Every year I make resolutions (which I prefer to think of as "setting goals"), with a track record of limited success. This year is no different: I have been thinking about what sort of things I'd like to accomplish this year, and have written them down in a rough draft. What's new (and hopefully improved) for this year is that insofar as possible, I am appending to each goal specific, actionable steps to help me achieve that goal; e.g., if one of my goals is to complete my writing projects, I have under that goal "Write a minimum of 1000 words a day."
For some, this might seem like a no-brainer, and, indeed, I have heard before the advice about being specific in setting goals. But the "a-ha" insight for me lies in not only being specific about the goals themselves, but in getting specific about the steps necessary to achieve those goals. It forces me to think more clearly about the goals - thus, the goals are more realistic, giving me a better chance at success.
Showing posts with label Seasonal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Seasonal. Show all posts
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 24, 2009
A Visit from Saint Nicholas
by Clement Clarke Moore
’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and Saint Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and Saint Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Really Scary Pumpkins
Our pumpkins are ready to be retired. We actually carved them a couple of days after Halloween, so they're fresher than they might be otherwise. We lit the candles today, the first time in a few days. The pumpkins are really scary now - moldy on the inside, and producing some pumpkin juice wherever they sit.
Here are two glowing pumpkins:
The larger pumpkin:
Three glowing pumpkins:
This is Hannah's pumpkin:
You can see the mold growing on the inside of my pumpkin:
Hannah and Jacob looking into their pumpkins:
It's a good thing tomorrow is garbage day ;)
Here are two glowing pumpkins:
The larger pumpkin:
Three glowing pumpkins:
This is Hannah's pumpkin:
You can see the mold growing on the inside of my pumpkin:
Hannah and Jacob looking into their pumpkins:
It's a good thing tomorrow is garbage day ;)
Friday, October 23, 2009
Fall Colors III – Peninsula State Park, Wisconsin
More pix from a fall colors drive.
Along Skyline Drive in Peninsula State Park. It's like a tunnel of trees.
View from overlook on Skyline Drive. Looking north along the east side of Green Bay.
View from another overlook. You can see an island running parallel to the park.
Another view of the same island. There is some sort of landing or beach on the island.
There was an overlook tower at one of the scenic turnouts along Skyline Drive. If you climb to the top of the tower, you can see a sea of yellows, greens, and reds.
Along Skyline Drive in Peninsula State Park. It's like a tunnel of trees.
View from overlook on Skyline Drive. Looking north along the east side of Green Bay.
View from another overlook. You can see an island running parallel to the park.
Another view of the same island. There is some sort of landing or beach on the island.
There was an overlook tower at one of the scenic turnouts along Skyline Drive. If you climb to the top of the tower, you can see a sea of yellows, greens, and reds.
Fall Colors II – Harrington Beach State Park, Wisconsin
More pix from a fall colors drive.
Along the shore of Lake Michigan. It was windy and cold, but fun anyhow!
Trees along Quarry Lake. Here we see arbor vitae (of the cypress family) and birch.
Birch overhanging Quarry Lake.
View along Quarry Lake. Lovely yellows and reds.
Along Quarry Lake. The orange-red maples contrast nicely with the arbor vitae, and there is a slight reflection on the lake.
Under the maple trees along Quarry Lake.
You can the the leaves of this maple are just beginning to turn.
Along the shore of Lake Michigan. It was windy and cold, but fun anyhow!
Trees along Quarry Lake. Here we see arbor vitae (of the cypress family) and birch.
Birch overhanging Quarry Lake.
View along Quarry Lake. Lovely yellows and reds.
Along Quarry Lake. The orange-red maples contrast nicely with the arbor vitae, and there is a slight reflection on the lake.
Under the maple trees along Quarry Lake.
You can the the leaves of this maple are just beginning to turn.
Fall Colors I – Buckhorn State Park, Wisconsin
Some pictures from our fall colors drives over the past couple of weeks.
