Thanksgiving and other fairy tales

For those of you with a weak stomach where this possibly feminist blog entry is concerned, please feel free to exit........now.

I have had some time to consider this holiday that we call Thanksgiving. I am convinced that quite possibly this was a holiday made up by men, for men. Humor me, won't you? I have spent the better part of two whole days cooking a meal that will more than likely be devoured in 15 minutes flat.

The man of the house's job in all of this? Show up. That's right, all they have to do is show up. These men get to sit in front of the television set or nap all day, whatever suits their particular fancy, and then the little woman announces that the meal is ready. Yep. Show up.

As if standing on your feet and slaving over counters that are way too short for your particular frame wasn't enough, now that the meal is over, YOU get to clean it all up! There are no offers of help. It's like attending a party you never wanted to go to in the first place. You show up, make a little face time, and then you leave.

Christmas is the next big show of the year. It starts the day after Thanksgiving. The little woman is charged with the responsibility of making the home festive. She will be decorating while the men are watching TV or sleeping.

The idea of Festivus is becoming much more appealing to me as the years go by. This is a holiday I might be able to get on board with. You put a plain metal pole, the Festivus pole, in the middle of the room and the participants take turns airing their greivances and reciting their disappointment with family members. Co-stan-za!

Hans Christian Anderson I am not. I'm difficult to speak with too. Happy Holidays, fellas!

Autumn is finally here.

Went for my walk with the doggies tonight, and for the first time it felt a tad brisk. I am LOVING the cooler weather. Oh how I miss the changing of the color of the leaves of my childhood in Washington. Of course, this weather is why people live in Arizona. We live through four months of hell fire just for this, and we never have to shovel the driveway.

I've been thinking alot about my Grandma Hedberg. She died when I was 12 years old at the very young age of 50. I miss her. I loved the holidays when I was young and we would go over to her house to eat. She always used real butter.

My grandma smelled of Pond's cold cream and coffee. I have never drunk coffee, but I absolutely love the smell of it. I use Palmolive dish soap because that was what she used and the smell always brings me back to her kitchen.

She, in my opinion, was the glue that held our extended family together. After she died, no one seems to get together anymore, or talk to each other anymore. It's sad really. I equate the holidays with family and well, I just don't have that. I love watching big families get together and see how they interact with one another. Silently wishing and hoping that it was mine.

I've been trying very hard to be thankful. Even though, most days I have a hard time thinking up something. This has been and is probably one of the worst years of my life.

Anyway, autumn is finally here, and I am thankful for that.

Hacked.......again.

What a shock to revisit my blog after a week of media-freedom only to find it has been hacked into.

I know my blog entries have not been terribly uplifting lately. To be honest, I don't feel terribly uplifting or uplifted for that matter.

I started my blog as a creative outlet. I like to write tales, well whoppers, really. Some of my tales are masked truths that I am not at liberty to come right out and say. To do so would land me in the bishop's office.

I haven't really felt like blogging lately because it seems everything I write is held to a microscope and scrutinized and ultimately, criticized. I really wasn't aware that freedom of speech didn't exist in the blogging world. Don't I feel stupid.

I broke my toe two weeks ago. Fact. It still hurts. Fact. I have a hard time dividing my ideals with my reality. Fact. Therefore, my feelings have a tendency to be worn on my sleeves. For this, to those who take offense, I apologize.

Have a nice day.

The Most Wonderful Wife and Mother Award...

Goes to none other than...

Charmen Johnson!

Congratulations, my love, you earned it.

Lee

And the Bad Mother and Wife of the Year Award goes to......

Yes, it's a select group of women that belong here with me. Oh sure, you don't think this would be you, but you would be wrong about that.

And to think you were going for Best Mother and Wife of the Year. You toiled long hours cleaning your home to spotless perfection only to have it messed up by your ungrateful kids. The nerve. You slaved over a hot meal only to hear, "I don't like that", or "I'm having cereal"!

You spend your day with your endless checklist in your mind's eye, giving yourself a tiny checkmark next to the things that you are able to accomplish as you work your full time paying job. To no avail, there is always something that you didn't do. Oh, you wanted to get it all done, there just isn't enough day and certainly not enough you.

There are no 'thank you's' that come with this award. Just a quick kick in the booty and a helping of 'why didn't you do this?'

Bad Mothers and Wives, unite! Our claim to glory will be "You never did anything and you were never there for me."

Adversity Part Deux

I've been thinking some more. Do you think that the choices we make for ourselves sometimes create adversity and trials for those around us? I've been thinking that some of the trials and adversity that I currently face are not of my own doing.

My wise mother-in-law posted a quote in my comments from my last post, from her sister's blog. "There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity."-Washington Irving.

My thoughts are that that spark is what we commonly refer to as...........rage.

Adversity and Trials

I know. Sometimes I think too much. I have thought about my topic a great deal and this post is merely me trying to sort out my thoughts.

The talks this month in Sacrament meeting and other meetings has been adversity. I looked up adversity in my trusty dictionary; "adverse fortune or fate, misfortune, calamity." Under trial I found, "the act of trying, testing, or putting to the proof."

I have often wondered when considering the trials we all go through, are we comparing apples to apples? Or apples to oranges? Is there such a thing as one person's trial being "worse" than another's? Or is it a perception based on one's life experience?

Am I digging too deep? What is a greater trial? Loss of employment, death of a loved one, money problems, illness? Is there such thing as a greater trial or are they equal in that each has the purpose of refining and we all don't need the same refining?

These are real questions. I would love your input and insight. Feel free to comment now.