ever seen in my life! This was the Ancient Mother of all cockroaches, and it was twitching it's damn radar antennae around in MY kitchen! What the "F" to do?? Stand there gaping for one. It was too big to kill. We didn't have tranquilizer darts or flame throwers. We didn't have a net, rocket launcher or grenade. We finally decided to get a box over the top of it and go from there - yes, that's how big it was! Long as Buntah, and Buntah is the length of the palm of my hand! That MoFo, was big enough to be transportation!

We found a box, but now who was going to do the actual capture. Well, as the parent of the house, you automatically draw the short stick by default. As the only parent, it is your duty to render the house safe for habitation no matter the size or shape of the foe or intruder. I gathered my nerve, snuck up on it as close as I dared, I could feel the wind generated by the spin of it's antennae, then dropped the box. Got em! But now what?! I looked at Piper. She looked at me. We held our breath and neither of us moved. We could it hear scraping frantically at the sides of the box. We feared. Piper found something heavy to put on top of the box. I decided it would be better to resolve this issue during day light hours. We got supplies from the kitchen for the rest of the night and morning - neither of us were going back in the kitchen as long as that box with the roach was still in it - then went to bed. You wouldn't be surprised to learn neither of slept would you? Well we didn't. We just knew that bastard was going to wait till we closed our eyes to call on it's King Kong strength then toss the box off and come after us. 

Eventually, this morning I found a piece of cardboard larger than the box, and thin enough to slide under it without having to lift it. That part worked out alright, except that I could hear the cockroach and feel it fighting back. It was terribly traumatizing. With the cardboard in place, I carried it out the door, across the street behind the Critter Control business to meet it's demise. "Mr. Demise, meet Mr. CR. Do your duty!" I held my breath, leaned down to the ground, slid the box off the cardboard and turned to run all in the same slick movement. It was an impressive move. Mr. Demise took over immediately, as that MoFo Mr. CR came out with a broken neck. I thought I'd heard a snap at some point! Anyway, I left it there in it's final throes of death twitching. Left the box too, tossed the cardboard in the dumpster then came home for a decontamination shower of blanching hot water and Clorox! It was the only way I could get my skin to stop with the creepy crawlies.

Well, that's it. The artwork below pretty much sums it all up for me tonight (I put these together in Photoshop). The Super Bowl was a huge disappointment. I like a good game. I like a close game. 43 to 8 is a wash out. It was painful and embarrassing to watch. It was not football at it's finest. It was a bummer close to a great season.

So, sooooo, now what? This is my first real experience with Football Withdrawal. This was the first season I've been ALL IN. Never missed a game, watched videos almost daily, read articles almost daily, surfed Yahoo and Bing daily for anything NFL related, kept up on players injuries even. Now I don't know what to do with myself. Well, OK, technically I do. I have a book to finish illustrating, started writing another one, and oh yeah, still need to find a job! I guess I'll be busy enough, just won't have games to look forward to every week. The games were my joy, they were my release, my escape, my venue for venting pent up frustrations. (There's NOTHING passive about the way I watch football.) So this week, when I do laundry, I will wash my San Francisco 49er's jersey - my #7 Kaepernick jersey - and hang it up for next season. Better go to bed, I'm feeling the jitters coming on!

Tired. Veeery tired. You know how you get a great idea, and think it's a totally BRILLIANT idea, then you get all gung-ho and obsessed with it?

And then for like three days - ok five - you live it and breathe it, you call your Homies and explain why it's cooler than anything you've ever thought of before and aren't you just awesome? AND THEN, you wake up one morning and realize you've wandered clean off the path of brilliance and muddied your focus, so you spend another day bringing it all back down, trimming out the fat (which you hate to do cuz some of it is really good fat) and see that your original idea wasn't that great to begin with, was probably just a late night sugar induced hallucination or some other weird brain fart. But now you've already called everyone and they're expecting something great, (or maybe not, maybe they were just being polite and putting up with yet another of your enthusiastic rambling kick-ass game plans that go nowhere) so you feel like you have to produce SOMETHING or look like an idiot all over again. Then again, this is just YOU, and don't they expect this anyway? Yeah. That's me. That's me right now in this moment. Wondering what the hell I was thinking, and what the hell I'm going to do next.

