Lately I have been stalking Pinterest for Christmas decoration ideas. I’m not looking for just any Christmas decoration ideas, however. No. I am looking for Grinch-themed decoration ideas. Not to worry. These decorations won’t be for my own home. No, no. These decorations are for something far more appropriate — our church Christmas party. Because, you know, nothing says “Remember the reason for the season” like going to a Grinch-themed Christmas party at church.
The theme for the party, however, was picked, approved and decided upon before I had anything to do with it. Now that I do have something to do with it, I am in charge of the decorations. Honestly? I’ve found some cute ideas and come up with some good ones on my own, so I’m I little more excited about it. But, still? I turn to my network affiliates when I want my kids to enjoy the cartoon versions of Christmas. I take them to church for (gasp!) more spiritual fare. Whatever.
In all my Pinterest perusing of thing Grinchy and Whovillian, I came across a cute outfit idea. It’s not a costume, mind you, just an outfit: green skinny jeans, green t-shirt, green Converse, and a red cardigan. I wasn’t looking for an outfit idea. I just found it. That’s how Pinterest works, after all. You just find stuff, and it sucks you in, and you realize you need it even though you didn’t know it existed five seconds earlier. So that’s kind of what happened to me when I saw this outfit. I concluded that, if I have to decorate for a Grinch party at Church, then I needed to go as the Grinch (without actually going as the Grinch). I decided I’m just too old to buy myself Grinch-green Converse high-tops, but red is a good color for me so I already have a bunch of it, and I figured the green jeans would be cute. I found a pair on clearance at Kohl’s, and, coupled with the current coupon (who in her right mind shops at Kohl’s without a coupon?) they cost all of $8.00 and change. That included tax.
Rather than wait until December, I wore my outfit today to our Super Saturday Holiday Workshop (it’s the one day a year the women in our congregation “take off” for 4-6 hours (depending on whether or not one is in charge of it) (I was) to get together and make crafts that we can give as gifts) (so imagine our
piss-off-ed-ness consternation when the men scheduled something, rather last minute, on the same day at the same time, as if the children only belong to us) (harrumph).
Anyway, back to the outfit. I wore it today. Green jeans, white t-shirt, red jacket. It was quite Christmas-y and, since the t-shirt was not green, not even a bit Grinchy (at least, I like to think that). I still had it on as we were sitting together as a family for dinner tonight, and I said, “I’m half tempted to go back to Kohl’s and get the same jeans in red.”
“Other than Christmas, when would you ever wear red jeans, mom?” A~ asked.
“I could wear red jeans lots of times,” I said. “Like Valentines day!”
“Yeah, and you can wear the green ones again on St. Patrick’s day,” Midge piped in.
“Sure. And . . . let’s see . . . I could wear either the red or the green ones on Mardi Gras. That’s a colorful holiday. It doesn’t really matter what color . . .” I was saying as my husband interjected:
“I don’t know about the jeans, but I’ve got some Mardi Gras beads I’ll give you.”
A~’s hand froze, half way to her mouth, and the baby carrot she was about to eat just dangled from her paralyzed fingers as she looked at her plate in dismay and said, “I get that. I get. that. one!” With me to her right and her father at the other end of the table to her left, she didn’t know where to look, so she just kept staring at her plate while I laughed hysterically, her father turned a soft shade of fire-engine red and sniggered like a school boy who’d just been caught snapping a girls’ bra strap, her younger teenage sister tried to puzzle it out in her head, connecting a dot or two, and the three youngest just said, “What? What?!? I DON’T get it! WHAT IS SO FUNNY???”
June Cleaver would be mortified at both my attire and our dinner conversation, not to mention the current state of my house. I shall never wear pearls.
Tewt the Newt, on the other hand, couldn’t give a flying fig about pearls and feels mighty smug about the fact that he is already green.
