#18 Holidays-Wholly Dazed - Olivia

To those of you who talk to me regularly, I apologize for repeating myself, but I want the world to know that after years of just rocking Christmas, I finally added Hanukkah to the repertoire.  

Yes, it rocked my world.  Kwanzaa, next year is your year. 

Now, I'm guessing there will be some confusion.  Something in the form of, "You celebrated Hanukkah?  In Rexburg, Idaho??" followed by a, "And why ...?"  Good question, reader. 

Yes.  I celebrated Hanukkah in the isolating, overwhelmingly Christian, currently frozen state of Idaho.  I did it because I was invited to do so.  And it was awesome.  

We read a story about the havoc the Greek Syrians wrought on the Jews and the miracle of the oil lasting eight days, we lit the menorah, we sang about dreidels, and then ate latkes and chocolate coins.  

My favorite part was learning about miracles - or at least for me - re-introducing the idea of miracles in my life.  

Thanksgiving was literally last week, and already I have caught myself grumbling about what I don't have or can't do.  I had already forgotten that the reason we get off work on a Thursday in November is not to power nap after an unmentionable amount of calories, but because we have an opportunity to realize how truly good we have it.  

Now, while thinking about the struggles the Jews had to endure, I was given the opportunity to pause and reflect again.  

Folks, we celebrate holidays and traditions to remind ourselves of important things.  I wish I lived in such a way that I kept those things with me always, but I am always grateful for the reminder.  I am perhaps just beginning to realize how important tradition is.  

Christmas is coming soon and I want to be ready for it.  

I want to appreciate the gifts, and the fun side culture that comes with the whole ordeal, but I don't want to be caught once again forgetting.  With two holidays checked off my list, it would be embarrassing if I still failed to remember the quiet reminders, the traditions that teach small but great things, or the importance of the time we've been given.  

I mean, how ironic is it that we spend so much time thinking about getting a tree, wrapping gifts, going to holiday parties, and spending copious amounts of money, that after all is said and done, we're not rejuvenated, grateful, and more committed to live with love in our hearts.  We're exhausted, maybe jaded, and further isolated from what should keep us going.  

We're not getting the pay off from that investment and it happens so easily.  Suddenly holidays (holy days) truly does become time spent wholly dazed.  

Don't let it happen to you, dear readers.  Because you deserve better.  I just know it.  

On an unrelated parting note, check this piece of weirdom out!  Klingon Christmas Carol 

Don Replies:

This was an awesome post.  I can't wait to hear about your Hanukkah experience in person.  No doubt one of my best Christmas presents this year is simply that you're coming home.  Merry Christmas to me.

By the way, I hate how all the stores barely have the Hanukkah merchandise put away before they're dragging out the Kwanzaa.  Funny stuff.  See ya soon.

#18 Holidays -- Wholly dazed.

Woody Herb, my infamous ne’er-do-well uncle and mentor, always had this to say about Christmas: “The question isn’t whether Ol’ Santy Claus is real or not, the question is whether he’s going to bring you a little sumptin’ sumptin’ and stick’er in yer stockin’.” 

He’s right, of course.  Christmas and other holidays are not the appropriate time for delving too deeply into the metaphysics of reality; that is to say, looking for those lines that separate “fantasy” from “the real world.”  We refer to this in English class as “the willing suspension of disbelief,” and this means basically that as readers we need to be willing to trade whatever issues we may have with “that would never happen in real life” for the pleasures we can have from enjoying the story.

Thus, if we really want to take pleasure in a bit of fantasy, we must be willing to let some things go.  If you are bothered that in J.K. Rowling’s magical world, people can transform themselves into cats and mice, but Dumbledore, arguably the greatest wizard of all times, needs to wear glasses to correct his vision – you’ve got to learn to let it go.  Some people who have no problems with Superman being able to fly and see through walls get totally bent out of shape by the idea that Lois Lane, a prize-winning investigative reporter, can’t recognize that the superhero she has a crush on is the same awkward nerd she shares an office with. 

