The Christmas Monster Strikes

I must admit that I am a complete Christmas Tree snob. I am firmly opposed to fake trees, and have no problem breaking the bank to purchase the perfect Christmas tree. As soon as December rolls around the Christmas Monster takes hold of my soul, and terrorizes my family. The Hubby cannot escape my incessant nagging to find the perfect tree, decorate the house, and simply BE CHEERY!!! As we closed the door on Thanksgiving, the nagging began.
**Disclaimer**: My Christmas Tree Snob Mentality does not extend beyond my family, and should in no way be taken personally.

In the midst of one of my many 'motivational' Christmas lectures, The Hubby suggested we cut a tree down off of our land. His intentions were clear, he was trying to appease my Christmas Monster, and buy himself some time. Little did he know the true Monster he would create. I paused, I thought, and then felt an overwhelming sense of inspiration. What could be more perfect?! Who knew he had such Christmas genius within him! The Hubby could instantly feel the sheer insanity he had created, and unsuccessfully tried to retreat.

It was dark and blistering cold, but we piled into the car, and set out to find Our Tree. After a thirty second reversal down the driveway, we spotted Her. She stood proud and tall, and dripped with Christmas Spirit. Despite my impatience, The Hubby was able to temporarily curb my enthusiasm, and we agreed to do the actual cutting in the daylight.

The next few days crept by, and a corner of our living room sat barren, patiently awaiting the arrival of the PERFECT Christmas Tree. Sunday finally arrived, and all was prepared. The skirt sat, ready to conceal the trunk. The stand sat, ready to provide support and balance. The ornaments lay, ready to adorn and enhance.

We trudged down the driveway, bundled beyond recognition. The Babe's nose was rosy and chilled, but his grin suggested Christmas cheer was present within. As we approached the tree, we quickly realized Her glory. She stood, towering over us, daring us to squeeze Her into our tiny dwelling.

Few words were needed to determine that She was much too grand for our purpose, so we continued in our search.


Further down the driveway we found another prospect, one we had previously scoffed at. She looked insufficient, and petite at best. Once measured, we realized She was much larger than She looked amidst the expansive country. She was The One, so The Hubby revved the chainsaw, and got to work. After some chopping, dragging, shaking, and grunting, she was perfectly nestled in the corner of our living room.

That is where she now sits, and will sit for the weeks to come. She lacks fullness, and Her needles make navigation through Her branches a torturous endeavor. A butterfly cocoon hangs daintily from a single limb, reminding us of Her authenticity. She is not the most aesthetically pleasing of trees, but She is true, and She is ours.


She is our tree, which twinkles in the window as we pull up the driveway. She is our tree, which fills the house with the aromatic scent of winter. She is our tree, which will embrace each and every present that sits beneath her needles.


With a cavalier suggestion from The Hubby, and some obsessive persistence from my Christmas Monster, we have created a tradition. One which we will carry on, in the hopes that we can display respect and appreciation for the land that has provided us with a place to call Home.

Giving Thanks

As my senses are overwhelmed by the sweet scent of candied yams, I feel obliged to honor each and every blessing I have been granted. I am strong, driven, and proud, all because of the army of suppport that elevates me each and everyday.

I am thankful

for the family and friends that surround me;

for you curb all negativity.

Whether that be The Babe with his gentle innocence, The Hub with his endless humor, or any other individual that brightens my day and lightens my load.

You are all a true blessing.

"Blessed are those who can give without remembering, and receive without forgetting."

-Anonymous

Although, I have yet to master this skill, I am forever thankful for the angels, whom so eloquently execute this virtue.

The New Do

Today we accepted the BLARINGLY obvious fact that The Babe was in dire need of a new do. Despite our multiple avoidance strategies, we could no longer deny the obvious. The following photo was a recent, and not so subtle indicator that a new do was in order...

In addition to frequent gender confusion, we have Christmas photos coming up, and therefore have officially surrendered to the Barbershop Fairy. This morning we said our goodbyes to those beautiful (and dissheveled) curls, and let the Barber work his magic.

The Babe handled it surprisingly well (as well as myself and The Hubby, thank you very much!). The end result was shocking, adorable, and devastating, all at the same time. Neither of us were ready to let the baby 'do' go, but it needed to happen. The curls are gone, along with our baby, and we have now welcomed a very well groomed toddler into our household.

Shit-Eye Master

If you ever questioned how to truly repel the masses, I have discovered the real deal! It comes in the form of a highly contagious, ugly bitch, called Pinkeye. Not only does each and every individual you encounter instantly know you have this evil plague, but they will, in addition, assume you are the 'dirty kid' (or the 'dirty mom' in my case).

I had never been graced with Pinkeye's presence prior to having The Babe, but have recently had recurring instances, and let me tell you, she's a bitch! I have reverted to frequent, and excessive hand washing, antibacterial wipe binges all around the house, and consta-sunglass wearing (no, mailman, I don't think I'm a diva).

I am aware of the further implications of my condition, and have come to terms with the reality. I refuse to be held hostage by Pinkeye. I am standing tall, eyes WIDE open, and telling you all, that 'number two' has set up shop in my eye.

I know this may be vulgar for many readers, but unfortunately it is one of the joys of Motherhood (and diaper duty). I have accepted the stigma, and I guess today, I am the proud face of Pinkeye. The Hubby has resorted to calling me "The Shit-Eye Master" and I suppose I should embrace the nickname, and hope she'll move on and enjoy someone elses optical region.

