Katdish.net

Ed Cyzewski wrote a great post around Thanksgiving entitled The Search for a Meaningful Christmas: Moving Beyond Guilt and Sentiment. It’s actually the first installment of three posts. Parts 2 and 3 are What are We Celebrating? and How Should We Celebrate Christmas?, respectively. If you haven’t read them, they’re definitely worth your time. Especially if, like me, you’re not exactly bursting at the seams with Christmas cheer.

Honestly? It’s stressful: Decorating, gift shopping, crowds, school parties, grown up parties, Christmas plays and/or recitals, travel plans, etc. We over eat, over spend, over extend ourselves to the point of near exhaustion, and yet we’re supposed to be merry and bright because it’s Christmas time. I know many of you reading this are shaking your heads and thinking, “That’s not what Christmas is all about. It’s about celebrating the birth of the Savior of the world, and even those who aren’t Christians can still celebrate a time to be with family and friends; to give and receive gifts as tokens of what we mean to one another.”

And all that’s great. You’re right–that IS what it’s all about, but that doesn’t mean many of us aren’t doing all the aforementioned things that add stress to the season. I’m not exactly feeling like the Grinch, I guess I’m just not feeling the Christmas spirit this year. I may get there, I may not. But I’m done feeling guilty about it. Ed really nailed it in his post when he said:

“I wonder if we sometimes try to force meaningful experiences or major spiritual epiphanies on ourselves during holidays like Christmas.”

I’ve realized that’s what’s always bothered me about this time of year. I’ll repeat what I wrote on Ed’s blog: I think people get overwhelmed and depressed at Christmas because they feel guilty for not getting swept up in the magic of Christmas. Instead of thinking about all they have, people often focus on what they are lacking–whether in spirit or material possesions.

This year, I’m giving myself the gift of permission. Permission not to feel guilty for not being merry and bright just because I’m supposed to. And by letting myself off the hook for not feeling what I’m supposed to feel, I’m leaving myself open to be caught off guard by unexpected moments of joy, of which I will be truly grateful.

This post is part of the One Word at a Time Blog Carnival: Rejoice hosted by my friend Peter Pollock. To read more (and undoubtedly more uplifting) posts on the topic of Rejoicing, please visit his blog, PeterPollock.com

If you were standing here with me in the bedroom, you would hear what I’m hearing. It’s plain as day, too, despite the fact that between us and the noise there is a door, a fan, and running water. And you would likely grin as I am grinning. I always do when my son sings in the shower.

I can’t recognize the tune—he likes to make up his own songs, which sometimes rhyme but most often don’t. I heard a reference to Santa a minute ago, and something about macaroni not being as good without the cheese. A deep thinker, my son.

He likes to sing in the shower. My daughter and wife, too. Me, I’ve always been more of a truck singer. Give me a good song and an open road, and I can really belt it out. And I’m a pretty good pew singer, too, though I’m conscious not to raise my voice so high that others take notice. In my head I sing like Harry Connick, Jr., but I’ve heard I sound more like Homer Simpson. I try to take that as a compliment, which takes some effort.

Still I sing, and often. And no matter who you are or how gruff you appear to be, the odds are good that you sing upon occasion, too.

But have you ever asked yourself why? On the surface, singing has no practical purpose. We use words because we must communicate, we laugh and cry to show emotion, we use our thoughts to order our world. So why sing rather than talk or laugh or think?

I’ve asked my son that question. His answer came by way of a furrowed brow that said, Don’t be stupid, Daddy.

Still, I wonder. We don’t need to sing in order to lead productive and fulfilling lives, so why do we?

I think this season tells us.

Christmas was made for singing. There is music everywhere. In stores and on street corners and on the radio (as I write this, Brad Paisley is singing “Away in a Manger”). They are songs of joy and peace and hope and goodwill toward men. Songs that when sung take your eyes off what you see and put them on what you cannot.

Like this, for instance:

Maybe that’s why we sing.

Because when we give melody to voice we communicate and emote and order all at once. Because the contents of the heart are so many that sometimes they cannot be dripped out, but poured forth. Because there is joy and longing and love and passion that words alone do not suffice.

We sing to reach our deeper selves and ascend to the highest heavens. It is thanksgiving and praise, a call for healing and inspiration. Thousands of years later, the words of Isaiah still ring true: “Praise the Lord in song, for He has done excellent things; Let this be known throughout the earth.”

