Christmas Thoughts

It is 6:12 p.m. on November 30th and I am still sitting at my desk with papers everywhere. I have copies of the Holiday issues of all my competitive magazines trolling the pages for leads I have not yet contacted. I have a deadline looming and I am far from making the number they want me to make. It will take an act of God. Of course, He's done bigger things than this.

To my right is a messy stack of notes and 3x5 cards and 6th-grade level reading material on China - Grace's 6th grade country project. A quick glance tells me that 1 of every 5 people is Chinese. Okay.

I have two half drunk, cold, cups of coffee, a paper plate, my iPhone, calculator, account book and so help me - a lone sock on my desk. And this is my view for the bulk of the day.

But outside, neighbors are putting up Christmas lights. And I have already scored with the Black Friday (yes, I went again) and Cyber Monday shopping sales. And so, Christmas is upon us. Okay.

Now not to be a party pooper - but I don't really feel up for it. The phrase we all hear repeatedly all our lives - "the older you get the faster time flies" - is no myth. It really does. If we all lived to be 1,000 I imagine years would seem like seconds, but as it is now, years seem like just a couple of months. So just a couple of months ago, I packed Christmas up. And so I'm not ready to take it all down again. Even though the girls want to put up the tree this Friday.

And as I am thinking about how the spirit of the season eludes me and what few things I still need to check off my list, I am hearing the nightly news in the background and about the numbers of people still jobless, losing homes, lining up at the food banks, living in cars or on the street. There is currently only 1 job for every 5 people who need one. And that is in this country. Nearly everyone in a third world country would consider the worst conditions here a luxury.

So I start thinking about Christmas and wonder what it really is, after all. About how far I (and frankly, most of us) have strayed from the point. I bet God cries at Christmas every year. Because Christmas has become about lighting your house, parties, and Macy's. Not that there is anything wrong with any of those things in and of themselves - but they really take precedence over anything else we think about. In fact, with the possible exception of Christmas Eve candle light services, it is probably all we think about.

And then I wonder if any of us has the courage to be completely selfless and dump Christmas altogether, be the hands of the one this holiday is supposed to actually be about in the first place, and do something substantial to change someone else's life for the better. Even if its just for Christmas.

Tough time to face the face we need to face.

Surviving "The Club"

For anyone who lives on Mars and doesn't know, Costco is a bulk grocery warehouse store that also sells coffins. You have to pay to belong to it and show your membership card to get in. It is a "club". There are employees whose entire job it is to check to make sure you have a valid club card. If you are willing to pay the annual membership dues, lucky you! You're "in". So you can say that you belong t0 an exclusive (albeit aesthetically unappealing)club in case you have always wanted to be able to say that. I should also tell you that Costco sells TV's, clothes, toys, electronics of all kinds, books, dvds, dishes, appliances, engagement rings, pianos, granite counter tops, furniture, and spa memberships among a trillion other things. In bulk. I think you can even get a divorce there.

So with that setup, as we approach the season of mass food consumption and gift-giving, I thought I might take a moment to help you prepare for the Costco experience.

I'll start by saying when you should avoid going to Costco. Don't go to Costco if:

1. you are in a bad mood.

2. you are in a good mood and don't want to be in a bad mood.

3. you have forgotten to take your meds.

4. you have taken your meds but are not absolutely certain you are on a high enough dosage.

5. you suffer from any kind of anxiety disorder.

6. you are high-strung.

7. you feel your mental health is precarious in any way.

8. you can't swallow aspirin without water. (*Note. The only exception to this rule is if you happen to be there to buy bottled water. Otherwise you will have to buy 75 bottles of bottled water just to relieve your Costco-induced headache.

9. you aren't prepared to hate people.

If none of these describe you, it is safe to proceed to Costco. If you must.

The first thing I have learned to remember is that only a novice thinks she can get a parking space close to the door. And there are plenty of them clogging up the parking aisles. I resign myself to driving into the furthest entrance to seek that back corner space. I'm prepared for the 1/2 mile hike to the store entrance. Exercise is good for for me. (Oh, one should never wear anything other than running shoes to "the club". Anything other than that and you will be spotted for what you are: "new Costco". Newbies get mowed down inside. You don't want to look like one.

Once inside, you will immediately notice the difference between "new Costco" and "old Costco". "Old Costco" wears the uniform: Running shoes, leggings, long cable knit pull-over sweater with sleeves rolled up to three-quarter length. She uses her over-sized shopping cart with the finesse of an offensive linebacker playing in the Superbowl - rapidly maneuvering between slow or standstill members temporarily paralyzed by the sheer volume of choice, she darts through the concrete aisles without so much as a graze against another cart. She has purpose. She owns Costco.

Alternatively, "new Costco" is wearing shoes unsuitable for prolonged walking on cement and is either crying or having a nervous breakdown. I can usually be spotted in this category.

