Sunday, December 31, 2006

Try To Remember A Kind of December

It's that most wonderful time of the year. Like the Hatfields and the McCoys, it's the time when the resolutionistas wage battle with the non-resolutionists. Do you make them? Of course! Do you make them? Why on earth should I? Tradition! Lemmings!! Tastes great!!! Less filling!!!

As usual, I fall somewhere in the middle.

I find that after the crush of December, the last thing I have the time or inclination to do is to sit and make life decisions 365 days in advance. I'm not even sure Oprah is that good. Or Martha. But you can be sure that you can read exactly how it should have been done in the January, 2007 issue. It's something like equal parts inspiration for the upcoming year and humiliation that you couldn't manage to think of this yourself.

In the absence of a detailed bulleted list, my hopes for 2007 are the same as they were for 2006: To be a shining example and good leader for those who are younger and learning their way; to be a thoughtful and loving caretaker of the path we all travel, and to continue to tell the stories and be a living legacy of those who no longer walk with us.

2007. Ready or not, here I come.

Try To Remember A Kind of December

It's that most wonderful time of the year. Like the Hatfields and the McCoys, it's the time when the resolutionistas wage battle with the non-resolutionists. Do you make them? Of course! Do you make them? Why on earth should I? Tradition! Lemmings!! Tastes great!!! Less filling!!!

As usual, I fall somewhere in the middle.

I find that after the crush of December, the last thing I have the time or inclination to do is to sit and make life decisions 365 days in advance. I'm not even sure Oprah is that good. Or Martha. But you can be sure that you can read exactly how it should have been done in the January, 2007 issue. It's something like equal parts inspiration for the upcoming year and humiliation that you couldn't manage to think of this yourself.

In the absence of a detailed bulleted list, my hopes for 2007 are the same as they were for 2006: To be a shining example and good leader for those who are younger and learning their way; to be a thoughtful and loving caretaker of the path we all travel, and to continue to tell the stories and be a living legacy of those who no longer walk with us.

2007. Ready or not, here I come.

Saturday, December 30, 2006

States of the Union

The Tuna clan has returned from its whirlwind trip, and our trip home went something like this:

Virginia:
No visibility due to fog. Blame Maryland.

Maryland
:
No visibility due to fog. Blame Virginia.

Pennsylvania:
If you seek bad weather, threatening signs and roads of doom, look about you.

Ohio:
Unless you're going to Cedar Point, it's pretty much just one more obstacle between you and your destination. Hey, where did all this fog come from?

Michigan:
90 is the new 70, and we're not talking Kilometers, people.

States of the Union

The Tuna clan has returned from its whirlwind trip, and our trip home went something like this:

Virginia:
No visibility due to fog. Blame Maryland.

Maryland
:
No visibility due to fog. Blame Virginia.

Pennsylvania:
If you seek bad weather, threatening signs and roads of doom, look about you.

Ohio:
Unless you're going to Cedar Point, it's pretty much just one more obstacle between you and your destination. Hey, where did all this fog come from?

Michigan:
90 is the new 70, and we're not talking Kilometers, people.

Friday, December 29, 2006

Bubbles

At twenty months of age, littlest NephewsanTuna is starting to amass a decent vocabulary. Amongst his favorites is the word more, which, in normal use sounds more like moW. When he is fairly certain that we either haven't heard him or aren't doing moW fast enough, it turns into an emphatic two syllable word: moWAH. The WAH is an implied Now!Now!Now! which is simply too cute for words, especially when you're all of twenty months old.

Today at the east coast family gathering number two, NephewsanTuna was having a grand old time because his parents brought his bottle of bubbles!

BubbAW!!

moWAH?

BubbAW!!!

moWAH?

On and on and on it went. When the last bubble disappeared, all he had to do was say moWAH?? and we would send another stream into the sky. With each shower of bubbAWs!!! he would giggle and point and try to catch them. And I found it interesting that he never got upset when the bubbles all burst, because he knew that if he asked for moWAH?? we would bring the magic back again.

I'm not so sure most adults are bubble kind of people. After all, sometimes bubbles come out as one or two big ones, sometimes as a swarm of little ones, and sometimes, despite our best technique, it's a dud, and all we get is a wet face full of bubble juice. Bubbles are unpredictable at best, so when you ask for more you're never quite sure what it will bring.

When we want more, we we seldom ask. If we want it, we get it for ourselves, which allows us to craft our wants into exactly the shape we require them to be. No muss. No fuss. No surprises. Perfectly formed more bubbles to serve our purposes.

As our day ended, I couldn't help look around the room at everybody gathered. Children and parents, grandchildren and great grandchildren were all eating, laughing and sharing stories and presents. The gathered clan encompassed some 90 years, and to boast just a wee bit, I cannot help but admit, Damn, we looked mighty fine. As we all said our goodbyes, we kept saying, "June. We'll see you again in June."

Just like Nephewsan, we don't know exactly how it will happen, or what it will bring. The only thing we know for sure is that we want it again. Like bubbles, we'll accept the unpredictability as long as we can have the magic.

moWAH.

Please.

Bubbles

At twenty months of age, littlest NephewsanTuna is starting to amass a decent vocabulary. Amongst his favorites is the word more, which, in normal use sounds more like moW. When he is fairly certain that we either haven't heard him or aren't doing moW fast enough, it turns into an emphatic two syllable word: moWAH. The WAH is an implied Now!Now!Now! which is simply too cute for words, especially when you're all of twenty months old.

Today at the east coast family gathering number two, NephewsanTuna was having a grand old time because his parents brought his bottle of bubbles!

BubbAW!!

moWAH?

BubbAW!!!

moWAH?

On and on and on it went. When the last bubble disappeared, all he had to do was say moWAH?? and we would send another stream into the sky. With each shower of bubbAWs!!! he would giggle and point and try to catch them. And I found it interesting that he never got upset when the bubbles all burst, because he knew that if he asked for moWAH?? we would bring the magic back again.

I'm not so sure most adults are bubble kind of people. After all, sometimes bubbles come out as one or two big ones, sometimes as a swarm of little ones, and sometimes, despite our best technique, it's a dud, and all we get is a wet face full of bubble juice. Bubbles are unpredictable at best, so when you ask for more you're never quite sure what it will bring.

When we want more, we we seldom ask. If we want it, we get it for ourselves, which allows us to craft our wants into exactly the shape we require them to be. No muss. No fuss. No surprises. Perfectly formed more bubbles to serve our purposes.

As our day ended, I couldn't help look around the room at everybody gathered. Children and parents, grandchildren and great grandchildren were all eating, laughing and sharing stories and presents. The gathered clan encompassed some 90 years, and to boast just a wee bit, I cannot help but admit, Damn, we looked mighty fine. As we all said our goodbyes, we kept saying, "June. We'll see you again in June."

Just like Nephewsan, we don't know exactly how it will happen, or what it will bring. The only thing we know for sure is that we want it again. Like bubbles, we'll accept the unpredictability as long as we can have the magic.

moWAH.

Please.

Friday's Feast

It's the after-breakfast, before East Coast family gathering version of Friday's Feast. Can I finish before GramTuna shows up with the car?

Appetizer: How do you usually celebrate on New Year's Eve?
New Year's celebrations are generally extremely low-key. In the past we have hung out at Peace Tuna's house for awhile, gnoshing and yucking it up, but returning home far before the clock strikes twelve. This year? I. Have. A. Date. With a new fancy dress and the whole nine yards. I'm looking forward to this just a wee bit. SQUEEEEEEE

Soup: Name one thing unexpected that happened to you in 2006
See: I. Have. A Date.

Salad: Where was the favorite place you visited in 2006?
As I don't recall traveling anywhere out of the ordinary, my favorite was and remains The Atlanic Ocean at Hatteras and Ocracoke, North Carolina.

Main Course: What resolution is your top priority for 2007?
I generally don't do them, so maybe my top priority for 2007 is making one. Or maybe coming up with a better reason for why I never make one.

Dessert: Using just three words, describe 2006
1. ScoutyellowshirtconcertsmorecowbellIhaveadate
2. Stillhereattheendofit
3. Lookingforwardto2007

Friday's Feast

It's the after-breakfast, before East Coast family gathering version of Friday's Feast. Can I finish before GramTuna shows up with the car?