That’s what I think. And to me, it doesn’t matter if it’s Handel or “Jingle Bells.” It’s one of those precious things in life that always makes you feel better in the during and the after.

Just ask my son.

I first heard this song on a Christmas CD by Garth Brooks called Beyond the Season. I couldn’t find his version of the song on youtube, but this gal does a fine job as well. There are so many beautiful Christmas songs, but this one just touches my heart. Enjoy…

The Gift

A poor orphan girl named Maria
Was walking to market one day
She stopped for to rest by the roadside
Where a bird with a broken wing lay
A few moments passed till she saw it
For its feathers were covered with sand
But soon clean and wrapped it was travelling
In the warmth of Maria’s small hand

She happily gave her last peso
On a cage made of rushes and twine
She fed it loose corn from the market
And watched it grow stronger with time

Now the Christmas Eve service was coming
And the church shone with tinsel and light
And all of the townfolks brought presents
To lay by the manger that night
There were diamonds and incense
And perfumes
In packages fit for a king
But for one ragged bird in a small cage
Maria had nothing to bring

She waited till just before midnight
So no one would see her go in
And crying she knelt by the manger
For her gift was unworthy of Him

Then a voice spoke to her through the darkness
Maria, what brings you to me?
If the bird in the cage is your offering
Open the door and let me see
Though she trembled, she did as He asked her
And out of the cage the bird flew
Soaring up into the rafters
On a wing that had healed good as new

Just then the midnight bells rang out
And the little bird started to sing
A song that no words could recapture
Whose beauty was fit for a king

Now Maria felt blessed just to listen
To that cascade of notes sweet and long
As her offering was lifted to heaven
By the very first nightingale’s song

***

As he looked up, Jesus saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. “I tell you the truth,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.”

Luke 21:1-4

Okay, I realize I usually post my weekly twitter update on Saturdays, but I’m juggling my schedule a bit this month in order to free up some time on the weekends to procrastinate for Christmas shopping for as long as possible. (If you’re new here, the tweets are in backwards order, because I’m lazy like that.)

The best of me (or not) on the twitter this week:

@tonyjalicea rudolf http://plixi.com/p/61979322

(in reply to tonyjalicea @katdish What’s the theme?)

@louisvillebobby Dude. That’s Santa’s reindeer! http://plixi.com/p/61976818

(in reply to louisvillebobby @katdish Ok, the Rudolph tree is cool and I even like Yukon Cornelius but what’s with the wall of death? Lol)

My friend Shara has a themed tree every year http://plixi.com/p/61975233

@amysorrells Not that there’s anything wrong with that…

@amysorrells I know @dlrayburn is trying to help, but you should know he’s from Alabama.

@karenzach Shhhhh!!!!! (in reply to karenzach @katdish I thot you were going to confess to killing the Smurffs.)

@karenzach Tee hee! What did you THINK I was gonna write about? (in reply to karenzach @katdish Loved your Xmas sweater piece. Hilarious.)

I absolutely love it when my comments section takes on a life of its own.

@TheMikeEllis That’s what I’m saying (in reply to TheMikeEllis @katdish @dlrayburn were supposed to lighten their load. Not make it worse.)

RT @PeterPollock @sarahmsalter So @fishythoughts is not a dog? Disappointed. Unfollow.

@BigMama247 Yes. Will the indignities ever end? (in reply to BigMama247 @katdish Is that like giving them muffin stumps? http://youtu.be/0eipl17WpOo)

@themikeellis Just thought you should know that @dlrayburn is advocating giving holiday sweaters to the homeless http://bit.ly/ijZ5a3

@dlrayburn And speaking of crimes against fashion, thanks for changing your avatar.

@dlrayburn Yes, but think of all the crimes against fashion this post might prevent. (in reply to dlrayburn RT @katdish Breaking my silence | Katdish.net http://bit.ly/hEryQj //I was so offended and the economy will suffer from this post.)

@kysilka They are, but if coupled with a holiday vest, all bets are off. (in reply to kysilka @katdish What is your take on the holiday turtleneck or long sleeved shirt? It seems to me they are less offensive.)

So, guess where they escaped to in the kitchen? The microwave. Mwha, ha ha!

The exterminator treated the house for fire ants yesterday. He said I might still see a few trying to escape from the poison…

@DougSpur A fruitcake would be wonderful. We are building a bomb shelter and we could use fruitcakes in place of bricks. (in reply to DougSpur @katdish so – guess I’ll return the sweater I got you for Christmas…how about a FRUITCAKE?)