That Sigourney Weaver’s character in Avatar was a cigarette smoker nearly ruined the film for my wife, Ruth.  “Like a company is going to let people smoke in a building that took them trillion of dollars to build on a distant planet that needs to filter out the deadly atmosphere they found there,” she said to me as we walked to our car after we first left the theater.  “A company is not going to go to all the expense of sending a highly-trained expert to a distant planet than then let her damage her health with tobacco,” she said on the drive home.  And later that night, “This movie is supposed to take place in the future.  Does it seem very likely to you that that far in the future, someone as educated as Sigourney Weaver’s character is going to be dumb enough to smoke?”  I could have said, “Well, perhaps that far into the future, we’ll be able to cure cancer by swallowing a tiny pill shaped like a Flintstone,” but I didn’t.  I said, rather, “You’re right.  It doesn’t make sense to have a character smoking in this movie.  I don’t know what the director was thinking when he decided to let her smoke on screen.”  Now, even though I thought there were lots of places where the Fabric of Not Likely was beginning to fray in that movie, I didn’t initially have a problem with the smoking.  On the other hand, I don’t work for the Tobacco lobby or the Screen Writer’s Guild, and I love my wife – so that’s the point, see?  I can sincerely agree with her that the smoking in Avatar was bothersome because since it ended up bothering her so much, it ended up bothering me as well.

And this is precisely what Christmas is, isn’t it?  It’s about picking and choosing which aspects of reality we’re going to let bug us and which aspects to let go.  Christmas asks us to temporarily put aside our cynical and critical “yes, buts” and let things go for the pleasure of the serenity that comes when we’re all getting along.  This temporary peacefulness may be as artificial as the sweeteners in the candy canes, but if you want to insist this serenity isn’t real, just hold that thought until January while we’re scraping the ice off our windshields to get back to work.  For right now, however, do me a favor and just let it go.  Hark the Herald Angels sing! Can’t you hear them?

Can a single person using flying reindeer visit every household in the world in a single night?  Yes, absolutely, and, furthermore, if you use the phrase “speed of light” to explain to me why I’m wrong, then you totally missed the point of the question.  Did God impregnate a virgin and send her miles and miles over rough terrain on the back of a donkey while simultaneously providing a star for others to find her and the baby later in a barn? Yes, absolutely, and if you want to say that stars are massive hydrogen reactions that exist light-years away and as such are not amenable to being drug across celestial space for the purpose of terrestrial navigation, then you may know plenty about particles and parsecs, but I’ll wager you don’t know much about what is significant to the human soul.

One of the aspects of Christmas I like the most is this communal understanding that the whole Peace on Earth business is only going to work as much as we’re willing to believe it’s going to work.  This is to say, we all need to make an effort to be extra nice about those things that bother us even if what’s bothering us is the need to be extra nice. 

Why do we do it? We do it because when we’re a little extra nice to others, we recognize and appreciate the effort others make to be a little extra nice to us.  If this requires us to willingly suspend our belief in the good intentions of others, then let’s do that.  It’s only for a month, so let’s filter out the question of what motivates people to do nice things for others, and let’s just focus instead on figuring out what can we do for them to make their life a little easier as well.

When the Ghost of Jacob Marley comes to visit his old business partner, Ebenezer Scrooge’s first response to this visit is to focus on the reality of Marley’s existence rather on the importance of his message.  Scrooge tells Marley’s ghost that perhaps he is a dreamlike hallucination brought on by some indigestion: "You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"

This, for me, crystallizes fundamentally what Dickens was getting at in “A Christmas Carol,” and ultimately the “true meaning” of Christmas: we can only open ourselves up to transformative spiritual experiences when we put aside all the empirical proofs that would otherwise keep them from us. Does “Santa Claus” really exist?  Yes, he does, and he lives in my heart.  Furthermore, I promise you this: if until December 25^th you can practice the willing suspension of disbelief, you may or may not find a little sumptin’ sumptin’ in your stockin’ but you’ll certainly find a little extra room for tolerance in your heart.  God bless us, everyone.

Olivia says:


Did you happen to watch a Very Glee Christmas?  (Ok, the secret's out, world ...)   It was so touching.  Brittany still believes in Santa and everyone goes leaps and bounds to make sure she still does.   I may or may not have cried. 


And I am so excited to come home for Christmas.   I think Christmas reaches different peaks according to age.  When I was young, I dreamt about Santa even in April.  As I became older, it became about that one perfect morning where everyone is nice and happy.   Now, I'm at the age where I tear up a little bit when I hear "I'll be home for Christmas ... "  


I can't wait!