Dear Lady In Her Bathrobe Coming out of Wal Mart,
That was a bold fashion statement. From its full-length fuzziness to is beacon of bright, Christmas, redness, I was mesmerized. I had my phone in my hand. I almost took a picture. Almost. Part of me wishes I had, and part of me is glad I didn’t. I really dithered there in the parking lot, phone turned on, just one click away from immortalizing your . . . je ne sais quoi (which I believe is French for “complete lack of fetchin’ up”). In my amazement, I was unable to process the black shapes on your red, red robe. Were they Scottie dogs? Reindeer? Mud flap girls? Because I hesitated and did not take the picture (out of respect for both your humanity and mine) I will never know.
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The fact that you could not tell me what a firefighter does is evidence that you watched way to little Sesame Street during your preschool years (I now have “Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood” looping through my head). The fact that you could tell me that police officers shoot people and put them in jail is evidence that I am failing as a mother. The fact that, when instructed to draw a picture of somebody doing a job, you drew a picture of a female teacher and GAVE. HER. BOOBS. should be of great comfort to your father, who is mortified by your love of all things pink (like the shoes you drew on the teacher).
(Yes, I asked, “So, these are her arms, here? Ok. What are the two circles above her arms?”)
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First, thanks to those of you who didn’t give me up for dead. Because I’m not. I’ve just been in a blogging coma or something. Also, I am working on editing photos of our epic Harry Potter birthday party to share with you. Do you know how long it takes to obscure faces on a fragillion photos of a party that involved about 30 people? I could password protect the post, but I want to see if any of my hard work makes it to Pinterest. Wouldn’t I just feel like the homecoming queen if some of my ideas started showing up on Pinterest?!?! Oh yes, yes I would. That reminds me – It’s . . . well, crap. I had to stop writing for a bit because dinner was ready, and now I’ve forgotten of what I was reminded.
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Sometimes? You rock. Way to work in the word “mewling” when you helped the husband draft that email today. Great word. Really. A word that was crying out to be used.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
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It’s been quite a while since I’ve been on the blog, so I’m behind on any new, fun, update-y type things in the world of WordPress. Gadgets? Widgets? Buttons to encourage pinning? (I never got to be the homecoming queen, so I’m desperate here.) Let me know what’s new and great. In the meantime, Tewt the Newt will do a little digging around, too.
Hey there! Remember me?
No? You don’t?
It’s okay, I hardly remember me, either. It’s been a while.
Well, here I am now, and I have a message to share:
(I have apparently turned into the queen of one sentence paragraphs, but that’s not my message)
Everybody’s favorite blogger, (oh, crap – I haven’t done this for so long that I accidentally typed blooger at first– I don’t even want to think about what a blooger is) . . .
Starting over (this is the message, I swear) . . . Everybody’s favorite blogger, Michelle, over at And Sam Makes Seven is starting a movement.
Dear heavens, not that kind of movement (and if it were that kind of movement, and she’s only just starting, and she’s blogging about it? Well then, this post would be all about praying for our favorite blogger). So anyway, let’s call it a campaign instead, shall we? She is starting a campaign to bring blogging back. Click on that hyperlink I so generously provided and read all about it. She uses the term “overlord” more than once, which we all know is the hallmark of an award-winning blog post. I’m really excited about this campaign, actually (almost as excited as you are that I’m finally writing a paragraph with more than one sentence), and here’s why (aside from the lack of vitriolic advertisements):
But it wasn’t better. No, it was not. FB and Twitter took away our abilities to communicate in complete, grammatically correct thoughts. Remember grammar, guys? Wasn’t it nice?
Instead of taking a small thought or incident and turning it into a carefully crafted story about our lives- full of the touching, humorous, quirky, heartbreaking and mundane details that make our families and ourselves unique and interesting- we now take big thoughts and happenings and condense them down into little blurbs here and there. It’s too hard to fit touching, humorous, quirky and heartbreaking into a little blurb, and so… The mundane took over. We traded the art of storytelling for speed and convenience.
Isn’t Michelle brilliant? Yes. Yes, she is. That last sentence I quoted, the one about trading the art of storytelling for speed and convenience, proves it. I actually am on the verge of tears here. She is profound, and she can tell a good story. You know what? Every now and then? So can I. So why the frap haven’t I been doing it?
Remember frap? What a great word. We still use it in our house. That’s the power of blogging and little boys learning English as a second language. We can change the world.