Sure I produced some fun cool images, but so what? What am I going to do with them? And still the illustrations for my book sit unfinished and untouched on my art table. WHAT ISSSS MY PROBLEM??!! I'm like an octopus on ice! Maybe it's because I don't have a job anymore and out of like 500 applications I only got one interview and I don't think they liked me very much. Maybe it's because I got fat all of a sudden. And what the heck is with waking up at 2:00 a.m. craving Chips Ahoy?!! That's never happened to me before. Not even when I was pregnant! Orrr, orrrrr it could be that I'm already having anxiety about football season coming to an end on  Sunday! What AAAAMMM I going to do?!! Of course I'll be watching the Super Bowl, but then what?? Well I just don't know. Guess I better get some Chips Ahoy tomorrow.

Got to growl at my first Seahawks fan yesterday! I was in San Francisco at UCSF for an appointment, had just stepped into an elevator when man wearing scrubs and a mohawk haircut tipped and died with the Seahawks colors stepped in next to me. He was holding a Seahawks lanyard with keys in his hand, I was wearing my black sweatshirt with "SAN FRANCISCO 49er's" proudly emblazened across my front. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I raised one back. He growled at me. I growled back. Nodding, smiling and pointing I said, "Sunday Man!" He nodded, smiled and pointed right back, "Sunday." What a game this will be!

Jamba Juice, for my followers in other countries, is an American food franchise providing healthier alternatives for food on the run. Mostly it’s fruit and vegetable smoothies and every now and then, when some new thing has proven good for your health, they give that a go as well.  This week they’ve added “Ginger Shots” to their menu. I know this because I went there recently. "Ginger Root, is a proven natural detoxifier, and is very useful for busting up colds” so says the girl behind the counter.

They’ve had Wheat Grass Shots for years (juiced grass) that are highly nutritional and very beneficial. That's what I went there for. I’d been battling a nasty cold for days and thought perhaps one of those would help beat it. But this young lady was all about promoting the newest product and getting the sale. And she was good, very good. Upon hearing my obviously stuffy head voice, she brightly suggested trying one of their NEW Ginger Shots.

Here’s the thing about me; I’m all for trying new things, but I already know I have a dislike for Ginger. I wasn't interested in ingesting ounces of it highly concentrated liquid form. But this girl was good. She rattled off all the benefits then zeroed in on my weak links for the kill. “It’ll help bust up that cold,” she said. “And it costs less than a Wheat Grass Shot.” Uh-oh, a double whammy. Get rid of this cold AND save me money?? But I'm really not found at all of Ginger. It's one of those spices that a little bit will get you clear to China! She could tell I was struggling with this decision. “Look, if you don’t like it, I’ll make you a double Wheat Grass for free.” Like I said, she was good. 

Alright then, what is there to lose (besides whatever skin it comes in contact with)? "Oh, alright sure, I guess I'll try it." Her next question was NOT comforting though. “Would you like that diluted with a little bit of lemon juice or a little bit orange juice?” Diluted?? My eyebrows went up in question. “It’s pretty strong, you’ll want it diluted,” she was nodding. Oh dear. Uhhhh, Oh go on, you’re an adult for heaven’s sake. “Orange juice please.” The clerk, having made her sale, (undoubtedly with a bonus of some sort, I know because I used to work at Jamba Juice, they provide great incentives for successfully pushing a new product) was quite pleased. She hopped to with admirable enthusiasm. We both watched a whole small orange slide down into the juicing machine and nothing but the purest, freshest orange juice flow out into a cup at the bottom. Then into a different juicing machine, she dropped two handfuls of sliced fresh ginger root. A cloudy creamish liquid flowed from the spout into another small container. She poured some of the orange juice and all of the ginger into my shot glass then took a tiny scoop of Cayenne Pepper and tossed it on top. Cayenne Pepper?!!!!  Holy Cow and oh crap!!! She turned back to me and placed the shot glass and a fresh orange wedge on a small plate in front of me. I stared at it for a moment. I gathered my nerve. I picked up the cup and looked at it. I must have looked like I held my doom in my hand, because that's what it felt like. I was going to smell it first but she was quick to stop me, “It’s best not to smell it first,” she warned.

