Of Celebrations, Decorations, and Holidays by Konnie Enos

A week or so ago my daughter was helping me set up my nativity and Christmas Village. Because of space constraints both are generally set up in the same area. Most recently this has been the top of a dresser in our living room with a desk back-to-back with it. (One end against the wall so that it somewhat divides the room in two.)

The first issue is the desk isn’t as tall as the dresser. So, we put the two crates back there to give more height on that side.

Then we began pulling out the pieces for my village and nativity. In the process we found a few pieces that could use a bit of glue. Only one of them was from my nativity.

(Don’t worry. We knew about the issues, and I’d gotten my glue out before we started unpacking anything.)

Anyway, after I’d glued the one piece from the nativity my daughter commented on being surprised it wasn’t more since, “This this is older than I am.”

I countered with, “Clearly, since I’ve had it longer than I’ve been married.”

It is a story my children know well.

In November of 1989 my stepmother and I had been invited to one of those home parties companies that sold knickknacks and other home decorations. In their catalogue they had several items that were parts of a nativity. The creche, the holy family, the animals and shepherd, and the wisemen. All told they came to about $100. In other words, not a small bit of money.

I was working but only working part-time. I’d also already decided how much of my income I could spare for Christmas presents. With that and what I needed for regular expenses, there simply wasn’t that much to spare for the whole set unless I revised my gift budget.

I mentioned to my stepmother how much I liked that set and wanted all the pieces but wasn’t sure I should spend that much money on it. And was trying to decide if I should just get one or two pieces and hope I could afford the rest the next year. And if I did that, which pieces should I get now.

She asked me just one question. “Can you afford it all?”

I told her something about getting some pieces because it didn’t fit into my planned budget.

She asked me the same question again.

This time I told her it would cut into my gift budget.

She asked me the same question again.

I finally said, “Well, technically, but I’d have to spend less on Christmas presents.”

She finally told me. “You might not have the money to buy something this nice next year. If you really want it, then buy it all now.”

I took her advice and bought the whole set.

Less than a year later I started dating my husband and we were married literally the day after Thanksgiving. Since I was living with a roommate and he was in base housing, we had to spend a good amount of our income that month on securing an apartment for the two of us.

We had very little to spare for Christmas presents let alone an expensive decoration.

And yes, because it is ceramic, it has been battered about a bit over the years. The ox has a good chunk of one of his horns missing. One of the wisemen, and Joseph have lost their heads a few times each. And the most recent mishap was the camel losing part of one leg. And though the creche is wood, it’s also had to be re-glued together at least once.

Of course, after getting married we spent the next 10 having kids and another 3 or so years being completely broke.

I have bought several nativities since. One each for my three daughters. (Two of those really nice set that I got inexpensively from the thrift store.) (My son’s also got a small set of their own but I didn’t buy those.) And one really nice set that required multiple years to purchase all the pieces because of the cost. I know I spent more than $500 altogether.

No. I do not have that set either. But Bonnie could show you a picture of it in her living room. (I thought she should have a big, nice set since she collects nativities.)

So, If you followed my story of the nativity, you’ll figure out that this week I celebrated my 35^th wedding anniversary. (And don’t tell me how long that is because I have an aunt and uncle who have been happily married since 1959.)

And I could have just told the story of how I finally got another little brother way back in 1975, on the day after Thanksgiving. So, happy 50^th little brother.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

 

November Writing by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

Here’s a bit of advice: when you have a blog to post, don’t start reading a new book!

I’d like to apologize for not posting two weeks ago. I wrenched my back, and I couldn’t sit up. Have you ever tried to type lying down? Not happening. Unless you want to hunt and peck, which certainly isn’t the way I was taught to type way back in my school days.

And not being able to sit up was nothing compared to not being able to stay awake, which was how I was after the doctor prescribed a muscle relaxer.

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it or not, but extra-strength Tylenol can put me to sleep, at least for a little while; give me something stronger, and I’m down for the count! I spent most of last week sleeping... well, like a cat.

If you don’t know, cats can sleep up to eighteen hours a day.

So, sleeping that much last week meant I had a lot of company while doing it. Right now, I think poor Patches is wondering why I’m not sleeping as much anymore.

I’m not sleeping as much because I got too much last week!

Anyway, the good news is my back is back to normal.

The bad news is that it’s already the nineteenth of November, and I’ve managed like ten hours of writing. My goal for the month was to write for a total of 125 hours, or 5 hours 6 days a week. (I rest on the Sabbath.)

Yeah, I am not going to make it.

I can get some more work done, but I won’t make my goal.

Which would be better than the year when I ended up with a concussion on the 8^th of November, and that year I’d made the goal of 50K words for the month.

By the way, the website for National Novel Writer’s month may be defunct, but there are local groups who are continuing the challenge.

For me, the local group is backed by my local library, and they allow you to make a word count or time goal for the month. Hence, my goal of 125 hours this month. They also allow you to work on a new or current WIP.

But considering I was unable to type for several days because of back pain, and then mostly unconscious for another week, I haven’t managed much. Oh, well.

I did manage some tweaks to one of my stories, but about the time I got to the section that needed major work and a ton of “tweaks,” my back gave out.

And, like I said when our cousin Steve asked what I did to my back, “I haven’t the foggiest.”

It just started hurting, and it got worse and worse until I gave up and called the doctor.

