Holiday aspects that must go
Every December you hear the phrase, in some variation, "Happy Holidays to You and Yours." What the heck does that mean and why do people only say it in December? Who are "yours"? Yea, yea, I know they mean your friends and family, but it implies that they are your possessions. The last time I checked, Ray did not have a clear title to me (of course, he is still paying on me. Been refinanced once or twice). Who are the main offenders to the "yours" annoyance? It is usually a newscaster doing a holiday promo, wearing a nice holiday sweater, in a dimly lighted room, with a fancy Christmas tree in the background. Or, it is your favorite meteorologist and his sweet little family, all in matching outfits (of course) sitting on the floor in front of a fireplace delivering the phrase. Oh, and the pre, intra, and post Christmas small talk. I know you don't care about what I am getting my kids (bike and some other toys), where I will be spending the holidays (Austin, Lampasas, and Mason), how my holiday went (great), whether my kids enjoyed Santa (one did, one did not), what I got (nothing except what my work friends gave me), and whether I am glad it is all over (still have one more to go this weekend). Please, don't ever feel obligated to make small talk with me. I have come to realize that people only use small talk to get to the real heart of what they want to talk about- themselves! And I am ok with that. Just come right up and let me know what you want to say about what is going on in your life. Often times, it is much more exciting than mine, so I enjoy it.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Memories
When you are little, you don't realize that certain aspects of your family's life don't represent how the rest of the world lives. My sisters and I don't really associate with my dad's side of the family anymore, mainly because my dad is dead and we don't have any desire to see most of them. We see a couple of our cousins occassionally, but for the most part we don't see anyone else. My sisters and I laugh a lot about our grandmother. She was one of those holy rolling, Bible thumping, Pentecostal ladies. She did not think females should wear pants because somewhere in the Bible it said not to. My middle sister said that she found that passage underlined in one of Grandma's old Bibles she somehow acquired. I am surprised that we were allowed to wear shorts at all when we went there in the summer! My sister also found the "spare the rod adn spoil the child" passage underlined, which probably explained why we were swatted with switches. Guess that is why we all turned out so well. Thanks Grandma! Being the holy roller that she was, Grandma believed in the gift of speaking in tongues. I remember many occassions ascending the steps to her house and hearing her speaking in tongues. I am not going to bad mouth anyone's belief in the gift of tongues, I do believe it can happen. Yet, with her- she always said the same thing! I guess the good Lord wanted to get that message across to someone because I heard the same phrase for as long as I could remember. She would always call her old lady friend, Gertie (I named a cat after her) and they would pray over the phone. They would pray for what seemed like hours. I often wondered what Gertie was doing on the other end. Was she praying too? Or did she put Grandma on speaker phone and go about her business? Grandma always had this fantasy that my dad was going to be a preacher someday. I don't know what ever gave her that idea, but she held to it. I guess he would have made a good preacher since he'd probably done quite a bit of sinnin' in his life. My sister and I also laugh about our tick memories. Just so you know, in the past 20 years, I might have had one tick on my body. But, when we went to my dad's for the summer and stayed at Grandma's- ticks were an everyday occurence. I guess they could not afford Deep Woods Off or an exterminator because "pickin' ticks" was a way of life at Grandma's. Everyday she would pick up her dog, Ellick, and start the tick search. She would gather her tweezers (which she probably also used to pluck her chin hairs) and the tick jar. This was a small bottle, always glass and always see through, filled with alcohol. Grandma would pick the ticks off the dog and put them in the tick jar. I can still hear the clink clink of the tweezers against the glass. I don't know why the jar was never emptied after the tick sessions, but it was not. It was always a pleasant sight to see the ton o' ticks sitting beside Grandma's chair, usually on top of her Bible. You could not help but miss them and be amazed. I will start putting more memories out there for you. I have lots more, but people complain about how long my blogs are, so I won't put them all out today!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Ray + AC/DC = Love 4 Ever
I wrote this after taking Benadryl, so if the tense is wrong- sorry.