A small pond with a path around it, lit by the late afternoon autumn sun:
Having fun walking along the nature path. Gorgeous fall colors:
A small pond with a path around it, lit by the late afternoon autumn sun:
Having fun walking along the nature path. Gorgeous fall colors:
Monday, August 11, 2008
Back from the Wild
Spent a week camping in Michigan. We didn't see any bear this time, but we did see deer and either a fox or a coyote (it darted across the road, and I caught a glimpse of it too late to tell).
Here are a few pix of our trip.
Our campsite (lower Michigan - the "little finger").
Fun around the campfire.
Playing among the rocky shoals.
Sleeping Bear Sand Dunes.
"Tree tunnel" north of Harbor Springs.
Tahquamenon Falls - the upper falls.
Tahquamenon Falls - the lower falls.
Here are a few pix of our trip.
Our campsite (lower Michigan - the "little finger").
Fun around the campfire.
Playing among the rocky shoals.
Sleeping Bear Sand Dunes.
"Tree tunnel" north of Harbor Springs.
Tahquamenon Falls - the upper falls.
Tahquamenon Falls - the lower falls.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Winter Driving Crash Course
Pay attention now, class. In this Winter Driving Crash Course, you will learn some basic physics that will help you avoid getting into crashes due to gross ignorance. Namely, you will learn Newton's Three Laws of Motion:
How will this help me to drive in snow, you say? Very simple. These three laws (particularly the first one) form the basis for the cardinal rule of winter driving:
This means:
1st Corollary:
2nd Corollary (for idiots - repeat 50 times, or however many times it takes to sink in):
- A physical body will remain at rest, or continue to move at a constant velocity, unless an external net force acts upon it.
- The net force on a body is equal to its mass multiplied by its acceleration.
- For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
How will this help me to drive in snow, you say? Very simple. These three laws (particularly the first one) form the basis for the cardinal rule of winter driving:
Any change in velocity must be done gradually.
This means:
- If you speed up, do it gradually.
- If you slow down, do it gradually.
- If you make a turn, do it gradually.
1st Corollary:
Driving in a straight line at constant speed means that you will continue going in a straight line at constant speed. You won't wind up in a ditch. That is for the idiots who think that the laws of physics are suspended for them because they happen to have 4-wheel drive.You are not safer because you're driving slowly. You're safer because you're driving in a straight line. In fact, driving slowly can pose just as much a hazard as the 4-wheel-drive idiots who don't know what they're doing. Driving slowly means (for instance) that you won't have enough momentum to make it up a hill - you'll start sliding backwards, and then you'll end up in a ditch.
2nd Corollary (for idiots - repeat 50 times, or however many times it takes to sink in):
Having 4-wheel drive does not make me invincible. The laws of physics still apply to me. I still have to make changes in velocity gradually. If not, I will wind up in a ditch, 4-wheel drive and all.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Happy New Year!
Blessings to you and yours -
Health, happiness, and prosperity for you in 2008!
Graphics courtesy of
Little House.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Saturday, December 31, 2005
A Right Jolly Old Elf
There is a bit of a flap over at Centuri0n's blog regarding the substitute teacher who read "A Visit from St. Nicholas" to her first-grade charges, and then took it upon herself to disabuse the children of the notion of Santa Claus. Centuri0n is disgusted over the teacher's misuse of authority, and he has taken some flak from the Christian community for even suggesting that Christians are misguided in their anti-Santa Claus sentiments. Here are my two cents' on the subject:
centuri0n: "I'm silly for asserting that something can be true without being scientifically evidenced."
Those that assert centuri0n is silly would have to then say that any Christian would be silly for believing in God or the resurrection of Christ!
Regardless of one's own position on celebrating St. Nick/Santa Claus/Sinter Klaas, I think it is appropriate to say that the substitute teacher in question overstepped her authority in her commentary on "A Visit from St. Nicholas." We don't need representatives of government dictating to us what we should and should not believe, especially vis-a-vis matters of religion and conscience. As Christians, we don't buy that argument when it comes to sex education or the origins of life; are we all of a sudden supposed to say it's okay in this instance because we agree with her about Santa Claus?
