Grow Old With Me, the Best Is Yet to Be

Roses look good from a distance

But they look even better close up

And from this angle, they are just about perfect

Kinda like the husband that gave them to me!

This is a man to make your heart leap

Your liver quiver

And your goosebumps stand in line.

For 37 years now, I've been proud

to call him mine all mine!

He makes my liver quiver

and my heartbeat change its pace.

He makes my neck hairs shiver

and my brain waves lose their place.

He makes my tendons tremble.

All my goose bumps stand in line.

I guess that’s why I can’t deny

I love this man of mine!

HAPPY 37TH ANNIVERSARY, DAVE!

You still rock my boat.

Je t'aime plus qu'hier, moins que demain.

Toujours et pour toujours!

xox

=)

Warm and Fuzzy Family Traditions Satisfy

A week from today my Christmas visitors will be arriving, all 17 of them. Yes, there will be 19 people here, sleeping in various and sundry areas of my home, including my husband and me. Is that a little bit overwhelming at this point? Yep. (Especially since I'm still decorating the living room and have yet to wrap even one of the many gifts stashed away in our guest room.) BUT...Am I feeling way more excited than overwhelmed at this point? You bet I am!

I happen to be a great lover of holiday traditions, and I was hoping that if I shared some of ours, you might reciprocate. It's always a good thing to get new ideas, right? And it's also kinda fun to peek in on someone else's celebratory silliness, sentiment, and spirituality. (If you're like us, you have plenty of all three!)

At our house, it all begins on the 23rd, when the men make the women a big batch of artichoke chicken fusilli pasta. I can't even tell you how good it is. Somehow, my husband was able to wheedle the recipe away from Willow Street Pizzeria so the Young Men in our ward could make a Valentine's Day dinner for their mothers several years ago. Of course, it turned out wonderfully, and we have been making the yummy dish ever since. (Or rather, my husband has...which is probably at least half of the reason why I love it so much!)

Christmas Eve is BIG for us. Maybe even bigger than Christmas Day. Everyone scurries around getting last-minute things done until 5 PM, when they are expected to be home. Believe it or not, we eat Mexican food, which is something I came up with when my kids were little so I wouldn't have to be in the kitchen all night long. Surprisingly, it stuck! (One year, I tried to make prime rib and yorkshire pudding with mashed potatoes and the kids and their cousins nearly had fits. "No. We eat Mexican food!" they reminded me.) *sigh* Anyway, my brother-in-law makes nachos with homemade guacamole (yummy stuff). My daughter-in-law makes the best chicken and cheese enchiladas you'll ever taste, and I make the chicken and beef tacos with refried beans. Sometimes we add taquitos.

After we're stuffed to that barely bearable level only Mexican food can produce, we hit the living room and assume our traditional places on the couch, chairs, and carpet. (Just like at church, everyone has sort of claimed a spot of their own over the years. This is also true for the present-opening on Christmas Day.) The first half of our program is the same every year and involves reading certain poems, singing certain songs, kids' nativity, etc. The second half is what we call "circletime" (explained in detail here), where I begin by reading a Christmas story I've written just for that night. After reading it, I ask a soul-searchingly spiritual question or two to the group (as you can imagine, the guys LOVE this, heehee), and we go around the circle "sharing." Incredibly, our men are willing to do this because it's (yep!) tradition. This is my favorite part of our holiday, hands down. And I think everyone else kinda likes it, too. (Though few admit it, which has somehow become part of the tradition.) When all of us have spilled our guts––or laughed and cried them out––we leave cookies, milk, and carrots for Santa and his reindeer; go out to "hear" the bells on Santa's sleigh; and then adjourn to the family room to watch A Muppet Christmas Carol, which most of us have memorized. Quoting lines with the movie is acceptable, and singing all of the songs at the top of your lungs is required. Needless to say, we get to bed late.

And we rise ridiculously early, every blessed one of us beyond bleary-eyed. (This is a rule.) Christmas Day marks the present-opening and homemade-by-my-mom-and-stepfather-tea-ring-eating. We sit in a circle and open our presents one at a time, so everyone can check out what everyone else got, all the while eating the most delicious pastry known to man, the melts-in-your-mouth-and-sticks-to-your-hands variety. I can taste its warm, butter-and-almond-paste-oozing splendor now, just thinking about it! The present-opening ritual takes a looooong time, and when we're finished, we have turkey and ham sandwiches (warm out of the oven) on my mom's wonderful oatmeal bread, yours truly's signature Waldorf salad, the infamous but ever-popular "grapefruit stuff," and pumpkin pie. Again, this meal originated out of my desire to avoid the kitchen as much as possible during the festivities.

The rest of the day is spent trying on and modeling new clothes, playing with new toys, etc. etc. And it is sheer heaven, by the way, complete with towers of lovely white gift boxes. (By the way, the day after Christmas our family takes an early morning hike and spends the day in San Francisco.)