If you still haven’t read Michelle’s post, well, bless your heart for sticking through my drivel, but do make the time to click on over because she enumerates other good reasons for brining blogging back, like the freedom of telling your stories the way you want to tell them rather than censoring yourself so as not over share with nor offend any of your 285 closest “friends”. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I have tons of people on my FB friends list with whom I would not share my blog. I bet you do, too.
Incidentally? I have about half of my FB “friends” blocked from seeing most of my posts and photos at any given time (if you’re reading this, rest assured you are not one of them) (unless you found my blog purely by following me on Pinterest before I realized that linking said blog to that account was about the stupidest thing I’ve ever done – then you might be one of them). And that? Is an interesting story. But it’s a story I haven’t told because I haven’t been blogging.
Remember when I blogged roughly two years ago about the person who thought it was a-okay to give kids a ride down the highway and/or unmarked country roads (seriously, I don’t know the exact route she took) in the trunk of her car? Yeah, that’s just the tip of the iceberg around here. Well, okay, maybe it’s a big, foundational chunk of the iceberg, but the point is we have a whole frozen ocean worth of crazy we’re navigating every time we step foot into our church building. Seriously.
Don’t get me wrong, there is greatness there, too; but for the most part it’s trapped under the ice.
Good stories. Stories I haven’t told.
Okay, so Michelle has some rules for those wanting to join in the Bringing Blogging Back campaign (really, it’s the only campaign worth following right now, anyway):
- Make the commitment: Agree to update your own blog at least once a month (You can do it! I have faith in you!) and choose at least one blog to read, or return to reading, once a month (You do not have to state which blog you’re choosing, but come on… it will be mine, obviously. Technically, however, you’re allowed to read someone else’s… I guess).
- Spread the word: Write a post telling your readers about the "I’m Bringing Blogging Back" campaign and ask them to join you. Give them these ‘rules’ and ask that they share them on their own blogs (this is starting to sound like an Amway kind of thing or chain letter, but it’s not. I promise. I won’t ask anyone to send me a dollar, or buy crap). You can link to this post if you’d like, or just tell them in your own words.
- Let me know: Leave me a comment saying, "Yes, Michelle, I’m with you! I’m Bringing Blogging Back," and link to your post about it. Actually, I don’t give two flips how you say it- you can just leave a comment saying "OK, I posted about it," or even just "I’m in," "Me, too," or whatever. The important thing is leave a comment letting me know you’re in and link to your post. If you don’t have your own blog, but will commit to being a faithful reader, just leave a comment saying so (Anyone who comments on this post will be added to my blog roll, if you’re not there already… Unless you don’t want to be listed).
- Buy the official "I’m Bringing Blogging Back" t-shirt for only $34.95 at… HA! No, I’m totally kidding.
So I’m committing to blogging at least once a month. But really? How can I not blog more? There is always something crazy going on around here. I could blog about our two new cats, our new dog, our new horse, the “rehab” center into which I will undoubtedly check myself because I need a break. Seriously. I’m not addicted to anything (not even my old friend diet Dr. Pepper). I just need a break.
I could also blog about the epic Harry Potter party we just had here last weekend, or the effects of gravity and aging on my turkey-wattle-neck and the night I went to bed despondent over it, and my husband said, “There, there. We have the money to take care of it if it really bothers you that much.”
Well, okay, he didn’t say “There, there.” I mean, you’ve seen pictures of him, right? He doesn’t even LOOK like the “there, there” type.
And, yes, it really bothers me that much.
Stay tuned . . . I may one day blog photos of tumescent chin liposuction.
I’m also committing to reading blogs again. But here’s the catch: I will probably, for the first time in my life, wish I had a Xanax prescription as soon as I open my Google reader account (if I can even remember how). So I’m not going to try to go back and play catch up. I’m just going to wipe the slate clean, as it were, and go from there. Hopefully your lives are soap opera-y enough that I’ll be back up to speed in three blog posts. Seriously, just kidding. If your writing is that damn repetitive I’ll drop you like a roach-infested ice cream cone.
So, who’s in?
Tewt the Newt says, “Ready . . . set . . . blog!”