It's a family's decision whether or not to "do" Santa Claus, and it's a family's decision when and how to explain Santa Claus to their children - not the teacher's. For a teacher to do such a thing is as bad as when a child hears the facts of life (or the news of his parents' impending divorce) first from classmates on the playground, rather than from his own parents.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Familial Christmas Traditions, and Other Musings (Repost)
(For the benefit of new readers, I am reprinting a slightly edited version of a post that I had put up last year after Christmas. Enjoy!)
Well, I hope you are having a blessed Christmas, rather than stressed. It's all too easy to get entangled in frenetic preparations - and to what end? This holiday is more about people and relationships than it is about immaculate houses or perfectly wrapped presents. Ask anybody about their favorite Christmas memory - what kind of story will you hear? You'll hear about the special present that Mom and Dad scrimped and saved for in order to give Junior his heart's desire. You'll hear about Grandma's traditional holiday dinner, with the pie that only she could make. You'll hear about the time that Big Brother surprised everyone by getting a weekend pass and was able to come home from the army for Christmas. You'll hear about Mom baking her Christmas cookies. You'll hear about going to candlelight service at 11 p.m., or driving around as a family to admire the neighbors' Christmas decorations. That is the stuff that memories are made of; that is how familial traditions are born.
Our family had its own traditions - those things that we do that we would miss if we were to do things differently. Taking a cue from our Scandinavian heritage, the family gathered together on Christmas Eve to exchange presents. The youngest was always assigned the role of Santa's helper, and was responsible for delivering the presents to the family. Then, once the gifts had been distributed, it was time to unwrap them, starting with the youngest, who was usually the least patient, and eventually ending with the oldest (who generally had the most patience, and in a large family, it was certainly necessary).
It became somewhat of a joke in our family that you couldn't take for granted that what was pictured on the box was any indication of what was actually in the box. This stemmed from one Christmas when my grandfather unwrapped his present and thought he had received a movie camera. His eyes opened wide and glistened with anticipation, only to be sorely disappointed upon finding out that the contents were singularly unremarkable (at least in comparison to a movie camera). Since that time, it has become a standard MO to joke about the box's label while opening it to ensure that the contents matched.
After the presents were all opened, we would enjoy ourselves until it was time to go to bed (if you were younger) or go to candlelight service (if you were older). This was the final event of the day, and after this had transpired, we were all set for Santa to come.
Christmas morning, therefore, was the time for discovering what had been left in our stockings and under the tree, a time for playing with all the wonderful toys, and a time for helping prepare for Christmas dinner.
Such was our family's Christmas tradition. Each person has his own unique recollections and reminiscences, but what they all have in common is the warm, fuzzy "Christmas as a child at our house" kind of feeling and nostalgia. This is the heritage that we give our children, and ultimately it is the Christmas present that stays with them, lasting far longer than the "must-haves" that wind-up forgotten or broken six months later.
What will be absent from holiday reminiscences? You won't hear "I remember our house was always spotless" or "I remember that our gifts were so well-wrapped, it was as good as the gift wrap at the department store." Who cares? The house will degenerate to a state of disarray within a shockingly short time anyhow, and the presents will be unwrapped with far less finesse than was spent in wrapping them in the first place.
So, I hope that you're spending more time than money making Christmas a memorable occasion for your family, especially for your children, if you have any. And if you've been caught up in the hustle and bustle, focusing more on the things of Christmas than the people for whom Christmas exists, it's not too late...
Well, I hope you are having a blessed Christmas, rather than stressed. It's all too easy to get entangled in frenetic preparations - and to what end? This holiday is more about people and relationships than it is about immaculate houses or perfectly wrapped presents. Ask anybody about their favorite Christmas memory - what kind of story will you hear? You'll hear about the special present that Mom and Dad scrimped and saved for in order to give Junior his heart's desire. You'll hear about Grandma's traditional holiday dinner, with the pie that only she could make. You'll hear about the time that Big Brother surprised everyone by getting a weekend pass and was able to come home from the army for Christmas. You'll hear about Mom baking her Christmas cookies. You'll hear about going to candlelight service at 11 p.m., or driving around as a family to admire the neighbors' Christmas decorations. That is the stuff that memories are made of; that is how familial traditions are born.
