Dec 1, 2011 |
I recently watched a made-for-TV Christmas movie: a woman needed a life change, was granted 12 wishes, she used them selfishly, then spent the remaining time “fixing” the problems she created, and they all had a Merry Christmas. She was guided throughout the movie by an Angel who gently guided her toward selfless love. In the end, it was all wrapped up neat and tidy.
It was campy, low-budget and disgustingly predictable.
But it got me thinking.
If I had 12 wishes that I absolutely knew would be fulfilled, what would I wish for? The first few immediately come to mind: world peace, financial stability, health and happiness for the family. After that, it gets a little tricky. Because I really want to focus on important things. But what’s important to me may not be important to someone else. Or the world.
That’s okay. Some things don’t need to be important to everyone else. Just some things to some people. I know the list will change with time, but if I had my own Fairy Godmother or Personal Angel to grant me 12 Wishes of Christmas, here’s what they’d be:
1. I wish for my entire family (birth, extended, in-laws) to be, and remain, debt free.
2. I wish for permanent world peace.
3. I wish for everyone in the world to live by the Golden Rule: To Do Unto Others, to respect everyone, and stop being selfish.
4. I wish for the world to be free of sickness of all kinds: physical, mental, emotional, spiritual.
5. I wish for Megan and I to have our book series completed, published, and prize-winning.
6. I wish for our book series to be made into movies.
7. I wish for the world to less electronic and digital; and more personal and home-made.
8. I wish for all animals to be cared for.
9. I wish for everyone to be accepted, loved, cherished, and treasured.
10. I wish for Christ to be more accepted, and “political correctness” to be abolished.
11. I wish to be the best mom ever, for ever.
12. I wish for everyone I love, to know how much I love them. For ever.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote.
Nov 25, 2011
Dear Black Friday Retailers…
You disappoint me. I used to get up early. I mean, early, to shop with a friend. It was fun, exciting. Special.
But this year you have invaded my holiday. Many of you have opened your doors at a ridiculous hour. Causing your employees to choose between sleeping or celebrating. All so you can line your pockets and your CEO’s get a bonus.
Will these hourly employees see a bonus? Will they even get a raise? Will the Seasonal Employees keep their jobs after the New Year? Prob’ly not.
Do you care that most have family functions? Obviously not.
You offend me with your so-called “Holiday Spirit”. Christmas is not, repeat: not about the money. At least it shouldn’t be. But you think it is. You think it’s only about the money. Don’t pretend you are doing me a favor by dramatically lowering prices one day a year.
If your super low sales prices can sustain you through your “holiday season”, I don’t understand why you don’t keep the prices low all the time. Then perhaps people would shop more regularly. Then perhaps you would have regular income and could afford to hire more permanent help. Then perhaps those people would pump their paychecks back into the economy. Then perhaps the economy would recover more quickly.
If you can afford to lower prices the day after Thanksgiving, why can’t you lower prices on May 10th? Or August 5th? That would be doing me a favor. Or is it that you just don’t want to?
Don’t pretend you’re doing me a favor by opening up so early. Keep your doors closed til 4 a.m. Friday. Let people have the chance to enjoy time with their family and loved ones and get the sleep they need to work a ridiculously busy shift afterward. Let people have a day off without worrying about cutting their visit short, or worse, not being able to travel at all due to time constraints. That would be true “Holiday Spirit”.
It is mean, hurtful, and insensitive to take a beautiful holiday like Christmas and use it for your personal financial gain. Worse, you’ve now encroached on Thanksgiving.
But since you’re not worried about offending me, I guess you won’t mind that I won’t be shopping at your stores any time soon. I’ll be celebrating on Small Business Saturday: my locally owned and operated stores that care enough about their staff to close on Thanksgiving, and to offer good discounts throughout the year. Sure, they’re understaffed and don’t have ten thousand of the same item to sell within the first three hours. But they do have something you don’t: My business.
Insincerely yours,
Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
DISCLAIMER: I wrote this post on Wednesday. On Thanksgiving Day, my daughter and I arrived at my mom’s down the street to find my brother had driven down to surprise us for the weekend. He recently moved five hours away and is in search of a Home Goods Store. So on Black Friday, we will be riding along with him to the closest location, which is 45 minutes away from here. I can’t convince him to come back down next week to avoid Black Friday, or even shop somewhere else. I don’t plan to spend any money, and we’re not leaving at the crack at dawn. In fact, we’re just going “along for the ride” so to speak, in an attempt to spend more time with him before he leaves… and drive Mom crazy with our over-talking, loud-laughing, sibling banter. And maybe a Christmas sing-along or two. … He’s already been warned that he’d best not get me to compromise my anti-spending stance… but if he wants to spend money on us, hey. That’s his call. Welcome home, Bro. ;)
Nov 20, 2011
SUNDAY STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS WRITING. I got this idea from several bloggers at BlogHer and NaBloPoMo. The idea is to set a timer for five minutes and just write everything that comes into your head, and make NO CORRECTIONS.
Well, I’m not going that far… but as I write this, it does seem more like thoughts jotted down than a coherent blog post. That’s because I have a few things on my mind that I can’t write about yet. Soon. But not yet.