@dutchhillgirl Oh, shut up… (in reply to dutchhillgirl @katdish What silence?)

@redclaydiaries Of course not! @buddylovethedog has a Santa suit and antlers. (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish Hey, does your ban on holiday attire extend to dogs? Cuz it sure is tempting to humiliate Scruff w a Santa sweater.)

@amysorrells Yes. That’s going into the katdishionary! Thanks. (in reply to amysorrells @katdish I made up a new word, too. Nothing that compares to your original words, but a new word. Just for you.)

RT @TheMikeEllis There is no graceful way to hand a nurse your urine sample

@tonyjalicea Oh, please. Have you seen my giant head in the sidebar? (in reply to tonyjalicea @katdish I have to be honest, I’m a little embarrassed by how big my picture is on your post today.)

@kelybreez Sorry, I was confused http://plixi.com/p/61727060

@kelybreez Oh, you mean this one? http://plixi.com/p/61726930

(in reply to kelybreez @katdish I don’t mean either one of those coffee mugs. I mean the purple/pinkish one. The big one.)

@kelybreez @tonyjalicea I have several http://plixi.com/p/61724466

@tonyjalicea @kelybreez which coffee mug? http://plixi.com/p/61724371

@dlrayburn So, Dusty – what’s up with the new avatar? You look like there should be a parrot sitting on your shoulder.

@TheMikeEllis Do you want me to offend you personally? Because that’s extra. (in reply to TheMikeEllis @katdish I want an offensive guest post from you for my blog!)

@tonyjalicea I have a Seinfeld episode running thru my head for nearly every life situation. (in reply to tonyjalicea I have a song running through my head for nearly every situation in life. #humanjukebox)

@Peacegardenmama Oh, that’s great! Thanks. (in reply to Peacegardenmama @katdish “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” – Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., 1929-1968)

I’m going to write a post tomorrow that needs to be written. It may offend some people, but I’ve got to take a stand.

@buzzbyannies It’s what we can’t control that worries us. In driving and in life. (in reply to buzzbyannies @Katdish I’m used to this stuff. It’s the other guy I worry about.)

As tempted as I am to jump into #tsptry by quoting lines from Dr. Zhivago, I think I’ll behave myself & call it a night.

@dutchhillgirl You’d think most folks would know that by now, huh? (in reply to dutchhillgirl @katdish Haha!! Don’t they know you’re ALWAYS right? Even I know that. LOL)

Clearly, this person has no idea who they’re dealing with…

“I apologise, but, in my opinion, you are not right. I suggest it to discuss. Write me back in the PM. We will discuss.” ~ spam comment

“I think it’s interesting that ‘cologne’ rhymes with ‘alone’.” ~ Demetri Martin

@sandritaaaaa That’s from a store called Overpriced crap nobody needs. At least that’s what it should be called.

Um…yeah. http://plixi.com/p/61565086

New follow, over 20,000 followers, no bio, & no tweets for 3 months. It’s like the spam mothership.

Wait. Spoke too soon. http://plixi.com/p/60934755

Ah, diversity! http://plixi.com/p/60934466

Yikes! http://plixi.com/p/60932668

Have a crabby Christmas! http://plixi.com/p/60932386

Trees in every flavor http://plixi.com/p/60931767

Off to Garden Ridge Pottery to get a Christmas tree 50%-75% off. Which I’m pretty sure is gonna get ugly…

Yesterday, I posted the following tweet:

I’m going to write a post tomorrow that needs to be written. It may offend some people, but I’ve got to take a stand.

About most things, I am willing to speak out, but on this particular subject I felt the damage might be too great; the cost too high. But then I received the following reply from @peacegardenmama:

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” – Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., 1929-1968

Thank you, Roxane. Your tweet gave me the courage to finally end my silence; to speak out against what might be the greatest abomination of the Christmas season.

I’m talking about, of course…

The holiday sweater:

First introduced as a form of seasonal birth control in communist China, they soon made their way across the Pacific to Europe and the New World. But this still does not answer the question of why, in a country where its citizens have the freedom to wear anything they choose, people would voluntarily wear one of these things.

