Category Archives: Musings

Christmas at Laura's

Do you mind if I’m still talking about Christmas? I figure we’re still within a reasonable time frame, right? Yes? Eh? Hello?

Now if I’m still posting about Christmas when September rolls around, we’ll revisit the issue and I’ll probably have to make an appointment with a shrink. A shrink who specializes in bloggers. “So . . . take a deep breath . . . close your eyes . . . and now tell me. What are you going to post about tomorrow? What were your childhood fears? Do you feel like your blogging voice is a result of a traumatic childhood event involving a large dog? How does your choice of topics help you connect with your readership? Are your blog posts relevant to your audience, or are you just one more bloggity-bloggerina who can’t stop yammering about all of her life problems and insecurities?? Craaaargggghhhh!!!!” Wow. This Dr. X really has me figured out. It also sounds like he needs a vacation.

Anyway, every year, my husband and his family head down to Indianapolis for Christmas at Aunt Laura’s. Aunts, uncles, and cousins collide as we slurp down eggnog and catch up on a year’s worth of happenings. And we can’t be forgetting Grandpa Laird.

This year I was very excited . . . you see, last Christmas I didn’t have my Nikon. It allowed me to get a shot of Grandpa Laird’s weathered hands.

There’s something about aged hands that just speaks to my soul.

I was thrilled to walk around snapping candid shots. They’re my favorite kind.

Everyone is so grown up these days! I remember when I started dating my husband and came to my first Christmas at Laura’s many years ago–they were all kids.

And now look at ’em! *sniff*

That includes you John, my feisty, debate-crazy brother-in-law.

You adult-thing, you. Having your own opinions. And stuff. Like that’s even allowed!

Further proof of this ‘growing up’ thing is: for the very first time, Kate whipped my butt at Dutch Blitz.

I passed the crown on to a younger, faster, worthier candidate. Or should I say–the crown was wrestled from my reluctant hand?

Let’s go with the version in which I lost with elegance and passed it on graciously.

I know Kate will wear it well, and proudly. Her mama should be very pleased that she raised a Dutch Blitz killing machine.

Good job, Aunt Laura.

Until I take the crown back next year! *evil laugh echoes off the walls of my mad Dutch Blitz laboratorium*

Jake went skydiving for his birthday this year. Can you believe it? I can’t. Isn’t he still, um 12? In middle school? When did he get so . . . so cool??

Oh, I guess he is 18 . . . and finished with high school. It’s like all this growing up happened behind my back.

Honestly, it’s great fun–I have this whole posse of cousins that I have to get to know all over again. On their own terms. As adult-type people.

They have their own interests, goals, and views, and that is kind of thrilling. Joe is a master at the djembe, which ups his coolness factor to about 212 plus/minus 5. On a scale of 100, of course.

Grandpa Laird told his typical slew of stories. Unfortunately, none of them can be repeated here on this family-friendly blog. Or even alluded to, really.

Let’s pretend we’re back in the 1940s. Maybe at that point Grandpa Laird’s stories were considered appropriate.

Then again, maybe not. Though it’s hard to say–he hails from different times.

I love how a simple Photoshop action can make the clock turn back. This is the ‘vintage’ action from the Pioneer Woman’s free, downloadable set.

We took the traditional cousins picture on the stairway. Somehow, I ended up front and center.

I love how we’re all looking in different directions. It’s a classic group-shot problem, and it warms my little heart.

All the cousins posed with Grandpa Laird in turn. Unfortunately, the lovely red wall that was behind us caused my camera to completely wig out. My Nikon doesn’t get along well with intense reds. So my hand was forced. Feel free to hate this effect–it’s what happened late the other night. I can hardly remember what I clicked. All I know is that it makes our eyes look like they’re popping out of our skulls. Huh.

I think it makes Jake look kind of like an alien invader. A hipster alien invader.

Sorry everyone–I’ll do better next year.

One of the most touching moments of the day was when Aunt Laura presented me with this treasure:

There were tears and hugs. You see, it’s a recipe card written in Grandma Sue’s own hand. She died many years ago, and she and my husband had a very special relationship. When my husband was a small tot, they read the Oz books together, made maps of fairy lands, and rode whirly rides at Cedar Point. She was a woman with a lot of character, and she loved my husband very dearly. Therefore I love her very dearly. I wish I could have met her.

I’ll be making this recipe and sharing about it–and I just love the instructions. “Cook until blurps.” Okay Grandma Sue, I’m trusting you to lead me aright! Stay tuned for a historic sugar cream pie recipe.

January purging part 2: 111 things in 1/11

Welcome to the continuation of this journey my friend Jenny of Words on Wendhurst so lovingly roped me into–read here for part 1.

The goal for any newbies out there: to get rid of 111 things during the month of January. I figure if I can do about 30 per week, I’ll be on track to exceed that goal. This week was frightening. An emotionally vulnerable time, so to speak. See, I had set up a goal for myself to start going through my old college papers.

They’ve been sitting in this bin for years.

And years. And years.

Why have I kept them? Let me explain my rationale to the unenlightened:

1) I keep telling myself I may be a teacher one day. And if I teach a course in French phonetics or The British Novel, referencing my old syllabi and assignments could be really helpful! Right? Though let’s see . . . since I graduated, I’ve been a sales rep. A sales manager. And an office manager. French phonetics, though near and dear to my heart, has played no role in my day-to-day life. Or year-to-year life. Or any part of my life, really.

2) I form emotional attachments with the things into which I invest energy. And college was definitely one of those things! Plus, if I get rid of this stuff, how will I ever prove what a great student I was?? Because if there’s one thing people I meet are always demanding, it’s: “Were you a good student? Well prove it! Let’s see those original graded papers!” It comes right after the “Hi, what’s your name?” question. Yup.

And, like, when they interview you for a job, doesn’t your potential employer always ask for some of your old compositions, both the draft and the final paper?

Look! This dude said I wrote a brilliant paper!

And check this out–I did something musical here. Some kind of analysis, by the looks of it.

Not even I can interpret what the heck it means anymore.

But I may need it someday to prove something to someone.

Like, maybe to myself? When I start forgetting that my grey matter once had abilities? Opinions? Structured arguments roiling within?

Uh huh.

Let it go, Jenna.

You were a great student. But you are no longer a student. Now you’re a great . . . well, different things. Okay.

It’s also time for this random collage you made in France to find its way out.

I may have beefed up and thrown away a good amount of old college coursework. But if there’s one thing I’m hanging’ onto–it’s this!

My cartoon doodle-people. They were lurking about in the middle of essays, class notes, and examination blue books. Hi, Stallone Silvernixun! I’ve missed you so. And I’m totally diggin’ that tattoo on your thigh. That’s hard core, compadre.

The other purged item that caused me much emotional angst this week was this:

My ugly ole sweat pants. I talked about their comforting abilities in this post, and I’ve had them for close to ten years . . . can you tell? They were a staple of my evening wardrobe.

My poor husband couldn’t stand the sight of them. As I modeled my new and improved Gap Body sweat pants, the sigh of relief was audible. No more saggy, baggy, holey pants, baby . . . at least for another few years.

Goodbye my blue friends! You served me well, and I hope you have a wonderful afterlife as a piece of dirt that will feed a flower in a meadow and something about oxygen and a raindrop and the circle of life.

Wasn’t that beautiful?

Let’s take a look at the entire pile of 30 things that made their way to the trash can or to Goodwill:

The pile includes the yellowing, funky-smelling pillow that’s been who knows where, assorted picture frames, scarves, a purse, faded and weird-colored hair clips, and other random stuff.

Stay tuned for another update next week!