This is A Traumatic New Years Eve Awakening

So. It's New Years Eve and I don't do resolutions, like ever, but today when I was getting dressed at noon, something awful happened...something truly terrible...and it forced me take a long, hard look in the mirror. What I saw in my own reflection made me take stock of my entire life, my choices, my habits, my behaviors, my desires for the future. It made me ask myself deep philosophical questions about my own existence.

I stood there for a long time, stunned, confronted with a reality I wasn't sure I could handle, but that I certainly couldn't deny.

I gazed from this angle and that, squinting my eyes, bringing the truth into focus – and I was desperate to convince myself that I couldn't possibly be seeing what I was seeing...it just couldn't be true... but the mirror does not lie, my friends.

I suppose I already knew the truth, even before I faced it. I heard the noise. I felt the breeze. Moments before, as I pulled on my jeans, freshly washed and snug fitting, I was aware of the distinct “POP” and the jarring “RiiiiiiP”. I was cognizant of an unusual rush of cool air where no draft belongs.

The mirror only confirmed what, in my heart, I already knew...

I split my pants.


Christmas, exactly.

You know that song, "The First Noel?" The one where an angel appears and tells some chilly field hands to get up and follow a totally obvious star to Jesus?... Every time I hear it, it makes me wanna kick a shepherd.

I'm telling you, those shepherds didn't know what a sweet deal they were getting when they got sucked in to the first Noel! They had it so easy. According to the song, it was just like, “Hey, check out that star! Now follow it 'til you find a baby king in a barn - and boom! You're done. Christmas is over, see ya next year.”

Those lucky bastards didn't have to deal with anything like the list of crap we have to do to pull off Christmas. They didn't have to think about teacher gifts and white elephant parties and pesky little things, like credit limits. There were no lights to hang, no trees to decorate, no cookies to bake, and none of them had to find coordinating outfits for a family picture that match, but aren't too, like, matchy-matchyY'know? All they had to do was go find Jesus. And they had a star to show them the way!

Christmas was just so simple.

The first noel sounds like a cakewalk compared to this Noel. Can you imagine if someone wrote a song about this Christmas?

It would go like “La La La. An angel came to the folks fighting for a spot in the Target parking lot at 10 p.m., and sang, 'Merry Christmas! Born is the King of... retail shopping.”, and then there would be a verse about throwing your back out while you pull eleven bins of Christmas shit out of the garage.

Ok. It wouldn't be a pretty song. But it would be pretty accurate.

Seriously though. When did Christmas turn into this? This race to the finish line?


Remember Ronin.

When my two younger sons walked in after school that day, I could see it in their glassy eyes, their sagging shoulders and low hung heads, I could hear it in hitched breaths and stuttered sniffles; they already knew.

Their young friend and teammate was dead.

Upper Natoma Rowing Club (photo courtesy of Facebook)

We all got in the car and drove to the lake, where, in place of practice, our little UNRC crew team and coaches and a few parents gathered around picnic tables in shock and mourning. The youngest boy on the team was gone, and the group desperately wanted to understand the tragedy that took him. He was simply too vibrant and too precious and too young to be dead. How could this have happened?


The Fall of Christmas

(Today a terrible tragedy hit my community, and I'm reminded that some people wake to Christmas mourning. A timely #TBT post from December 2013. )

So. Our Christmas tree fell over. 

It had been leaning for a while (like, since the second we put it up) and then, finally, after a few days, it succumbed to gravity and crashed to the ground amid the sounds of creaking branches and breaking glass and my giant fur-faced husband shouting, “YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING!”

I knew it was going to fall over -- I wasn't surprised at all when it did. Not even an hour before it made its big dramatic flop to the floor, I took pictures of it tilting off to one side, star drooping like a spent balloon. I kept asking no one in particular, “Do you think that tree is okay? Does that look right?” I knew it was all going to fall apart eventually, but I didn't know how to fix it and I knew I couldn't shore it up on my own, so I backed away, fingers crossed that it would last until Christmas. But it didn't. It couldn't. So we were all just waiting for it to go down. 

Trees fall over sometimes. They just do. Sometimes it's unexpected and other times it's not, sometimes there are good reasons and other times there are not. But it doesn't really matter, because it always makes a mess. And it always sucks.


The Very Worst T-Shirts Are Here

 If you follow along on Facebook, or Twitter, or Instagram, or Pinterest (Seriously. What the hell, you guys. Why are there so many things???), then you already know about this...

Seriously. This is a thing.

...I don't even know what to say.

Except that, yes, I have one. And yes, I wear it. And yes, I think you should get one and wear it, too, or if you're really brave, you could get one for someone else. You can take a closer look, read about them, and then order one for all your friends and family members by clicking anywhere on this entire huge long run on sentence, or by clicking: HERE