Katdish.net

I’ve posted this before, but clearly my message is going unheard and/or unheeded, because you people are still committing horrible crimes against fashion under the guise of holiday spirit. So, since you’re still pulling your ugly sweaters out of storage, I’m pulling this post out as well:

Breaking my Silence

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…

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“It just doesn’t feel like Christmastime.”

A sentiment I’ve heard more than a few times this year. Maybe it’s the economy or all the bad news coming out of Washington. Maybe it’s too much political correctness run amok.

I’ve noticed fewer and fewer people wishing each other a Merry Christmas these days, and when I wish someone a Merry Christmas, their response is often a surprised, “Oh. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

It’s certainly not a recent phenomenon. This time of year is filled with sadness and longing for many people for all kinds or reasons. Take Henry Wadsworth Longfellow for example. The tragic death of his wife and his son being severely injured in a Civil War battle left little for him to be merry and bright about. He poured out his despair in a poem entitled Christmas Bells on Christmas Day, 1863.

So, if you’re not feeling much of the Christmas spirit, take heart. Know that you’re not alone and know that there is still hope to be found.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old familiar carols play

And wild and sweet the words repeat

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along the unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:

“There is no peace on earth,” I said,

“For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on earth good-will to men!”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

“God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Till, ringing singing, on its way,

The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,

Of peace on earth, good will to men!

Twas just days before Christmas and all thru the web
Were boycotts and protests over things that were said
By an old bearded fellow not dressed all in red,
But donned up in cammo right up to his head.

Some people were outraged that this man had the nerve
To equate being gay to being a perv.
Still others were mad that the A&E station
Would put Mr. Phil on a long term vacation.

On Twitter, on Facebook and on Google Plus
They ranted, they chanted, they raised a big fuss.

“That man’s homophobic and racist as well!
He thinks all gay people are going to hell!”

“The network is spineless! They caved into GLADD!
What happened to free speech we’re all spose’ to have?”

And all felt compelled to add their two cents:
“Whose side are you on? Don’t sit on the fence!”

Though I have my opinions, I’ve been mute on the topic.
At this point I wish everyone would just stop it.

It’s Christmastime people! Or have you forgotten?
When God sent His son, His only begotten.

Can we all for a moment set aside this distraction
and agree on our Savior as the central attraction?

Let’s stop all this grumbling and be of good cheer.
We can all resume bitching at the first of the year!

Merry Christmas!

image courtesy of photobucket.com

Some of you may know that besides being a life skills coach and role model for author Billy Coffey, I also manage his website. This includes approving comments, scheduling new blog posts for him which he sends me via email, and sending Peter Pollock URGENT EMAILS TYPED IN ALL CAPS on those rare occasions when I’m experiencing technical difficulties with the site. One of the fringe benefits of this job is that I get to read Billy’s writing before anyone else does. Such was the case yesterday when he sent me his latest post Did you have a good Christmas?

I thought about that question.

Did I have a good Christmas?

And based upon the parameters in Billy’s post, I did have a good Christmas. Great even. My Christmas was quiet, spend surrounded by family, and I spent Christmas Eve being reminded that over 2,000 years ago in the town of David a Savior was born; he is the Messiah, the Lord. A baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. And while many equate January 1 as a time of new beginnings, I suppose I’m more like Ebenezer Scrooge. Waking up on Christmas morning feels more like a chance to start anew. When focused on that first Christmas gift–Jesus–everything else we receive is gravy.

I received some great gifts this year, including an iPhone 5 with Siri. Did you know that you can change the voice? If you go to settings, choose Siri, then choose Language, it will give you a list of several different languages in which to choose from.

If you choose English (United Kingdom), Siri becomes a British gentleman, which is awesome.

It's funny because it's true...

The only drawback to English Gentlemen Siri is that he has a hard time understanding my American accent. It was frustrating. I felt like Barry Kripke from Big Bang Theory:

But after several attempts to make a phone call via voice command, I finally figured out that all I needed to do was speak with a bad British accent and English Gentleman Siri was happy to oblige. Yeah…I’m totally doing that. Sorry/you’re welcome people within earshot of me using my phone.

But I digress…

Because I’m not here to talk to you about the gifts we receive for which we are grateful. I’m not even here to discuss gifts received that maybe we’re not so grateful for.

I’m asking you to consider being grateful for all those gifts you could have received but didn’t. For example,

Pajama Jeans

I have a friend who just LOVES her pajama jeans. She says they’re super comfortable and that when she modeled them for her kids, they didn’t even realize they weren’t actual jeans. To which I responded, “Um…uh, huh.” As I type this, I’m wearing jeans. I pretty much wear jeans every day. Why? Because they’re comfortable. I also have yoga pants, which are more comfortable, but unless I’m headed to the gym or to the bus stop, you’re not likely to catch me out in public wearing them. If you’re a stickler for comfort before fashion, then by all means, wear your yoga pants or your sweat pants out in public. But pajama jeans wearers, you’re not fooling anyone.

The WaxVac

Gaaaaahhh!!! I’ll stick with dangerous Q-tips, because that’s just gross.

