Your Favorite Christmas Memory? You Go First....

I got that text today from my friend Emma who was killing time at a job that is killing her spirit.

I started to take a moment to text her back and then realized that it was too long to text plus - it wasn't a memory.

It's a story, in fact.

When I was very little my grandfather took me to get a Christmas tree.

We returned with our tree and everyone was horrified. It was a tiny short tree. His reason? He chose one that I could touch the top of.

That was my grandfather's last Christmas. And I have no memory of this event. It breaks my heart, but like all things in kid world - if it isn't IMPORTANT or if no one shakes you and says GRANDPA IS SICK REMEMBER EVERY SECOND OF THIS your little brain doesn't absorb the memories.

I remember the time he took me to work with him, when he was the county building inspector, and that we went to Just Rite for lunch and I had a chocolate shake with burger and fries. I remember the way his pipe smelled, and that he'd smoke cigarettes outside once in a while but not really that often in the house. I remember the smoked Dutch Masters because I'd use the boxes to hold crayons. I remember everything, sometimes it seems. But I do not remember that tree.

There are no pictures because it was the 70s and we didn't take pictures of every damn thing the way we do now. I wish we had. I would love to see such a short fat little tree.

You never know what holiday will be your last with someone who means everything to you. I suppose that IS why I take hundreds of pictures of everything carving them all into my mind - and recording them so that even when I am the one no longer here, someone can see them and know what they are.

My favorite Christmas memory is the one I've lost. I'm sorry Grandpa.

Your Favorite Christmas Memory? You Go First....

I got that text today from my friend Emma who was killing time at a job that is killing her spirit.

I started to take a moment to text her back and then realized that it was too long to text plus - it wasn't a memory.

It's a story, in fact.

When I was very little my grandfather took me to get a Christmas tree.

We returned with our tree and everyone was horrified. It was a tiny short tree. His reason? He chose one that I could touch the top of.

That was my grandfather's last Christmas. And I have no memory of this event. It breaks my heart, but like all things in kid world - if it isn't IMPORTANT or if no one shakes you and says GRANDPA IS SICK REMEMBER EVERY SECOND OF THIS your little brain doesn't absorb the memories.

I remember the time he took me to work with him, when he was the county building inspector, and that we went to Just Rite for lunch and I had a chocolate shake with burger and fries. I remember the way his pipe smelled, and that he'd smoke cigarettes outside once in a while but not really that often in the house. I remember the smoked Dutch Masters because I'd use the boxes to hold crayons. I remember everything, sometimes it seems. But I do not remember that tree.

There are no pictures because it was the 70s and we didn't take pictures of every damn thing the way we do now. I wish we had. I would love to see such a short fat little tree.

You never know what holiday will be your last with someone who means everything to you. I suppose that IS why I take hundreds of pictures of everything carving them all into my mind - and recording them so that even when I am the one no longer here, someone can see them and know what they are.

My favorite Christmas memory is the one I've lost. I'm sorry Grandpa.

Gall Bladder - I Thought You Wuz All Bettah

Oh hell I've been poisoned. Those of you who follow along remember my joyous months earlier this year where I was rushed to the hospital in excruciating pain only to discover I had a gall stone. Right?

Well right after that, I learned that "Gee you might nevre be able to properly digest fat again."

Not to put too polite a spin on it - if you eat fat - it MIGHT, MIGHT come flying out your ass in a manner so disgusting that it makes you doubt that you even have insides left. It might do so in a manner of minutes after you eat it. About 30 to 45 to be exact.



I dealt with this for several weeks post surgery. This horrible rushing to the restroom, the pain, the embarrassment and frankly the overwhelming discomfort of it all.



But I thought it had gotten better. Until I ate Captain D's tonight. Oh hell. Oh freaking hell. I might die. I can't even write this post because I have to keep rushing to the bathroom in a MOST undignified manner.



I realize that Captain D's IS a grease factory but JESUS I thought that I had eaten plenty of greasy nasty food and that my liver had learned how to be my gall bladder. That was what was SUPPOSED to happen.



Tonight my liver said "NOT SO MUCH" and failed me completely.



Now if you will pardon me, I'll be in the restroom.

Gall Bladder - I Thought You Wuz All Bettah

Oh hell I've been poisoned. Those of you who follow along remember my joyous months earlier this year where I was rushed to the hospital in excruciating pain only to discover I had a gall stone. Right?

Well right after that, I learned that "Gee you might nevre be able to properly digest fat again."

Not to put too polite a spin on it - if you eat fat - it MIGHT, MIGHT come flying out your ass in a manner so disgusting that it makes you doubt that you even have insides left. It might do so in a manner of minutes after you eat it. About 30 to 45 to be exact.



I dealt with this for several weeks post surgery. This horrible rushing to the restroom, the pain, the embarrassment and frankly the overwhelming discomfort of it all.



But I thought it had gotten better. Until I ate Captain D's tonight. Oh hell. Oh freaking hell. I might die. I can't even write this post because I have to keep rushing to the bathroom in a MOST undignified manner.



I realize that Captain D's IS a grease factory but JESUS I thought that I had eaten plenty of greasy nasty food and that my liver had learned how to be my gall bladder. That was what was SUPPOSED to happen.



Tonight my liver said "NOT SO MUCH" and failed me completely.



Now if you will pardon me, I'll be in the restroom.

Yes Virginia, There is A Santa Claus

I got our amnio results early this morning and if you have somehow NOT heard.......

the baby is fine.

And she is indeed Julia and not Hambone - which is what the husband decided we would name a boy. (Dear Lord).

I don't really know what to say. The relief is so complete, so overwhelming.

I called my OB and asked if there is even any reason for me to RETURN to the perinatologist. Apparently no one ever asked that before, because the nurse didn't know what to say and they are going to call me to tomorrow to let me know what HE says.

Life is good. It really really is.

Yes Virginia, There is A Santa Claus

I got our amnio results early this morning and if you have somehow NOT heard.......

the baby is fine.

And she is indeed Julia and not Hambone - which is what the husband decided we would name a boy. (Dear Lord).

I don't really know what to say. The relief is so complete, so overwhelming.

I called my OB and asked if there is even any reason for me to RETURN to the perinatologist. Apparently no one ever asked that before, because the nurse didn't know what to say and they are going to call me to tomorrow to let me know what HE says.

Life is good. It really really is.

I Don't Want A Lot For Christmas

There is just one thing I need


I don't care about the presents


Underneath the Christmas tree.


I just want you for my own


More than you could even know

Make my wish come true......

All I want for Chrismas........

Is You.




Amnio Results tomorrow. We'll let you know.

I Don't Want A Lot For Christmas

There is just one thing I need


I don't care about the presents


Underneath the Christmas tree.


I just want you for my own


More than you could even know

Make my wish come true......

All I want for Chrismas........

Is You.




Amnio Results tomorrow. We'll let you know.

They're Called GeoTRAX

Not GeoHAIR.

They're Called GeoTRAX

Not GeoHAIR.