I am Scrooge

Artificial Christmas trees suck.

It doesn't help that two days ago, I had resigned myself to the fact that I wasn't going to put my tree up at all because of Cameron. I'm afraid of dealing with him and the tree. I don't need any advice. I don't want to hear that I need to put the tree in a play pen. I don't want to hear that I ought to decorate the top half of the tree. (I'm *way* too type A for that.) Now if you are going to offer up one of those "humane" shock collars for my kids I might take you up on that. So I decided that I'm way too into Christmas *not* to put my tree up. (What would my scrapbook album look like without a tree? How would I explain that?) I buckled under my own pressure and had David help me pull the boxes out of the attic on Saturday.

I was going to put it up this afternoon while Cameron was napping but the stupid eBay stuff bit me in the backside again. (That's another post for another day. Just keep watching for me on a network news program. I'm bringing those butt monkeys down!) I spent the afternoon dealing with that crap and only got the bottom layer of the tree up.

I was quickly reminded of one of the evils of the tree. This season is accompanied by cold weather. In West Texas, it's cold, DRY weather. My skin is like sand paper. I'm just short of bleeding. (I have a flair for the dramatic. It's not really that bad. I'm just working up your sympathy for me.) I have, however, put lotion on my hands and arms several times today. I'm still miserable. Those fake needles have rubbed my forearms raw. *That* is *not* an exaggeration.

Now I'm stringing the lights on there. I had to take a break. Not my first break tonight. I had a semi-meltdown when I couldn't get a branch to fit in one of the slots earlier in the evening. After I flung it across the room (no joke - - I think I caught hubby off guard with my temper) I had to take a break. I don't remember struggling like this last year. I think I'm just bitter because I really want a 9 foot pre-lit tree. I found one at Sam's for $150. Hubby said, under no uncertain terms, no. Ogre. Rain on my parade. He's practical. (In his defense, I need that kind of leveling out.) He did tell me we could look for one to go on clearance after Christmas. That doesn't do me a lot of good tonight. But I suppose if I find one, I'll be appreciative next year.

Right now, it's 11:15 at night and I still have to finish putting the lights on it. The ornaments will have to wait until tomorrow. So will those dishes that are in the sink. That goes against every fiber of my being. It just occurred to me how much time I'm wasting griping about it all. Finish the freakin' job Beck. Blehhhhh...

Cool 80's Music Quiz

This is hard, but fun. Just click on the picture to take a fun quiz and test your 80's music lyrics knowledge!

Two strikes, dear husband!

He spilled Cameron's leftover slush from the fridge. I was back in the bedroom and heard it happen. I shouldn't have laughed. He wiped it all up with paper towels and "warned me" that the floor might be sticky. Excuse me? You know where the mop is.

Strike one.

He has the most wretched gas ever tonight. It's nasty. He walked over to me typing on the computer and let one go right next to me. Major offense. He has been banished from the bedroom tonight. I told him to keep his stinky butt on the couch. He has been warned NOT to bring those skanky odors into my bedroom. I begrudgingly let him borrow my favorite quilt. It will be washed tomorrow. I will have to sleep with my mp3 player on because the noises emulating from his butt are irritating me. This house isn't big enough to hide from the sound, or the smell. My door will be closed.

Farting in my immediate vicinity - - strike two.

You are treading on thin ice dear husband.

New to Me

Have you ever had someone hate you? I'm not throwing around the word hate. I mean really *hate* you? I have. I do. I have someone that really hates me. (Hard to believe, huh?) But seriously, I have such a person in my life. I ran into said person today. I didn't know that this person's feelings were at such a level. I suspected it. But my feelings were confirmed. He didn't use the words, "I hate you." But his actions and other words he used today pointed at the obvious. The man hates me. The irony - - at one point in my life, he was like a brother to me. We were friends. Or so I thought. Boy was I wrong. I have never felt like I did when I tried to have a conversation with him. He wouldn't even look me in the eye. Why do I care? Because I *do* care what people think of me. Try as I might - - (to act like I couldn't possibly give three craps what people think of me) deep down, I really do care.

The reason I confronted this individual was because there has been some tension. For two years. (Tension is an understatement. But I won't go into the details.) I honestly don't feel like I've been "in the wrong" but because I don't like dissension, I wanted to clear the air and make an attempt to make things right between us. So I apologized for any part I may have had in our rift. That's where he blamed *me* for some of *his* poor decisions in life. At that point, I knew I couldn't and shouldn't argue with him. His mind was made up. His decision to harbor bitterness and hate is entirely his. I did what I felt like I needed to do. I walked away. It's plagued me all day. I'm sure it will for a while.

My relationship with him failed because when push came to shove, I chose family first. I did the right thing. I'm not ashamed or sorry for that. My family is prospering because of it. Again, no regrets. I'd do it again.

I just don't like *anyone* hating me. I guess it's his problem. I know it's his problem.

West Texas Weather

In a word - - crazy. Am I right? Can I get an amen? I mean really...Tuesday I sent my children to Mom's Day Out in shorts. Wednesday we had the windows open in the house. It was a beautiful day. And today - - it SNOWED! Un-freakin'-believable. It is supposed to get down to 19 tonight. 19. It was 81 on Tuesday. If the 19 degrees will kill the mosquitos and these allergy causing substances that are in the air, I can take it.