At first, the blight of the holiday sweater was only observed in the weakest of our society–those not in a position to make sound, educated decisions about their wardrobe choices. I speak, of course, of the very young:

and the elderly:

So what of the rest of society? I have a theory:

Having worked in the fashion industry for several years (and by “having worked in the fashion industry” I mean “I worked in the Junior Department of a local department store”), I know that home interior trends tend to follow clothing fashion trends. Don’t believe me? Here’s proof:

From the runways and red carpets of one fashion season:

To the trendy, overpriced furniture stores the following season:

I think it’s important to remember that this is a one way street. Clothing fashions can trend to home fashions, but when you try to flip this trend, the results are often disastrous:

As a Christian, I find it disheartening that Christ followers seem particularly vulnerable to the mysterious allure of the holiday sweater.

Attend any Women’s Ministry Christmas Tea, luncheon or cookie exchange, and I dare you to swing a wiffle bat without hitting an attendee NOT wearing a holiday sweater.

I think this particular phenomenon can be traced back to a misinterpretation of scripture. The Bible speaks of the Holy Spirit dwelling within you and treating your body as a holy temple. Perhaps in later translations it states, “the Holy Spirit shall come to dwell on your person. Maybe you should provide a comfy chair and a big picture window with a cat sitting in it.”

(Of course, this is pure conjecture on my part as I don’t own a copy of the New Living Translation Bible.)

I know I have focused on women’s holiday sweaters in this post, but in conclusion I want to urge men, women and children alike to think long and hard before the Christmas card photo this year. One hundred years from now, is this how you want to be remembered by future generations?

No, I didn’t think so…

Today’s guest post comes from Tony Alicea, who I connected with on the twitter.

Tony is a budding writer that loves technology, grandiloquent words, long walks on the beach and freshly ground Guatemalan coffee. His passion is to tell others about their identity in Christ.

Not only is a he wonderful writer, but based on his writing and my interactions with him, it’s evident that he loves God and loves people. Besides, he’s a fan of Seinfeld and The Office. Clearly he’s a man of refined tastes. I hope you enjoy reading this post as much as I have.

Here’s Tony on perspective:
Perspective is an ever-changing reality. It frames our picture, adjusts our lenses and it creates our filters. We use it to define everything from relationships to space and time.

Sometimes a minor shift in perspective, will open up a completely new reality. Adjusting the lens just slightly, opens up an entirely different view. What looked impossible, now seems possible. What looked uninteresting, becomes fascinating. What sounded like noise, becomes melodious.

Blessed is she who clearly sees the wood for the trees.
To obtain a ‘bird’s eye’ is to turn a blizzard into a breeze. ~Brandon Boyd

Perspective does not define truth, but it will shape how you receive truth. Your perspective is limited to your experience. Your experience determines the level of truth you can comprehend.

You can take a concept such as grace, for example. You can believe in grace. You can quote the definition. You can tell others about it. But if you never receive it from another person, your perspective on the scope of grace is limited to an abstract concept.

It takes an experience to shift your perspective. You cheat. You lie. You fall. You fail…miserably. Then the result you’ve encountered up to that point (condemnation, disappointment, abandonment) doesn’t come. You receive words of hope. You receive forgiveness. You receive something you don’t deserve. You experience grace.

You are pulled back and you see a larger part of the picture. The unending trees open up to a clearing. The fierce whirlwind becomes a gentle breeze. Despair turns into hope. All due to a shift in perspective, an experiential alteration of your entire paradigm.

Every time I put God in a box, He shifts my perspective. It doesn’t mean that the truth of who He is changes; it just means that my limited comprehension of truth gets enhanced by a new experience. It is an enchanting mystery of an ever-expanding reality.

I am now wary of explaining God succinctly. I don’t box Him into a theology that defines exactly what He will do and how He will do it. That doesn’t change the fact that His truth is constant. It simply provides room for the mystery and recognition that I haven’t and won’t experience every aspect of my prodigious God.

Perspective is realizing that possessing the truth doesn’t mean you have all the answers, but knowing that you can trust in the One that does.

To read more from Tony Alicea, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @TonyJAlicea.

I found this note to Santa Claus taped to the refrigerator, penned by my 9 year old daughter:

Dear Santa/Saint Nick,

A lot of people I know don’t believe in you, but I do because of your jolly cheer and happiness. I wish I could let everyone have jolly cheer. I know I’ve changed, but my heart will always believe. I don’t need much, but this is my list…

My husband and I struggled with perpetuating the Santa Claus myth after our first child was born. We had many Christian friends who felt that allowing your children to believe in Santa sent the wrong message. Christmas was about the birth of Jesus, and St. Nick took away from that, not the mention the moral dilemma of knowingly lying to your children, and I completely understand and respect those who choose to forego Santa Claus. But then I remembered my childhood–believing in Santa made Christmas a magical time full of hope and promise. I wanted my own kids to experience what I had, even if just for a little while.