Our family had its own traditions - those things that we do that we would miss if we were to do things differently. Taking a cue from our Scandinavian heritage, the family gathered together on Christmas Eve to exchange presents. The youngest was always assigned the role of Santa's helper, and was responsible for delivering the presents to the family. Then, once the gifts had been distributed, it was time to unwrap them, starting with the youngest, who was usually the least patient, and eventually ending with the oldest (who generally had the most patience, and in a large family, it was certainly necessary).
It became somewhat of a joke in our family that you couldn't take for granted that what was pictured on the box was any indication of what was actually in the box. This stemmed from one Christmas when my grandfather unwrapped his present and thought he had received a movie camera. His eyes opened wide and glistened with anticipation, only to be sorely disappointed upon finding out that the contents were singularly unremarkable (at least in comparison to a movie camera). Since that time, it has become a standard MO to joke about the box's label while opening it to ensure that the contents matched.
After the presents were all opened, we would enjoy ourselves until it was time to go to bed (if you were younger) or go to candlelight service (if you were older). This was the final event of the day, and after this had transpired, we were all set for Santa to come.
Christmas morning, therefore, was the time for discovering what had been left in our stockings and under the tree, a time for playing with all the wonderful toys, and a time for helping prepare for Christmas dinner.
Such was our family's Christmas tradition. Each person has his own unique recollections and reminiscences, but what they all have in common is the warm, fuzzy "Christmas as a child at our house" kind of feeling and nostalgia. This is the heritage that we give our children, and ultimately it is the Christmas present that stays with them, lasting far longer than the "must-haves" that wind-up forgotten or broken six months later.
What will be absent from holiday reminiscences? You won't hear "I remember our house was always spotless" or "I remember that our gifts were so well-wrapped, it was as good as the gift wrap at the department store." Who cares? The house will degenerate to a state of disarray within a shockingly short time anyhow, and the presents will be unwrapped with far less finesse than was spent in wrapping them in the first place.
So, I hope that you're spending more time than money making Christmas a memorable occasion for your family, especially for your children, if you have any. And if you've been caught up in the hustle and bustle, focusing more on the things of Christmas than the people for whom Christmas exists, it's not too late...
Friday, December 23, 2005
Mission Accomplished!
No, not making a political statement here. It's just that yours truly had to buy a couple of Christmas presents for a certain four-year-old, while being accompanied by said four-year-old. This same four-year-old is aware enough to question why I'm buying whatever I happen to be buying, so I had to resort to subterfuge to accomplish my task.
There were two major hurdles that I had to overcome: getting the toys off the shelf and into the cart unnoticed, and then get the toys through the checkout without someone being the wiser. Fortunately, it is not that difficult to go over the head of a four-year-old, provided you engage in a bit of pre-planning. For the first hurdle, I determined that the best course of action would be to throw a red herring or two across her path and distract her:
"Where are those toy kitties you were talking about? How many are there? Go count them."
"Okay."
So, while she had her back turned, I deftly grabbed the toy dinosaur off the shelf and quickly concealed it under the baby's blanket. I didn't quite have time enough to cover it properly, but it would suffice unless she decided to conduct a careful inspection of the shopping cart. Thankfully, she is not astute enough to notice things like boxy bulges under blankets.
One toy down, one to go. First of all, I had to pick a target for the second toy, and finally settled on a colored doodle toy. This time, she was busy playing with a demo of some electronic toy, so this task was a little easier; all I had to do was keep her engaged while I did my deed, and a little guided conversation assured that she remained occupied with the demo until I had finished.