My husband love love loves heavy metal music. He is not an angry, black wearing, tattoo covered kind of guy. Just a regular person that likes heavy metal. He has always had a thing for AC/DC, Ozzy Osbourne, some guitar player for Black Sabbath, Van Halen (I would not really put them in the heavy metal category, but who am I to judge?), and probably many other gravelly sounding bands. I used to listen to that type of music, back when I lived in Mason and that’s all I knew. I remember when I discovered AC/DC in about 1989. I know they were around much longer than that, but my family was into country music and I was in a private Christian school for 2 years. The only rock I heard when I was at the private school was Whitesnake that Rodney listened to. Needless to say I really loved AC/DC for a few years, too. But I did not know any better. In a small town, especially when I was in high school, we were not exposed to much of anything outside our city limits. Believe it or not, when I was in high school (only a mere 15 years ago), the internet had not gone mainstream. I really don’t remember anyone that even had a computer. The first time I remember touching one was in 1993 when we used it for word processing. I had no earthly idea the world that existed beyond my Word Perfect. So back to Ray, he has been obsessed with AC/DC for as long as I have known him. Recently, Ray’s work friends invited him to an AC/DC concert. Like every concert that Ray has ever attended, he always has certain rituals he must complete. He always wants to take his own car, so the rituals mainly focus around it. Months before the concert, Ray begins the “stereo enhancement” tasks. There always seems to be a new or improved stereo that gets installed in his vehicle within a few months of the concert. In my own car, I can have the same stereo for 10 years, but Ray has to have a new one for one reason or another about every 1.5 years. So, sometime in the summer, he installed another stereo. I am sure that I had to tell him how much better it sounded than the last one- even though I could not really tell the difference. Also this year, Ray had a friend help him build a speaker box for (what I think was) a subwoofer. Ray spent many days and nights carefully crafting this box that had the speaker on one side and storage on the other. What he keeps in that storage, I don’t know. Probably some eight tracks, bandanas to tie around his thighs, a tshirt with rolled up sleeves, some tapered leg pants, some Rave hairspray for his heavy metal hair wig, some spandex leopard print pants, and some kaepa tennis shoes. It was like Santa’s workshop in there- hammers hammering, drills drilling, dust dusting, and spray paint spraying. After the box was completed, Ray would frequently (as he did with all the other concerts recently) request that I take the kids to school or he would offer to run errands. I used to wonder why he did this, but it finally occurred to me one day that during those alone times, Ray could turn up his 1980’s headbanger music, roll down the windows, and relive his teen years---I mean test out his stereo. I could just picture him with his left arm resting on the open window, breathing in the fumes of I35. I could see his (upper arm) hair whipping in the wind, as if headbanging to Highway to Hell. I imagine him thumping and bassing along in his little red wagon- feeling totally awesome. I see him at a stop light looking at some cute chicks with his eyes squinted slightly, pursing his lips, jutting them out, and doing the head nod in time to the music. Once the girls notice him, he sticks out his tougue (like Kiss) and does the rock and roll salute to them. I imagine him in utter bliss feeling like the coolest (old) guy on the street. As with all concerts, within a couple of days of the concert, Ray’s next ritual is the “cleansing of the kids” from his car. All the Hot Wheels cars, board books, diapers, wipes, and cheerios are removed from the Rock Wagon. There is never to be any sign of children. He always works on the MP3 compilation CDs that, surprisingly, are all the songs ever done by the band they are going to see. This year, Ray worked tirelessly on his rituals, especially the speaker box. Oh how I longed for his attention and for his embrace during these times. I missed my sweet natured husband who selfishly devoted his time only to the box. I knew my time would come again, but I also knew that I could not hold him back in these endeavors. To keep him sane, I had to let him have his time. Now that he has kids, I know this time is even more important. I am happy to report that this year, he did not attempt to grow the greatest goatee ever. It is the first time EVER that he has not done this for a concert. I am sure it had something to do with my blog bashing his facial hair. I know I should support the hair, for it provides great material for me, but I can’t do it. But, what he did do this year, that made me chuckle was have a special concert shirt made. He took a cartoon picture of Angus Young and had a guy at this work draw it on a tshirt in Sharpie. The following website should take you to the pic. http://www.amazon.com/AC-DC-Angus-Young-Sticker/dp/B000SJMRVS/ref=pd_bbs_sr_8?ie=UTF8&s=automotive&qid=1229831744&sr=8-8 And oh yes, he wore it. He loved that shirt. It was very well done and I am sure he was the envy of all the other concert goers (probably 98 percent men). I love my husband. He is a real sweetheart and I am very lucky to have him. He cooks, he cleans, he cares for his kids, and he puts up with me. He is just a little crazy in the head (yes, like you Banning).