I mean, really, if Tylenol and my trusty heating pad weren’t cutting it, I needed stronger help!

Too bad stronger help means practically comatose for me.

Konnie is lucky she doesn’t have my sensitivity to certain medications. She can take stuff I can’t.

She can take Tylenol and not fall asleep.

And I should have taken Tylenol last night. Except I wasn’t in enough pain for Tylenol, I just couldn’t sleep. And believe me, with how well Tylenol puts me to sleep, I don’t dare try something stronger!

And Tylenol will only put me out for a couple of hours. For more shuteye, I’d have to combine Tylenol, melatonin, and a mug of Sleepy Time Tea to get that effect. And again, not enough pain to warrant Tylenol.

A brain that doesn’t want to quit or a story you can’t wait to know the ending of isn’t painful, just time-consuming.

Such is the life of someone on the spectrum.

I guess the good thing I can say is that while I was awake this past week, I did some reading. Slow going with how much I was sleeping, but well, with me, it’s slow going anyhow. So, who cares?

I couldn’t write. I couldn’t even think enough to write. Writing definitely takes more brain power than reading. Unless, of course, you’re reading a textbook or Shakespeare. Both of which I have done.

I mean, I did graduate from high school, and I took some college courses. I even took a course on Shakespeare!

Then again, I was rather good at translating the Old English into modern language.

I remember one time my fellow students were trying to figure out what was being said, and I translated it before the professor could.

I just thought they weren’t using all their brain cells; it’s still English!

Okay, yeah, maybe I’m weird!

And yes, I like Shakespeare.

Anyway, happy writing, everyone!

Of Conversations and Responsibilities by Konnie Enos

With two adult kids still living at home we, meaning my kids and I, sometimes get into these long conversations that cover a large variety of topics in conversations that can last hours. And I mean hours. Last time I think we sat around the kitchen table talking for two or three hours. We only ended the conversation because I seriously was no longer comfortable. Seriously, dining room chairs are not designed for anybody as height challenged as I am.

So, our conversations often end because I needed to get to a more comfortable place.

Now back to the conversations, specifically our last one.

I’m not going to pretend to remember what started the whole thing, it was probably just the three of us all being in the kitchen at the same time. I’m also not going to pretend that I know how we segued to this topic, I just know we did.

The topic in question was who in our household of four was responsible for which specific tasks/chores.

I said (more or less), “I’m just the CFO.” Which is accurate since I pay all the bills and track all the money. It’s my main chore, partially because I can do it sitting down, and mostly because I know accounting. (I did minor in it.)

Without missing a beat, my daughter said, “Well, if you’re CFO then I’m the CEO.”

Okay, very fair observation. Even down to the point what she says usually goes. I mean dear husband and I can countermand her but what usually happens is I countermand him and back her up. Mostly because what he wants is too expensive, often massively so.

Well since she established her role I decided that my son had to have a role and gave it some thought. My first thought was CIO, chief information officer, and that’s what I said at the time, but I’ve since figured out that his role is CTO, chief technology officer. I even gave him an official company shirt for his last birthday. It reads, “I’m my families unpaid tech support.”

Well, with our roles firmly established we then tried to figure out what my husband’s role was in this household.

I mean he has some pull because he can tell us to do things, but we can all countermand him when what he wants just isn’t possible. But he is also not specifically responsible for anything. My kids and I divvy up the chores based on skills and current abilities.

Which means my daughter does the lion’s share of them unless she’s having a flair, or it’s that time of the month, or most recently, she broke something, like a rib. (Believe me it’s worse when she gets hit with more than one thing at a time.)

When she’s down for the count, my son has to do her chores that I physically cannot do. Or I have to convince my husband to do them. Either that or they don’t get done until she’s better.

Anyway, we couldn’t come up with anything, but I finally pointed out that most of our household income is from him, and it pays all the bills.

My son finally said, “Then he’s the clueless investor.”

I nearly cracked up. But you know, it is still a very accurate description.

I love the man but most days he has absolutely no clue what is going on around here. I mean, between my son, daughter and I we told him at least twice each (I did three times) that our daughter currently has a broken rib before it actually registered with him.

Of course, once he figured it out, he asked a bunch of questions. “How did it happen?”

Daughter’s answer. “The same way it always happens. I moved or something.”

“Shouldn’t she see a doctor.”

Daughter’s answer. “Why? They’re going to tell me exactly the same thing they’ve said every other time this happened. Which is rest, don’t lift anything heavy.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

Daughter again, “Exactly what we are doing.” This being her brother is doing the heavy lifting and any chores she physically can’t do, like those that require bending.

And yes, she has done this before, probably because she has EDS. And yes, all the doctors ever said was that it’s broken, and rest. So yes, she knows exactly what she’s experiencing and she’s slowly healing, right on schedule, getting better. But her brother is annoyed having to lift the cast iron pan for her. I sure can’t do it. It’s heavy.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

 

Sorry by Konnie Enos

I have not been feeling well for the last few days, so I went to bed last night earlier than I normally do quite confident in the fact that I did not have to write a post this morning. Then woke up this morning to find that an hour after I went to bed, Bonnie texted me that she was not able to write the post this week.

I am not prepared to write a post this morning, mostly because I’m still sick, but unlike Bonnie, I can sit up. And, unfortunately, sitting up is necessary in order to type, at least on a keyboard.

Considering my already packed morning, I can only say, sorry, but we aren’t posting this week.