Alright then, nooooo smelling . . . . . . . . . here goes. I knocked back half of it and phfffoooommpf, DAMN! My eyes crossed, my hair stood on end and I shot straight out of my shoes! I levitated there three feet off the ground, rattled and dazed with my eyes watering. “The orange, the orange,” I heard her say. I jammed the orange wedge into my mouth and began sucking on it for all I was worth. Two seconds . . . five seconds . . . eight seconds, then aaahhhhh . . . . . . . . much better. I found my breath and sucked it in. Hooooooly Hell! What the bleep was THAT?! My stunned and shocked body wanted to know! I wiped at the tear drops and drool on the counter with my shirt sleeve. I knew she was watching me and waiting for a response but couldn’t speak. Never has my mouth felt such fire and fury. It wasn't the flavor that was tough to swallow, it was the potency!! The potency will send you through the roof! I held up a finger indicating I needed a moment. Half of the liquid remained.  Could I do it, could I get the last half down? Was I willing to risk feeling The Coward in the face of an experiment in good health?

With no words, only raised eyebrows, I lifted what remained of the orange wedge indicating I’d appreciate another. She grabbed another and placed it on the plate. I anchored myself to the counter, took a deep breath, held it, and tossed back what was left. The second after it cleared tonsils, the orange wedge was in my mouth. And still, it rattled my bones. I’m telling you, that stuff is Hot Damn ShaaaaAZzaaaammm with Three Triple Flips to Boot!!! No need for coffee. All systems were GO on full alert and ready for ANY kind of action!! WeeeeHawwww and I’m wiping tears away.

“Sooooooooo, whadidya think?” her voice came drifting at me. My brain wasn’t thinking yet, all the neurons were still zapping away. “You didn’t like it did you,” it was more a statement from her than a question. Finally I managed  a few words, “Um, not really. Can’t say I liked it – BUT, I certainly FELT it.” She offered to make me a double Wheatgrass Shot for free. I managed to croak out a polite thank you and gasp that that wasn’t necessary. I smiled, at least I think I did. I know I tried - can’t really be sure, my mouth was numb. I gathered the mental bits of me that had scattered and left the store.

Now here’s the silly, awesome, wonderful part. That Ginger Shot had enough fire in it to lift the space shuttle off the ground. There’s NO WAY any unwanted germ was about to stay in my body. Within the hour my head was clearing and my body already processing out the yucky stuff. I swear to God - it’s true. So true in fact, I went back that evening for another and got two for my daughter who was sicker than I was! She wasn’t hot on the idea, she dislikes ginger more than I do. But she was feeling so darn crappy she was willing to try anything to feel better. Mind you, this is a teenager, very STUBBORN about trying any new form of voodoo – especially if a parent suggests it. But, like I said, she felt really awful so she did.

Her first words this morning were, “Mom can you go back and get me another Ginger Shot?” She felt noticeably better.  And so did I. So back I went. And will go again tomorrow, but only for her. My cold is gone! BooRah!!

I’m stuck.
Suspended.
Dangling a foot above what comes next.
The view between my feet is chaotic and static.
Most of the swirling colors look dark and scary.
Not enough happy colors to make me feel ready to jump.
No rafts. No lifeboats.
No guarantees.
What if I don’t want to jump?
What if I chose to dangle?
Well, that won’t work.
I know.
I know some joker will come along and just for giggles he’ll cut me loose.
Then I’ll fall.
I’ll fall and slip like slime into the troughs he dug with his own stick.
I’ll get sucked along, bobbing, rolling, and gasping for air.

As usual.

As I mentioned in my post of the 16th, I’d required oral surgery during the first week of the month. For a minute, after the “Hot-Bone” re-check and follow-up, it looked like things were on the mend. Not so. The pain returned and slowly intensified over the following week. The medications were ineffective in alleviating the pain. I was back in the office of the oral surgeon on the 20th. Left with another go-round of medications and sincere Happy Holiday Wishes from the staff. All were hopeful, including myself, that I would find relief and heal. Didn’t happen.