Appetizer: How do you usually celebrate on New Year's Eve?
New Year's celebrations are generally extremely low-key. In the past we have hung out at Peace Tuna's house for awhile, gnoshing and yucking it up, but returning home far before the clock strikes twelve. This year? I. Have. A. Date. With a new fancy dress and the whole nine yards. I'm looking forward to this just a wee bit. SQUEEEEEEE

Soup: Name one thing unexpected that happened to you in 2006
See: I. Have. A Date.

Salad: Where was the favorite place you visited in 2006?
As I don't recall traveling anywhere out of the ordinary, my favorite was and remains The Atlanic Ocean at Hatteras and Ocracoke, North Carolina.

Main Course: What resolution is your top priority for 2007?
I generally don't do them, so maybe my top priority for 2007 is making one. Or maybe coming up with a better reason for why I never make one.

Dessert: Using just three words, describe 2006
1. ScoutyellowshirtconcertsmorecowbellIhaveadate
2. Stillhereattheendofit
3. Lookingforwardto2007

Thursday, December 28, 2006

Two on the Aisle

Today TinyTuna and I spent part of the afternoon watching Eragon. The movie is best described as equal parts of Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Chronicles of Narnia, combined with a dash of Wizard of Oz, Old Yeller (mythical beast version) and Last of the Mohicans. Stir in enormous special effects and a lush yet majestic soundtrack set at 11. Shake, dump onto celluloid, and serve with popcorn.

Overall, it wasn't a bad way to spend an afternoon. I'm just hoping my hearing comes back before tomorrow.

Two on the Aisle

Today TinyTuna and I spent part of the afternoon watching Eragon. The movie is best described as equal parts of Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Chronicles of Narnia, combined with a dash of Wizard of Oz, Old Yeller (mythical beast version) and Last of the Mohicans. Stir in enormous special effects and a lush yet majestic soundtrack set at 11. Shake, dump onto celluloid, and serve with popcorn.

Overall, it wasn't a bad way to spend an afternoon. I'm just hoping my hearing comes back before tomorrow.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Heart and Soul

Consider the computer desk.

Some desks are a jumble of papers, machines, wires, routers, pencils, pens, and other office supplies we deem important. In my case it's sticky notes, paper clips and a rubber band ball. Of course, I've never, ever used a rubber band ball to actually retrieve a rubber band for use, but I've always felt like I should have one. Just in case. In addition to the practical, there is often an element of quirky that goes into the mix. At home, my monitor is decorated with three plastic rubber duckies, and a pelican beanie baby. They are the guardians of my computer and they watch over me while I work.

Some desks are neat, clean, open-spaced surfaces. These are very appealing to me on a certain level, mostly because all these elements are so seldom present in my life. They speak to calm and orderliness, two things for which I strive but seldom achieve.

Writing from a borrowed desk this week, I'm intrigued by my surroundings. The desk definitely falls into the jumble category, but I don't say that in any sort of accusatory manner. In fact, it has a real homey quality to it, and while I sit here, I don't feel as if I'm intruding. Instead I feel as if I can slip in, do my work and then quietly leave without anybody noticing.

Near the monitor is a wonderful ribbon board. It's full of cards, bumper stickers, button and other assorted trinkets. Just like my guardian duckies, everything here has a special meaning to the owner of this desk. Maybe the computer is the heart of our electronic universe. But the desk, the desk is its soul.

Heart and Soul

Consider the computer desk.

Some desks are a jumble of papers, machines, wires, routers, pencils, pens, and other office supplies we deem important. In my case it's sticky notes, paper clips and a rubber band ball. Of course, I've never, ever used a rubber band ball to actually retrieve a rubber band for use, but I've always felt like I should have one. Just in case. In addition to the practical, there is often an element of quirky that goes into the mix. At home, my monitor is decorated with three plastic rubber duckies, and a pelican beanie baby. They are the guardians of my computer and they watch over me while I work.

Some desks are neat, clean, open-spaced surfaces. These are very appealing to me on a certain level, mostly because all these elements are so seldom present in my life. They speak to calm and orderliness, two things for which I strive but seldom achieve.

Writing from a borrowed desk this week, I'm intrigued by my surroundings. The desk definitely falls into the jumble category, but I don't say that in any sort of accusatory manner. In fact, it has a real homey quality to it, and while I sit here, I don't feel as if I'm intruding. Instead I feel as if I can slip in, do my work and then quietly leave without anybody noticing.

Near the monitor is a wonderful ribbon board. It's full of cards, bumper stickers, button and other assorted trinkets. Just like my guardian duckies, everything here has a special meaning to the owner of this desk. Maybe the computer is the heart of our electronic universe. But the desk, the desk is its soul.

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

The Morning After

Things I learned while travelling today:

1. According to my Trivial Pursuit cards, bowling was a popular sport in Ancient Egypt. Somehow, I cannot see King Tut knocking down a few frames.

2. If you're in Pennsylvania, the probability of crappy weather is equal to the probability the day has a "Y" in it.

3. Nobody in Michigan was working today. They were all driving. East. Right in front of me.

4. Maryland traffic continues to be a mystery wrapped in a 95 mph enigma. Traffic jams happen instantaneously for no apparent reason whatsoever. After sitting and not moving or creeping along at 10 mph, there will suddenly be open road. All the cars in front of you have disappeared and there is no evidence of accident. It's just plain weird.

5. Despite all the adventures in travelling, we're happy to be safe and sound with family.

The Morning After

Things I learned while travelling today:

1. According to my Trivial Pursuit cards, bowling was a popular sport in Ancient Egypt. Somehow, I cannot see King Tut knocking down a few frames.

2. If you're in Pennsylvania, the probability of crappy weather is equal to the probability the day has a "Y" in it.

3. Nobody in Michigan was working today. They were all driving. East. Right in front of me.

4. Maryland traffic continues to be a mystery wrapped in a 95 mph enigma. Traffic jams happen instantaneously for no apparent reason whatsoever. After sitting and not moving or creeping along at 10 mph, there will suddenly be open road. All the cars in front of you have disappeared and there is no evidence of accident. It's just plain weird.

5. Despite all the adventures in travelling, we're happy to be safe and sound with family.

Monday, December 25, 2006

Christmas Haikus

Presents all around.
Frenzied paper. Frenzied joy.
Flying, dreams draw near.

Holiday madness.
Rush, Worry, Panic, and Fret.
December law firm.

Pack now when sleepy
Or sleep now and pack later?
5 am wins out.

This is the season
Of magic and miracles.
Hold on tight. Believe!

Happy Holidays
Merry Christmas, Hanukkah,
or Hug-A-Tree Day

From the Tuna Clan
To Friends known and not yet met,
Peace, Health, Joy and Love.

Christmas Haikus

Presents all around.
Frenzied paper. Frenzied joy.
Flying, dreams draw near.

Holiday madness.
Rush, Worry, Panic, and Fret.
December law firm.

Pack now when sleepy
Or sleep now and pack later?
5 am wins out.

This is the season
Of magic and miracles.
Hold on tight. Believe!

Happy Holidays
Merry Christmas, Hanukkah,
or Hug-A-Tree Day

From the Tuna Clan
To Friends known and not yet met,
Peace, Health, Joy and Love.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

It's a Wrap

Late Friday afternoon Scout and I had an early Christmas because he was leaving the next morning to spend the holidays with his parents. His Friday marked the end to an exhausting week of overtime, and I had spent the entire day power shopping, so we were both tired, to say the least.

I walked into his house, with gift bags a-blazing, and found him hunched over a present, scotch tape in hand. He said he was just finishing up wrapping TinyTuna's present. I looked at my pile of presents I had assembled in about 45 seconds, then looked at him and whispered "Gift Bags. Greatest Inventions EVER." He looked at me and shook his head. "My mother taught me to wrap presents."

Well! My mother taught me to wrap presents too, but if I had wrapped all his gifts in the prescribed Tuna manner with tape and paper and a KNIFE (scissors are a huge foul...don't ask), I wouldn't have been over until the next day. Plus, gift bags are cheaper and reusable, that is, if you're smart enough not to slap a sticker with a name on it.

But I understood where he was coming from. There is something about a hand-wrapped present with colorful bows and curlicue ribbons. It's like a hand-written letter. It says you took the time to care. A hand-wrapped present is tradition. On the other hand, a gift bag not only saves time, it also saves the planet by eliminating mountains of paper that wind up in a landfill. A gift bag is environmentally friendly.

