Making a House a Home

I've never been good at decorating. I am not one of those people who can see different elements in stores and visualize them all together in my house. Call it a personality flaw. What's more, I barely notice my surroundings after a while. It it stays the same then it blends in with the background and so I don't notice the empty walls in my house or the lack of small details which would make it feel homey. Normally, this isn't something that bothers me but right now, I'm noticing it more and more.

I am currently blaming my newfound awareness on the Christmas cards I've been receiving in the mail. Now that Rachel is pregnant I officially have two friends left who don't have children. The rest of them have been sending me beautiful Christmas cards complete with pictures of their families. I look at the little faces of their children and I wonder how it is that the people I used to be a goofball with have become parents. I recognize facial features of my friends in their children and I remark and how crazy genetics is. I will right now admit to staring at these pictures much more than I should. In the background of these pictures are the houses of my friends and these glimpses into the houses has shown me one thing: Clutter makes a house a home.

It's not just any clutter. It would do me no good to simply leave junk laying around my house. It's the toys of children, the messes of children, the laundry piles stacked up in the laundry room, the family dog making a nuisance of itself....the list obviously goes on and on. I guess my house won't really feel like a home until I have a family of my own and this is something which surprises me. I guess I never realized it was so important.

Conversations with Myself

There isn't any time of year I miss my grandmother more than during the Christmas season. I still remember how the day after Thanksgiving, our entire family would be obligated to replace virtually every normal decoration in her house with a Christmas decoration. The enormous boxes would get hauled up from the basement. The tree was the small project. Once the lights were on my grandmother would usually decorate it herself while the rest of us went to work on the rest of the house. The enormous mirror in the bathroom would be adorned with lights, the table top knick-knacks would be cleared away and replaced with Christmas ones complete with angel hair to imitate snow.

My grandmother's house oozed Christmas. It was her favorite holiday.

Last night, as I sat in my living room waiting for my husband to come home from work I found myself wishing my grandmother was around. On nights like last night, with it gently snowing outside we would have done exactly what I was doing: Sitting in the dark with all of the Christmas lights turned on sipping a cup of hot chocolate.

It's been five and a half years since she died and I don't think I could have missed her any more than I did last night. I miss the talks we used to have. I miss how we would giggle over just about anything. I miss the stuff we used to do on Sundays just because we were bored. I miss the way she used to giggle every time one of my guy friends - who I had no interest in dating - called and I rolled my eyes as I spoke to them on the phone. I remember hearing someone say it takes 7 years to get over someone close to you dying. At the time I was young and stupid and thought that seemed a very long time. Now I wonder if I'll be so lucky.

A part of me hopes I won't.

The Latest Trend to Sweep the Nation

This school year has been a tough one for me. More than ever before I have parents who believe they need to be in contact with me nearly every day. This is far more parent contact than I really want because it takes time to respond to these people and it's cutting into my planning time. Why are they calling, you ask? Oh, their student isn't getting an A in my class. They're not failing. They're not getting a D. Most of them aren't even getting C's. They're getting B's and that is simply unacceptable.

Haven't you heard? The A is the new C.

My classes are designed around the average student being able to obtain a grade of C. Isn't that what a C is? D is below average, F is far below average. A's and B's are above average and C is average. There is nothing wrong with being average, in fact, most of us are average...hence the term...average. By wanting to push A's into a commonplace occurrence for the average student, we are saying that everyone is over-achieving. If everyone is over-achieving in a class, wouldn't you think the class is too easy?

Is it really that awful that I challenge your student?
Is it really so bad that they have to work hard?
Is it really so awful that they feel a sense of accomplishment for getting a B instead feeling bored while they get an A?

I understand parents love their children and want them to do well, but making sure they never struggle is setting them up for failure in the real world. Seeing to it they receive the highest marks for any work they do is giving them an unrealistic view of how things work. It makes them lazy and complacent.

Receiving a grade of C means your student has done average work. Receiving a grade of B is an honor. Receiving an A means your student has performed at an exceptional level. Think about those things as you stew over their grades.

Oh yeah... and By The Way......

I totally did it.

50,000 words.
One month.
You can be impressed by me now.

Honestly, I'd say it was a rewarding experience over all. Early Sunday morning, at around 6:30, I did a word count and found myself over 50k. I verified on the National Novel Writing Month website and celebrated quietly by drinking a cup of Holiday Mint coffee. I felt incredibly satisfied.

During the month of November I found myself writing in every spare moment, mostly away from the computer as I've found I tend to sound like a robot when I write at the computer. The five minutes I have between classes...I was writing. The twenty minutes after work before I can leave for home...I was writing. While dinner was in the oven...I was writing. I managed amazing leaps some days of 4k words and others I didn't even get a chance to think about it at all other than a twinge of guilt as I sunk into bed for the night.