By Christmas night, I was vomiting, running a fever and trembling from hurting so bad. By a miracle, one of the doctors involved in the initial surgery was on call Christmas night. After spending a good amount of time with me on the phone we decided the fever and vomiting was attributed to the flu. Greeeaaat. Now I had the flu on top of everything else. He was concerned about the pain and made room for me in his Friday schedule – which was awesome but that meant I still had to travel by train into the city to get TO the office. Walk from my place to the light rail stop, take the light rail to the train station, board the train and tough out a two hour trip. Get off the train downtown in the city and take another light rail to within a quarter mile of the office to which I would walk the rest of the way. All this while being in utter agony and on the verge of vomiting. After leaving the office, I’d have to do it all again in reverse. 

Once there, it was determined that only one socket was healing. For whatever reason, the top socket was not, possibly due to an infection which they finally decided had developed as well. Also adding to the pain were muscular issues at the site of the joint. On a ‘pain’ scale of 1 – 10, with 10 being the most painful, I was maintaining a 12! New prescriptions were written, anti-biotic, muscle relaxant and a pain med with double the narcotic to it. Leaving the office, after having had those raw and painful tissues poked, prodded, squeezed and drained, my pain level maxed out to at least a 13, if not higher. Yes, I had the flu and was nauseous from that, but the pain increased the nausea as well. I was a freakin mess!

I made the light rail to the train station, but knew I’d never make a two hour trip without throwing up. These were commuter trains and don’t have bathrooms. I needed some plastic bags. Thirty minutes remained for the next train south. I surveyed the small food court and decided Subway Sandwiches would have ‘to-go’ bags. If you know how Subway works, you know you order your sandwich at the far end of the counter and walk along with the food handler on the other side of the counter puts your sandwich together. By the time you’ve reached the register, your sandwich is done. I wasn’t ordering any food so I didn’t get ‘in line’. There were two Chinese women behind the counter working the store. Two men were in the line watching their sandwiches being made and one man at the register paying for his. As the man stepped away from the register, I stepped forward into his place. Before I could get two words out, the little Chinese woman barked at me, “What you want?! You no in line! What you want?!!”

“Please, I’m not feeling well, may I just get a bag?” Her eyes got all big and she started shooing me away with her bony claw like hands, “No! No!” she was sqauking now, “No bags for you! You no in line! You no buy food! No bags for you!”

“I don’t need food, I feel sick, I just need a bag. I’ll gladly pay you for one . . . . . . .” but she was squaking over me, refusing to listen. “No food, no bag!” all the while shooing at me like I was some unwanted dog. The man standing beside me – the one I cut in front of, leaned in toward the register and said, “Jesus, lady, give the woman a bag.”

“No! No! No! No food, no bag!” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill and shoved it at the little woman. “Here, will this cover it?” She looked at it, and in a flash, had snatched it and slipped it into her pocket. Then she handed me a bag. “You go away now!” Gladly. I thanked the man for his help, “No problem,” he said, “I noticed we’ll be on the same train and you don’t look so good.” That was the understatement of the century.

Once on board and in motion, I texted Pip to let her know my ETA and that I needed her to drive me to the pharmacy immediately upon arrival. And then I closed my eyes, bracing myself for another two hours of agonizing stops and starts.

I arrived home at 4:30, and Pip, bless her was ready. We drove to the pharmacy, I went inside and stood in line. The pharmacy tech looked over the prescriptions I handed her and said, “Uh, this pain medication doesn’t exist in this dose, can you call your doctor back?” No I couldn’t call my doctor back, he was two hours away and wasn’t supposed to be in today anyway. “Well, all I can do is call and leave a message for him to return my call.” I looked at the clock, 4:55. My heart sank. I was absolutely ready to say my Good-byes and shoot myself in the face. I didn’t have any words. “I’ll do what I can she said.” I thanked her and rejoined Pip in the car. I was trying so hard not to cry outright. I hurt sooooo bad and had for two weeks without and respite. Piper looked at me for instructions. “Apparently the pain medication I need so bad doesn’t exist in the formula the doctor prescribed.” I wiped at a tear, she squeezed my hand. “What about the other two,” she asked. I told her they’d be fine then asked her to take me to the grocery, I needed a ginger ale to settle my tummy and wanted to take my medications immediately as soon as I got them.

