>Mug shots and Secret Santas

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>The Secret Santa Saga has ended. It was fun, as always. No Deer Droppings this year (that one is legend now), and no inflatable cows singing “Blooooo Christmas”, either, but we did have a good time. I had the name of a first grade teacher, and she came over to my room Friday to tell me how much she enjoyed the gifts and the “chase” to find them at times. Thanks to my Santa, my mug collection has grown, including the “Smart Mug” that was my final gift. I’ll probably use it when I’m driving the long roads early Saturday mornings on my way to judge music festivals. Each mug came with at least one flavored coffee, with a final inventory of: Candy Cane, Chocolate Amaretto, Gingerbread, Chestnuts by the Fire, Hot Butter Rum, and After Dinner Mint. (The pig/reindeer behind them is one of my favorite decorations, trying to edge its nose into the picture.) Upon delivery of the last gift, the identity of my Santa was revealed.

It was my boss, the school principal.

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>The Best Christmas (Pageant) Ever

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>I finished reading the book The Best Christmas Pageant Ever to my class today. Sixth graders, remember, with the beginnings of middle-school angst, ‘cool’ attitude, and a lot of excess pre-holiday energy. If you’ve never read it, the book tells the story of a standard church pageant disrupted by a rowdy family of kids who don’t know the Christmas story, much less understand the etiquette of a church play. They turn up for Sunday School at first because they hear a rumor that there’s free food to be had.
Through the turmoil of casting, rehearsing, and the disaster of dress rehearsal, the nasty Herdman kids keep everyone on their toes. They bully their way into the main roles. They resist the status quo, asking questions like, “Who is this Herod guy, anyway?”
Eventually, the pageant goes on. It’s not your typical Christmas show. ‘Mary’ burps the baby loudly, the shepherds are truly afraid of the Angel (she’s beaten most of them up on occasion), and the Wise Men offer a ham from the family’s donation basket instead of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But when all is said and done, there’s a feeling of calm, an overall realization that maybe it really was like this was for the Holy Family. Maybe the glorified paintings and perfect-hair Marys weren’t as realistic as this one, the rowdy girl with a black eye saying, “Hey! Get your hands off the baby!”
A girl in my class came up to me at recess this morning right after I finished the book. She said very thoughtfully, “You know, I think that pageant was exactly right. It wasn’t fancy, it wasn’t fake, and the kids in it really had a chance to think about and understand the story. All Christmas pageants should be like that.”
I had a lump in my throat. This young woman is barely 11 years old, rather spacey and forgetful, and has been quite sad lately with friendships gone awry. Yet somehow, with this book, she felt touched, moved, even calm. She seemed ready to face recess and her friends again, despite the turmoil around her. Somehow, after talking to her, I could no longer play the Grinch. I couldn’t feel any Humbug, either.
Thanks, kiddo. You made my day. I hope I contributed in some positive way to yours.

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>Aging even as we speak

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>I just took a look at my profile and found out it said I was 250 years old! I was supposedly born in 1756. Um, how did that happen? Did I age noticably when I switched to Blogger Beta? I’ll tell you, I’ve been feeling old lately, but nothing like 250.

I fixed it. If only I could slow the real aging process that easily!

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>Random thoughts on Secret Santas