So I really didn't know what to think. Should I be Tevye or Al Gore? In the end, I told him to shut up and open his present. Which he did. And then I took back the gift bags to use again. And yes, I tore off the paper from his lovely hand-wrapped present. But in the name of recycling, I crumpled the paper up into a couple of little balls to use as cat toys for a day or two. Waste not, want not.

It's a Wrap

Late Friday afternoon Scout and I had an early Christmas because he was leaving the next morning to spend the holidays with his parents. His Friday marked the end to an exhausting week of overtime, and I had spent the entire day power shopping, so we were both tired, to say the least.

I walked into his house, with gift bags a-blazing, and found him hunched over a present, scotch tape in hand. He said he was just finishing up wrapping TinyTuna's present. I looked at my pile of presents I had assembled in about 45 seconds, then looked at him and whispered "Gift Bags. Greatest Inventions EVER." He looked at me and shook his head. "My mother taught me to wrap presents."

Well! My mother taught me to wrap presents too, but if I had wrapped all his gifts in the prescribed Tuna manner with tape and paper and a KNIFE (scissors are a huge foul...don't ask), I wouldn't have been over until the next day. Plus, gift bags are cheaper and reusable, that is, if you're smart enough not to slap a sticker with a name on it.

But I understood where he was coming from. There is something about a hand-wrapped present with colorful bows and curlicue ribbons. It's like a hand-written letter. It says you took the time to care. A hand-wrapped present is tradition. On the other hand, a gift bag not only saves time, it also saves the planet by eliminating mountains of paper that wind up in a landfill. A gift bag is environmentally friendly.

So I really didn't know what to think. Should I be Tevye or Al Gore? In the end, I told him to shut up and open his present. Which he did. And then I took back the gift bags to use again. And yes, I tore off the paper from his lovely hand-wrapped present. But in the name of recycling, I crumpled the paper up into a couple of little balls to use as cat toys for a day or two. Waste not, want not.

Christmas Eve Two'fer

It's not every day you can Feast and Mutter at the same time. So, this morning it must run something along the lines of

I say ... And you FEAST


Appetizer: What is one of your Christmas Traditions
When I was little, in our stocking there was always an orange. I have no idea if it had any sort of greater symbolic meaning that was lost on a me, but as I went to my boyfriend (no, my other boyfriend), I was suddenly grateful I only had an orange in my stocking, and not an entire orange Christmas Tree.

  • 1. Terrify :: Scare the bejeebus out of
  • 2. Month :: Twelve

Soup: Who is the easiest person on your list to buy presents for?

TinyTuna, hands down. She's 12 ... what's not to like?

  • 3. Throat :: Strong, delicate, and vulnerable
  • 4. Invasion :: Germs and #3

Salad : What is your favorite Christmas Scent?

Mulled Hot Apple Cider with a sploosh of Spiced Rum to make it extra smooooooth.

  • 5. Nail :: Hammer and
  • 6. 12 :: Days of Christmas

Main Course : If you could give a fellow Blogger a Christmas Gift, who would it be, and what would you give them?

I couldn't choose just ONE! I've always thought of ordering special-made M&Ms (green ones, of course) and have them imprinted with a Tuna to send to all my online peeps (oooh, wouldn't GreenTuna PEEPS be awesome??!), but I've never quite put my plan into action.

  • 7. Bicker :: Unpleasant, pointless arguing
  • 8. Thomas :: The Tank Engine

Dessert: What's something on your Christmas list that you need (not just want?)
I pretty much fail year in and year out at making Christmas lists. Things I need? More Time, More Money, More Ocean, More Cowbell

  • 9. Sibling :: Brothers and sisters
  • 10. Delude :: More Time, More Money, More Ocean, More Cowbell

Christmas Eve Two'fer

It's not every day you can Feast and Mutter at the same time. So, this morning it must run something along the lines of

I say ... And you FEAST


Appetizer: What is one of your Christmas Traditions
When I was little, in our stocking there was always an orange. I have no idea if it had any sort of greater symbolic meaning that was lost on a me, but as I went to my boyfriend (no, my other boyfriend), I was suddenly grateful I only had an orange in my stocking, and not an entire orange Christmas Tree.

  • 1. Terrify :: Scare the bejeebus out of
  • 2. Month :: Twelve

Soup: Who is the easiest person on your list to buy presents for?

TinyTuna, hands down. She's 12 ... what's not to like?

  • 3. Throat :: Strong, delicate, and vulnerable
  • 4. Invasion :: Germs and #3

Salad : What is your favorite Christmas Scent?

Mulled Hot Apple Cider with a sploosh of Spiced Rum to make it extra smooooooth.

  • 5. Nail :: Hammer and
  • 6. 12 :: Days of Christmas

Main Course : If you could give a fellow Blogger a Christmas Gift, who would it be, and what would you give them?

I couldn't choose just ONE! I've always thought of ordering special-made M&Ms (green ones, of course) and have them imprinted with a Tuna to send to all my online peeps (oooh, wouldn't GreenTuna PEEPS be awesome??!), but I've never quite put my plan into action.

  • 7. Bicker :: Unpleasant, pointless arguing
  • 8. Thomas :: The Tank Engine

Dessert: What's something on your Christmas list that you need (not just want?)
I pretty much fail year in and year out at making Christmas lists. Things I need? More Time, More Money, More Ocean, More Cowbell

  • 9. Sibling :: Brothers and sisters
  • 10. Delude :: More Time, More Money, More Ocean, More Cowbell

Saturday, December 23, 2006

It's in the Bag

Holidailies Writing Prompt: The best homemade holiday gifts to give or get

Several years ago when money was particularly tight for several family members, it was decreed that they were going to opt out of Christmas presents, with the exception of doing something for their kids. They asked us not to give them any presents, because they simply couldn't reciprocate. It was a tough year.

GramTuna and I let that thought stew for several days, and then I finally decided I couldn't agree to this. It wasn't about getting presents. But I knew there had been enough stress and hard times and unhappiness, and it seemed a shame to highlight those things by ignoring Christmas.

We proceeded to formulate a plan. Over the course of several lunch hours, we started making a list of everyone who would be over for Christmas. Presents didn't have to be fancy or expensive, but we were going to have presents. Oh yes, we were going to have presents.

We devised "themes" based on each person, and thought of four items that would provide clues to what the theme was. The clues would either be things laying around the house, or things we could put together ourselves. Each clue would be wrapped in tissue paper (cheap!) and the whole lot would be put in a brown paper grocery sack. The recipient would open each of the four clues, and then try to guess the theme. For example, one bag contained a jar of peanut butter, a glass, some milk and a fork. In our world, the answer would be "peanut butter cookies" because you can't eat one without a big glass of milk. The fork was to make the criss-crosses on the top of the cookies.

GramTuna and I stayed up until all hours several days before Christmas pulling it all together. After all, where are you going to come up with a foreign legion hat? You aren't. You take an old gardening cap and sew a dishtowel to the bottom of it. Voila! Nobody in our family knew what we were up to, but when they walked in on Christmas day and saw the enormous pile of brown paper grocery sacks by the front door, they knew we had been up to no good. Again.

We spent hours and hours opening these bags. Some themes were easy guesses and others were quite challenging. By the time we finished, we had all laughed so hard we were exhausted. These silly bags full of things like trashy novels, nail polish, chocolate and a wand (Queen for a Day!) were just the ticket. They were more than presents; they were thoughtful, silly diversions, and they lifted our spirits like nothing had in many months.

So to answer the question about the the best homemade holiday gift to give or receive, the answer in the Tuna household might be the ones that weren't asked for. Presents can come in brown paper grocery sacks; fancy wrapping and store receipts are not required. And when you're up to no good, sometimes you do the biggest good of all.

It's in the Bag

Holidailies Writing Prompt: The best homemade holiday gifts to give or get

Several years ago when money was particularly tight for several family members, it was decreed that they were going to opt out of Christmas presents, with the exception of doing something for their kids. They asked us not to give them any presents, because they simply couldn't reciprocate. It was a tough year.

GramTuna and I let that thought stew for several days, and then I finally decided I couldn't agree to this. It wasn't about getting presents. But I knew there had been enough stress and hard times and unhappiness, and it seemed a shame to highlight those things by ignoring Christmas.

We proceeded to formulate a plan. Over the course of several lunch hours, we started making a list of everyone who would be over for Christmas. Presents didn't have to be fancy or expensive, but we were going to have presents. Oh yes, we were going to have presents.

