Keeping it Real Christmas

I am trying to “keep it real” this Christmas. I mean: I am trying to limit myself and keep to a budget. I don’t use credit cards anymore. I am trying to buy gifts only for my immediate family. My dad, Charlie, my brother and his girlfriend, and my step-mom; these are the people shopped for (online to boot). I bought all but my step-mom the same thing. Electric throws. From Wal-Mart. Delivered with their “site to store” option and I just picked them up.

These are a necessity for my dad, brother and girlfriend… as they live in the country where the fog sets in, their homes don’t heat properly, and it costs way too much to heat even if it did. So these are actually GOOD gifts that I hope will get put to use.

Of course I thought the same thing about the electric teapot that I bought for Dad last year, only to find he never uses it. He likes using the old copper teapot on the stove top.

Oh well, can’t win them all.

For Charlie I am buying a couple of other things. One “gift” was registration costs for the Winter Young Adult retreat that he wants to go to. That’s a little more than $100. I also got him a couple other things that I am not listing as he may actually read this. He knows about the items that I have listed.

I actually went to the store yesterday to try and find something, anything, so that I could give more to Charlie.

I don’t know what to get my step-mom. She is in her 70’s and has “everything” she could want or need. So, her gifts are a little standard. Someone at work was selling homemade soap, so go her that. I am going to go thru my stash of handmade crochet items to see if there is anything in there that she may like.

My trouble is that I WANT TO BUY MORE. More, more, more. The advertising says “buy this” … “buy that” …

I want to buy something for my pastor, my choir director, the church accompanist, my supervisor, my former supervisors, and friends at work. I have given or will be giving small handmade items to some of them, but I feel like it is not enough, or is inadequate for some reason. I want to give pricey objects, but those objects would not mean much anyways, so why do I want to???

ARGH and Merry Christmas to All…

In His Loving Arms…

July 3, 1972

July 3, 1972.

36 years ago.

I was 5, my brother was 2.

There were 5 of us in the car. My parents, my cousin Susie, and me. This was in the day where you did not have to have your children strapped into car seats, so my brother was riding in my mom’s lap. My cousin and I were sleeping in the backseat; I don’t believe we had seatbelts on, it was not a requirement in ’72.

The road we were traveling on was the 2 lane highway outside of Vallejo, traveling towards Vallejo, on our way home to Sacramento. Both sides of the road has water canals on them.

I have sketchy memories of that night. I know I was sleeping. It was dark. The next memory is one of me waking up, water around me. It was cold, dark water. I remember hearing my father speak to me. I don’t remember the exact words, or the tone he was using. I remember that I was scared, not knowing what was happening. Panic. Soon someone pulled me thru the window of the car and took me to the shore.

It turns out the car was run off the road by someone who was trying to pass us. The other driver did not have enough room, the oncoming car was close, and the driver cut back into our lane, driving us off the road and into the water. The driver was drunk, on a suspended license because of previous drunk driving issues.

Our car ended up, upside-down, in the canal. 5 of us were trapped in the car. I don’t know the depth of the water. I do know that the water was dirty and cold, and came in the car quite fast. It tasted salty. I don’t remember if the windows were already open, or if my dad had to open the windows in order to help get us out of the car.

People who saw the accident stopped along the road and jumped in to save us. We all were able to get out, with one exception. My mom. She was wearing her seatbelt and they were not able to get it off in time. She drowned that night in that cold, nasty water.

I remember after I was pulled out to safety, sitting on the bank of the canal. Sitting with a stranger with a blanket or shirt or sweater – something dry and warm – wrapped around me. I remember the sounds of emergency vehicles arriving, people shouting, lights flashing. Panic. Chaos.

I don’t remember the ride to the hospital, but I do remember getting a warm bath, in a hospital bathtub by a nurse or orderly. I remember my hospital bed, which had the sides lifted in order to keep me in the bed. I remember climbing out of the bed in order to go to the bathroom and getting scolded by a nurse. I vaguely remember hearing my brother. I think.

I remember my dad coming in and getting me. We walked down the hall way of the hospital and he told me my mom was dead. I don’t remember if I cried. I believe Dad was crying.

In just a few seconds, that drunk driver had ruined our lives. Changed it forever. I was a motherless daughter. My dad was shattered. My brother was so young he has no memories of our mom at all. It changed our lives. Never would I be able to talk to my mom about boys. She would not be there to guide me nor my brother through all those hurdles of life, big or small.