I will say that one of the perks of Costco is something my friend Jan calls "dining at the club". There are at least 12 sampling stations set up annoyingly at the corner of most every food aisle, allowing you a taste of a myriad of foods the club wants to push. It is true however, that you can nearly eat a full lunch just by sampling. But you have to commit to being part of the clog in the aisles and you have to at least feign an interest in the product lest everyone else trying to get by looks at you with anger for being part of a major flow problem for no reason other than to be a pig. And what you get is the luck of the draw. Some days the most tasty thing they offer may be frozen waffles.

It can be good place to buy bulk items like paper towels or frequently used canned goods, toothpaste, that kind of thing. But do you ever really need ketchup in bulk? I mean, doesn't the average sized ketchup last you about a month or two anyway? Or tampons. You need to multiply the number of child-bearing years you have by 12 annual cycles to see if you will ever need the 30,000 count you will get with a bulk buy. There are times when a "savings" just doesn't make sense.

Today I was there for printer ink. But once you're in you cannot just buy what you came for. You realize that you have to take advantage of the fact you are already there and pick up a few other items. I bought pies for Thanksgiving. (They make good pies). I bought a box containing 4 bottles of eye drops for my dry eye condition. It should last till I'm 60. I bought (in bulk) "Marie Callender's Chicken Pot Pies since my family loves them (except me) and they make an easy lunch. I bought turkey burgers and I bought pre-made Kirkland (their brand) hamburgers. Hamburger is expensive at the local market and these seemed a good deal. Although I am taking a risk. (Once I bought them and found a frozen fly between two of the patties). I bought salmon and wondered where it came from in view of what we're hearing about imported fish these days. For "lunch" I sampled salami, chips and cinnamon rolls. But it all came at a price much greater than my annual membership dues. All the while, I worked to dodge the oncoming traffic from every direction of at least 3,000 other people who were there at the same time as me. I worked to patiently get around the elderly (patience, not being one of my virtues, was difficult to muster). I worked to stay away from the giant forklifts moving pallets of food. I worked to keep from screaming. I was thrust into defensive mode and said "I beg your pardon" at least seven times every 60 seconds. My cart and I got trapped between unmoving shoppers at least 6 times while I was there. I felt like Olivia deHavilland in the movie "Snakepit" where she is wrongfully placed in an insane asylum. I tried to find a place where I was somewhat out-of-the-way to re-group so I could try to get a handle on what I should get "since I'm here, dammit". I remembered my Lamaze breathing techniques that I didn't use during child birth (took the epidural right off) to see if they would help me get through the waves of a throbbing headache (I was not buying water today). I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself. No matter where I stood I was in someone's way and I felt a massive anxiety attack coming on. So after an hour and only 8 items in the basket, I went straight to check out where the "savings" no longer makes sense because you never get out of there for less than $200.00. And I always forget that they don't bag, don't even offer bags - which means an afternoon of unloading the car at home - item by item.

But I am home now and lying down. My breathing has returned to normal and my right eye no longer feels like it is going to pop out of my head. I can walk without fear of vertigo. I survived the ordeal without needing a medical escort out. But of course - I forgot the printer ink.

God help me. A Costco coffin feels about right, right now.

I Want My Own Apartment

Yesterday, I posted this as my "status" on Facebook. Immediately I had several women (and one male friend with designs for a loft) chime in - all in agreement. Clearly, I hit a nerve. So I thought I would state a few more things that I want and see how well they all resonate.

1. I want my own apartment.

2. I want a doorman.

3. I want fresh flowers.

4. I want my laundry washed, dried, ironed, folded, hung and put away for me.

5. I want to do my own cooking.

6. I want to know how to cook.

7. I want my girlfriends (and guy friends) to come and have intelligent conversations with me.

8. I want my husband to arrive showered and shaved.

9. I want my husband to love to talk to me.

10. I want my husband to wear matching socks.

11. I want my husband to know how to fix or build anything.

12. I want my husband to be able to read my mind (when I want him to).

13. I want my children to be Mensa smart.

14. I want my children to think like me.

15. I want my children to want what I want for them.

16. I want my children to be just like me (without all the crap).

17. I want my work to be hard enough to be challenging but not so hard that it is stressful.

18. I want to travel the world.

19. I want to have my life mean something.

20. I want to know God really well.

21. I want more joy in my life.

22. I want every child to have a parent who loves them and cares for them well.

23. I want no one to be hungry.

24. I want everyone to have a decent roof over their heads.

25. I want good health care for everyone - somehow.

26. I want decent paying jobs for everyone who needs one.

27. I want a reasonable, working economy.

28. I want to trust a politician.

29. I want Glen Beck and Rush Limbaugh to go away.

30. I want Gloria Allred to do away.

31. I want a great housekeeper once a week and I will keep it up the rest of the time.

32. I want my home to be organized and warm and when it gets too crazy I want a retreat.

33. I want my own apartment.

That should do it.

For today.