The Letter: Holiday Traditions

MacGruber, Jerseylicious, Waldo, and Pink Musketeer want to wish you a Happy New Year! (This is not the picture we ended up going with.)

I am a fan of the Christmas letter. Because I want to know what is going on with you. Because I am a hermit and probably haven't actually talked to you in person since, well, 1997. And I am fine with that, because you keep me updated with your Christmas Letter.

Some people do not like the Christmas Letter. Those people are out of luck when they get my card, tell you what.

There are a common schools of thought to the Christmas Letter. Shall we?

First, that it should be peppy and cheerful. I fully agree with this one. I knew a girl who, when asked what she wanted to have included in her portion, spelled out details of her intentional overdose. This is not peppy. Yes, it is honest, but is it something you want the nine-year-old of your best friend's neighbor reading? No. Is it something that family should know about? Maybe. Is the Christmas Letter the place to break it to Great Aunt Tilda? No. If Grumpy Boots Teenager wants to tell the world that the holidays are just a commercial scam and there is no Messiah, then it is up to you, the writer, to spin it. Maybe like this: "Becky Sue (who now prefers to be called Rebecca) is really getting into the spirit in her world religion classes! She loves serving others, especially those who do not live in our home. We love that she is so unique and that black is such a flattering color on her!"

Another rule of Christmas Lettering is that it should be short. I agree with this to a point--I keep it down to one page. If you have thirteen children, yours will be longer. That is fine. If you have no children, only show ponies, you should have a paragraph.

Some people like to have a theme with their letters. They recap the year month-by-month, or write the whole thing like a news article. This does not work for me because I don't remember what we did last month, and I am not good at the formatting and photoshopping. But I don't mind reading them. I always wonder, though, for the monthly updaters: do you feel pressure to do something memorable each month? What happens when March is just full of deadlines and crap and your electric bill gets turned off because you were so busy with absolutely nothing that you forgot to pay it?

I have a special theme to my letters--I almost didn't share it because I am quite happy with it and don't want a ton of imitators. But then I remembered that I actually stole it from a Valentine's letter Azucar put out years ago. And I felt guilty. So here it is: We each get a paragraph, and it includes our recommendations for books and movies to read. Then we say what we would do if we had a million dollars. I like it, it keeps the paragraphs unified, and makes us seem very creative and winning. WINNING.

Finally, know your audience. One of my friends has got this down to a science: she has come to terms with the fact that people really only want to know about her grand kids. So that is what she updates about. I labor under the delusion that everyone wants to know about me, so that is what I write about.

This year I experimented with a little religion in the closing paragraph. Usually I don't feel compelled to bear my testimony in a holiday missive, but felt like I needed to express my gratitude for an exceedingly crazy year full of blessings. Some people are all full of the Sperrit and like to testify in the whole letter, with crazy capitalization and Comic Sans. I get a little uncomfortable with that, unless it reeks of The Crazy, in which case I copy it and email to all of my friends.

And that is how I go to Hell every Christmas.

What think you about the letter? Do you do it? Enjoy it? Read it? Hate it?

Almost Waving. Also, William Wallace is kicking Che's A$$.

Whatchu Talking About Willis? (Too soon?)

I heard a story, once, about a man who was waving at the beach, from where he was swimming in the ocean. Those on the beach waved back, thinking he was so friendly, and he waved back at them. This continued for a while, until the people on the beach got tired of waving back, started to grumble about how this dude just KEPT waving. Sheesh. Then the man disappears in the surf. Turns out he was not waving, but drowning. (I am sure it is more eloquent in the story. And then a boy throws a starfish onto some footprints or something.)

This story has always stuck with me, because the phrase "Not waving--drowning" has exemplified my struggles with clinical depression. I put on a good face--W calls it my Game Face--and can smile and fake it with the best of them, but ultimately I am just drowning, hoping someone will notice and come save me. Because I am almost completely incapable of not waving, of calling out, of asking to be saved.


And these past two weeks have been so full of people wanting to save me, to help me, to lighten my load, that I have been rendered motionless, lest I burst into tears at every moment.

