I'm glad for the holidays to arrive. I love the extra time and attention we give to family, and the fun of seeing the kids with our relatives. We had thanksgiving with Nina's family, at her sister Suzy's. The Snowbabies were in fine form, keeping us all enthralled with their cooing and how they take everything in with their wide eyes. Nina and I tried out my mom's recipe for stuffing, and found a crock pot recipe for green bean casserole. The food was great, the time with family was great, and I even didn't mind losing at Train.
Now begins the Christmas season. I've already been out shopping this morning -- go figure. I woke up real early, and felt like going out in the early crowds, for some odd reason. The lines were a little long, but everyone was civil -- except for one guy who was too important to wait 10 minutes or so, and left swearing about it. I'm sure Santa's got a lump of coal with his name on it.
For some reason, I really enjoy being out in a busy mall during the height of Christmas shopping season. I enjoy it less if I have to find a gift for someone, to be honest. It's more fun to just wander through, watching all the people, hearing the Christmas Muzak, and just feeling superior for having done the important shopping early. And online.
But let's face it: The only shopping I really have to do is a present for Nina. Once I get that done, I'm good. Nina gets the ideas for gifts for everyone else, and though I may be the one to actually go buy them, she's done all the heavy lifting for the season. I don't have to wander aimlessly in the mall, wondering what I'm going to get parents, siblings, and kids. It's good to be part of an "and" (as in "Tim and Nina" on the gift tag).
Now, you may be wondering (and I'm sure you all are), "What does Tim want for Christmas?" I'm glad you asked. I present, for your edification, my Christmas wish list for 2004:
• An orchestral recording of Mussorgsky's "Pictures At An Exhibition."
• The Isao Tomita electronic recording of Mussorgsky's "Pictures At An Exhibition." (A favorite of mine from my Dad's collection when I was a kid.)
• A new toaster oven. (Yeah, I know it's a "shovel," but it would actually be nice to have!)
• The Star Wars Trilogy on DVD (widescreen edition)
• Any of the Hillsong worship CDs.
• One of those cool Braun shavers with the cleaner in the charging base. I might start shaving more than once a week!
• An iPod. Hey, a geek can dream, can't he?
Of course, I will be just as happy to get the usual shirts, socks, gag gifts, and the cards and letters from all of my friends and family.
Now I'm going to break out my case of Christmas CDs, and start my annual overdose of holiday music.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
The little blog that wasn't
I had a whole blog entry planned out the other evening. It was cool, it was fun, it was pithy. Unfortunately, it came to me as I was glumphing, and in the middle of it, I lost it.
Glumphing. You heard me. (Okay, you read me.) It's a word we've had in our family for about 25 years, and have shared along the way. When my older brother and I were in our teens, we were often asked by our mother to, "Go take the dry clothes out of the dryer, put the clothes that are in the washer into the dryer, and turn it on." Often, I tell you. It was the same litany, every time.
My older brother, Paul, in his ever-so-thoughtful way, realized that the amount of time our dear mother spent saying this could be used for more productive things, such as not giving us other stuff to do. So, one day, he said, "Hey, Mom, instead of saying, 'Go take the dry clothes out of the dryer, put the clothes that are in the washer into the dryer, and turn it on,' why don't you just say something simple, like.... 'glumph.'"
And so it stuck. (Not the part about not giving us other stuff to do, darn it.) We've used the word ever since, enduring the looks of tolerant concern from others, and loving the "us" feeling it gave us to use it.
We're not alone, apparently. A gent named Paul Dickson has collected over 700 of these so-called "family words" and written a book about them. I don't know if "glumph" is in it, but it ought to be. When you buy your copy, write it in the flyleaf.
As for that other, forgotten post... I'm going to go see if it fell into the laundry while I was glumphing.
Glumphing. You heard me. (Okay, you read me.) It's a word we've had in our family for about 25 years, and have shared along the way. When my older brother and I were in our teens, we were often asked by our mother to, "Go take the dry clothes out of the dryer, put the clothes that are in the washer into the dryer, and turn it on." Often, I tell you. It was the same litany, every time.
My older brother, Paul, in his ever-so-thoughtful way, realized that the amount of time our dear mother spent saying this could be used for more productive things, such as not giving us other stuff to do. So, one day, he said, "Hey, Mom, instead of saying, 'Go take the dry clothes out of the dryer, put the clothes that are in the washer into the dryer, and turn it on,' why don't you just say something simple, like.... 'glumph.'"
And so it stuck. (Not the part about not giving us other stuff to do, darn it.) We've used the word ever since, enduring the looks of tolerant concern from others, and loving the "us" feeling it gave us to use it.
We're not alone, apparently. A gent named Paul Dickson has collected over 700 of these so-called "family words" and written a book about them. I don't know if "glumph" is in it, but it ought to be. When you buy your copy, write it in the flyleaf.
As for that other, forgotten post... I'm going to go see if it fell into the laundry while I was glumphing.
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