Into the grocery and out I came with ginger ale and chicken broth. Pip pulled us back into traffic and headed back to the pharmacy, I reached for my bottle of pop, twisted the cap and pppppffhhhhuuunnfff!!!!!!!!! It exploded!!! That freakin sonuvabitch exploded!!! Not a drippy down the side little spurt, but an all-out blast of Hail Mary proportions!! Pop was dripping off the ceiling, fizzeling down the dashboard, the windows, the door, pooling in my lap and dripping off my hair, chin and hands. That was IT!! That was the last freakin straw!! No more fighting tears, they came. And they came, and they came!!! Shoulders shaking, eyes dripping - sobbing. Piper was silent, eyes on the road.

There were no towels in the car, no napkins. Just a sticky, drippy, drooling crying mess. We pulled into the parking lot of the pharmacy, she suggested the drive through, I said I wanted to talk with the pharmacist about the pain med. Pip didn’t argue. I sloshed my way back into the store, back in line, praying there would be good news about the medication.

You know it’s kind of funny now that I think of it. Obviously I was having one of the worst moments of one of the worst two weeks of my life. By the wild and crazed look in my eyes anyone could tell I was in extreme pain. And also just by looking at me you could tell I’d recently been doused against my will by some sort of mishap with a liquid substance. It was, after all, still dripping from my hair and the front of my clothes were visibly soaked. And yet, only one person addressed their curiosity or my discomfort. Everyone, with the exception of one man, just smiled, ignoring the obvious and was pretending like it was any nice ol’ day in the WalGreen’s Pharmacy. I hurt too bad to sit down, and I hurt too bad to stand still. I was pacing, with one hand holding the side of my face. One gentleman kept looking over his shoulder at me. I finally stopped avoiding eye contact with him and met his gaze dead on. He shrugged his shoulders, “Duuuude,” he said shaking his head from side to side, taking in the whole disastrous scene that was me. “Duude, you got a tooth ache?”

“That was last week,” I managed to get out, “now it’s an infection.” Tsk, tsk, he’s shaking his head again, “Mannnn, that’s the worst, you look like you’re having a rough day!” I nodded, yeah rough friggin day. The tech called me over, she’d been able to get ahold of the doctor, all was well and would I please sign here for my medications. Gladly! Scribble, scribble, scratch, scratch and out the door I went. The one man who had talked to me called after me as I was heading out, “I hope you get better soon!” My face hurt too bad to smile, but my heart smiled a Thank You anyway.

In the car, I opened those bottles, took one of each and held my breath till we got home. Piper helped me timeout my medication schedule, I stripped down naked and flopped into bed – yep without even showering. The way things had been going for me, who knew what might befall me if I tried to shower first, nope just straight to bed.  Within minutes, I felt that new medication start to kick in. Relief for the first time in nineteen days. Then I slept for three days.  Truly, I slept, waking only for a snack to go with medications, then back to sleep again for three days and all the nights in between.

And that is how my year has ended. No time for reflection, no time for analyzing, no time for dreaming or making plans. Christmas was shot to Hell. Hell, December was shot to hell. I lost a whole month! And I missed the 49ers/Cardinals game yesterday! I feel robbed!

It's late, I'm very tired, my brain is handing control over to pain meds. almost as quickly as I type.  The following words ARE NOT MINE. But they touched me today when I needed a lift. The words came from Robert Lee Fulghum, one of my top favorite authors of all time. At the moment, I can offer nothing more profound, intelligent or uplifting than this. Please, visit his site. You won't regret it.

http://www.robertfulghum.com/


Go on. Escape over the walls of your asylum.

Go slowly. On the side of your cart, write ONWARD!

Pull the cart yourself.

Collect kindling for your fire as you go,

But expect spontaneous combustion.

Live in the tent of the invisible traveler.

Abandon irony; cage ennui; shrug off the pale clothes of the mundane.

Nail angst to the floor and stomp it flat.

Set aside the dead brick of certainty.

Eat the bread of uncertainty for lunch.

Carry the wine of carelessness and drink deep.

Sing. Dance. You are the only audience who cares how well.

Look through the lens of passion and joy.

Be a-mused – the muse that laughs.

Always ask the next question.

Always take the long way around.

Always turn back two blocks short of the abyss.

Go on. You may.

Be as many people as need be.

Never go back the way you came.

Go on. Do it yourself.

Go on. Never quit.

Go on. Never finish.