We devised "themes" based on each person, and thought of four items that would provide clues to what the theme was. The clues would either be things laying around the house, or things we could put together ourselves. Each clue would be wrapped in tissue paper (cheap!) and the whole lot would be put in a brown paper grocery sack. The recipient would open each of the four clues, and then try to guess the theme. For example, one bag contained a jar of peanut butter, a glass, some milk and a fork. In our world, the answer would be "peanut butter cookies" because you can't eat one without a big glass of milk. The fork was to make the criss-crosses on the top of the cookies.

GramTuna and I stayed up until all hours several days before Christmas pulling it all together. After all, where are you going to come up with a foreign legion hat? You aren't. You take an old gardening cap and sew a dishtowel to the bottom of it. Voila! Nobody in our family knew what we were up to, but when they walked in on Christmas day and saw the enormous pile of brown paper grocery sacks by the front door, they knew we had been up to no good. Again.

We spent hours and hours opening these bags. Some themes were easy guesses and others were quite challenging. By the time we finished, we had all laughed so hard we were exhausted. These silly bags full of things like trashy novels, nail polish, chocolate and a wand (Queen for a Day!) were just the ticket. They were more than presents; they were thoughtful, silly diversions, and they lifted our spirits like nothing had in many months.

So to answer the question about the the best homemade holiday gift to give or receive, the answer in the Tuna household might be the ones that weren't asked for. Presents can come in brown paper grocery sacks; fancy wrapping and store receipts are not required. And when you're up to no good, sometimes you do the biggest good of all.

Friday, December 22, 2006

For Once It Wasn't Mine

As over while waiting to buy super secret stuff at the fancy-shmancy chocolate shop:

Small Girl Who Might Be 3: (Loudly) "Daddy? Is Mom more mature than you?"

GreenTuna: (Thinking) "Don't pee your pants. Don't pee your pants. Don't pee your pants..."

Daddy: (Embarrassed because everybody in the entire store is laughing at him) "Well, I suppose so. I suppose Mom is more mature than I am."

Mom: (In a more mature sort of voice) "Honey, by mature do you really older?"

Small Girl Who Might Be 3: (Disgusted) NO!

For Once It Wasn't Mine

As over while waiting to buy super secret stuff at the fancy-shmancy chocolate shop:

Small Girl Who Might Be 3: (Loudly) "Daddy? Is Mom more mature than you?"

GreenTuna: (Thinking) "Don't pee your pants. Don't pee your pants. Don't pee your pants..."

Daddy: (Embarrassed because everybody in the entire store is laughing at him) "Well, I suppose so. I suppose Mom is more mature than I am."

Mom: (In a more mature sort of voice) "Honey, by mature do you really older?"

Small Girl Who Might Be 3: (Disgusted) NO!

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Shouldn'ts and Shoulds

  • The holidays shouldn't be this hard.
  • Finding that special something for that special someone should be fun.
  • Cookies shouldn't be rationed.
  • Mince Pie (MPF!) should be given to whomever likes it.
  • You shouldn't have to stalk to find a parking spot.
  • Fruitcake should follow the same rules (FPF!)
  • The cats shouldn't play with ornaments to death.
  • I should remember to water the tree so its needles don't kill me.
  • The iris shouldn't be re-blooming on Christmas Day.
  • There should be a lovely layer of snow on the ground.
  • There shouldn't be any snow the next morning.
  • One day should be enough.
  • That peace on earth, goodwill toward men stuff shouldn't be forgotten.
  • Women, however, should be included in that mix.
  • Scout shouldn't have to work so hard. Overtime in December is wrong.
  • TinyTuna should be happy tomorrow is the last day of school.
  • I shouldn't still be awake. It's late.
  • I should go to bed. I shall.


Shouldn'ts and Shoulds

  • The holidays shouldn't be this hard.
  • Finding that special something for that special someone should be fun.
  • Cookies shouldn't be rationed.
  • Mince Pie (MPF!) should be given to whomever likes it.
  • You shouldn't have to stalk to find a parking spot.
  • Fruitcake should follow the same rules (FPF!)
  • The cats shouldn't play with ornaments to death.
  • I should remember to water the tree so its needles don't kill me.
  • The iris shouldn't be re-blooming on Christmas Day.
  • There should be a lovely layer of snow on the ground.
  • There shouldn't be any snow the next morning.
  • One day should be enough.
  • That peace on earth, goodwill toward men stuff shouldn't be forgotten.
  • Women, however, should be included in that mix.
  • Scout shouldn't have to work so hard. Overtime in December is wrong.
  • TinyTuna should be happy tomorrow is the last day of school.
  • I shouldn't still be awake. It's late.
  • I should go to bed. I shall.


Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Neither Rain Nor Snow

Three separate times over the past few weeks the U.S. Post Office has seen fit to deliver my Lands End catalog number eleventy jillion and two in an over sized envelope. The back of the envelope contains a long rambling apology about how terribly sorry they are that they damaged my mail, and YES they know my mail is important and they work UNBELIEVABLY hard to make sure my mail arrives not only on time but in one piece. The front of the envelope is clear, allowing the recipient to behold their handiwork by gazing upon the damaged item.

The only problem with this is that in each instance, I would have never known it was mangled if they didn't tell me. In fact the last holiday catalog I received (appropriately titled LAST CHANCE 2006!) was perfectly intact, save for the cover being loose at the lower staple.

If the Post Office is going to go to all the trouble of apologizing and repackaging their goofs, they're going to have to work a lot harder. Forget overcoming rain and snow and sleet and hail. I've got a large pile of unwanted holiday catalogs that could be pressed into service for target practice. What they have going right now isn't destructive, it's just annoying with additional packaging, which, if you stop to think about it, pretty much sums up the Post Office, even on a good day. Maybe they are working at their optimal level of incompetence already.

Never mind.

Neither Rain Nor Snow

Three separate times over the past few weeks the U.S. Post Office has seen fit to deliver my Lands End catalog number eleventy jillion and two in an over sized envelope. The back of the envelope contains a long rambling apology about how terribly sorry they are that they damaged my mail, and YES they know my mail is important and they work UNBELIEVABLY hard to make sure my mail arrives not only on time but in one piece. The front of the envelope is clear, allowing the recipient to behold their handiwork by gazing upon the damaged item.

The only problem with this is that in each instance, I would have never known it was mangled if they didn't tell me. In fact the last holiday catalog I received (appropriately titled LAST CHANCE 2006!) was perfectly intact, save for the cover being loose at the lower staple.

If the Post Office is going to go to all the trouble of apologizing and repackaging their goofs, they're going to have to work a lot harder. Forget overcoming rain and snow and sleet and hail. I've got a large pile of unwanted holiday catalogs that could be pressed into service for target practice. What they have going right now isn't destructive, it's just annoying with additional packaging, which, if you stop to think about it, pretty much sums up the Post Office, even on a good day. Maybe they are working at their optimal level of incompetence already.

Never mind.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Just Another Day

There are days when there isn't much to say. Where you go to work and you just work. And after work you go home. Nothing exciting or tragic or earth shattering. No funny jokes to share. No great stories to tell. It's a night of making dinner, doing dishes and cleaning up the bedroom. There is the customary head-butting over homework and practicing, but even that isn't out of the ordinary. And at the end of the day, it's nothing more than days end. Crawling into bed you amass your army of blankets in the hopes of fending off the cold and the darkness while you wait for sleep to take you from one day to the next. There's no promise what tomorrow will bring. It might be exciting. Or tragic. Or earth shattering. Or just another day.

In this season where every day is supposed to be full of fa-la-la-ing, twinkling lights and non-stop holiday cheer, some people might find the absence of celebration a disappointment. Others might feel the monotony is refreshing when faced with a calendar stuffed full of obligations. I manage to fall squarely in both camps at once, which, truth be told, is nothing about which to brag. There are some people -- a lot of people -- that would give anything in the world for just one more day. They know that even the most boring, non-eventful day is cause for great celebration, because the gift of just another day is nothing short of miraculous.

The miraculous in the ordinary is what the season is all about. The trick is to be able to recognize its presence and appreciate the gift. And then it's not just another day anymore.

Fa la la la la
La la la la.