(PS...I am sorry for using the 'B' and 'SH' word, Granma. It was just so fitting!)

Watch out for that TWISTA

I have officially had my first tornado experience, and let me tell you folks, it was absolutely TERRIFYING! For those of you familiar with tornado sirens, extreme winds, and late night calls to book it to the basement, disregard the following rant session. Yet, for all my Cali readers, who are equally petrified of swirling funnels of terror, read on.



A few nights ago I was awoken at 5:30am, to The Hubby hurriedly stating "Okay Linz, we gotta go". This brief phrase, accompanied by a haunting siren, swirling winds, and pounding rain, sent my heart into a rapid explosion. Within the next few moments I was able to grab my child, and nothing else (no shoes, or bra my friends, not a pretty sight), and make a bee line to the car. My mind was completely unable to process a single thought, other than fear, as The Hub began cursing that my keys were not, in fact, in the ignition. He ran for the house, ranting that we did not have time for this, repeatedly stating that we needed to go NOW. He did not shout, but his rapid speech, and frequent curse word, made the panic rapidly rise into my throat. The only release I could muster was to breathe, and repeatedly exclaim "Oh my God".



I instantly knew that he would be unable to find anything in my Mary Poppins-esque purse, and ran in after him. I paperboy tossed our child (okay, there was no actual toss, but it sure felt that way), and plunged my hand into the depths of the diaper confusion I call a purse. After instant frustration, I dumped all the contents out, and blindedly found my keys. In a blink I was behind the wheel, throwing the car in reverse, sending gravel flying, as I sped down the driveway. The Hub was reminding me to breathe, and keep the car straight. I could barely keep my mind straight, let alone an entire car!! I could hardly see beyond the terror enveloping my vehicle, and the instant we hit the highway, The Hub urgently instructed me to "give it all its got".



One point five miles later, we were flying up to my father in laws yard, safe and sound, with a basement at our disposal. With a quick update from the weather channel, we were reassured that we were safe, and although a tornado had been spotted, we were not in immediate danger.



The calm after the storm was confusing, but tormenting all the same. Everyone laughed that I had no shoes, and all seemed to go back to normal. Yet, I still felt as though I had stared death in the eye. I had this sense that a tornado was on my tail, and by golly, I'd gotten away! What do you mean we weren't in immediate danger? Hate to break it to ya folks, but with me on the road in that state of mind, we were all in danger!



I have been told that, in time, I will get used to these 'mild' scares, and will develop a plan, and execute it calmly. I have SERIOUS doubts about my ability to stay calm in future situations, but I nod my head and pretend I won't be the crazy, bra-less freak next time.



So, Murphysboro, the next time the sirens sound, please forgive the shoeless, bra-less, lady driving like a bat out of hell, down the highway. I do not mean to be 'that lady,' but I am, nonetheless. I apologize in advance, for my severe overreaction, and any permanent damage I may cause.



We have tornadoes, and an Auntie Ems, now all we need is a dog named Toto!

In Loving Memory

Yesterday afternoon, The Hubby shimmied onto our dilapidated barn roof, and mounted an American flag. It was the flag his mother, Connie Lou Heiple, had proudly flown on her front porch before she passed. He has a severe fear of heights, and the condition of the roof is questionable at best, but he had chosen this spot, and he'd be damned if the roof, or his fears got the best of him.

Watching him proudly mount this flag, made my heart swell with emotion. The simple act embodied so many things beyond verbal description; love, loss, devotion, honor, pride, the list is endless.

Connie was an amazingly compassionate woman, who gave everything she had to those she loved. She raised an amazing man, whom I am fortunate enough to have married. Her passing has not been easy, and my heart cannot comprehend the pain my Hubby has faced within the last few months. Yet, with such a devastating loss, comes a recognition of much needed appreciation. Mortality is unavoidable, and although we've all heard it a million times, each day is a gift that we must savor.

I offer up each day, each moment of appreciation,

In Loving Memory of Connie Lou Heiple.

You live on a what??!!

Much to my continued disbelief, we do in fact live on a farm. This was once again confirmed this week when my Hubby went to remove the heinous tree stump plaguing our front yard. Despite my minimal Tree Service Savvy, I do believe in California this would entail permits, equipment rental, contracts, etc. Basically, it would be a total pain in the ass. Well, not on our farm! Just grab your handy dandy Track Hoe, and get to work. This was completely mezmerizing to me, and pretty frickin cool! The babe, of course, got a total kick out of it as well!

3 Ways I know we live on a farm

1. Our house is surrounded by corn fields.

2. The closest thing I have to a next door neighbor is the mice that live in our barn.

3. We drive our 4wheeler to get to our mailbox, which is .5miles away.

Okay, so there's a lot of folks around here (including my Hubby) that would probably disagree with my claim that we live on a farm. But this California girl is constantly searching for Old McDonald, because we live on a FARM!!!!!

Here's another pic of the babe enjoying our FARM...

And in case you couldn't tell, Yes that is a CORN COB in his hand :-)....because, once again, we live on a FARM!!

As much as I am still coping with the reality of my living situation, I do in fact love where we live and the home we have created. I am constantly amazed by the benefits of owning your own land and not having neighbors. The Babe is able to discover without restrictions, and embrace the land in its true form. It is a blessing to live where we do, and I am grateful each and everyday.

Here's just one more ADORABLE pic of The Babe reaping the benefits of farm life...