Can't I just

dvr the New Year and watch it tomorrow???

Merry Christmess

I spent Christmas day at my parent's house, where they stuck in a dvd of converted 8mm films of my childhood Christmases.

It explained so much.

I was mesmerized by the movies. I'm pretty sure there wasn't a single shot of me in my early years where I actually looked happy. Thank God I wasn't, smiling would have just led to wrinkles. Also, it never really looked like I got the hang of crawling. No wonder I had to take College Algebra so many times.

And the parenting? My mom gave suckers to babies! Let little kids make their own chocolate milk! Took baby me camping and practically left me on a rock while dunking my brother's feet in freezing water. And the list goes on and on to include other things my own mother would have personally turned me into Child Welfare for had I even thought about trying with her precious grandson. And this one scene? She claims she was "rocking" me, but I don't know - it could have been shaken baby syndrome.

The Pastor was so transfixed by the movies it put him into a deep trance. Wait a minute, he fell asleep. All of this insight, right there in front of him, and he took a siesta. Is it any wonder he won't be able to figure out what to give me on January 6?

As if the movies weren't depressing enough, then there's all the Christmas cards and holiday letters. If you didn't get one from me, its because I don't send them out.

Somewhere around mid-December when the seasonal affective disorder is in full bloom, I get that final card/letter, the one that tips the scales and causes me to collapse in a puddle of tears. Why oh why, I lament, why don't I have a darling family with matching shirts? I think about it. I fool around with it. Look on-line at different cards. Draft up a letter. Try to put the perfect spin on my family and our events over the past year. Its complex though. With divorce and remarriage, no one is here at the same time. Its hard to include amusing anecdotes and stories about children that really do want to turn you into DHS. Then throw in the Pastor's insane work schedule, and I begin to wonder if people will think its weird for me to send out a card with only my picture on it and no words. After all, I am amazingly wrinkle-free after years of not smiling. Then I even begin to feel bad for not having at least a dog, cat or hamster to take a picture of and stick on a card. I lose the will to send cards, I lose the will to blog and end up in front of the tv where I end up watching the Duggar family with 18 kids which only makes me feel even more inadequate. To you it may be a simple holiday greeting, to me, its a downward spiral.

I'm glad the letters have finally stopped and I no longer have to dread having an anxiety attack when the mail drops through the slot.

I have ripped down the tree, but remember Santa doesn't come to see me until January 6 when the wise men went to see baby Jesus. My wise guy thinks with all this extra time he'll have a clue. He doesn't. We went to the mall together on December 26, and like the home movies he wasn't paying attention. Let me help. Pastor, that pink Coach bag you picked up? Not what I want.

In my doing research of the 12 days of Christmas to try to relate to the Pastor and help him out, I learned that the 12 days of Christmas are misunderstood and complex. Way to make it more complicated Pastor. Let's keep it simple, much like that baby born so long ago, wrapped in swaddling clothes, with a sucker in her mouth.

be like Jesus

I tend to tune out when the Pastor gets all Bible-ish, but not today. I paid attention!

Today, the Pastor (who has no doubt not bought me anything) argued that December 25 is not the day to give me a Christmas present.

First of all, he said, there's no real proof that was Jesus' birthday. OK, but who cares?

If anything, he said, it would be more appropriate to give me something on January 6, because that would approximate the date the Magi came to visit the baby. ????? Now I'm beginning to wonder if he's making this stuff up. There's no proof that Jesus was born on December 25, but we can figure out the Magi would have come 12 days later? Huh? This is quite possibly the worst abuse of his God knowledge I've seen.

While I'm not convinced, nor do I actually care enough about the specifics to research it myself, I began to wonder: what would Jesus do?

Would Jesus have wanted a gift on his birthday? There's already quite a bit of fuss on that day, and let's face it, if he's having to sleep in a stable, are there really any good stores open? Anything besides Walgreens? And if someone's going to spend the money, would you want just whatever tacky thing they decided to get you at the last minute?

Waiting until January 6 would have been a much better day for Jesus to receive a gift because, as everyone knows, babies are prettier at day 12 than day one. I've had a baby. And on day one, he was mostly just red-faced and ticked that he'd had to surface. A couple of weeks in, and the pictures of the whole gift exchange would be much better. This is probably why when you see a Nativity Scene everyone looks so nice.

While there is no way the Pastor could have convinced me Biblically or scientifically, he could convince me retail-ally. I'm not a scholar, but I know shopping. My only question was, if I wait until January 6, will I get a much better gift than what I would have received on December 25? OK, I'll take what's behind door number two.

Pastor, if you are reading this, I'm officially giving you notice you may give me my (much more spectacular) Christmas present on January 6. Of course, you'll probably have to take me to dinner that night too. I've already put it on my calendar.

And I can't wait to see what kind of argument he comes up with for Valentine's Day.

thank flu

Over four years of meetings, counting points, measuring and weighing.

Yet it only took one case of the stomach flu to finally get me the 15 pound weight loss award at Weight Watchers.

And if you think I told the receptionist who weighed me in that I'd just had the flu, you're wrong.

please make my Dad happy this Christmas

go to

www.browning.com

search entries for

Larry Buckmark Wigeon Duck Call

and vote ***** for him please!

Thanks!

If he wins I'm pretty sure I don't have to get him anything for Christmas! :)

Robyn's flu diary

Day one: Sniffling, sneezing, aching, coughing, stuffy-head, fever. Nyquil coma.

Day two: Nyquil coma.

Day three: Nyquil coma.

Day four: After having trouble urinating and reading the side effects on the Nyquil bottle, no more Nyquil for me. Uh oh.

Day five: Not sure if I'm feeling better or if I'm just manic. The Pastor is coming home! He's missed my sickness. Clean my clean house. Wash sheets. Make bed for Pastor. Pretty myself up. Pastor misses flight. Just as well. I, cured from the sniffling, sneezing, aching, coughing, stuffy-head, fever, start the other kind of flu.

Day six: Wash sheets again. The Pastor comes home but I am no longer pretty but back in my pjs semi-conscious on one of our giant bean bags.

Day seven: Good news. I've lost five pounds.

What's that Lassie??? Is Timmy trapped in a well???

Not only is the Pastor confusing when he talks, he also confounds me with his silence. Not once have I ever understood his non-verbal communication.

While he was sitting on the platform where the pastors sit on Sundays, he was giving me motions and hand signals and signs. I interpreted him to be saying he needed me to get his glasses.

He needed a Kleenex.

Maybe you had to go to church on Sunday too. I bet your church didn't have a drunk man yelling throughout the service. Nothing non-verbal about that.

if you watch this

you might feel like you were almost there, part of the party

only with a much better soundtrack

Of course, I arranged the whole party - but you can guess who got the credit!