#17 Bargains - Olivia

Please forgive for my tardiness this week.  I've been sick, Thanksgiving reared it's glutenous head, and the first climatically seriously snowfall fell continuously throughout the week.  But without further ado, let's talk bargins.

First, I have another confession for this blog.

Somehow, I have been classically conditioned to feel the call of nature whilst in the presence of perceivably good deals.  I think the comes from a reoccurring experience I had as a little girl of going shopping with my mother, having to deal with a little girl bladder, and being almost to that finish line when she would get held up by a sale, a clearance sign, or a bargin bin.

I guess eventually I just began associating one with the other.

It's probably one of those extremely rare conditions.  Like never nudes.

Today, before I can even consider the potential of a thrift store, yard sale, or dollar store, I have to tend to a more pressing need.  This is easier said than done because businesses designed to save you money are also designed to cut corners, which translates to no public bathrooms nine times out of ten.   What is a girl to do?

Good question, reader.  If you're at a yard sale, you're fresh out of luck.  It took me at least three weeks to feel confortable enough to wander past the other cubicles on the way to washroom at work.  I just don't know if I have it in me to ask a stranger to let me use their facilities.  It's weird, I know.  But we must proceed.  You need to channel the pressure of the situation into a divide and conquer mode.  Be picky and honest.  Do I need this?  Is it worth $3?  Do I really look good in orange?  There is no lingering, only instantaneous decision making.  Stand by all the decisions you make.

If you find yourself at a thrift store, evaluate the situation.  Take in your whereabouts, consider your options, and act.  We all know that the best bargins exist, not so much in a geographical location, but in a state of mind.  If you are ready for deals, they will find you.   But you can't be ready to let those deals into your life if you're on a full tank.

Some thrift stores do have bathrooms.  Out here in the west, we have Deseret Industries instead of Salvation Armies and they're built near identical.  You can navigate both if you can navigate one.  They build Goodwills out of whatever they can find, so that's not always a guarantee.  The best thrift stores are of course holes in the wall.  My favorite, Re-Use Industries in Athens, is notoriously sketchy and cheap. And without a ladies room, but that goes without saying.   In those instances, I suggest going next door to take care of the emergency and move on with your life.   Luckily, New to You is not far at all from Re-Use, and it does have a public bathroom.  (Well, sort of.  It goes between being public and for employees only, but I use it regardless.)

The real trouble is in the dollar store.  First, let it be said that I adore the dollar store.  I am never disappointed by the whimsy of a dollar store.  Canned cheese doodles next to pizza flavored toothpase, behind glass figurines of clown-dogs?  What will they think of next?!  I could wander these aisles for hours, wondering who puts together the double feature DVDS that include one Marlon Brando western and a Betty Boop cartoon, or who creates the prototypes for the bizarre ceramic figures.  Dollar stores are brimming with wonder and fascination at a very affordable price.

But we all know my hold-up.  First thing is first.  If you can locate a loo, do it.  If not, you have a couple of options.  You can either grin and bear it, or you can distract yourself.  Start with a piece of gum.  Tune into the loudspeaker jamz, they're normally pretty fantastic.  Luckily, you're in a dollar store and you're surrounded by distractions.  You're going to be ok.

The only setting I can imagine real struggle with is Bargain Billy's in the Plains, Ohio.  It's the perfect storm of reuse, discount, and surplus.  I have no idea if it's still open (I have a sneaking suspicion it is), but my dusty memory only provides sensations of being overwhelmed.  It was crazy in there, from what I recall.  They had everything from memorabilia to garden decor.  There was no way to truly determine the worth of a deal because of how peculiar the items were.  I recall even their pop-machine having weird flavors.  And of course there would be no bathroom in sight.  Plus, you probably purchased a weird flavored pop.  You could walk down to the library, but you're pushing your lucky compadre.

You could say it was more than you bargained for.

HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA ha HA!  This is the part where you probably just peed your pants.

Sometimes you get the deal, and sometimes the deal gets you.

#17 Bargains -- Don

It’s about 8 pm on a Sunday night as I write this.  I’m flying home from a few days in Orlando where I was attending an English teachers’ conference and the National Writing Project’s annual meeting.  It’s been a busy few days, and considering how late I’m going to be getting home tonight, I’ll be dragging quite a bit through work for the next couple of days. So, I guess, the first bargain I want to talk about is the bargain I’m going to make with myself where I agree to just hold on a couple of days and then I’ll rest up on Wednesday (which is the first day of my nearly week-long Thanksgiving break).

