Church Christmas Pageant Camel
I have watched this about 10 times.
I have watched this about 10 times.
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Let's link up and tour around to see our trees and any special ornaments we might like to feature, OK?
Here's my tree at night. I know I'm missing a topper. The old one didn't match the new decor because we just painted the walls. They were taupe and cranberry; now they're brown and spring green:
Here it is in the daylight. Please note that I have wrapped gifts this early in the game; I am awesome:
And here is an ornament, hand-painted, by someone else, of my parents. They are about to celebrate 69 years of marriage on Dec. 16.
OK, those are my entries. Would you like to share? Please link to the post of your tree and/or ornament so we can see the loveliness. Thanks for participating!
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Love the Lobby.
Anyway.
I was in the store the other day and noticed a family of people who were deaf, two parents and a child. For just a moment, I thought about the challenges they must face daily, and I admired their happy demeanors as they chatted aloud and signed in the store. Not a drop of self-consciousness. Made me smile on the inside.
We happened to exit at the same time, and right outside stood a Salvation Army bell ringer. Earlier, I had noticed as I entered the store (as I had also the night before), that his "Merry Christmas" wishes seemed a little off somehow, a little ill-timed, but I had been in a hurry in the snow both times and did not stop to try to figure out what was slightly off-kilter. But on this night, exiting with the family, he did it again, and I looked into his face and realized, "He is blind."
So the people behind me who couldn't hear the bell ringer or the bell, wished the bell ringer, who could not see them, a merry Christmas, and vice-versa.
For some reason, I was very touched by this.
I'm not sure why God had me there at just that moment to witness that, but I think there was a reason. I've been thinking and thinking about it.
What do you think?
Don't forget to come back tomorrow and link up to share a pic of your tree and a significant ornament or two.

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Twenty-five years we've been married. Still, every time I walk out of the bathroom with curlers in my hair, he laughs. And laughs.
Twen-ty fiiiiive long years of curler laughter.
Is this hilarious to you? OK, I leave the sides down, which is weird. Maybe mildly amusing, but not gut-busting.
One time, when I was a teenager, I was watching a Merv Griffin show on which Burt Reynolds was a guest. He was jokingly complaining about long it took Loni Anderson to prepare herself to go out on a date. At the end of the story, Burt said, "But when she walks out looking that spectacular, how can you argue?" I have always remembered that corny 80s story and remind Jorge of the wisdom of Burt quite often. But really ... honestly ... isn't the hilarity worth this: my Derek Zoolander "Blue Steel" look of modeling intensity? That man of mine needs to learn to appreciate me like Burt did Loni!

Don't forget to come back and link up this Thursday for sharing your tree and special ornament(s)!

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You may have heard of Ball canning jars. They come from my hometown, Muncie, IN. The Ball Brothers came here during a gas boom and basically built this city on canning jars and such. So a lot of stuff in Muncie is named after the Ball family, including Ball State University, which you may have heard out of the mouth of David Letterman.
Well, the 5 brothers are no longer with us, and I don't know where the descendants are, but their compound of 5 mansions still exists and is used by the foundation for various events. Last night I went to the Enchanted Luminaria walk, complete with horse-drawn carriages, open fires, music in the air, kettle corn, live drama, photo ops, and touring a couple of the mansions resplendent in Ball fashion of yore. Gorgeous.
And here I am in a gift shop with Gingy. You know I have a thing for gingerbread.
And here are Jorge, my boss Jeff and his wife and I in a photo op thingy. We just happened to run into them there. Love them both, but don't tell Jeffe I said that.
And here I am with the big ol' Oneighty Christmas tree, which I decorated this year. I'm pretty proud because singing, decorating and cooking, typically female gifts, are not so much mine. This one turned out pretty good, I expect, because I didn't have to put it in an oven. Yay me. Anyway, these are just photos of some fun stuff. How is your weekend going?
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11:55 AM
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This week Lid asks, "When you were growing up, when did your family put up and decorate the Christmas tree? Was it real or artificial? Who usually decorated it? Were there special decorations? What was on the top? White lights or colored, blinking or steady? How much did your family decorate for the holiday other than the tree (wreaths, dishes, snowglobes, miniature villages, etc.)? Did y'all do outdoor lights? White or colored, blinking or not? Are there special memories associated with decorating for Christmas?"
Here I am, Christmas, 1964, at my little piano which my grandmother gave me. You can see the silver tree in the background; we had that tree for most of my growing up years. My favorite part of Christmas decorating was the wheel of color that turned and shone onto the reflective tree. I would lie on the floor, listen to the whir of the wheel and watch the colors fall over the tree, onto the ceiling and down the wall, over and over. It was magical. Of course, back in those days, we didn't have sensory overload like we do now. I can't imagine anyone but maybe a cat doing that today. Even toddlers are bored by holograms and time travel.
Here I am with my youngest of three brothers, Donnie. He is 56 now. I love him dearly. I don't have many memories of actually decorating except feeling like I couldn't really do it to please my mom. She wasn't as into "hominess" as "prettiness." I get that now. She had to look at it for a month.
My daughter gave me grief this year because I didn't use any of my kids' homemade ornaments, and everything is color-coordinated. Actually, I couldn't FIND their ornaments even if I had desperately wanted to use only those.And here I am at 13, with our sophisticated fake green tree. I thought it was the bomb-diggity. I loved that orchid sweater, too, my favorite color. I can tell by the hair that I was in 7th grade here, and madly in love with a red-headed 8th grade boy at my school. He lives in Philadelphia now.
Check out that gold crushed-velvet chair. Note the lack of lights. I'm not sure we had them on when I was young. I do remember some large ones outside around our picture window. That was about the extent of our decorating; Mom did not go overboard in baking or decorating for holidays. But I loved my Christmases and have very fond memories of footed pajamas, my bothers and their wives coming "home," and Elvis's Blue Christmas on our large console stereo, not my choice of music, but that's what I remember. I wonder how my kids will answer this question someday? ("She wasn't 'into' our ornaments ....")
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I've lived in middle America all of my life, which means I've done winter a few times.
At the beginning of each winter, though, everyone here has to readjust to the cold, and the older you get, the more difficult it is, except for one thing: as you age, you tend to drive slower. Like a stopped clock being right at least twice a day, there's bound to come a time when that slow driving is appropriate, usually the first snow/ice of the season, when you don't look like you're driving slow because you're old; you look like you're driving slow because you have common sense that the young whippersnappers don't have. But you're really just old.
Anyway.
I'm struggling to adjust. Today it snowed, and I could not find the new Isotoner gloves I bought just before Thanksgiving. I've worn them a total of one time, and now they are lost. The bones in my hands ached from the cold.
My big black parka kept unzipping from the bottom. I hate when that happens.
My nose ran when I walked across the parking lot. There were no tissue balls in the pockets from last year.
I had to take a heavy load on a dolly across the parking lot. In the snow. Dollies don't have snow tires. They should.
When I left work, I forgot that my car had sat outside all day and that I would have to scrape the windows. No scraper on board.
But I did not do what my young co-worker confessed to today: turning on the wipers and opening the door, which resulted in snow being swept into his car. "Rookie mistake," he said.
I plan to be ready to tomorrow. I will actually wear boots, which means I will not have to putter across the parking lot like Tim Conway's shuffling old man. And I will find those gloves before I walk out that door and zip off to work at 25 mph. I will wear Chapstick. I will play Christmas music at my desk and roast--not chestnuts--but my toes--not on an open fire--but at my space heater.
Winter is here. Tomorrow, I will be ready.
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