Wraptastic!

This is a gift that says, “I don’t think you have the mental capacity or physical dexterity to remove a piece of plastic wrap out of its original container and that maybe your junk drawer isn’t quite full enough.

Thanks, but no thanks.

And of course, there’s

The Jesus Chair

Oh, who am I kidding? I would LOVE to receive the Jesus Chair. Then I would throw a big dinner party, set it at the head of the table and watch as guests uncomfortably ponder whether or not they should sit in it.

So how about it? What are you grateful for NOT receiving this Christmas?

If you were to ask me what my favorite genre of music was, I would not give you a straight answer. I don’t really have one. My music tastes are complicated.

I’m a lyrics gal. Words move me, which should come as a surprise to absolutely no one. I suppose I could say I love rock and roll, but not all of it. I don’t care for screaming guitar music. So, riddle me this: How is it that someone who’s a lyrics gal that doesn’t care for screaming guitar music would list as one of her favorite songs of all time Always with Me, Always with You by Joe Satriani? A song with no lyrics and plenty of screaming guitar?

See? Complicated.

If you were to ask me if there were any genres of music I didn’t like, two would come to mind. The first would be rap music. Then I would tell you that I love LL Cool J, and that I’ve probably logged hundreds of miles on the Stairmaster with his Mama Said Knock You Out CD blasting through my headphones.

I know. I’m a a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.

The other genre would be country music. For me, listening to country music is akin to eating gummy bears. A few are sweet and satisfying, but past a certain point I begin to feel nauseous and regret every having opened the bag. It’s strange, this repulsion I have for country music. Because some of the best stories in the world are penned by writers of country music. Most country songs are simple and honest. I should love country music, but I just don’t. Maybe there’s something lacking in me which makes me turn away from it. I’m not a fan of sappy love songs either, but the lyrics to Dan Hill’s “Sometimes When We Touch”–arguably the sappiest of all love songs–may hold the key to my feelings towards country music:

Sometimes when we touch, the honesty’s too much
And I have to close my eyes and hide

Maybe it’s just a little too honest for me at times. Maybe it stirs a longing in me that I know on some level will never be filled. Music has its own special power, and it affects each of us differently I suppose. The power of country music is that it sometimes makes me sad.

Having said all of that, there are some songs that sum up a sentiment better than our own feeble words ever could, and sometimes those songs are country songs. I heard this song on the radio the other day, not for the first time, but perhaps for the first time, I really heard its message.

This is my wish for you. At Christmas, and always.

Merry Christmas.

I’ve posted this twice before, but clearly my message is going unheard and/or unheeded, because you people are still committing horrible crimes against fashion under the guise of holiday spirit. So, since you’re still pulling your ugly sweaters out of storage, I’m pulling this post out as well:

Breaking my Silence

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…

image courtesy of photobucket.com

The gifts have been opened. The garbage sack of discarded wrapping paper and boxes have been (hopefully) been dragged down to the curb for the garbage truck to haul away. Time to be grateful for the bounty you have received–the gifts that were exactly what you wanted, and even those that missed the mark. It really is the thought that counts, right?

But since it’s just us here, it’s time to fess up. Did you get more of the former or the latter?

I believe the vast majority of gift givers truly want to give the recipient something they will love. Take me, for example. Every birthday, anniversary and Christmas, I rack my brain trying to find the perfect gift for my husband. I can count on one hand the gifts that would qualify as perfect. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the thought I put into them–he assures me he does–I just can’t seem to get it right most of the time. He, on the other hand, being ever so practical, asks me what I want and then gets it for me. What a concept, huh?

And speaking of my husband (excellent segue katdish!)…

He’s a coffee drinker. We both are, actually. He’s one of those folks who is happy to drink coffee at 8:00 in the morning or 8:00 at night. With this in mind, it is reasonable to assume that gourmet coffee would be an excellent gift.

coffee from my dad and his wife: gourmet mocha java

gift from my brother & his family: coffee from Hawaii

gift from my sister: coffee from the French Quarter in New Orleans

Many of you coffee affectionados may be reading this and thinking these are excellent gifts. And they are. But not for him. I’ll enjoy them all, but that sort of misses the point, doesn’t it? They were given to him, not me.

Why won’t my husband enjoy these thoughtful coffee gifts?

Because when it comes to his coffee, my husband is Frasier Crane’s dad Martin.

No latte, no half-caff flavored frappuccino. Just plain, black coffee. Folgers or the grocery store equivalent. But he’s not complaining. How could they know he doesn’t like fancy coffee? These were all good gifts that just slightly missed the mark.

Since we just returned from a week at my in-law’s house, where watching Jeopardy at 6:00 was a nightly ritual, I would like present the remainder of the gifts received following the Jeopardy game format of answer first, then question.

Ready?

Am I the only one who misses Alex's man-stache?

Here we go…

Gift which will likely still be on the card table after your January garage sale.

What is the Vampire Diaries 750 piece puzzle?

***

Gift most likely obtained by traveling back in time to the 1980’s.

What is a backgammon set?