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>It’s Secret Santa time at my workplace, and we really, really get into it. We enlist the building maintenance engineer’s help in off-hours deliveries. We leave things in odd places. We get kids to deliver for us. We slip quietly past the door of the recipient, hanging the gift from the doorknob while he or she is teaching. Yesterday, I left a gift on top of the printer that I know my “giftee” uses. I found out when she had art class on and left her gift with the art teacher to be delivered when her class returned to their room.
The wildest and craziest gift delivery had to be the time my friend the music teacher had my name. She convinced the engineer to help her out. In fact, when all was done, I found a polaroid picture of him in his elf hat on my desk. I got in that morning to find a warning sign on my door: “Caution. Deer Droppings Ahead.” I opened the door cautiously to find — “droppings” in the form of chocolate covered raisins, carefully placed in little mounds on small sheets of paper all around the room. It took me half the morning, with students help, to get them picked up. Of course, I shared. It’s become part of building legend, much like the banana in the boa.
Our students enjoy this, too. Mine keep asking, “What did you get today? Do you know who has your name? Do you think you know? Do you have any clues?” I have too many suspects; that’s the problem! It could be anyone from the music teacher (she loves the same kinds of coffees I’ve been getting) to the police liaison officer (I caught the secretary delivering, and she’s not playing this year). So far my “Santa” has delivered (or had delivered) a different flavor of coffee each day with a pretty seasonal mug. Oh, except for the day the coffee was packaged with a cute cartoon titled “Java Junkie”. It looked suspiciously like me. Hmmm: maybe the art teacher? She doesn’t drink coffee, but the music teacher is her best friend and could certainly advise.
So far I’ve unwrapped Chestnuts by the Fire, Hot Butter Rum, and After Dinner Mint. Mmm!
And yes, I’ll take pictures of the new mugs to post when the week is over and my Santa is revealed.

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>Honey…..

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>She is stealing my heart. Sadie the new little bunny is weaseling her way — no, poor choice of words — she’s convincing us all to keep her. Most important of all, she’s convincing the Peanut bunny that she’s going to be his friend. She hasn’t sat still for a picture yet.

Sadie is not a willing model, as the top picture shows. When I learn to use this camera better, maybe I’ll catch her on the run. She also has lovely dark eyes, but I kept getting red-eye in the pictures. The photo manager software took out the entire eye pigment along with the red. Where’s the Visine when I need it?

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>Hi honey. Gee you look nice today.

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>That’s what the subject line read on my email last Friday afternoon. I immediately wondered what he’d done and why he might need to resort to flattery.

Here’s the rest:
“A bunny was the pet-saver segment (on the noon news) today. Sadie is 2 1/2 yrs old; same species as Tiny; family was moving and had to give her up; was an indoor family style bunny; more history yet to come from the shelter. She’s sitting on my desk here waiting for me to bring her home. I’ve got her for the weekend on a “trial” basis.
(Please don’t kill me)”

Ever since Beast died, the little Tiny one has seemed lonely. We’ve moved him into the house, but he and Peanut (the house bunny) didn’t hit it off. We gave up and moved Tiny into Amigo’s bedroom so he could roam the upstairs while Peanut roams the first floor. When we introduced the lovely Sadie, Tiny would have nothing to do with her, getting all territorial and feisty and resistant to having a new friend. We were surprised; Tiny has never been an “only” bunny. He’s always had Beast at his side. Since Tiny wouldn’t even give her a chance, we were discouraged. We set Sadie’s cage in the dining room.
Were we ever surprised when Peanut, our aggressive and often anti-social bunny, came over and sniffed at her. Sadie poked her head out of the cage, and they nuzzled. They’ve had a few moments of agitation, mostly setting limits for one another, but Sadie has allowed Peanut to be dominant bunny and has even shared her food with him. He has been more than tolerant, even friendly in his own furry little way. They began getting acquainted little by little, and we felt we could allow them to “hang out” in the dining room as long as someone was there to supervise.
Well, it’s Monday, and we’ve decided to extend the trial period for the remainder of the week. This has potential.
And Sadie’s awfully cute.

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>Funday Sunday

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>You might be a Green Bay Packer Fan if your husband wears a pair of these Packer booty slippers when he’s relaxing on the couch.

As of today, Brett Favre has never lost in Monster Park (by any name). He is seven touchdown passes shy of reaching Dan Marino’s career record. But does he have a cute pair of slippers like this? I doubt it.