Besides, just like Santa Claus, there are things in life we choose to believe in that don’t always turn out to be true.

The childhood friend who promised you’d be friends forever? That may have proved untrue, but that doesn’t mean the friendship wasn’t real and true…

That special boy or girl–your first love (or your second, or your fifth)–who promised to love you forever only to break your heart? Also untrue, but that doesn’t mean you’re unworthy of love…

And just because I no longer believe a jolly fat man will be visiting our house on Christmas Eve, doesn’t mean we won’t be leaving cookies and milk for him, even if this is the last year we’ll be doing so.

I imagine that this time next year the myth will be busted and I will explain that even if her idea of Santa Claus wasn’t real, the spirit of him — of “jolly and cheer and happiness” — can remain alive in her heart as long as she chooses to believe.

(The following is one of my all time favorite posts from Billy. It’s also the very first guest post on my blog. If you’ve read it before, I hope you’ll indulge me for posting it again.)

The toy store downtown is one of those mom-and-pop deals that you can get lost in, the sort of place where you can find things that Toys R Us would never think of stocking. Good things. Great things. Things that really, really make me wish I were a kid again. Which makes shopping there both a pleasure and a curse. A pleasure because there is so much I’d like to get my kids for two weeks of chores well done. A curse because I can’t make up my mind what to get them.

So, there on a Wednesday during lunch, I wander. And in my wandering I happen to spot a Longaberger basket sitting atop a wooden display of toy soldiers (Toy soldiers, I think to myself. My son would love some toy soldiers).

In the basket is a pile of those long, thick pretzel sticks. The sign above them says PLEASE TAKE ONE.
Given the fact that it’s lunchtime and I’m hungry, that’s exactly what I do. I take one and munch while I walk. Through the Legos, the building blocks, the books, the dolls. Through the Tonka trucks and coloring books and Play Doh.

And I am back to where I started. At the basket of pretzels.

Still unsure of what to buy and still hungry, I decide to restock and take another trip around the store. I reach into the basket for another pretzel. And as I bite it, I see something out of the corner of my eye.
Standing beside the stuffed animals about four feet away is a little boy. Sixish, not much older than my son, and staring. At me. He holds out one fist and raises his index finger.

One, it says.

I wrinkle my eyebrows, unsure of what his attempt at sign language means.

One, again.

“What?” I ask him (which actually came out as “Wamp?” because I hadn’t swallowed yet).

“You took two pretzels,” he says.

“So?”

“You’re only ‘posed to take one.”

“Who are you” I ask, “the pretzel police?”

“It’s what the sign says,” he states, now using his index finger to point. “Mama said the sign says ‘Please take one.”

I look at the sign, then back to him. “No,” I answer, “the sign says ‘Please take one.’ There’s a difference. It’s all a matter of emphasis.”

“What’s empkasis?”

“Never mind,” I say.

“You shouldn’t have taken that pretzel. Mama says God watches us.”

My mind takes a sudden detour to those old Disney movies, where the older, bigger kid was always accompanied by Jiminy Cricket, Mr. Disney’s version of a conscience. I’m starting to think this kid is my Jiminy Cricket. Or maybe just aggravating. I haven’t made up my mind yet.

“Your mama’s right,” I answer, wondering where in the world his mama was. “But since God knows the sign says ‘Please take one,’ I think I’m in the clear.”

“Please. Take. One,” he corrects.

There we stand in the middle of the store, staring down one another like two gunslingers in a Western wondering who would draw first.

PLEASE TAKE ONE. An invitation to me, a rule for him. Which was right? I’m not as sure as I was a few minutes ago.

How do we decide who is right and who is wrong? Easy.

Go ask the owner of the store.

“Excuse me,” I say to the nice lady behind the counter. “I was wondering if you could shed a little light on a problem this youngin’ and I are having.”

She perks up and joins us, happy to have something to do.

“We were wondering about this sign here,” I say. “Is it please take one, or please take one?”

The owner gives us both a strange look. “Well, I’m not sure. No one’s ever asked.”