My mom was another statistic. Drunk driving fatality. But we all were killed that day. Not physically, but spiritually, emotionally, mentally. We all died. The lives that came out of that car were not the same ones that entered it, just a couple hours before.

So, now, every year around the first of July, I tend to start thinking about the upcoming holiday. It is not usually a happy day for me. Our family can usually get thru the day well enough, BBQ, play badminton, other games, talk, laugh. But, I know that for me the thought is in the back of my mind, that we are missing a vital piece of our family.

I ask that you all enjoy the holiday, safe and sane and sober. If you do choose to drink and drive, please make sure that you have a back up plan. Have someone drive you home. Sleep on the floor or couch where you are at. Please do not get in the car, and sit behind the wheel, and drive down the road. You could horribly change lives if you drink and drive.

In His Loving Arms…

Scary Christmas

Okay, so the title is a little off, but it sounds good.

I had a really good Christmas with my family. We had dinner again at my step-mom's house. It was my dad, my brother Brian, his lady Anne and myself. Charlie spent the holiday with his father and grandmother. We had ham, candied yams/apples, green bean casserole, cranberry jello stuff and a roll. It was all very delicious, washed down with a nice white wine. I don't normally drink wine, so I was a little fuzzy by dinner time.

The Scary Christmas story actually is about the day after. Known in some countries as Boxing Day, but not observed here in the U.S.

I spent the day pretty much in my usual day off mode: in bed, napping and playing my video game. I would get up once in a while and go potty, or get a snack, then back to bed.

Around three in the afternoon I woke up to pounding at my door. It was not a nice little knock... it was POUNDING. The cat and I both bolted upright. My heart was pounding for a bit until I realized it was someone at the door.

I don't answer my door, because it usually is someone asking for money for one charity or another... or someone looking for someone else. When I have actual guests, they notify me before they show up, and they certainly don't POUND on the door.

So, I waited.

And, waited...

The POUNDING continued.

I finally got up out of the bed, wearing my typical around the house wear, shorts and a little tank top. I approached the door cautiously, looking out the patio door to see if there was anyone lurking there looking in... my blinds were not shut. I didn't see anyone. I tried to go to the door quietly. POUNDING, POUNDING.... I was just to the door and almost getting in front of it to look out the peep. B....A....N....G...... the door blew in a few inches, I literally saw daylight, and the door buckled inward.

My heart almost stopped. My first thought was that someone had shot my door, and thank GOD I was not in front of it... I looked for a hole in the door but there was none. He had kicked the door almost in. Thanks to the dead bolt it didn't open.

I have to preface this with I AM STUPID AND STUPIDER when I get upset.

I then went to the peep and looked through it to see who was on the other side of the door.

It was a big, black man, with a white beanie, carrying a backpack. I yelled through the door "I THINK YOU HAVE THE WRONG PLACE." He answered, "I am sorry, I am looking for my brother and he lives in apt # XX ..... " I yelled back... AS I OPENED THE DOOR, "WELL HE DOESN'T, YOU HAVE THE WRONG PLACE.... YOU GONNA PAY TO FIX MY DOOR? GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE." He apologized again and walked off.



I then went back to the bedroom and watched him walk away as I was closing the blinds, went back to the living room and closed the blinds there too. I didn't finish my afternoon nap.

and, NO I didn't call the cops, though in hindsight I should have.

In Jesus' Loving Arms

Holly - Daze

Holly - Daze -- that period after Thanksgiving but before Christmas.

Just a note about Thanksgiving... It was really nice. My not-ex picked me up to go to his mom's place for dinner. We got there and dinner was not started but that was ok... My dad and Charlie arrived with the Ham, that got put in the oven. We played some Apples to Apples (awesome game), actually about 100 hands of the game. Then the ham was about done. Carrots and Cauliflower were turned on, candied sweet potatoes put in the oven, ham taken out and carved. Rolls were put in the oven to warm... Dinner was very delish. After dinner a game of UNO was enjoyed by one and all.

I went to my dad's after dinner, and we sat around watching TV for the evening.

Friday after we slept in, got up and went to Hometown Buffet with my brother and his lady and her son. We ate, dinner again was delish and better yet, the restaurant was nearly empty...

We got home and started playing Totally 80s Trivial Persuit... very very frustrating. 2 boys who are teens and don't even know what the 80's were, my dad who was in his 40's and barely remembers that era, and 3 of us who THOUGHT we knew EVERYTHING 'bout the 80's and DON'T.

After getting headaches from TP, we played dominoes... mucho bueno!

It was a great Thanksgiving weekend.

and it was

IN HIS LOVING ARMS