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>What a difference a year makes

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>The scars are still there, but we’re recovering.
Last year at this time, we were mired in a deep, dark murk that made us feel like we were slogging through an emotional swamp. I had injured my wrist attempting to start the snowblower, so I was in constant pain. Husband was working outrageous amounts of overtime because one of his co-workers, the one in charge of the football season specials, had broken a leg. On top of the overtime, he was working to get his commercial driving license as part of the back-up situation. We were preparing to bring La Petite home from college to get her wisdom teeth out, and Amigo was struggling in school — big time. My boss had drawn red concentric circles on my back, so I was constantly looking over my shoulder at work lest she take aim and fire.
The normal holiday efforts were coming along oh-so-slowly because we didn’t have time or energy to accomplish them. I put up a few indoor decorations with Amigo’s help. They didn’t look like much, but at least Santa or other visitors would know we’d tried. Husband put up some basic outdoor lights (yes, he was very, very careful on the ladder). Our tree was one of the last ones on the lot. It barely fit in the minivan because it was a bit odd-shaped. We dragged it into the house, threw on a few ornaments, and collapsed from exhaustion. Gifts? I’m not sure how we ever shopped and wrapped. Husband did most of his holiday shopping at the Packer Pro Shop because it was the only store he could get to in the craziness of his job.
It was the juggling act that all families face, but we were no longer juggling fruit. It felt more like juggling flaming swords. We didn’t sleep well, we suffered headaches, stomachaches, and all kinds of stress-related illnesses. We didn’t have enough time or stamina to deal with all we’d been handed.
A year ago, life was destined to get worse before it got better.
When I look at the challenges this year, they seem minor by comparison. However, I still feel a little nervous as we enter this “most wonderful time of the year”. I really enjoy the season, the music, the excitement, but a deeply buried part of me is leery of ever going through a winter like the last one.

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>Is there coffee in the house?

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>My favorite coffeehouse in our downtown is a family owned place. The décor is simple: original wood floors and tin ceiling, plain walls, and basic chairs and tables. There are two “window” seats, small tables-for-two that are actually up a step and in the full length windows at the front of the shop. These little alcoves also do double duty as stages for live performers. There is a cozy couch in one corner. They used to have an old church pew from a historical building nearby, and I kind of miss that. But every time I’m there I think about owning it.
If I owned the place, I would:
Keep the hardwood floors and tin ceiling. They’re beautiful, and completely in character with the neighborhood.
Paint the walls a different color. They have a few nice photographs and a few random art pieces hanging here and there, but I rarely take the time to look at them. The walls would need work. Maybe a neutral but warm color, with the art work on the walls grouped strategically to encourage viewing, would be the improvement the walls are crying for.
Clean it up more often. Maybe I’ve just been there on busy, busy nights, but I’ve noticed that the garbage bins on the way out the door are often overflowing. There are always at least two or three light bulbs burned out as well. Could this be a job for a teenager after school? A college student in exchange for free caffeine?
They have free wireless internet service, too. There is a tip jar at the counter asking for tips “to keep the wi-fi free”. I haven’t used their wi-fi yet, but my change always goes in the tip jar anyway. If I owned the place, I’d keep this service if at all possible. It would bring in at least a few regulars, creating word-of-mouth buzz for more customers.
They have a limited menu of sandwiches and breakfast goodies. I would keep this, too, while potentially sharing advertising with a local bakery. It could be a win-win for both of us.
It’s not in a location that encourages a drive-through, so that’s not a concern. Delivery maybe? There are enough workplaces in the general area to make deliveries worthwhile. Offices could fax or call in their orders ahead of time, and we could deliver for a small fee. This could expand our reach, create more exposure, and encourage those folks to stop in on their own time.
Smoking isn’t an issue, either, since our town passed a smoking ban in public places a while back. If we didn’t have the ban, I’d run a nonsmoking place anyway.
Reading over this, I realize that I really like the place. Most of what they’re doing is great. Did I mention their coffee is delicious, too? And since retirement is a long way off, I don’t plan on opening up my own spot for decades, if ever. It’s just a dream.

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