My husband love love loves heavy metal music. He is not an angry, black wearing, tattoo covered kind of guy. Just a regular person that likes heavy metal. He has always had a thing for AC/DC, Ozzy Osbourne, some guitar player for Black Sabbath, Van Halen (I would not really put them in the heavy metal category, but who am I to judge?), and probably many other gravelly sounding bands. I used to listen to that type of music, back when I lived in Mason and that’s all I knew. I remember when I discovered AC/DC in about 1989. I know they were around much longer than that, but my family was into country music and I was in a private Christian school for 2 years. The only rock I heard when I was at the private school was Whitesnake that Rodney listened to. Needless to say I really loved AC/DC for a few years, too. But I did not know any better. In a small town, especially when I was in high school, we were not exposed to much of anything outside our city limits. Believe it or not, when I was in high school (only a mere 15 years ago), the internet had not gone mainstream. I really don’t remember anyone that even had a computer. The first time I remember touching one was in 1993 when we used it for word processing. I had no earthly idea the world that existed beyond my Word Perfect. So back to Ray, he has been obsessed with AC/DC for as long as I have known him. Recently, Ray’s work friends invited him to an AC/DC concert. Like every concert that Ray has ever attended, he always has certain rituals he must complete. He always wants to take his own car, so the rituals mainly focus around it. Months before the concert, Ray begins the “stereo enhancement” tasks. There always seems to be a new or improved stereo that gets installed in his vehicle within a few months of the concert. In my own car, I can have the same stereo for 10 years, but Ray has to have a new one for one reason or another about every 1.5 years. So, sometime in the summer, he installed another stereo. I am sure that I had to tell him how much better it sounded than the last one- even though I could not really tell the difference. Also this year, Ray had a friend help him build a speaker box for (what I think was) a subwoofer. Ray spent many days and nights carefully crafting this box that had the speaker on one side and storage on the other. What he keeps in that storage, I don’t know. Probably some eight tracks, bandanas to tie around his thighs, a tshirt with rolled up sleeves, some tapered leg pants, some Rave hairspray for his heavy metal hair wig, some spandex leopard print pants, and some kaepa tennis shoes. It was like Santa’s workshop in there- hammers hammering, drills drilling, dust dusting, and spray paint spraying. After the box was completed, Ray would frequently (as he did with all the other concerts recently) request that I take the kids to school or he would offer to run errands. I used to wonder why he did this, but it finally occurred to me one day that during those alone times, Ray could turn up his 1980’s headbanger music, roll down the windows, and relive his teen years---I mean test out his stereo. I could just picture him with his left arm resting on the open window, breathing in the fumes of I35. I could see his (upper arm) hair whipping in the wind, as if headbanging to Highway to Hell. I imagine him thumping and bassing along in his little red wagon- feeling totally awesome. I see him at a stop light looking at some cute chicks with his eyes squinted slightly, pursing his lips, jutting them out, and doing the head nod in time to the music. Once the girls notice him, he sticks out his tougue (like Kiss) and does the rock and roll salute to them. I imagine him in utter bliss feeling like the coolest (old) guy on the street. As with all concerts, within a couple of days of the concert, Ray’s next ritual is the “cleansing of the kids” from his car. All the Hot Wheels cars, board books, diapers, wipes, and cheerios are removed from the Rock Wagon. There is never to be any sign of children. He always works on the MP3 compilation CDs that, surprisingly, are all the songs ever done by the band they are going to see. This year, Ray worked tirelessly on his rituals, especially the speaker box. Oh how I longed for his attention and for his embrace during these times. I missed my sweet natured husband who selfishly devoted his time only to the box. I knew my time would come again, but I also knew that I could not hold him back in these endeavors. To keep him sane, I had to let him have his time. Now that he has kids, I know this time is even more important. I am happy to report that this year, he did not attempt to grow the greatest goatee ever. It is the first time EVER that he has not done this for a concert. I am sure it had something to do with my blog bashing his facial hair. I know I should support the hair, for it provides great material for me, but I can’t do it. But, what he did do this year, that made me chuckle was have a special concert shirt made. He took a cartoon picture of Angus Young and had a guy at this work draw it on a tshirt in Sharpie. The following website should take you to the pic. http://www.amazon.com/AC-DC-Angus-Young-Sticker/dp/B000SJMRVS/ref=pd_bbs_sr_8?ie=UTF8&s=automotive&qid=1229831744&sr=8-8 And oh yes, he wore it. He loved that shirt. It was very well done and I am sure he was the envy of all the other concert goers (probably 98 percent men). I love my husband. He is a real sweetheart and I am very lucky to have him. He cooks, he cleans, he cares for his kids, and he puts up with me. He is just a little crazy in the head (yes, like you Banning).
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