“It’s preyin’ on our minds, ma’am,” the boy says.

“Preyin’,” I add.

“If you’d like a pretzel,” she says, “please take one. If you’d like another, you can take one, too.”

Excellent.

“Can I have a pretzel?” the boy asks.

Situation resolved, the three of us part ways. Him to his mother, who had been preoccupied with the books, the owner back to the register, and me to finish my shopping.

Funny, I think, how three words led us this far. But I am sure of this: if two people can disagree over something as simple as pretzels, it’s no wonder why we disagree over the important things even more—politics and God, right and wrong, war and peace.

Who’s to know which is right and which is wrong? Or even if there really is a right and wrong? How do we settle our differences, put away our prejudices, and find the truth?

Maybe, I thought, we should all do what that little boy and I ended up doing.

Maybe we should all go the Owner of the store and see what He says.

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

Since I was unable to post my usual twitter update last week, this is a very edited (believe or not) of 2 weeks worth of tweets, much of it consisting of my 9 hour car ride from Texas to Alabama. It probably won’t take you 9 hours to read. It will just seem that way. (As always, there in backwards order. So if you want them to make sense, read from the bottom to the top. Okay, they still probably won’t make much sense…)

And now the best of me (or not) on the twitter for the past 2 weeks:

Okay, people. I’m off to read a book about writing which will specifically point to all the ways what I wrote yesterday was garbage.

@karenzach Ugh. So long self-esteem! It’s been fun. (in reply to karenzach @katdish That dog is out now. They’ll be no leashing her.)

@JCWert Yes, please. I think I’ve been feeling entirely too good about myself. (in reply to JCWert @katdish That’s why I’m here. Shall I comment on something else? Your hair perhaps?)

@karenzach Sigh…so it was always there, I just needed to release it? Bummer. (in reply to karenzach @katdish No. The insecurity comes first. That’s why you write.)

@JCWert Gee, Thanks, Jason. That makes me feel so much better. (in reply to JCWert @katdish It’s just you.)

Does consistent writing make you insecure, or is it just me?

Wrote over 1000 words yesterday. Just read them again & I’m wondering what I was thinking. Ugh!

RT @TheMikeEllis Hug the hopeless. Love the lonely. Treasure the terminal. Forgive the fallen. Encourage the empty

Son: Oh, I have breakfast there too. Me: So what you eat here is pre-breakfast? No more breakfast at school. Sheesh

Me: Your lunch account us empty. What are you eating for lunch? Son: Just the regular lunch. Me: Then where’s all the money I just put in?

@redclaydiaries I’m building the neck stabbing. (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish Not stabbed in the neck? I’m surprised at you.)

@ExpeditionNovel You are so wise, Richard. Or a really good guesser. (in reply to ExpeditionNovel @katdish My guess would have been over 1007 but less than 1009.)

But I’ve got the beginnings of a story. I think it’s a good one. Someone gets punched in the jaw in the 1st chapter. FTW!

Okay, I’ll tell you. 1008. I’m pretty pleased with that. Even though I’m going to rewrite everything I wrote because I don’t like it.

@pauharri Ten???? Hmph

Guess how many words I wrote today? Go ahead, guess…

@anahid02 Clearly you THINK you like them. You’re just remembering wrong. (in reply to anahid02 @katdish I actually like Cadbury Creme Eggs…haven’t had any in a long time though.)

Seriously, what IS that stuff in the middle? It’s horrible.

So, since I have so much influence in these categories, I would just like to say, Cadbury Creme Eggs are disgusting.

Just checked my klout score. The topics I influence are: writing, publishing, authors, novels & Cadbury Creme Eggs

Beautiness – yet another new word I learned today. Spam comments are so educational.

At night all those inflatable Christmas decorations may look like a winter wonderland, but by day you just have a bunch of crap in your yard

Tomorrow, I’ll be posting a story of 2 blue herons & the political ramifications of said birds. Yeah, perhaps I need to get back on my meds

@tonyjalicea Now see? I knew you would get that reference! (in reply to tonyjalicea @katdish Stuart Smalley! #dailyaffirmation)

@tonyjalicea You’re good enough, you’re smart enough, and gosh darn it! People like you! (in reply to tonyjalicea Sometimes I think I’m my biggest fan. I’m okay with that.)