With the toys safely hidded under the blanket, I now had time to ponder my other hurdle - how to pay for these toys without her seeing? At first, I thought of accosting a stranger, explaining my plight, and ask if they would take the toys through the checkout with cash that I provided. But the two toys put me over my cash-on-hand, so that was out of the question. Okay, what's my plan B? I decided to go through the checkout and see if I could enlist the help of the person behind me in line. As I explained my situation and what I planned to do, the woman behind me graciously agreed to be co-conspirator and distract my daughter while I took the toys out of the cart, had the cashier ring them up first, then put them back in the cart, hidden by my coat. It worked beautifully. The woman, who had a four-year-old of her own and was naturally sympathetic, was showing my dd the different candies and things she was buying for her own children, and was doing a splendid job of engaging my daughter and keeping her from noticing what was going on behind her back.
The rest of the trip was a breeze. I always put the kids in the car before I unload the cart, so there was no chance of her seeing anything in the trunk - which is where the toys still are, and will remain for the time being. One still has to be wrapped, but Santa doesn't have to get the other one until tomorrow night...
There were two major hurdles that I had to overcome: getting the toys off the shelf and into the cart unnoticed, and then get the toys through the checkout without someone being the wiser. Fortunately, it is not that difficult to go over the head of a four-year-old, provided you engage in a bit of pre-planning. For the first hurdle, I determined that the best course of action would be to throw a red herring or two across her path and distract her:
"Where are those toy kitties you were talking about? How many are there? Go count them."
"Okay."
So, while she had her back turned, I deftly grabbed the toy dinosaur off the shelf and quickly concealed it under the baby's blanket. I didn't quite have time enough to cover it properly, but it would suffice unless she decided to conduct a careful inspection of the shopping cart. Thankfully, she is not astute enough to notice things like boxy bulges under blankets.
One toy down, one to go. First of all, I had to pick a target for the second toy, and finally settled on a colored doodle toy. This time, she was busy playing with a demo of some electronic toy, so this task was a little easier; all I had to do was keep her engaged while I did my deed, and a little guided conversation assured that she remained occupied with the demo until I had finished.
With the toys safely hidded under the blanket, I now had time to ponder my other hurdle - how to pay for these toys without her seeing? At first, I thought of accosting a stranger, explaining my plight, and ask if they would take the toys through the checkout with cash that I provided. But the two toys put me over my cash-on-hand, so that was out of the question. Okay, what's my plan B? I decided to go through the checkout and see if I could enlist the help of the person behind me in line. As I explained my situation and what I planned to do, the woman behind me graciously agreed to be co-conspirator and distract my daughter while I took the toys out of the cart, had the cashier ring them up first, then put them back in the cart, hidden by my coat. It worked beautifully. The woman, who had a four-year-old of her own and was naturally sympathetic, was showing my dd the different candies and things she was buying for her own children, and was doing a splendid job of engaging my daughter and keeping her from noticing what was going on behind her back.
The rest of the trip was a breeze. I always put the kids in the car before I unload the cart, so there was no chance of her seeing anything in the trunk - which is where the toys still are, and will remain for the time being. One still has to be wrapped, but Santa doesn't have to get the other one until tomorrow night...
Monday, December 19, 2005
"All I Want for Christmas..."
"...is a red dinosaur." My daughter has been amazingly consistent with her request for Santa.
Yes, today I finally got around to taking the kids to see Santa Claus. I had to wait an hour and a half, but I'm glad I did it. (Note to self: Next year, go and see Santa before schools go on Christmas vacation.)
Monday, December 27, 2004
Familial Christmas Traditions, and Other Musings
Well, I hope that you had a blessed Christmas, rather than stressed. It's all too easy to get entangled in frenetic preparations - and to what end? This holiday is more about people and relationships than it is about immaculate houses or perfectly wrapped presents. Ask anybody about their favorite Christmas memory - what kind of story will you hear? You'll hear about the special present that Mom and Dad scrimped and saved for in order to give Junior his heart's desire. You'll hear about Grandma's traditional holiday dinner, with the pie that only she could make. You'll hear about the time that Big Brother surprised everyone by getting a weekend pass and was able to come home from the army for Christmas. You'll hear about Mom baking her Christmas cookies. You'll hear about going to candlelight service at 11 p.m., or driving around as a family to admire the neighbors' Christmas decorations. That is the stuff that memories are made of; that is how familial traditions are born.