So instead, you get my mundane, do-nothing report of the day.
I was up bright and early this morning, which is strange for it being a weekend. Usually I stay up late, and sleep in accordingly.
On Sundays we usually get up early enough for Church, but today Hannah was the one who slept in. That’s okay: it was really blustery and cold and I don’t do well going out in such weather.
So I’m kinda glad I didn’t have to get up and get out this morning.
But now I’ve missed Church and that makes me sad.
I made an early lunch and Mom came over. We ate this great white sauce with boiled eggs that is served over boiled potatoes. I haven’t made it in about a year, but it’s one of my favorite meals. I always add extra boiled eggs, because I love them so much. After lunch, I’m already almost out of sauce. And that makes me sad. Because, as I said, I love it so much.
The next three and half days I’m all about the Make-Do and leftovers. Because in four days, a 20-lb turkey is calling my name! I’m looking forward to this meal. Turkey is my most favorite meat.
The weather report is calling for a storm that should combine thunderstorms and snowflakes. We’re not supposed to see any real accumulation, but it will be in the air. I’m here to say, it’s true. I know it is.
How do I know? My ankle tells me so. And in 25 years, it’s never been wrong. I can’t explain it. It’s not swollen or tender to the touch. But within 24-48 hours of the first snowfall of the year, it hurts. There’s no other word for it. I’ll try to stand, and it won’t hold weight. I’ll try to walk, and instead I look like an old bent-over woman in need of a cane. And it started revolting against me yesterday. So I agree. By nightfall tonight, we’ll see flakes in the air. And I’ll be able to walk again.
I don’t mind. I like the snow. I like looking out my picture window and seeing the colored leaves fly off the trees in the neighborhood. I put out fresh peanuts and birdseed, and am watching one lone sparrow get his fill before nesting in for the duration of the storm.
Last night we had a bird try to get into our house. It’s a funny story, actually. Well, it’s funny if you ask me. A little traumatic if you ask Dot.
The backstory is that Hannah was enjoying a piece of chicken for dinner. Two of our cats were hoping she’d share and tag-teamed her. As she shushed one away, the other approached from the other side. But Hannah’s smart, and while I laughed at the whole sight, she managed to cower with her food and eat it all. She tossed the bone into the trash and we didn’t think anything of it.
A little while later I heard a noise in the kitchen and looked to see one of those same cats on her back haunches, grabbing the top of the door for the under-sink cabinet where we keep the trash. She walked backwards, pulling the door with her until it was fully opened. To make sure, while she was still holding onto the door, she peered around the corner. Satisfied that the opening was wide enough, she dropped down to all fours and began to walk into the cabinet. We called her and told her “No!” so she left.
It was maybe 15 minutes later when both those two cats were in the entry to the hall, with their backs to us. Suspiciously, I called, “Sparkles! What do you have?” and that cute, adorable little cat moved enough for me to see it was the chicken bone. Hannah cleaned it up and put it back into the trash.
Fast-forward ten minutes. And there’s Sparkles on the kitchen floor eating the same chicken bone. I told Hannah to wrap it in foil and go take it out to the trash. It was after 7:30 so it was solid dark outside. We have one meager porchlight, and the trashcans are on the other side of the driveway. So she left the inside door open for lighting as she went. I heard her come straight back through the gate, and then I heard, “Oh my gosh!” and a squeal. I waited a second, and heard it again. “Oh my gosh!” Squeal. And then, “Oh my gosh! MOM!”
I looked up from my computer work at the third squeal to see the shadow of a bird flying about. I went to the screen door, and this poor little bird kept trying to crash into our windows and doors. I turned the lights off, hoping it was just misdirected and would find its way back to the trees and its nest. But that seemed to irritate it more, so it crashed louder and stronger. Each time it latched onto the screen or window or wall for a few seconds, then frantically fluttered to another location, then came back. This went on for over two or three minutes!
Each time it crashed, I jumped and Dot squealed “Oh my gosh!” It was hilariously funny… or atleast, it is in hindsight. I kept telling her, “I can’t open the door! I can’t let you in!”
The bird perched like a moth above the door, and surely if I let Hannah back in, the bird would come with her. That would not bode well with our five felines and I could just imagine my freshly cleaned house being torn apart in a matter of seconds all in the name of the chase.
So I turned off the lights again and yelled a little. Poor Hannah. She was standing just outside the alcove. In the cold. In the dark. And this crazy bird, realizing he’s not getting in, decided to dive-bomb my daughter. Thankfully he missed, so she rushed to the door but in our startled state, couldn’t grab the door handle fast enough.
So there we are, both trying to grab the door handle and fighting each other to open the door. It seemed like forever but finally she was inside and we slammed the doors shut.
Needless to say, it took a while to settle down and stop the cats from pacing at the window and door.
And all I could think about was Alfred Hitchcock and how this is the beginning of a really good story. Too bad it’s already been told.
And with that, I’m settling in now to watch “How The Grinch Stole Christmas” and some other Christmas movies while waiting for it to snow.
Whoever you are, wherever you are; may your week be filled with stories to share, food to fill, and love to last.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