Can you tell that I love Christmas? I do. But not half as much as I love the family that helps make it so meaningful. (They'll be here in JUST ONE WEEK!)

Yikes. What am I doing on the computer?!

=)

Got Tree? (Got Tree Poem??)

Yes, my friends, we finally have...

A TREE!

We even have a tree poem!

Christmas Bliss

©1993 Susan Noyes Anderson

We’re picking out a Christmas tree.

Oh boy, I just can’t wait!

December 25th is near––

It’s time to celebrate.

The family piles into our car

and finds the biggest lot.

"Let’s get the best," my mother says,

"the very best they’ve got!"

But this one’s crooked, that one’s short,

and those are almost dead.

The rest have broken branches, holes,

or something worse instead.

Five hours pass and still no tree;

my dad’s about to break.

"You want the perfect tree?" he growls.

"Then let’s go buy a fake!"

Crazy Scooter Santa Crashes Christmas!

I guess you could say it all started off

Like any other night with Santa would.

(Electric razor-riding Santa, that is.)

With a few elves painting Christmas stockings

And a wicked game of Guitar Hero.

(Mrs. Santa, aka yours truly, likes to play Guitar Hero, too.)

Fun and great food were enjoyed by all.

(Thanks, Susan, Mark, & the Activities Committee!)

And the assorted company of 70+ killed 3 hams.

(These two almost killed themselves,

trying to ride double on Santa's scooter.)

While Santa about killed himself trying

To get his picture taken

With every single person in his singles ward.

I think he may have succeeded, too!

(Josh has the evidence.)

In the end, the old boy probably got what he deserves.

(A Hawaiian punch, I believe it's called...)

But that's okay. He was pretty thirsty...

And unusually docile after all the revelry.

By the way, who sez them cultural halls iz hard to decorate?

=)

SOS (Save Our Sisters)

I was all set to write about my crazy bishop husband and his latest ward Christmas party performance (I still intend to go there tomorrow, for he is truly a nut case...in a good way)...but when I went over to my friend Jen's blog and read her post about sisters, families and tender mercies, I was touched so deeply that I just had to share.

So I hope you don't mind my sending everyone over, Jen. And I hope my sisters don't mind hearing that I love them like no other and would gladly shield them or take a few blows for them as needed.

And ya know what? I might even take one on the chin for my little brother, too (in a pinch). ;)

HOW DO PEOPLE MAKE IT THROUGH LIFE WITHOUT A SISTER?

(I'm so glad I don't have to.)

=)

Sugarplum Fairy Sighting!

Ever seen the Sugarplum Fairy?

Outside of the Nutcracker, I mean.

I have.

And she's lovely.

=)

Help! I've Fallen, and I Can't Get Up!

This story about a Christmas decorating escapade is pretty fun, as told by the creative genius herself:

"Good news is that I truly outdid myself this year with my Christmas decorations. The bad news is that I had to take the 'fallen fellow' down after 2 days. I had more people come screaming up to my house than ever. Great stories. But two things made me take him down.

"First, the cops advised me that it would cause traffic accidents, as they almost wrecked when they drove by.

"Second, a 55-year-old lady grabbed the 75-pound ladder and almost killed herself putting it against my house. She didn't realize the display was fake until she climbed to the top. (She was not happy). By the way, she was one of many people who attempted to do that. My yard couldn't take it either. I have more than a few tire tracks where people literally drove up into my yard."

Ashton Kutcher-style punking aside, I find it kind of heartwarming (in this day of relative apathy and indifference) that a number of people actually stopped and took an interest in helping the supposed victim. I guess you could call this a testament to the Christmas spirit being alive and well!

Our Tannenbaum Is Da Bomb!

Unadorned tree, soon to be...

DAZZLING (or a reasonable facsimile thereof).

Yes, my friends, this year's tannenbaum is da bomb, with one caveat: Our friendly Christmas tree is standing naked in a corner of the living room, watered but un-bedecked. (Truth is, the tannenbaum wouldn't even have made it this far if not for my gardeners, who allowed yours truly to talk them into putting the poor thing into a stand before it turned up its roots and died in the box.)

Yes, I said "in the box." My live, always-fresh tree comes in a box. Why? Because I finally got sick of buying trees that all-too-predictably died every year before Christmas Day arrived. You see, I usually get my tree set up early, which means I require one newly-cut enough to survive a month of sitting by the heater without turning into a Christmas stick. After one particularly appalling year, when the pine perished before I even managed to put all of the bulbs and baubles in place, I made an executive decision. I would order a tree from someplace lush and rainy, resting assured that it would be cut especially for me and shipped to my doorstep immediately. And I have to say it's the best decision I've ever made. My trees arrive fresh as a daisy, and they are still sap-filled and pliable on the day I take them down! (Thanks, Hammacher Schlemmer.)

Now all I have to do is find time (and maybe a little bit of help with the lights, Ryan) to decorate, which I'm afraid will not be until the weekend. In the meantime, though, my tree is still green, fragrant, beautiful, and chugging a quart of water every day.

