I Got the Clap(per) for Christmas

My extended family quite aptly fits that adjective. There are a number of different religious creeds and geographical locales they have settling in, each with his own stereotype. We're the feel-good, quirky family holiday movie of the year without all the crying until someone gets into a verbal battle of political ideals they weren't prepared for. My grandmom got the Slap Chop. I got the Clapper. My dad got a "rabbit skin rug" in the style of a bear skin rug, but made actually of polyester and displaying a very large "rabbit head" in the style of the manly bear skin variety. Aunt Kathy, the stylish socialista, could not make it up this year, but called and shared some lovely conversation. Uncle Mike, the sarcastic comedic relief, spent his time on the phone with her loudly and facetiously complaining that "Roger," my aunt Karen's South African, soon to be husband, would be wearing a "puffy shirt" to the wedding to match his medically required eye-patch. (The brothers are hosting the brother-in-law's pirate themed bachelor party.) Towards the end of the night, after tea and pie, my aunt Jeanne brought out two very large, very heavy boxes of books. While being courteous and taking turns, the whole family sauntered up in pairs to select neat little stacks of neat little books to supplement their Christmas booty. "You don't see this in every house in America," my dad commented lightly. It made me very proud of the home and environment I had been raised in.

[Edit: PS. 'Christmas booty' shout-out to Stasi.]

Must Be Tired of Something

Today, I went sledding for the first time in many a year. It was exhilarating to fly screaming through the stinging snow. Even more thrilling was Kate and I piled onto one sled attempting to knock over Jeff and Stasi, who were sledless spoilsports. :P I heartily enjoyed my time and hot chocolate afterwards.

Lavishly dreaming of classy drinks, classy ties, and warm solo vocals, I've been listening to Frank Sinatra. The band is a complement to a traditionally pleasant voice, and the lyrics pass through meaningful musing to sappy serenade.

I remember being cynical. Sophomore year, Tboc recommended The March of Follies, or some similarly titled novel on the basis that I was enough of a cynic to appreciate it. Still, there was a time of idealism, and I have since returned to my scathing roots. It is not meant to say that I am unenthusiastic and have stopped dreaming, but I'm more realistic. I don't want to be another white girl that didn't get out of suburbia. However, my future seems so empty with possibility that I may fill it with comfortable familiarity. It's hard to find a compromise for myself. It's much less painful to be cynical and faithless.

I Believe in Magic and a Thing Called Love

I danced around my room listening to The Sing Off cast rendition of "Mr. Blue Sky." I air-guitar'd. There has not been this much of that kind of dancing in my room since last summer. My life is bangin'! Over a lifetime of wishes, I have roughly a 50+% success rate with blue M&M magic. I'm cute, talented, endearing, and enthusiastic. My family is amazing. I had a happy childhood and a ballin' adolescence. I have good memories that make great stories. Bitchin'!

Good Things Specific to Now:
Snow- all related beauty and creation
Hot Chocolate- with marshmallows
COOKIES!
Hot Apple Cider
Christmas Lights
"Holiday" Songs
Having trees inside
Christmas ornaments
Friendlier people
Parties!
Days off
Solstice
After tomorrow it's getting lighter again!
Family
Pumpkin Pie- whipped cream
New socks
Gag Gift
Candles
Poinsettias
Fire Places
Blankets
Scarves
Mittens
Yule Log
Christmas Cards- glitter
Birds puff up their feathers
Cats have winter coats
I have a winter coat

I'm On Cracked

"...The end result is a bizarre image of an invisible pedophile who's apparently only visible when viewed through some special infrared camera. Parents, your child could be getting teabagged by an invisible pedo right now."

"Robert, no! Holy crap, is that what you look like without a shirt on? Aren't you supposed to be some kind of sex symbol? You look like a white Urkel."

I believe that I am making holiday cards as an excuse to use glitter. It's not often I have arts and crafts projects that demand the excessive use of sparkling... I don't even know what substance glitter is made out of.

I got my gifts for the "Dirty Pollyanna," the "Dirty Dirty Pollyanna," and the "Psych Pollyanna." I'm finished shopping for mom and dad and have all the cards for my teachers, but only three friends. I wanted to get "Play with Me: Massage Oil" from Victoria's Secret for the Dirty Dirty Pollyanna, but alas! it was too expensive.