Now, I haven't written a word since Sunday morning but I do intend to. Having 50k words doesn't mean I have a complete book. It's far from it and I'm still hammering out some of the details. My main characters have decided to do something awkward which has lengthened the book and I'm not certain what they intend to do with this extra time. For the moment they've hijacked it though and I'm a bit frightened they'll head somewhere which will make the ending - which I've already written - obsolete. Ugh.

I love how motivating the experience was and I look forward to next November when I will again take up the challenge. In the meantime, I am forced to set small goals for myself which may or may not be motivating. Only time will tell.

Sheer genius? Or the epitome of laziness?

Yesterday afternoon Dean and I finally had some quiet time. The previous three days had been hectic with three Thanksgivings and me cleaning my house like a madwoman. (I even cleaned the refrigerator and I mean I took everything out and then removed the shelves and cleaned the entire thing. It looks beautiful.) At Thanksgiving, our family members had finally gotten around to giving us their Christmas lists and I was eager to see how much of it I could obtain online.

Half an hour later I hit confirm order in amazon.com. My Christmas shopping is now complete. I mean it, aside from going and buying some wrapping paper, I'm done. It was a fantastic feeling. I hate going out in the crowds of holiday shoppers and trudging around the stores looking for the items on so-and-so's list. It sucks. The sheer genius of shopping online (free shipping) and doing it all in half an hour from the comfort of my home while wearing pajamas was magnificent.

As I excitedly relayed this fact to one of my coworkers this morning she got a strange look on her face and said "I don't know. That just seems lazy. Isn't the point of Christmas shopping to go out and take great care when selecting your items?" After thinking the stress of the drive to work on sheets of ice had gotten to her and grudgingly admitting she most likely wasn't crazy, I took a moment or two to think about her statement.

Here's my response:

No, it's not lazy, it's practical. Perhaps, to you, Christmas is about shopping. To me, however, Christmas is about getting together with your family and enjoying the feelings of unity the season promotes. Going shopping in throngs of irritable and rude people does not promote feelings of unity in me. In fact, it promotes murderous rages in me which is not Christmassy at all. So you go shopping. I'm done. It took me half an hour. When you're struggling to find the last items on your list on December 22nd, I'll wave. Bitch.

Crazy, Insane and Just Plain Dangerous

Holidays with my family are usually interesting. There are dynamics involved which I cannot possibly explain but those who know me well know my family is a bit on the crazy side. All in all, I would say Thanksgiving went very well. No one got in a huge fight, no one angered Jackie and we all ate well except for Elizabeth who is coasting downhill into an eating disorder and the awkward way her parents handle anything abnormal is only making it worse. *SIGH*

Anyway, speaking of Elizabeth...the girl is dangerously outspoken. After years of my stepmother being a tyrant and exploding at the smallest thing, my sisters and I are - naturally- very careful not to set her off. Elizabeth, being her full daughter, apparently has none of the fear my sisters and I do. She announced to her mother sometime before Thanksgiving that no one likes her stuffing. When her mother replied that everyone likes her stuffing Elizabeth said "No, Keri Shelly and Rhonda all hate it, they've said they hate it." Uh oh. Now Jackie thinks we've been sitting around and discussing her cooking... this is likely to set Jackie off. So, naturally, when Jackie calls Keri to ask about said hatred of her stuffing Keri replies "She's lying."

The desire to protect oneself is fierce. Normally, my sisters and I would never throw Elizabeth under the bus like that. We might turn on each other but we're generally protective of the kid. When she goes courting danger like this... she deserves what she gets. My brother in law even made a point of telling Jackie that he's always liked her stuffing.

Now naturally, no one thought to tell me about any of this so when I show up to Thanksgiving, I'm completely unaware that Elizabeth has ratted us all out. When they start talking about it, I'm clueless and have to ask and Jackie launches into the story. I'm dumbfounded. I can't remember what Jackie's stuffing TASTES like, only that it's got big onions in it that are undercooked, but surely I can't say THAT. So I say "I don't even remember what it tastes like." Elizabeth groans and everyone laughs. Thankfully Jackie was good natured about the whole thing and was laughing it off or we'd all have been dead. My sisters and I made a point of telling Elizabeth that if she ever does that again, we will again throw her under the bus without thought or remorse.

Here's what gets me: We are all adults. How is it that one woman can still inspire so much fear? We're not children anymore and we don't have to stay put when she starts in, and yet we all live in fear of upsetting Jackie. How can one person be so mean so as to still instill fear in three adults? If you really wonder, then you've never met her and that's about as much of a defense as I can muster.