Because I’d hate to think I squeezed into my jeep for nothing http://plixi.com/p/60325475

I hope this person had plenty of room to get out of their car http://plixi.com/p/60325329

I wonder if this involves mirrors and large binder clips. http://plixi.com/p/60324085

Behold! Whoville at night! http://plixi.com/p/60198831

My neighbors front yard. Also affectionately referred to as Whoville. http://plixi.com/p/60176767

@BigMama247 Snort! I’m gonna steal that line! (in reply to BigMama247 @katdish Oh, that’s what I’ve got on the stove too! If I call cereal for supper “whimsical” that makes it okay, right?)

I really should have planned something for dinner besides my famous Nothing Au Gratin

Is there any lower form of reality television than televising small claims court?

@tonyjalicea Snort! (in reply to tonyjalicea @katdish That would be my loaf, thank you very much!)

@tonyjalicea Someone always brings a loaf of bread. That always cracked me up. (in reply to tonyjalicea It says a lot about people’s cooking ability at work when the best food at the potluck is store bought. #nothankyou)

K-mart smart, that is. Guess I’m not k-mart smart.

“There’s smart, then there’s K-mart smart.” If someone told me I was K-mart I’m not sure I would take that as a compliment.

If by “Eco friendly” they mean “Leaves dirt on clothes”, then yes, this detergent is Eco friendly

If I played 4-square, I would give you my home address & tell you I was finally home. But why would I tell 2000+ people where I live?

They say most traffic fatalities occur within a few miles of home. Wonder if that includes homicides. #Getmeoutofthiscarnow

The nice lady we rented the beach cottage from just sent me a sweet email chock full of emoticons, clearly unaware of my emoticonophobia

@MichaelDPerkins I’m not sure anyone could rock the Christmas sweater vest, not even @br8kthru (in reply to MichaelDPerkins @katdish is it a sweater vest? If so @br8kthru may have to step up his game.)

I somehow managed to take a pic of myself upside down. My eyebrows look weird. http://plixi.com/p/59596202

@TheMikeEllis Solidarity, bro. Me too. (in reply to TheMikeEllis @katdish hey, hate me some Christmas sweaters.)

I’ll miss this http://plixi.com/p/59592135

@kyrstind I tend to cut lite up tie guy some slack, cuz his wife probably bought it for him. His wife w/the matching sweater. (in reply to kyrstind @katdish LOL A middle-aged man with a light-up reindeer tie? Totally saw one at Wal-Mart the other day. Lite up & sang. Lol)

@kyrstind Is there anything sadder than a middle aged woman with a lite up reindeer sweater? Me thinks not. (in reply to kyrstind Not only 1 who does this? YES!)

First Christmas sweater sighting of the year. Let the season of secret sweater mocking begin! Mwha-ha-ha!

@redclaydiaries snort! (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish Steph’s not here, man.)

@redclaydiaries You malled AND decorated? Who are you & what have you done w/Steph? (in reply to redclaydiaries @katdish Yes, we malled, we ate, we decorated, we ate, we… ate… That’s about it.)

@gyoung9751 I bet you’ve read more books than I’ve had hot meals, Glynn. (in reply to gyoung9751

@PeterPollock @katdish Hey! I read War and Peace — a long time ago, yes, but I read it. Abridged and unabridged editions.)

@muchl8r But you finished it. Quite an accomplishment. I read Gone with the Wind just so I could say I read it, but I’m glad I did. (in reply to muchl8r @katdish I needed note cards to keep track of everyone, and I’ll admit that it was an entirely pretentious endeavor )

@muchl8r I think you’re the only person I know that’s actually read War and Peace. Even though lots of folks say they have (in reply to muchl8r @katdish Kathy, I didn’t know you could score any more points in my book, but you just did. #ILOVETOLSTOY)

I love my kindle, but there’s something about an old book that draws me in. http://plixi.com/p/59396571

“The sea was angry that day, my friend.” – George Costanza (cold front coming in) http://plixi.com/p/59306017

Good morning! Who’s ready for Black Friday? Or what I like to call “losing your faith in humanity”.

Said pajama pants are B&W MC Hammer pants, BTW…

My sister is wearing pajama pants she’s had since 1985. Don’t know if I should be impressed or embarrassed. Both?

Sunset http://plixi.com/p/59143092

GAAA! http://plixi.com/p/59127359

Happy belated Thanksgiving Canada!

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

And if by chance I’m killed in my sleep by the drunk hillbillies next door, I want you to know I’ll miss you all!