Just Another Day

There are days when there isn't much to say. Where you go to work and you just work. And after work you go home. Nothing exciting or tragic or earth shattering. No funny jokes to share. No great stories to tell. It's a night of making dinner, doing dishes and cleaning up the bedroom. There is the customary head-butting over homework and practicing, but even that isn't out of the ordinary. And at the end of the day, it's nothing more than days end. Crawling into bed you amass your army of blankets in the hopes of fending off the cold and the darkness while you wait for sleep to take you from one day to the next. There's no promise what tomorrow will bring. It might be exciting. Or tragic. Or earth shattering. Or just another day.

In this season where every day is supposed to be full of fa-la-la-ing, twinkling lights and non-stop holiday cheer, some people might find the absence of celebration a disappointment. Others might feel the monotony is refreshing when faced with a calendar stuffed full of obligations. I manage to fall squarely in both camps at once, which, truth be told, is nothing about which to brag. There are some people -- a lot of people -- that would give anything in the world for just one more day. They know that even the most boring, non-eventful day is cause for great celebration, because the gift of just another day is nothing short of miraculous.

The miraculous in the ordinary is what the season is all about. The trick is to be able to recognize its presence and appreciate the gift. And then it's not just another day anymore.

Fa la la la la
La la la la.

Monday, December 18, 2006

I've Got a Little List

Tonight I had, had, HAD to come up with some sort of Christmas List for those who demand such things. I worked on this while half-watching Flight 93 on A&E which was (and is, because it's still on) followed by some documentary on the same subject. Is there some anniversary of which I am unaware? I'm not asking for Frosty and Rudolph every night, but this does nothing for my holiday cheer, which is already dancing on the edge.

From a commercial standpoint, my list is a complete and utter failure. I didn't include anything that would bolster the economy in any significant way. No ponies, no computers, no Wiis for Miis. I managed to stumble across a couple of interesting sounding books on Amazon (Thanks, Top 50 list!) but besides that and a couple of local gift certificates, everybody is pretty much on their own.

And then, for no particular reason, my brain took an entirely different track, and I came up with what I think are some cool ideas. Here are some things worth asking for*. Feel free to steal any of these ideas. I'm thinking I just may do the same myself.

A favorite new recipe
A favorite family recipe
A good book you've read and would like to share
A picture from the past year
A picture from long ago
A packet of seeds I should be sure to plant next year.


*sorry about ending the sentence with a preposition, Mom


I've Got a Little List

Tonight I had, had, HAD to come up with some sort of Christmas List for those who demand such things. I worked on this while half-watching Flight 93 on A&E which was (and is, because it's still on) followed by some documentary on the same subject. Is there some anniversary of which I am unaware? I'm not asking for Frosty and Rudolph every night, but this does nothing for my holiday cheer, which is already dancing on the edge.

From a commercial standpoint, my list is a complete and utter failure. I didn't include anything that would bolster the economy in any significant way. No ponies, no computers, no Wiis for Miis. I managed to stumble across a couple of interesting sounding books on Amazon (Thanks, Top 50 list!) but besides that and a couple of local gift certificates, everybody is pretty much on their own.

And then, for no particular reason, my brain took an entirely different track, and I came up with what I think are some cool ideas. Here are some things worth asking for*. Feel free to steal any of these ideas. I'm thinking I just may do the same myself.

A favorite new recipe
A favorite family recipe
A good book you've read and would like to share
A picture from the past year
A picture from long ago
A packet of seeds I should be sure to plant next year.


*sorry about ending the sentence with a preposition, Mom


Sunday, December 17, 2006

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think:

1. Hardball :: Chris Matthews

2. Sleepless :: In Seattle

3. Graduation :: Cap and Gown

4. Presents :: Under the tree

5. Toe :: I've got 5 of them

6. Lotion :: Hands

7. Snicker :: Doodle. Or Snee. Or a yummy candy bar

8. Eve :: Adam. (Don't get me started)

9. Investment :: Banker

10. Pain :: Chronic

#2 -- This answer is given in honor of Mensch and her undying love and devotion for all things Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. Despite her protestations to the contrary, I'm POSITIVE she has a huge stash of all the Hanks/Ryan romantic comedies ever made.
#3 -- TunaU just had graduation a week ago. Lots of cap-and-gowned grads were seen all over town. The best sighting was Saturday Morning at the Grill Dogs where an obviously enthusiastic grad brought his extremely dressed up mother to show her his favorite place to have a big old greasy breakfast. Good thing the monkey slingshot was out of sight.
#5 -- The only other thing I could think of was "ring" and that is bizarre, because I don't wear toe rings. I don't begrudge those who do, but honestly, a toe ring seems to be a huge "what's the point?" kind of deal.
#7 -- And I drew my snicker snee. Nothing like unleashing your inner Gilbert and Sullivan for all the Internets to see.
#8 -- So here's the deal. I get tired -- really tired -- of Eve getting all the blame while Adam gets gives the mealy-mouthed excuse IT'S NOT MY FAULT ... SHE MADE ME and comes across as victim. I have to sing a choir anthem tomorrow that talks about God coming and being created anew blah blah AND THEN GET THIS: "The gates of Eden open...Adam dances in exsultation." Ahem. Aren't we FORGETTING SOMEONE? Where was Eve? Getting a pizza?

Maybe if Eve were smart, she'd hit Adam over the head with his cello.
Not a bad idea, that one.

Mutter along HERE.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think:

1. Hardball :: Chris Matthews

2. Sleepless :: In Seattle

3. Graduation :: Cap and Gown

4. Presents :: Under the tree

5. Toe :: I've got 5 of them

6. Lotion :: Hands

7. Snicker :: Doodle. Or Snee. Or a yummy candy bar

8. Eve :: Adam. (Don't get me started)

9. Investment :: Banker

10. Pain :: Chronic

#2 -- This answer is given in honor of Mensch and her undying love and devotion for all things Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. Despite her protestations to the contrary, I'm POSITIVE she has a huge stash of all the Hanks/Ryan romantic comedies ever made.
#3 -- TunaU just had graduation a week ago. Lots of cap-and-gowned grads were seen all over town. The best sighting was Saturday Morning at the Grill Dogs where an obviously enthusiastic grad brought his extremely dressed up mother to show her his favorite place to have a big old greasy breakfast. Good thing the monkey slingshot was out of sight.
#5 -- The only other thing I could think of was "ring" and that is bizarre, because I don't wear toe rings. I don't begrudge those who do, but honestly, a toe ring seems to be a huge "what's the point?" kind of deal.
#7 -- And I drew my snicker snee. Nothing like unleashing your inner Gilbert and Sullivan for all the Internets to see.
#8 -- So here's the deal. I get tired -- really tired -- of Eve getting all the blame while Adam gets gives the mealy-mouthed excuse IT'S NOT MY FAULT ... SHE MADE ME and comes across as victim. I have to sing a choir anthem tomorrow that talks about God coming and being created anew blah blah AND THEN GET THIS: "The gates of Eden open...Adam dances in exsultation." Ahem. Aren't we FORGETTING SOMEONE? Where was Eve? Getting a pizza?

Maybe if Eve were smart, she'd hit Adam over the head with his cello.
Not a bad idea, that one.

Mutter along HERE.

Saturday, December 16, 2006

Once More, With Feeling

Because lessons hadn't been learned the first time around, I was back in a mall AGAIN today. This time, however, I was with Gram and TinyTuna as we had to travel to ye yon distant mall in order to get things not readily available in ye nearby mallfullofcrap.

The drive down was quite pleasant, as the iPod was on Christmas shuffle (and honestly, whom among us does NOT enjoy Christmas carols pounded on steel drums?) and TinyTuna supplemented the humdrum pa-rum-pa-pum-pums with an electronic obbligato courtesy of her Gameboy as it booped and beeped and crashed down the highway.

Once we procured the required elements in ye yon distant mall, we began the hunt for the Grail. Today it was finding an appropriate something for TinyTuna to wear next Friday when her school has its Winter Wonderland dance thing. According to TinyTuna (code for consider the source) they were told to "dress up." Gram and I double-teamed her and explained that "dress up" meant something along the lines of please don't wear sweat pants, nasty blue jeans or pajama bottoms and not ballgowns preferred. We went in store after store after store, searching for something...anything. To her credit and dare I say good taste, she hated everything. Or at least did not prefer it. Sometimes she just made a classic YEESH MincePieFace (MPF) and snorted, so we got the idea and left. In the end we saved lots of money, but by the time we trudged back to the car, both TinyTuna and her Gameboy were on red battery about to run out of juice. It was very discouraging.