In addition to going to some great (and few not-so-great) sessions at the conference on how to be a better English teacher and/or workshop facilitator, Ruth and I took in three theme parks, the new Harry Potter movie, and an outlet mall.  As we like to say back in the hill country, “my dogs are a barkin’.”  Of course, my feet would probably be even a little bit more tender had I not went ahead and bought myself a new pair of comfortable shoes at the outlet mall.

When I think of the word “bargain,” I think of two different meanings.  The first is the type when we get a good deal for our money (in other words, the bargains we get when we see a good deal).  The new Mickey Mouse watch that I only paid $10 for at the outlet mall is a pretty good example of the first kind of bargain.  The other kind of bargain I think of is when we make a deal with someone after negotiating with them over something we both want.   For example, while we’re deciding what to do next in the theme park, we work out the deal that I’ll ride this ride with you if you agree to ride the next ride with me.

So after the last few days I’ve had, I guess I want to yak about where I’ve been and if I thought the expense of the theme parks was worth it or not.  Are the Disney parks a bargain?  Is it worth $10 to have a butterbeer in Hogsmead under the shadow of the Harry Potter ride?  What’s the best deal on a meal I made this week?

Okay, Question #1: Are the Disney Parks worth the expense? (I’m sure as my kids are reading this, they are sucking in their breath waiting for the answer because for nearly 10 years now I’ve been grumbling loudly that I’d never go to Disney because it cost too much; I think Ruth was more than a little bit surprised when I agree to purchase not one but two half-day tickets at Disney parks from the conference website on the night before we left for our trip). 

My answer is a qualified yes.   By “qualified” I mean the cost of the tickets to get into the parks are a pretty good deal; however, because of how easy it is to lose track of how much you’re spending once you are in the parks (on food, drinks, and souvenirs) it’s very easy to slip from good deal to bad deal if you are not very careful about how much you actually want to spend.  There’s a strange mentality that gets engendered in the park where you end up saying to yourself, “Well, it’s pretty special to be here so I’m going to go ahead and spend $22 for an éclair and another French dessert whose name I’m not exactly sure of.”  Now, one fancy “let’s splurge on a dessert” moment wouldn’t be so bad, but these parks are designed for you to have these “let’s spurge” moments every 12 minutes or so.   The bag of Japanese salty snow peas snack (they were like potato chips but made from snow peas) were a lot of fun and so was the caramel brownie from Germany; but I’m not sure I needed to spend the $8 for the beer from Norway (or was it Italy?).  Just what were we noshing on as we passed through Morocco and Canada? I don’t remember, but I’m sure Discover card never forgets.

But, like they say in the ads, “A week hanging out with my favorite person on Earth – Priceless.”  (We’re 39000 feet in the air and by now, hundreds of miles away from Orlando and we’re still snacking on Disney fare – chocolate covered almonds from “Ghirardelli.”  Yum!)  I guess the next bargain I make is with the exercise machine in the basement.

Question #2: Is it worth $10 to have a butterbeer in Hogsmeed (this is at the Harry Potter land at Universal Studios)?  Absolutely.  Until that first sip, I could only imagine what a butterbeer tasted like.  I would be glad to tell you what it tasted like, but I’d feel obligated to charge you a consulting fee (hey, it’s not like the IRS is going to let me deduct this just because I’m an English teacher and this is really literary research.  See – you’re not buying it either.)

My family knows I’m a bit of a tightwad (although I prefer the word “Frugal”).  I’d like to say how much we blew at the Harry Potter gift shops, but I can’t.  First of all, some of the stuff we bought are Christmas surprises and so I can’t talk about them lest a certain couple daughters find out about a good reason to come home for Christmas, and secondly, I can’t say I really know.  Ruth has her own copy of the credit card.  Could be scary.

Question #3: The best deal on a meal I had this week was the Baja Fish tacos from a restaurant in “Downtown Disney.”  They were delicious and very reasonably priced.

Disney, by the way, has their own shopping center (“Downtown Disney”) that has free bus service from all of their hotels/resorts.   “Free bus service” to go and spend more money on stuff after the theme parks are closed – now there’s a bargain for you.  Who doesn’t like free?  Only my Visa card knows how much those free trips cost me, but until I get the bill next month, I’m going to keep saying it was worth it.