Staying at a very quaint and secluded cottage on the bay…

Just in time to see the sunset over the bay http://plixi.com/p/58919601

Alabama! http://plixi.com/p/58903435

M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I http://plixi.com/p/58894538

My dog, @buddylovethedog has marked the state of Louisiana 3 times. On to Mississippi!

The mighty Mississippi http://plixi.com/p/58880958

Gator country http://plixi.com/p/58874706

Obscene amounts of Chex Mix: Don’t leave home without it. http://plixi.com/p/58870958

It’s a dog’s life. http://plixi.com/p/58859737

Hello Louisiana! It’s been awhile!

Today, I am thankful for a DVD player in the car and 2 sets of headphones

Leaving the big city behind for awhile. http://plixi.com/p/58840771

Heading east to Gulf Shores, AL this morning. Hope you all have a very wonderful Thanksgiving. I can’t wait to sink my feet in the sand!

@marni71 Chicken Soup for the Soul, Lower Back Pain. Wow, what’s next–a Chicken Soup book for the hemmorhoid sufferer?

@weightwhat He’s no Awesome Cat.

Okay, this made me laugh. http://bit.ly/fLFMk0

Dear people who send me emails, If U want me NOT to read ur email, make the subject line: MUST READ
NOW. Cuz you’re not the boss of me.

@TchrEric Oh, not just on Twitter… (in reply to TchrEric @katdish Because you are the most opinionated person on Twitter?)

@JCWert Got 2 bags of Snyder’s! What are Arnold Palmers? I assume you’re not eating the golfer. (in reply to JCWert @katdish Travel food? Arnold Palmers, Swedish Fish, Snyder’s of Hanover pretzels)

Also, I would like to give @tremendousnews credit for coining the phrase “devastating laziness”, even tho he never talks to me anymore.

@Brian_Russell Brian, you’re on probation for RTing someone else’s good morning. That’s just devastating laziness right there

Walmart greeter just said, Good morning, young lady!” Which I suppose is a relative term b/c I think he’s about 126 yrs old

Because when I’m talking to myself, I like to know I have an audience.

I’m thinking not many. Sorry, I don’t get “scheduled tweets”

I wonder how many people tweeting quotes are actually on the twitter.

Back when I was painting on a regular basis, my muse and I were in the zone. She’d have me up a few late nights, but we were working together. She guided my mind and my brush and we made some pretty creative stuff, her and I. Some days I wonder if I should give up my pen and pick up my brush again. Because while my artist muse is quirky, artsy, fun and funky, my writing muse?

She’s kind of a bitch.

Take my visit to the beach for example. Had my artist muse come along on that vacation, we would have collected shells along the beach…

and perhaps brainstormed about different ways one might re-purpose all the planks lying around that used to be the pier.

We would have been amused at the clever way old floats were used to decorate the trees,

admired the oil paintings that lined the walls, and delighted in the fact that another artist once called the cottage their home away from home.

We might have even done some imaginary redecorating: “I bet painting the backs of the bookcases a bright coral would really make them pop. Or maybe a soft Caribbean blue would work, too.”

But alas, artist muse stayed at home with the cat. The other muse came along on this trip. She’s pretty much always around lately, whether she’s welcome or not. She even butts in on the rare occasion I’m painting or designing something. Rude, huh?

It wasn’t enough for her that almost every possible inch on the wall or space on a shelf was occupied by some token from another time. My other muse simply would have appreciated the time and care that went into arranging all these memories. Writing muse? No way.

“What’s the rest of their story?” she asks me.

“How is it that a college professor meets and marries an artist?”

“Seems she was a teacher, but not on a college level. Looks more like elementary school.”

“He appeared to be a deep thinker.”

“She was a bit of a romantic dreamer.”

“How did they make that work? Or did they make that work?”

“Clearly, many vacations were spent here — kids and grandkids both”

“The owner said her stepdad built this place in the 1950′s. Did he have kids from another marriage as well?”

“Did all the kids and grandkids from their blended family get along, or was there tension?”

And on and on…

It’s been a week since my vacation, and yet the questions and demands continue…

“What are their stories, Kathy?”

In my defense I reply, “But I can’t possibly contain those stories to a series of blog posts. There are too many words!”

“Who said anything about a blog post? You write until you’re finished. Worry about what you have when you’re done. Now, put some coffee on. You’re going to be up for awhile.”

And y’all thought I was bossy…