When faced with trials, I am pretty good at not asking "why me?" but, rather, "what do I need to learn?" And I am gobsmacked by the realization that I need to learn to accept help. These are my top four phobias:

• Asking for help
• Asking for directions
• Answering the phone
• Down escalators

So you can imagine the level of discomfort I have been facing the past two weeks. Because not only have I had to be helped, people wanted to CALL ME TO TELL ME THEY WERE HELPING ME.

My little Cosby Kid.

It is only because I am too sore to go to the mall and ride an escalator that I have been saved from a complete emotional collapse.

But I feel like I am coming out of it--this haze, this feeling of struggling against the waves that want to pull me under. I even returned a phone call today. (Just one. Don't get your hopes up.)
And I wanted to thank you for your prayers and your thoughts and your concerns. I can feel them. And I need them. WE need them, W and Jooj, and The Dude and I. (Still trying out nicknames. Nothing seems to stick yet. Maybe when he is home?)

He is off of the bili mat, out of an isolette, regulating his own temp, and getting bigger every day. His poops are legendary around the NICU. He still needs to finish his bottles but, as W puts it, "If there was a way I could sleep and eat at the same time, I would totally do that too." So maybe it is a genetic sort of laziness. And he is still blond. Hence the reference with the dollar signs in the title. (So there is hope for you, Carolyn, that Stew will never show up in your children.)

I love you guys. And I hate pumping.
And I still am not answering the phone. But thanks for calling anyway. It makes a difference to this one.

Callooh! Callay!

This picture no longer makes me ill!

I haven't posted my positives since Thursday. Know why? Because I have been too busy getting to work. Know why? Because the sickness has all but vanished. ALL BUT VANISHED!

And that was so positive I didn't have time to post about it; I was too busy praying prayers of thanksgiving/cleaning/talking to my husband/playing with my kid. All things I--seriously--haven't done in four months.

I don't know if this is a permanent condition, but I will take it for as long as it lasts. I feel like myself again. (And since I can't feel the baby kick or move yet, I keep forgetting I am even with child. Which is a surprisingly awesome feeling. I mean sure, My Sharona still hurts like I have been kicked by a mule, but that is not going to last forever.)

Yesterday at church, I was reflecting on how great it was to feel great. And I was wondering if it was just the complete absence of feeling great that made the presence so noticeable, or if it was something more. And then the words to this song popped into my head:

I am happy today for the sunshine
For the sky of gray and blue
For within my heart is the song I love:
I'll live; I'll work; I'll do!

(I don't know if those are the exact lyrics. But those are what I always sing. So that's what counts.)

And I got one of those pure inspiration moments--it is not enough to just feel well, I was so joyous because, for the first time in four months, I was able to live, work, and do. And I need that in my life. I used to always think that it would be great to just sit, like Gilbert Grape's mother, all day. But after living that way for so long, I realize that it is nice for a day, maybe, but not what I need in my life for thriving. I am still having to work out the kinks--I get really tired, and over-tired=nausea. But I will figure all that out soon, I am sure.

And so that is my focus this week--living, working, and doing. Want to join me?

I miss the beach

Why does it have to be so far away and so expensive? Stupid beach. You are just making me hate you.

For Fig

The Final Act of Vanquishment.

Mesilla Valley Maze

So, attached to the U-Pick Farm is the Mesilla Valley Maze. Possibly the coolest pumpkin patch I have ever been to. (To which I have ever been, grammar Nazis.)

It wasn't open when we first farmed, so you know we had to return the following week.

I have a fabulous friend out here, Cindy, one I can always count on to go on adventures. Her son, Austin, and Jooj are best pals, and get into a lot of trouble together. We took her husband's little car, because it used two gallons of his gas to get there, as opposed to the half a tank it would have taken our cars. (Note to self, Austin and Gigi should not sit that close to each other in a car again. Half a tank is worth the not touching.)

Shadows add, like, 70 pounds, right? RIGHT?
Included in the admission was a hayride out to the pumpkin patch. We didn't pick any because that is what we do for A Day. I have to save SOMETHING for later. For tradition. For the desperate Saturdays when I can't take another showing of Dora...
Our favorite thing in the entire world is roasted corn. We ate three hundred corns. Corn? Corns? I vote corns.
Once she got the hang of it (muscle memory from last year?) she wouldn't put the corn down.
Notice there is no diaper in this picture? Hooray! Notice I didn't show you the "after pics" of the corn later that night? You are welcome. PS--we sanitized the monkey out of Jooj before and after.