Our family had its own traditions - those things that we do that we would miss if we were to do things differently. Taking a cue from our Scandinavian heritage, the family gathered together on Christmas Eve to exchange presents. The youngest was always assigned the role of Santa's helper, and was responsible for delivering the presents to the family. Then, once the gifts had been distributed, it was time to unwrap them, starting with the youngest, who was usually the least patient, and eventually ending with the oldest (who generally had the most patience, and in a large family, it was certainly necessary).
It became somewhat of a joke in our family that you couldn't take for granted that what was pictured on the box was any indication of what was actually in the box. This stemmed from one Christmas when my grandfather unwrapped his present and thought he had received a movie camera. His eyes opened wide and glistened with anticipation, only to be sorely disappointed upon finding out that the contents were singularly unremarkable (at least in comparison to a movie camera). Since that time, it has become a standard MO to joke about the box's label while opening it to ensure that the contents matched.
After the presents were all opened, we would enjoy ourselves until it was time to go to bed (if you were younger) or go to candlelight service (if you were older). This was the final event of the day, and after this had transpired, we were all set for Santa to come.
Christmas morning, therefore, was the time for discovering what had been left in our stockings and under the tree, a time for playing with all the wonderful toys, and a time for helping prepare for Christmas dinner.
Such was our family's Christmas tradition. Each person has his own unique recollections and reminiscences, but what they all have in common is the warm, fuzzy "Christmas as a child at our house" kind of feeling and nostalgia. This is the heritage that we give our children, and ultimately it is the Christmas present that stays with them, lasting far longer than the "must-haves" that wind-up forgotten or broken six months later.
What will be absent from holiday reminiscences? You won't hear "I remember our house was always spotless" or "I remember that our gifts were so well-wrapped, it was as good as the gift wrap at the department store." Who cares? The house will degenerate to a state of disarray within a shockingly short time anyhow, and the presents will be unwrapped with far less finesse than was spent in wrapping them in the first place.
So, I hope that you've spent more time than money making Christmas a memorable occasion for your family, especially for your children, if you have any. And if you've been caught up in the hustle and bustle, focusing more on the things of Christmas than the people for whom Christmas exists, it's not too late...
Our family had its own traditions - those things that we do that we would miss if we were to do things differently. Taking a cue from our Scandinavian heritage, the family gathered together on Christmas Eve to exchange presents. The youngest was always assigned the role of Santa's helper, and was responsible for delivering the presents to the family. Then, once the gifts had been distributed, it was time to unwrap them, starting with the youngest, who was usually the least patient, and eventually ending with the oldest (who generally had the most patience, and in a large family, it was certainly necessary).
It became somewhat of a joke in our family that you couldn't take for granted that what was pictured on the box was any indication of what was actually in the box. This stemmed from one Christmas when my grandfather unwrapped his present and thought he had received a movie camera. His eyes opened wide and glistened with anticipation, only to be sorely disappointed upon finding out that the contents were singularly unremarkable (at least in comparison to a movie camera). Since that time, it has become a standard MO to joke about the box's label while opening it to ensure that the contents matched.
After the presents were all opened, we would enjoy ourselves until it was time to go to bed (if you were younger) or go to candlelight service (if you were older). This was the final event of the day, and after this had transpired, we were all set for Santa to come.
Christmas morning, therefore, was the time for discovering what had been left in our stockings and under the tree, a time for playing with all the wonderful toys, and a time for helping prepare for Christmas dinner.