After we returned home and she had yet another rehearsal, we decided to hit one last clothing emporium. We walked in the door and voila! Options! Clothing that covered! Not skanky! Wouldn't go up in flames in 5 seconds flat! TinyTuna was in heaven and you could see the weight of her 12-year old world lift. She selected a black skirt that has a lovely twirl factor and a cute red camisole and shirt that has a smidgen of sparkle and long sleeves with the big billowy cuffs.

As luck would have it, I also found a little something something to wear for my mystery date on New Years Eve (the mystery being the where of the date and not the whom. Scout is being uncharacteristically secretive in a somewhat charming way on this one).

As we went to pay and I was complementing her on her selection that was BOTH stylish and appropriate (this is HARD, people!) she leaned in and whispered, Do you think he'll like it? I looked at her, knowing EXACTLY to whom she was referring and whispered, If he doesn't he has no taste whatsoever. She thought about it for a minute and replied, "Yeah. If he doesn't like it, I'll hit him over the head with his cello."

Although I outwardly chuckled and told her that might not be the best idea, I was inwardly impressed. A little crack upside the head with a large stringed instrument would surely get the point across. But then I was faced with a dilemma: Scout doesn't play the cello...

Once More, With Feeling

Because lessons hadn't been learned the first time around, I was back in a mall AGAIN today. This time, however, I was with Gram and TinyTuna as we had to travel to ye yon distant mall in order to get things not readily available in ye nearby mallfullofcrap.

The drive down was quite pleasant, as the iPod was on Christmas shuffle (and honestly, whom among us does NOT enjoy Christmas carols pounded on steel drums?) and TinyTuna supplemented the humdrum pa-rum-pa-pum-pums with an electronic obbligato courtesy of her Gameboy as it booped and beeped and crashed down the highway.

Once we procured the required elements in ye yon distant mall, we began the hunt for the Grail. Today it was finding an appropriate something for TinyTuna to wear next Friday when her school has its Winter Wonderland dance thing. According to TinyTuna (code for consider the source) they were told to "dress up." Gram and I double-teamed her and explained that "dress up" meant something along the lines of please don't wear sweat pants, nasty blue jeans or pajama bottoms and not ballgowns preferred. We went in store after store after store, searching for something...anything. To her credit and dare I say good taste, she hated everything. Or at least did not prefer it. Sometimes she just made a classic YEESH MincePieFace (MPF) and snorted, so we got the idea and left. In the end we saved lots of money, but by the time we trudged back to the car, both TinyTuna and her Gameboy were on red battery about to run out of juice. It was very discouraging.

After we returned home and she had yet another rehearsal, we decided to hit one last clothing emporium. We walked in the door and voila! Options! Clothing that covered! Not skanky! Wouldn't go up in flames in 5 seconds flat! TinyTuna was in heaven and you could see the weight of her 12-year old world lift. She selected a black skirt that has a lovely twirl factor and a cute red camisole and shirt that has a smidgen of sparkle and long sleeves with the big billowy cuffs.

As luck would have it, I also found a little something something to wear for my mystery date on New Years Eve (the mystery being the where of the date and not the whom. Scout is being uncharacteristically secretive in a somewhat charming way on this one).

As we went to pay and I was complementing her on her selection that was BOTH stylish and appropriate (this is HARD, people!) she leaned in and whispered, Do you think he'll like it? I looked at her, knowing EXACTLY to whom she was referring and whispered, If he doesn't he has no taste whatsoever. She thought about it for a minute and replied, "Yeah. If he doesn't like it, I'll hit him over the head with his cello."

Although I outwardly chuckled and told her that might not be the best idea, I was inwardly impressed. A little crack upside the head with a large stringed instrument would surely get the point across. But then I was faced with a dilemma: Scout doesn't play the cello...

Friday, December 15, 2006

Friday Night Ramblings

Tonight we got our Christmas tree. We brought it home, put it in the tree stand, tossed in some water (so the trunk wouldn't close up) and then went off to a holiday party. Two hours later we came home and found the tree sprawled in the middle of the living room floor. The only thing missing was a chalk outline. The cats were curled up where we left them (fakers!) and gave us that "whaaaaat?" look when we walked in. I don't know for sure if the tree fell over on its own, or if it had a bit of help, but O Tannenbaum had better be standing tomorrow morning or eight furry legs are in big trouble.

A huge plug for The Office. There aren't many shows that I stampede to watch on a weekly basis, but this (along with Heroes) is one of them. Last night the boss, Michael, was dumped by his realtor-girlfriend. As he was leaving with the boys from the office to soothe his broken heart at the nearby Benihana's ("The Asian Hooters"), Michael tearfully summed up his current state of affairs:

"Bros before Hos! Why? Because your bros are always there for you. They've got your back after your ho rips your heart out for no good reason....And you were nothing but great to your ho...and you told her she was the only ho for you...and she was better than all the hos in the world...and then...then suddenly she's not your ho...no mo!"

Truer words were never spoken.

Friday Night Ramblings

Tonight we got our Christmas tree. We brought it home, put it in the tree stand, tossed in some water (so the trunk wouldn't close up) and then went off to a holiday party. Two hours later we came home and found the tree sprawled in the middle of the living room floor. The only thing missing was a chalk outline. The cats were curled up where we left them (fakers!) and gave us that "whaaaaat?" look when we walked in. I don't know for sure if the tree fell over on its own, or if it had a bit of help, but O Tannenbaum had better be standing tomorrow morning or eight furry legs are in big trouble.

A huge plug for The Office. There aren't many shows that I stampede to watch on a weekly basis, but this (along with Heroes) is one of them. Last night the boss, Michael, was dumped by his realtor-girlfriend. As he was leaving with the boys from the office to soothe his broken heart at the nearby Benihana's ("The Asian Hooters"), Michael tearfully summed up his current state of affairs:

"Bros before Hos! Why? Because your bros are always there for you. They've got your back after your ho rips your heart out for no good reason....And you were nothing but great to your ho...and you told her she was the only ho for you...and she was better than all the hos in the world...and then...then suddenly she's not your ho...no mo!"

Truer words were never spoken.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Holiday Recipe

Ingredients needed for peace on earth and goodwill towards men whomever:

1. Equal number of pitchers of beer to goodwill recipients

2. One rollicking game of "I never"

3. A life well-lived (AKA lots of ammo)

4. Short bathroom lines

5. One digital camera to capture the moments


Seriously? All problems on earth have been solved for today.
You're welcome.

Holiday Recipe

Ingredients needed for peace on earth and goodwill towards men whomever:

1. Equal number of pitchers of beer to goodwill recipients

2. One rollicking game of "I never"

3. A life well-lived (AKA lots of ammo)

4. Short bathroom lines

5. One digital camera to capture the moments


Seriously? All problems on earth have been solved for today.
You're welcome.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Teamwork

I've always been big on the idea of being a team.

This has nothing to do with sports. This has to do with the idea of banding together to live, thrive and survive in the insanity we call life. Ever since TinyTuna was little, I've always talked about how we are a team. How the two of us are a strong force. How we work together. How we care for each other. How we are unstoppable.

Call it propaganda if you will, but these big tough words are necessary. I never want her to feel like she is facing the world alone. I never want to feel that way either. Deep down I think, nobody does.

Everyone should have the luxury -- no, the right -- to feel as if they have someone on their side. It's not always about tilting at windmills. Sometimes it's as simple as having someone to laugh with, or cry with. Someone to do crossword puzzles with during lunch, or someone to share a Law and Order marathon on a Friday night. Other times it's bigger, like having someone to hold you up when unbearable days turn into unending nights. The unknown can be dark and scary. It's so much easier to be brave when someone else is nearby.

Usually when we go about forming our team we tend to look for THE ONE. Call it significant other, call it mate, call it spouse, whatever it may be, we tend to think THE ONE is the only one we need and we forget about or ignore everyone else. Super team -- table for two. And if you think about it, this makes no sense at all. There aren't super powers in being super exclusionary. The simple fact is, THE ONE cannot be THE ALL. The one is only and can only be one. So then what?

Open your eyes and look around. There are people ready, willing and able to be on your team. Some will instinctively sense when they're needed. Others might not know and will need to be asked. Some will rush right in and others may not be able to help at the moment. That's OK. You can't have hundreds of players on the field all at the same time. Valuable support can also come from the sidelines.