For the younger kids they set up a hay-bale trike maze, complete with custom John Deere trikes. They dug it.
How much do you think a Tire Mountain would cost? Less than that wooden play set at Costco?
"Have some fyowees, me Highness."
Screw those kids. I need a photo op.
Getting taller every year! Maybe she is not cursed to be a bean after all...
The kids' favorite part, by far, was the hill-slides. They ran up and down and up and down and up and down until they could barely stand. Then they crawled up and down. So incredibly dirty. I was really glad when Jooj was brave enough to go by herself so I could sit in the shade and eat corn.

(image kifed from MesillaValleyMaze.com)
After all of that, we didn't do the corn maze. Why? Because I don't need a spot in which to make out. Which is the primary function of corn mazes. Maybe next year.

An Apron for Soybean Lover

Dear Soybean Lover,

Guess what is in the mail for you?

Thanks for bidding one million dollars.

Love,
La Yen

A Thousand Words

Jooj loves to take pictures. And she takes LOTS of pictures, when she gets her grubbies on my camera. Here are the ones from this morning...

WockyBoy

One of her favorite things to capture is tv shows. She squeals (Yes, we are on the squealing phase that will last until she is 30) with joy "Yook! Es Jack! Mi picture of Jack!" Also, detritus on top of cabinet is in "time out." Because it is the ONE place in the ENTIRE house she can't climb up and reach

Her death trap rocking horse (she is too heavy for it to not catapult her when she builds up speed...)

She likes to take pictures of furniture. See above (not just the couch) and below.

And one that Mami snapped when she was all finished being the photographer.
PS--do you like my new header? I guess I am getting too spiritchal for the yaked yadies any more...

For my friend, but only because she asked.

So I got in contact with one of my oldest friends, one who I hadn't seen since her wedding. In, like, 1999. Or 1998. Or something. And she said that "you need to work on your blog."

And I was all "Whatever--you work on YOUR blog." Because I am mature like that. And then I remembered that I hadn't really posted anything for a while, and that I like my friend a lot and am just feeling sassy because it is 300 degrees here, plus all of Dolly's humidity but none of her sweet, sweet wind and rain.

So, my friend, because I am a giver, the least I can do is put up some recent pictures. Recent-ish.

Here you go.

Picking W up at the airport for his 2 week break.

4th of July at the park (W had gone back by then.)

This pretty much sums up Spring at our house--naked but for baby legs and a pock-a-so.

Standing in line at the Toy Story Ride at Walt Disney World.

Oooh--3-D!

Tan lines & the "Hay-Kip Game."

I promise, I will try harder. Harder-ish.

Cooking Musts

Every magazine has a must list, and I have decided to throw my lot in with them on Fridays. This week, because it is less hot, I am back in the kitchen. Here are the first Friday Musts:

The Spice Stack. Amazing. It holds 60 little bottles or 30 big ones, or a mix of sizes in between. And it fits in my cabinet. I love it, because my spices are everywhere, because I can't get enough from
Penzeys.com
The fragrances are amazing when I open the box. My current favorites are the apple pie spice (which I use on everything from bread to beef), Rocky Mountain Seasoning, and Sandwich Sprinkle. And they send free samples when you order a medium amount of spices. The catalog is full of recipes, and they are in their second year of publishing a great magazine, called Penzey's ONE. I love it.


Oh, Nigella, I love you. And this book never fails me. Especially when it is warm outside and I need fresh ingredients in my body. We are currently living on the Hasselback Potatoes
and the Chocolate Raspberry Pavlova

And every day we temper our Hasselhoff and Merenguey indulgences with some good, fresh bread made with King Arthur Flour. I love everything from them. The recipe that I use for bread is the same as is on the bag--and it is amazing. I have been trying to find the perfect bread recipe for years, and I think we are getting very close with this one. I also really like their sticky bun sugar and their sweet dough flavoring. And the glazed bread loaf pans are fab. And so is their bread proofer. And I am dying to get the yogurt maker...
6. Speaking of bread and King Arthur, try this recipe:
Chocolate Fudge Monkey Bread

Finally, my most secret ingredient for successful cooking? That would be the DVR playing


Because the play kitchen only holds her attention for so long...

Happy Summer, Part 2

Happy Summer