Such was our family's Christmas tradition. Each person has his own unique recollections and reminiscences, but what they all have in common is the warm, fuzzy "Christmas as a child at our house" kind of feeling and nostalgia. This is the heritage that we give our children, and ultimately it is the Christmas present that stays with them, lasting far longer than the "must-haves" that wind-up forgotten or broken six months later.
What will be absent from holiday reminiscences? You won't hear "I remember our house was always spotless" or "I remember that our gifts were so well-wrapped, it was as good as the gift wrap at the department store." Who cares? The house will degenerate to a state of disarray within a shockingly short time anyhow, and the presents will be unwrapped with far less finesse than was spent in wrapping them in the first place.
So, I hope that you've spent more time than money making Christmas a memorable occasion for your family, especially for your children, if you have any. And if you've been caught up in the hustle and bustle, focusing more on the things of Christmas than the people for whom Christmas exists, it's not too late...
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
High-Tech St. Nick
Today we went to the local mall (as you read this post, bear in mind that this is NOT a big mall), in part because I wanted to give my three-year-old the opportunity to visit Santa - a relatively simple goal, don't you think? Just wait your turn in line, watch your kid sit on Santa's lap, maybe take a picture or two, and that's it. No big deal, right?
Well, now they've made it into a big deal. We arrived at Santa's booth, and initially, it looked promising. The line was rather short, maybe a dozen kids, so I thought, "Great, this won't take forever." But wait a minute - why was the gate to the waiting line closed? (I knew Santa wasn't out feeding his reindeer, either, because when we were eating lunch in the food court, Santa had passed by, evidently heading back to his post.) And who was this gal sitting at a table by the gate? And what's the big idea with the "Santa Pager"?
"Oh, it's about a 2 1/2 hour wait. You can sign up for a pager, and then when it's your turn, you'll go with a small group," I was informed.
Hold on a minute - I'm still trying to process this modern way of seeing Santa.
"It keeps the lines down, and you can spend your time around the mall instead of waiting in line," the gal replied.
But 2 1/2 hours? C'mon, even the most popular roller coaster ride at Six Flags has a shorter wait time. How many kids are waiting to see Santa, anyhow? Or do they all have Calvin-sized wish lists that have to be read in excruciating detail?
Nope, it doesn't make sense. Even if the line snakes several times around Santa's booth, there's no way that it's going to take 2 1/2 hours, especially when you consider that all those kids are going to be accompanied by at least one adult (who is taking up space in line but not going to be sitting on Santa's lap....)
What does make sense? Here are my cynical (disillusioned?) interpretations of this high-falutin' method of waiting to see Santa:
1) The pagers are a convenient way to make sure the parents $pend more time in the mall - and more importantly, they are free to roam about the mall and $pend more than time $$$$ (I believe this to be the most plausible explanation.)
2) Children (hey, most adults my age and younger would fall into this category, too...) lack the patience, discipline, and attention span to wait longer than 5 minutes, let alone anything in excess of 15. 2 1/2 hours is enough to drive them mad (in the British sense of the word, as well as the American). So much for teaching our offspring to overcome their baser instincts. So much for "patience is a virtue." (Actually, this explanation is fairly plausible too, at least on the surface. But I doubt the mall is providing this service out of the goodness of their hearts, any more than they play music in stores to entertain people. No, it's to get people in a good mood and help them relax so they $tay longer and $pend more.)
So, I walked away from Santa's booth. Try explaining to a three-year-old why she's not going to be seeing Santa, especially after you've been mentioning it to her. I felt bad about it, but I was even more put out by the whole concept. Fortunately, our three-year-old was easily distracted enough by the promise of romping around in the mall's kiddie play area, so I was probably more let down than she was. But this incident has got me wondering: Do the Jaycees, or the Lions, or any of those civic groups still do a Santa for the kids? Where else can a child go to see Santa, without having to go to the mall?
Grrrrrrrrr........