When times get tough, the unknown takes over and in this inky darkness it's hard to see that you aren't alone. Call out for others; ask for help. Your team might be family or friends, teachers, peers, acquaintances...even strangers. Do whatever it takes, accept whoever it is. Even if it's only one, you've doubled your forces and you aren't alone.

Watch out, windmills.

Teamwork

I've always been big on the idea of being a team.

This has nothing to do with sports. This has to do with the idea of banding together to live, thrive and survive in the insanity we call life. Ever since TinyTuna was little, I've always talked about how we are a team. How the two of us are a strong force. How we work together. How we care for each other. How we are unstoppable.

Call it propaganda if you will, but these big tough words are necessary. I never want her to feel like she is facing the world alone. I never want to feel that way either. Deep down I think, nobody does.

Everyone should have the luxury -- no, the right -- to feel as if they have someone on their side. It's not always about tilting at windmills. Sometimes it's as simple as having someone to laugh with, or cry with. Someone to do crossword puzzles with during lunch, or someone to share a Law and Order marathon on a Friday night. Other times it's bigger, like having someone to hold you up when unbearable days turn into unending nights. The unknown can be dark and scary. It's so much easier to be brave when someone else is nearby.

Usually when we go about forming our team we tend to look for THE ONE. Call it significant other, call it mate, call it spouse, whatever it may be, we tend to think THE ONE is the only one we need and we forget about or ignore everyone else. Super team -- table for two. And if you think about it, this makes no sense at all. There aren't super powers in being super exclusionary. The simple fact is, THE ONE cannot be THE ALL. The one is only and can only be one. So then what?

Open your eyes and look around. There are people ready, willing and able to be on your team. Some will instinctively sense when they're needed. Others might not know and will need to be asked. Some will rush right in and others may not be able to help at the moment. That's OK. You can't have hundreds of players on the field all at the same time. Valuable support can also come from the sidelines.

When times get tough, the unknown takes over and in this inky darkness it's hard to see that you aren't alone. Call out for others; ask for help. Your team might be family or friends, teachers, peers, acquaintances...even strangers. Do whatever it takes, accept whoever it is. Even if it's only one, you've doubled your forces and you aren't alone.

Watch out, windmills.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

What Not to Wear

While walking back to work after lunch, GramTuna and I passed what I can only assume is a college student. This child was wearing variations on a theme of Crack is Not a Breakfast Food on a day that was windy, rainy, and that especially unpleasant damp and cold that makes you want to run for something warm by the fire. Today's outfit consisted of a skirt (bare legs, of course) and cheap flip flops. Her wiggly toes must have been a fetching shade of frostbite blue, but I cannot be absolutely certain of that because I wasn't going stop and investigate any further.

"OH MY GOD!" I said as I pulled my coat closer around my neck. "She's gotta be FREEZING!"

GramTuna shook her head. "Students," she said, flatly. "If it's not flip-flops and shorts in the winter, it's tank tops and furry boots in the summer."

"Makes me cold just looking at her," I said.

Without missing a beat GramTuna added, "I know for some people this is a fashion statement. To me, it's more like an IQ test."

What Not to Wear

While walking back to work after lunch, GramTuna and I passed what I can only assume is a college student. This child was wearing variations on a theme of Crack is Not a Breakfast Food on a day that was windy, rainy, and that especially unpleasant damp and cold that makes you want to run for something warm by the fire. Today's outfit consisted of a skirt (bare legs, of course) and cheap flip flops. Her wiggly toes must have been a fetching shade of frostbite blue, but I cannot be absolutely certain of that because I wasn't going stop and investigate any further.

"OH MY GOD!" I said as I pulled my coat closer around my neck. "She's gotta be FREEZING!"

GramTuna shook her head. "Students," she said, flatly. "If it's not flip-flops and shorts in the winter, it's tank tops and furry boots in the summer."

"Makes me cold just looking at her," I said.

Without missing a beat GramTuna added, "I know for some people this is a fashion statement. To me, it's more like an IQ test."

Monday, December 11, 2006

Take A Letter

Todays writing prompt from the Holidailies crew is Those Mass Produced Family Holiday Newsletters. Unsurprisingly, I don't have a single family holiday newsletter to share, because let's face it: The Tuna Clan isn't exactly a Mass Produced Holiday Newsletter kind of family. The closest we ever got to being remotely traditional was to get together a few years back to take a massive family picture. Of course you know the Tuna Spirit was with us. With each picture an enormous flash would go off, the room would go dark for a few seconds and then 4-year old Nephew Tuna would shout CREEPY!! at the top of his lungs. This continued with each subsequent shot for the next 45 minutes, until all twelve of us were saying it and laughing like idiots. Good times.

I must admit a tiny part of me admires someone who has the ability to whittle the past 365 days into a First Class 39-cent epic. I couldn't be that brief if you muzzled me and chopped off all my fingers. And then there is the whole problem of remembering. A whole year? Multiple people? Good Lord, people, I can't remember what I did three days ago, much less last March. But in the spirit of giving it the old college try, here is my first (and most likely last) attempt at a Mass Produced Family Holiday Newsletter.


Two Thousand Six has come and gone
Our basement's dry. We're blessed.

We painted rooms and ripped up grass
and yardwork was our quest.

This year our ocean holiday
had weather that was best.

The kid became a "pre-adult"
our sanity to test.

We've still two cats and I've a Scout
and as for all the rest,

You'll have to read my archives for
these letters I detest.


Take A Letter

Todays writing prompt from the Holidailies crew is Those Mass Produced Family Holiday Newsletters. Unsurprisingly, I don't have a single family holiday newsletter to share, because let's face it: The Tuna Clan isn't exactly a Mass Produced Holiday Newsletter kind of family. The closest we ever got to being remotely traditional was to get together a few years back to take a massive family picture. Of course you know the Tuna Spirit was with us. With each picture an enormous flash would go off, the room would go dark for a few seconds and then 4-year old Nephew Tuna would shout CREEPY!! at the top of his lungs. This continued with each subsequent shot for the next 45 minutes, until all twelve of us were saying it and laughing like idiots. Good times.

I must admit a tiny part of me admires someone who has the ability to whittle the past 365 days into a First Class 39-cent epic. I couldn't be that brief if you muzzled me and chopped off all my fingers. And then there is the whole problem of remembering. A whole year? Multiple people? Good Lord, people, I can't remember what I did three days ago, much less last March. But in the spirit of giving it the old college try, here is my first (and most likely last) attempt at a Mass Produced Family Holiday Newsletter.


Two Thousand Six has come and gone
Our basement's dry. We're blessed.

We painted rooms and ripped up grass
and yardwork was our quest.

This year our ocean holiday
had weather that was best.

The kid became a "pre-adult"
our sanity to test.

We've still two cats and I've a Scout
and as for all the rest,

You'll have to read my archives for
these letters I detest.


Sunday, December 10, 2006

Da Capo al Fine

My brain is exhausted
I can't keep my eyes open
The weight of the weekend's activities have pinned me to the mat.

The calendar shows no improvement
Another seven days to survive
Four more performances
Five more rehearsals
And this doesn't include school.

How do we do it?
Why do we do it?

If you went to the concert today you'd understand.
The kids so obviously moved by their art.
Words and music wash over and through them.
Sometimes swaying, sometimes smiling and bopping their heads.
A twinkle in their eye. Joy unbounded.

And yet they are like a laser beam. More than focused.
Rounded vowels. Beautiful sounds.
One voice. Always one voice.

Precision. Perfection.
Performance Professionals.

But at concert's end,
after the final bows
and the applause fades away
Congratulations are shared
giggles return
kids once more.
Magical transformation.

We'll do it all again tomorrow.

Da Capo al Fine

My brain is exhausted
I can't keep my eyes open
The weight of the weekend's activities have pinned me to the mat.

The calendar shows no improvement
Another seven days to survive
Four more performances
Five more rehearsals
And this doesn't include school.

How do we do it?
Why do we do it?

If you went to the concert today you'd understand.
The kids so obviously moved by their art.
Words and music wash over and through them.
Sometimes swaying, sometimes smiling and bopping their heads.
A twinkle in their eye. Joy unbounded.

And yet they are like a laser beam. More than focused.
Rounded vowels. Beautiful sounds.
One voice. Always one voice.

Precision. Perfection.
Performance Professionals.

But at concert's end,
after the final bows
and the applause fades away
Congratulations are shared
giggles return
kids once more.
Magical transformation.