***

Gift you never knew you needed until you got it.

Who knew you could fry barbecue?

What is a BBQ fry pan and…

What is gourmet salt?

***

A gift you should absolutely, under any circumstances buy for someone unless they specifically ask for it.

They don't even look good on the skinny model.

What are pajama jeans?

There’s my list.

Any interesting gifts found under your tree you’d care to share? Maybe we could negotiate a trade?

For the first time since my now 14 year old son was an infant, we spent Christmas away from home. This was also the first year we didn’t leave milk and cookies for Santa, because my 10 year old daughter informed me a few months ago that gig was up. Spending time with both sides of the family during the holidays can be difficult to do. Throw a divorced set of grandparents into the mix and it can be a logistical nightmare. Fortunately, my divorced parents are both within a few hours drive of us, so we usually visit my dad and his wife one weekend in December and reserve Christmas day for spending it with my mom and sisters, who live here.

This year, we exchanged gifts with both of my parents, my sisters, my brother and his family (via airmail from Hawaii) and with each other prior to December 25.

My in-laws have gotten the short end of the stick when it comes to spending time with the grand kids at Christmas because my husband and I decided when the kids were still small that we would spend Christmas at home. But this year was different. Because not only were we celebrating Christmas, we were also celebrating my father-in-law’s 90th birthday on December 22. That’s a pretty big deal in my book. So we packed up the kids and Buddy Love the Dog and headed to New Mexico. The party was wonderful. My father-in-law shared a little about each decade of his life. It’s really quite amazing all the modern conveniences we take for granted.

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, all of our gifts had already been opened. I thought it would be a let down not to have any gifts on Christmas morning, but it was far from that. Because I was the recipient of gifts void of wrapping or bows, but they were still wonderful and will be cherished:

-An unexpected White Christmas

-A nine hour car ride home on Christmas Day with nary an argument between my kids. Thank you, Jesus for books and electronic devices beginning with the small letter “i”.

-Time away from my computer. Time spent reading 11/22/63–Stephen King’s latest novel. It’s a monster of a book, and I seriously doubt I would be almost finished with it had I not been away from all of my usual distractions. I’ll let you know my final verdict when I’m done, but based upon what I’ve read so far, I’d say it’s one of his best. If you’ve read “It”, you gotta read this one. Some old friends from Derry resurface in 11/22/63. There are few things in life I enjoy more than getting lost in an epic story.

-Games of train dominoes, homemade Chex mix, cookies, candy and way too much food. Conversations and nightly play along Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune viewings. Little things, but memorable ones.

These gifts were unexpected but cherished, but not all gifts received are cherished. Sometimes when you receive a gift and you say, “Oh, you really shouldn’t have”, what you mean to say is, “No, you REALLY shouldn’t have!”.

But more on that later…

Hope y’all are having a blessed holiday season, if not downright joyful.

Originally posted December 12, 2010

image courtesy of photobucket.com

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.

Update: The myth is busted. My daughter approached me earlier this year and casually announced that she knew Santa wasn’t real. When I asked her if she still believed in the spirit of Santa and what he represents, she assured me that she always will. Win/win.

If you were to revisit posts I’ve written in past years around this time of year, the majority of them would be brimming with Christmas spirit. Like the song says, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year”, right? Right?

Well, I’m coming clean. For me, it’s really not. Oh, it’s my fault. I allow all the things that shouldn’t matter much matter much more than what should. Take teacher gifts, for example.

Earlier this week I purchased what I thought would be great gifts for both of my daughter’s teachers–Starbucks gift cards with cute little Starbucks coffee cup ornaments. Teachers like coffee, right? The only problem with these gifts was that I failed to ask my daughter what she wanted to get for her teachers, and she had very specific ideas about said gifts. Neither of which involved coffee.

After a few tears and gnashing of teeth from both involved parties, it was off to the mall for a Bath & Body Works gift for one teacher and Walmart for an action figure for another. We only lacked one small gift to include with the action figure. A gift that needed to be made with supplies not readily available at Walmart, the mall or at home. With my stress level high, I dropped off my daughter at home so she could eat dinner and I headed to Michael’s Arts and Crafts. I found what we needed, drove home, gave the supplies to my daughter and left again for praise team practice. I arrived home after ten and immediately went to my daughter’s craft table to check on the progress of the project. It was incomplete and my daughter was in bed. So I did what any involved, slightly perfectionist artist/mother would do. I finished it.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

The next morning I stood in the kitchen with the completed gift awaiting praise and gratitude from my daughter for finishing it for her. What I got instead was anger from her for not allowing her to do it herself.

More tears and gnashing of teeth from both parties. Feelings hurt. Apologies given and accepted. Real, honest heartfelt apologies. Breaking through the veil of you need to be happy because it’s Christmas feelings to the real stuff. The love we often take for granted. Another bittersweet Christmas memory for the books. I think it will be more sweet than bitter in the remembering.

Oh, the last final gift?

Marcel the Shell

What’s that? You don’t know who Marcel the Shell is?

Only the cutest shell EVER!

P. S. – Marcel was a big hit at the class party.