Well, now they've made it into a big deal. We arrived at Santa's booth, and initially, it looked promising. The line was rather short, maybe a dozen kids, so I thought, "Great, this won't take forever." But wait a minute - why was the gate to the waiting line closed? (I knew Santa wasn't out feeding his reindeer, either, because when we were eating lunch in the food court, Santa had passed by, evidently heading back to his post.) And who was this gal sitting at a table by the gate? And what's the big idea with the "Santa Pager"?
"Oh, it's about a 2 1/2 hour wait. You can sign up for a pager, and then when it's your turn, you'll go with a small group," I was informed.
Hold on a minute - I'm still trying to process this modern way of seeing Santa.
"It keeps the lines down, and you can spend your time around the mall instead of waiting in line," the gal replied.
But 2 1/2 hours? C'mon, even the most popular roller coaster ride at Six Flags has a shorter wait time. How many kids are waiting to see Santa, anyhow? Or do they all have Calvin-sized wish lists that have to be read in excruciating detail?
Nope, it doesn't make sense. Even if the line snakes several times around Santa's booth, there's no way that it's going to take 2 1/2 hours, especially when you consider that all those kids are going to be accompanied by at least one adult (who is taking up space in line but not going to be sitting on Santa's lap....)
What does make sense? Here are my cynical (disillusioned?) interpretations of this high-falutin' method of waiting to see Santa:
1) The pagers are a convenient way to make sure the parents $pend more time in the mall - and more importantly, they are free to roam about the mall and $pend more than time $$$$ (I believe this to be the most plausible explanation.)
2) Children (hey, most adults my age and younger would fall into this category, too...) lack the patience, discipline, and attention span to wait longer than 5 minutes, let alone anything in excess of 15. 2 1/2 hours is enough to drive them mad (in the British sense of the word, as well as the American). So much for teaching our offspring to overcome their baser instincts. So much for "patience is a virtue." (Actually, this explanation is fairly plausible too, at least on the surface. But I doubt the mall is providing this service out of the goodness of their hearts, any more than they play music in stores to entertain people. No, it's to get people in a good mood and help them relax so they $tay longer and $pend more.)
So, I walked away from Santa's booth. Try explaining to a three-year-old why she's not going to be seeing Santa, especially after you've been mentioning it to her. I felt bad about it, but I was even more put out by the whole concept. Fortunately, our three-year-old was easily distracted enough by the promise of romping around in the mall's kiddie play area, so I was probably more let down than she was. But this incident has got me wondering: Do the Jaycees, or the Lions, or any of those civic groups still do a Santa for the kids? Where else can a child go to see Santa, without having to go to the mall?
Grrrrrrrrr........
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Target's (Un)Christmas Spirit
With Target's persona non grata treatment of the Salvation Army bell ringers, there is a temptation to cast the powers that be at Target as either Ebenezer Scrooge or the Grinch. However, upon reflection I note that there is a fundamental difference between Target execs and their proposed literary counterparts. In one word: Repentance. In both stories, our protagonists displayed a 180-degree change of heart, and it is this fact that endears these stories to us. Target, on the other hand, shows absolutely no sign of even suggesting that such a change is necessary and/or desirable - and that's hardly the way to endear Target to its customers. (Note to Target execs: Business 101 - It is easier to maintain customers than it is to win back those you've offended.)
So, if Scrooge and the Grinch are out, what other literary archetype can we use to represent Target? My suggestion is the dissimulating King Herod. "When you find the child, let me know where he is, so that I may worship him too" - all the while he was plotting to destroy the child, along with any other toddlers who happened to fit the bill. Yep, sounds like the unChristmas spirit to me: Pretend to celebrate, and destroy the foundations of what you're supposedly celebrating.
So, if Scrooge and the Grinch are out, what other literary archetype can we use to represent Target? My suggestion is the dissimulating King Herod. "When you find the child, let me know where he is, so that I may worship him too" - all the while he was plotting to destroy the child, along with any other toddlers who happened to fit the bill. Yep, sounds like the unChristmas spirit to me: Pretend to celebrate, and destroy the foundations of what you're supposedly celebrating.
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