I've decided to be nice to my hubby. Our bathroom is so stinkin' cold in the mornings. We have a high ceiling in there and one teeny tiny little vent. It does not warm up in there at all. So, I dug out the space heater that still has the timer attached to it. Here's the dillemma - - I can't for the life of me remember how to program that blessed little thing. I so want for that to be on and running when he gets up in the morning. I want him to walk into a nice and toasty bathroom. Every year I forget how to operate this thing. You'd think that one of these times something would click inside this brain of mine and I'd just get it. Oh well. I'm giving it another 20 minutes and then I'm headed to bed myself. It's the thought that counts, right?

I'm sleepy. Ambien is working. I feel like I'm going into my happy place. Yay me. Good night me.

Goodbye Afrin

Okay, it looks like I did it. Again. You people scare me! Okay, okay. I'm off that wretched, sinus membrane destroying poison. Scary stuff. (But who doesn't like the immediate gratification of being able to breathe?) Keep your fingers crossed. I'm 48 hours on the wagon. By the way, that codeine cough syrup that was prescribed for Justin - - didn't phase him in the least. The pharmacist warned us that it was *really* potent. Ha! I've determined that he really is a three year old super hero. It was nothing short of an Olympic gymnastic feat to get it in him and then nothing. I've got to find some kryptonite and see if he responds to it. He's over the cough now, but he pretty much had to tough it out. I however got some stuff with hydrocodone in it. It worked pretty well for me. I wish his doctor would let me give him some ambien so I could get some freakin' rest at night. But alas, my doctor made me promise I wouldn't give my children any. (Yeah right - - like I'd share what I equivocate as the tablet version of pure gold.)

Okay that's all. My dirty bathrooms need cleaning. (And no mixing chemicals this time. Duh...)

Blast from the past and today's obsession

I graduated from high school in 1989. I'll save you the trouble of doing the math. I'm 35. Not far from 36. (Yikes.) In the 80's, Def Leppard was *it* for me. I loved them. I followed an album or two into the 90's and then have stopped there. Of course, I'm still a sucker for my favorite songs from 87 - 89. The high school years. The impressionable years. I mean it, "Pour Some Sugar On Me." High School dances. Good times. But the other day, I caught part of Hysteria: The Def Leppard Story on VH1. I didn't watch it all because frankly, it was a bunch of bad acting, and the only thing that differentiates them from other bands' stories of sex, drugs and rock and roll was that their drummer had a horrible accident that left him without an arm. I won't go into all of that. If you are at all familiar with the band you know about that. Where I am going is this - - they started playing (on the show) the acoustic version of Two Steps Behind and I have fallen in love with that song all over again. I've got it on a cd in my car, another cd in the house, loaded onto the computer and now it's on my mp3 player. I'm about to play it for what seems like the gazillionth time today. I'm loving it. I think it's the acoustic part that is so appealing to me. No fancy drums or anything. It's my new obsession. Forget the Christmas music I ought to be listening to right now. I've got my boys on my mp3 player and they are taking me back to some good times. Great song.

Scrapper's Quiz

Attention Scrapbookers - -

You *have* to take this quiz. It will ask you a few questions and then tell you what kind of scrapper you are based on a paper collection. (i.e. Chatterbox, Bazzill, etc.) It was too funny. The thing was, it hit the nail on the head for me. I nearly fell out of my chair laughing.

Post your comment as to what kind of paper collection it says you are. Big surprise. I was Bazzill. Ha ha ha!!!

One More Thing

Am I post crazy today or what?

I have a confession to make. I'm back on Afrin. I know. I know. I'm a weak, weak, pathetic woman. I added it to the grocery list and my husband caught on. (He's a good man. He offered to do the shopping for me this week.) He told me he wasn't going to support my habit. I told him I didn't need his support or therapy session, just bring me home my freakin' Afrin. He must have been afraid of the demonic voice I said it in because he brought some home. Either he loves me or he's buttering me up for something he needs me to be able to breathe for. I wonder what that could be... (Snicker, snicker.)

Ahhh...the breath of fresh air.

Ohhh...the destroyed sinus passages.

Oh well. I can breathe at the moment.

(I know this post is at the top, but it's my third one today. And my final. I'm off to stick my nose in something scrapbook related to read. Even though there's a load of laundry waiting to be folded. Yay me.)

Least Favorite Holiday Decoration

Okay, this will be my sixth Christmas in this house with my husband. This doesn't count the years we dated before we got married. Our neighborhood is *insane* with decorating. I mean it. Of course, we are the Scrooge's and don't ever decorate outside. It's a pain in the arse. I bugged David to death a couple of years ago and he wouldn't do it. So I did. I thought I was going to die. I mean physically die from a fall. I was paralyzed with fear. I tried to talk him into putting lights up this weekend and he adamantly refused. He's the man that's his job. But I digress. Back to the reason for this post. A few streets over, there are some people who use the same cheesy decorations every year. And every year, I hate them a little more. If you decorate with these, I apologize. I don't know why this particular type of decoration sends my body into the holiday dry heaves, but they do. I try to not look. But my eyes are mysteriously drawn to their curved sidewalk lined with these wretched little bags every time I pass their street. Why do I hate them so? The thing is - - I really liked them the first year I saw them.

Here is your challenge. In my Scrooge like nastiness - - what is your least favorite holiday decoration? Do you hate tinsel on trees? Do icicle lights make you feel like you need a therapy session? Do share.

Me and GrandDaddy

Here is a picture of me and GrandDaddy. It was taken on Thanksgiving Day. I have been so blessed in my life to have known all four of my grandparents. I even knew several great-grandparents. GrandDaddy is the last of my living grandparents. I e-mailed him a copy of this picture. (Yes, he is on the net. How cute is that?) He called me this afternoon to tell me that he thought he and I took a great picture together. I tend to agree. I know I will always treasure this picture as well as this memory.