So all is not lost, right?

=)

PS. I order the slim cut tree, due to space requirements, but one time I did buy the full cut and it was well-named. Very plush.

PPS. Admittedly, it isn't my favorite variety of tree, but for me, freshness trumps all other considerations.

PPPS. And yes, we did used to go and cut the trees down ourselves, but we quit doing that because of our periodic drought conditions, which tend to make the fir trees in our area a little less resilient.

Christmas: From Superficial to Sacred

From the Superficial

To the Sacred

With Jeremiah's very beautiful baptism experience behind us, I am officially ready to rumble. (Rumble is the appropriate word for what it's gonna take to get everything finished in time for the Christmas Eve arrival of 17 family members.) My biggest worry at the moment is getting all the shopping done, but a winter storm has realigned my list of priorities for this wet Monday. Addressing and mailing cards has now taken over the top position, but never fear, I will get enough shopping done to relieve some of the pressure. (Online commerce rules.)

I will also be attending funeral services today for a woman who has left us too soon, though not unexpectedly. 20 years ago, when I first moved into my ward, Gail was already ailing. In fact, she suffered with numerous health-related issues from the day I met her, and I met her fairly often because her daughter and mine became best friends and remained so throughout all of their school years. This devoted wife and mother was a stalwart member of the Church, one who joined over the objections of her Jewish parents and family. I always admired her courage in having made that decision. I appreciated her intelligence, as well. In fact, being in a gospel doctrine class with her was an education in itself. Gail knew her stuff, and her unique perspective as a converted Jew always added depth and interest to every lesson.

I mentioned that her death was not unexpected, but somehow that isn't really true. When her husband told me several days ago that she was in hospice, I couldn't help feeling surprised to think that the end of her life was imminent. Gail fought off pneumonia and other chronic problems so many times that I had begun to think of her as invincible.

But none of us is invincible. Not one. And that's what I'm going to be remembering today, in Gail's honor. Life is fleeting, and the time to act is now. Right now. There can be no better time than this very hour and minute to live our lives the way we came to earth to live them. There should be no ever-distant tomorrow when it comes to loving the people around us in ways they can feel, praying to our Father in Heaven and listening for answers, making time to read the scriptures, reaching for dreams that will matter, and showing our gratitude openly. The moment is now; I want to remember that.

I also want to express my thanks to a Heavenly Father who loved us enough to send His Son to earth on that first Christmas. I'm grateful for a selfless Elder Brother who wasn't afraid to offer Himself, "Here am I, send me." Christ came into the world as a sinless baby and left as a sinless sacrifice, a Savior and Redeemer who would forever take away the sting of death and give us the victory. As I think of Gail and so many others, my heart overflows with love for Him.

And that's what Christmas is really about. Not the cards and the shopping but the gifts of love and sacrifice they represent. And their Giver.

Let every heart prepare Him room. (Just assumed top priority ranking on my list).

Not that I won't be doing the Christmas cards, because I will. But I'll be doing them with a merrier, roomier heart.

And thinking of Gail.

A Baptism Story

Welcome to Jeremiah's baptism!

What do you think of our new member prospect?

Mom and Dad are pretty proud of him.

Here's Mom again, front view.

Looks a little nervous, doesn't he?

His brother looks a little jealous.

And his sister just looks shy.

(But she was brave enough to bear her testimony!)

Great Grandma and Great Grandpa were there!

And so was Uncle Ryan.

Aunt Karin and Uncle Bobby came down, too.

Grandpa looks pretty proud of Jeremiah's Dad, doesn't he?

Grandpa gave the new member a silver chain and said

he was the sixth link in his family's chain of baptisms.

Pretty cool.

Congratulations, Jeremiah!

We love you!!

Come As a Child

©1981 by Susan Noyes Anderson

Wherefore, whoso repenteth and cometh unto me as a little child,

him will I receive,for of such is the kingdom of God” (3 Nephi 9:22).

“Today I was baptized,” the young boy said.

“Know what that means?

Dad put me underwater,

He said it would make me clean.

“No, not that kind of clean, you guys,

not like a bath would do.

I guess what he meant was clean inside…

way, deep inside of you.

“And then he put his hands up

on my head and promised me

that from now on, I’d have a friend

to love and comfort me.

“The Holy Ghost…Hey, not that kind of ghost.

Come on, you guys.

What he meant was a Spirit…

loving, kind and very wise.

“And you know what? I did feel

kinda nice and warm inside…

and special, really special,

like when someone’s on your side.

“Well, that’s what getting baptized means,”

the young man proudly said;

“except it means that, from now on,

I’ve got to use my head…

“My head, my heart and all my might

to listen to the voice

of that sweet Spirit deep inside

each time I make a choice.

“Cause Dad says that I’ve promised

to remember Jesus Christ,

and that’s just what I’ll try to do

now that I’ve been baptized.”