Childlike wonder

Tonight, as I was baking a mountain of made from scratch cookies, it yet again caused me to look back upon my life. You see, in my house, Christmas was a magical time. I suppose in most homes it was. But me, I was one of those peeing-in-your pants, Santa Claus is watching me through the heat ducts, eat every cookie in sight kinda kid. And a tree with bright white lights and ornaments made out of Popsicle sticks and twist-ties was for more majestic and holy than any Martha Stewart Christmas catalog could summons. And that day, that one beautiful Autumn day, where the pinecones littered the ground and the air was crisp and smelled of football and red hot dogs..the day the Sears and JC Penny Christmas magazine came in the mail! Any child that does not recall this day, I feel sorry for you. At no other time in my young life did I have access to pages and pages and pages of toys, shoes, clothes, bedspreads, and everything else you could imagine...and yes, I could mark every single page and then write 10 5-page letter's to Santa Clause... and Santa Clause never judges.
Maybe I had a teacher once write in a "proposed" letter from Santa that if I wanted one of the lifelike Michelle from Full House dolls that I should ask my parents about making one, because unfortunately she was old and did not know I truly wanted a doll, not a baby sister.
And maybe, I had someone in the high school band try to give me a present my mother had bought through Tom-Wat which subsequently showed up on Christmas morning,
And maybe, when I got older, I sometimes wondered why my Dad was always able to fix my handmade Doll House that Santa bought me..
But through all the maybes, I never faltered in my childlike wonder. Even into high school I was unable to sleep on Christmas Eve, and now know if I stop "believing" Santa will stop coming.
As an adult, I miss baking cookies for 2 days, playing bingo and board games Christmas Eve night, having Christmas trees in every room, and seeing the quaint stocking hung under the Magnolia and decorated house covered mantle, or quietly hovering in my brothers room until finally, the most amazing sentence any pee-in-your pants kid wants to hear... "Fine, fine, we'll get up" from your parents, knowing that Santa just went to sleep an hour earlier, the piles spread across the living room in our respective chairs, and Christmas breakfast with half dead parents at grandma's house, nanny trying to burn your presents, and grandma forgetting to give you yours (not once, but twice), and then playing until finally your eyes were heavy and December 25th had turned into the 26th....and let me just tell you, Dec 26th has always been a bummer to me, so much anticipation for this one day and the next morning is just another morning.
I used to often wonder what other families Christmas's were like, and now I realize that at heart, I'm still ready to pee in pants at the first sight of a Christmas tree and Santa in the Macy's parade and dream of homemade cookies. The only Christmas that matters is the one we create for ourselves and our family, because that Christmas is one you carry in your heart and feel the warmth, like peeing in your pants, whenever you want...or forget to hold in the excitement.

call screening and a new bed.

I haven't written here lately as more of my creative writing have been dumped obnoxiously in the stupid chic book I have embarked upon writing. But I think I need to bring the blog back so I can get some of the day to day monotony off my mind. So basically...
1. I have a new love for Mumford and Sons and white wine thanks to Amber.
( This has inadvertently increased my desire to find a cute redheaded Irish and have little babies with Irish accents) ( Ok. Well maybe that was a lie, and a little far fetched. Just give me the Irish boy and no unfortunate child has to suffer with me as mother.)
2. I do love my country music. And have had a strong love for Reba after hearing Fancy and the Nights Went Out In Georgia at very young age. Come to think of it, maybe something about those songs defined a portion of my life. Poor girls with sugar daddy dreams and crazy bitches with guns. Maybe I should just write a song, name it "I Got Girlfriends with Guns" I'll explain the situation to Rhett Atkins, and let him know having girlfriends with guns is way more awesome that friends with tractors ( bc the girlfriends with guns know how to drive tractors in my song....now thats hot.)
Ok, back to my point....Reba, I love you. But do not sing Beyonce songs. Beyonce is the goddess of all things R&B and the body to prove it. You are the creme' de la creme' of country. Stick with country.
3. Why is Oregon so far away.
4. Tonight will be my first night sleeping in a bed that is not covered in a mountain of down. Thanks to a new-to-me pillow top mattress. I'm not sure how this is going to go down, but if someone has their head bitten off tomorrow, do not cast your eyes towards me. I giving my disclaimer now.
5. Why do old people wear really awful perfume? I mean really, do people completely lose their sense of smell the older they get or do they just like the smell of musk. Or Must in my opinion...because they stank!
6. The same number has called me for the past 5 minutes, every minute, w/o leaving a message. I do not know this person, but I'm fairly certain whomever you are, you are probably stalking me. If you were smart you would leave a voicemail, or send me a text, because whoever you are...I may not want to talk to you and yes, I do screen my calls.
Ok. That is all. Good night.
And long live country music.