Go on. Flourish

I've been inside, outside, and upside down this last month - all metaphorically speaking. Except for the inside part, which for the last nine ten days has been literal. I've been inside trying to recover from a major nasty go round with an Oral Surgeon. Two of them actually. One Dr. Yo and Dr. Katie (can't remember her last name). I secretly think of them as the Yo-Katie Team, or The Champs. Because when I left their office ten days ago, I looked like I'd just gone three rounds with a Heavy Weight Champ and I was the one who ended up on the floor down for the count!! Eyes all froggy like, swollen, bruised face, lower lip puffed and bleeding, two teeth missing. I developed a complication known as "Hot Bone". Trust me, it's got NOTHING to do with sexiness. Hot Bone is a technical term, (in laymans speech), meaning basically "you're screwed". They had to do a lot of bone breaking and drilling and the bone reacted in kind by swelling and getting hot. Go figure. Pain meds were ineffective. Until this morning, after four days on a steroid, I was literally crazed and crippled by the agony.

But before that, emotionally, I was rather for personal reasons and also deeply mired in the pre-Christmas funk. Hmmphf. Christmas. Just what the hell anyway? Oh yeah, I know, celebration of Christ's birth. But really, four weeks, or more, of irritating obligations, commercialization, expectations and let-downs. Christmas was different when I was a kid. There was a magic to Christmas then. It was simple. You dream, you look through the ENTIRE Sears Christmas Wish catalog, you write your letters to Santa, bake cookies, decorate a tree and wait. Then on Christmas morning pretending to be happy you got toothpaste, an orange and new underwear. Oh yeah, the good old days.

Some days after that, you begin to realize what the best parts of Christmas were. The anticipation, the smells, the music, the sound of your mothers voice singing along with carols. The stories, the specials, watching "How The Grinch Stole Christmas" and watching a tear slide down your mothers cheek when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes. "A Charlie Brown Christmas," no matter what my mother was doing, she always dropped it to sit and watch those two specials with me. And I liked the pretty lights all around. We made ornaments out of photographs. But the best part was decorating the house and the tree with my sister. Such precious memories. Especially now that both my mother and sister are gone. So, where did Jesus fit in all of this? I never fully understood his place as being real, until I read the book "Two From Galilee". That book changed how I viewed Christmas forever more. 

Years later, I would create a Christmas Tradition, that had/has, the potential to become a nightmare. When my oldest child was four years old, she came to me and wanted me to give her money so she could buy presents. That year, I only had $40 to do an entire Christmas for her. I came up with the Christmas Cookie idea. We make cookies and sell them. Not just any old cookies but our extra special, homemade sugar cookies, with my killer frosting and sprinkles.  We take orders, we bake,  (everyone helps) and we deliver. After that, we split the booty as many ways as there were children. That was how they earned their Christmas spending money. Like I said this has been a tradition for over two decades now. How did it turn into a monster? Our cookies are so damn delicious word spread, people ordered more and our lives - well MY life - became consumed, CONSUMED I say! One year we QUIT COUNTING at 144 dozen cookies. That's right, I said over 144 dozen!!  That's a helluva lot of cookies, and a helluva lot of work! Make the dough, roll the dough, cut out the cookies, bake the cookies, make the frosting, frost the little suckers, sprinkle them then count them out, package them and then deliver.  Since Piper was eighteen and I figured she'd have a job and her own income, and since I thought I'd still have my job and my own income, I HAD HOPED last Christmas would have been my final go with this monster project. Not so.  I lost my job, and Piper's was only temporary. Guess what that means - yeah, WE'RE MAKING GODDAMN CHRISTMAS COOKIES AGAIN THIS YEAR!!!

Why "Finally - Game On?" Because now that I'm no longer engulfed by pain, I can smile again. I can look outside myself, take this project on, and begin my struggle to feel Christmas this year. So, tomorrow the game begins! We only have 21 dozen cookies ordered so far, but I just sent out reminder emails to thirty of our previous repeat customers. I fully expect to have double that amount within 48 hours. This project overshadows everything for days and days. Sometimes weeks. Finding Christmas will be tough I think with so much focus on "making something happen". But I will keep my heart and eyes open the catch Christmas in whatever ways I can. If I do, I'll share!