We'll do it all again tomorrow.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think:

1. Research :: Library

2. Chuck :: Throw

3. Insert :: Sunday Newspapers

4. Bang :: Boom

5. Lousy :: Rotten

6. Rehearsal :: Where many of us seem to spend WAY too much time (in)

7. Critics :: Qualified or not, still a fun read

8. Memory :: Cats or The Way We Were ... take your pick

9. Squid :: Eww

10. Remove :: Goo Gone.




Some notes from the unconscious:

1. Libraries are where you go to do your own damn research, not where you stand there and ask somebody to look everything up for you and find all your materials. If we were dogs, we're more like pointers, not retrievers. Just a friendly FYI from your local library personnel.

2. I really wanted to say "up". So there, I said it.

3. There was probably no worse torture than having to sub on a December Sunday for your older brother who had a humongous paper route. The insets? Bigger than the newspaper. Sadly, not much has changed.

6. The less said about rehearsals, the better. I have ten more minutes before we are off again for concert number I have no idea because I've lost count.

7. Best story I have about critics: I was in an international voice competition and the review which came out the next day called it The Battle of the Gowns. Sadly, the was the nicest thing they had to say about any of us. Too bad included in this group were singers who placed second, fifth, and sixth. So Nyah!

10. Goo Gone. It's just fun to say.

Mutter along HERE. You know you want to.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... And You Think:

1. Research :: Library

2. Chuck :: Throw

3. Insert :: Sunday Newspapers

4. Bang :: Boom

5. Lousy :: Rotten

6. Rehearsal :: Where many of us seem to spend WAY too much time (in)

7. Critics :: Qualified or not, still a fun read

8. Memory :: Cats or The Way We Were ... take your pick

9. Squid :: Eww

10. Remove :: Goo Gone.




Some notes from the unconscious:

1. Libraries are where you go to do your own damn research, not where you stand there and ask somebody to look everything up for you and find all your materials. If we were dogs, we're more like pointers, not retrievers. Just a friendly FYI from your local library personnel.

2. I really wanted to say "up". So there, I said it.

3. There was probably no worse torture than having to sub on a December Sunday for your older brother who had a humongous paper route. The insets? Bigger than the newspaper. Sadly, not much has changed.

6. The less said about rehearsals, the better. I have ten more minutes before we are off again for concert number I have no idea because I've lost count.

7. Best story I have about critics: I was in an international voice competition and the review which came out the next day called it The Battle of the Gowns. Sadly, the was the nicest thing they had to say about any of us. Too bad included in this group were singers who placed second, fifth, and sixth. So Nyah!

10. Goo Gone. It's just fun to say.

Mutter along HERE. You know you want to.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Holiday Stuffing

I spent a couple hours this morning in enemy territory: the mall. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, but I thought I would wander around to see what there was to see. I wasn't disappointed. There was lots to see. Lots and lots and lots. Rows and rows and aisles and aisles. Markdowns and door busters and colored dots and special savings in every single store.

As I went in and out of stores I was hoping to hit upon a few good gift ideas and came up with a big load of nothing. I can't say I was surprised, but I was disappointed.

I don't know exactly what my problem is. I think part of it is the fact that a mall seems to be nothing more than miles and miles of stuff, and Lord Almighty, I feel like I spend too much time as it is trying to get rid of it myself. I worry about inflicting stuff on others. Is it stuff they want? Is it stuff they need? Or is it just stuff for stuff's sake that seems to make the all-too quick and ugly transformation from stuff to clutter?

Part of my problem comes from the large twinge of annoyance I feel every December. I love the idea that we take the time to think of others. I hate the idea that we do it because the calendar tells us so, and come December 26th, we selfishly stampede like rabid lemmings back to the stores to exchange the kind thoughts and gestures for something else.

And then there is the whole idea of self-doubt. I always worry it won't be good enough, it won't be special enough, and even to my shame, it won't be expensive enough. But in the end, there is nothing, and I mean nothing that I could buy that could ever come close to representing the love, thanks, admiration and joy that so many people have brought to my life.

But this year, like every year, I'll try my best to find that a special something for all the special someones in my life. I'll worry more than I should that my gift is not a worthy messenger, but maybe this year instead of making stuff tell my friends and family how important they are to me, I'll do it myself. And when they ask me what I'd like for Christmas, maybe the answer for once will be easy. I don't want stuff. I want another year with all of them in my life.

Unconditional. Non-returnable.

That's the best stuff there is.

Holiday Stuffing

I spent a couple hours this morning in enemy territory: the mall. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, but I thought I would wander around to see what there was to see. I wasn't disappointed. There was lots to see. Lots and lots and lots. Rows and rows and aisles and aisles. Markdowns and door busters and colored dots and special savings in every single store.

As I went in and out of stores I was hoping to hit upon a few good gift ideas and came up with a big load of nothing. I can't say I was surprised, but I was disappointed.

I don't know exactly what my problem is. I think part of it is the fact that a mall seems to be nothing more than miles and miles of stuff, and Lord Almighty, I feel like I spend too much time as it is trying to get rid of it myself. I worry about inflicting stuff on others. Is it stuff they want? Is it stuff they need? Or is it just stuff for stuff's sake that seems to make the all-too quick and ugly transformation from stuff to clutter?

Part of my problem comes from the large twinge of annoyance I feel every December. I love the idea that we take the time to think of others. I hate the idea that we do it because the calendar tells us so, and come December 26th, we selfishly stampede like rabid lemmings back to the stores to exchange the kind thoughts and gestures for something else.

And then there is the whole idea of self-doubt. I always worry it won't be good enough, it won't be special enough, and even to my shame, it won't be expensive enough. But in the end, there is nothing, and I mean nothing that I could buy that could ever come close to representing the love, thanks, admiration and joy that so many people have brought to my life.

But this year, like every year, I'll try my best to find that a special something for all the special someones in my life. I'll worry more than I should that my gift is not a worthy messenger, but maybe this year instead of making stuff tell my friends and family how important they are to me, I'll do it myself. And when they ask me what I'd like for Christmas, maybe the answer for once will be easy. I don't want stuff. I want another year with all of them in my life.

Unconditional. Non-returnable.

That's the best stuff there is.

That Was The Year That Was

Currently gallivanting through the pipes of the Internets -- Take the first line from the first blog of the month (not including memes) and list them here, giving you a review of the past twelve fun-filled months:

January
Today the Tuna clan ventured forth to TunaU to watch the Lady Spartunas demolish the visiting University of Michigan Wolverines on the basketball court (77-44 for those keeping score. Like me).
**This year we learned that Women's Basketball is a great way to spend an afternoon and is a good bargain to boot. We hope to hit a couple games this season as well.

February
It's teaching day again, and half of the college appears to have the plague.
**Why am I complaining? Sick students means a possibility of grabbing some LUNCH.

March
We were able to sneak out while TinyTuna was at rehearsal and we saw Capote.
**It's hard to find time to get out and see grown-up movies. Capote was a great film.

April
Yes, today is the big 1-2 for TinyTuna. I would like to point out, however, that even as of now -- a little after 3:00 pm -- there was NO TinyTuna.
**Poor kid. Will I ever stop complaining about 36 hours of labor and her being three weeks late? Magic Eight Ball say "Outlook Unlikely".


May
This morning TinyTuna and I had another episode of "Good God, she's twelve, and neither one of us is going to see thirteen."
**Wow. Same song. 97th verse.

June
TinyTuna has always been a fairly savvy concert-goer. This is because she has been dragged here, there and everywhere since she was a much tinier TinyTuna.
**So where did I drag her this time? To a BAR.

July
Lately TinyTuna has been picking up on my (sometimes bad) habit of public commentary.
**It is incredibly satisfying to bust others for your bad habits.

August
This past weekend Tuna Clan joined forces with PeaceTuna, climbed into the Peacemobile (very nice) and drove to Flint, Michigan for an afternoon folk music concert.
**Carrie Newcomer. New favorite. Still love her.

September
There will be no sister kissing today.
**Does this really need any explanation? This was one of only a handful of football games the Spartunas managed to win this season.

October
Yesterday afternoon, after sitting/napping through Open Season (MPF!), Scout, TinyTuna and I returned home to catch a little TV and play a couple of games.
**In which we learn that a "premature accusation" is NOT a good thing.

November
Thursdays are long, LONG days.
**And this is news?

December
I'm having a love-hate relationship with noise.
**Sometimes life needs a giant MUTE button.