Our Christmas Stories

Everyone has their own traditions and own memories of what Christmas is like for their family each year. Some travel to see different points of the earth and take in a variety of cultures. Some stay snuggled up at home for days and enjoy the heartfelt theory of family time. Some even seem to fill up their living room with ungodly amounts of presents even though there is a recession looming onto our nation. My Christmas doesn’t completely fit into one of these categories, but has an amazing concept all of its own…….humor.

First you must come to know my sister, Anne Harmon. She lives in Atlanta, GA where she pretty much runs the social calendar for the town and maybe weighs 110 pounds. I mean she is pretty hot, but she definitely has the charm and the humor thing going strong for her too. Every year at Christmas we start texting and calling each other on a daily basis to plan for the big Holiday season, emotionally and fashionably. We have parents who honestly just want us with them for Christmas. Mom and Dad would never think twice if we never brought home another Christmas present again. Now that being said, we would never do that because it would break my poor mom’s heart. See where I am going with this?

Let me explain. My immediate family has the amazing tendency to over react to situations. We still celebrate the good things happening in life, but come on, where is the humor in positive action? We simply want to bring up all the harsh and embarrassing moments of the past year, so we can mock ourselves in order to bring peace and joy to all creation.

There is this span of about maybe five to seven days surrounding Christmas Day when my family either hosts or attends a gathering of some sort. It starts with aunts, uncles and cousins on the Sunday before Christmas, trailing into multiple nights of spur of the moment cocktail hours with neighbors and long time friends, and then it peaks when we make it through the doors of the local watering hole after we have walked the red carpet at our Christmas Eve service (where, hands down, Ann Wilson Aman will always look better than us). So, basically, Christmas is a time when we are allowed to consume as much alcohol we deem necessary, while my sister and I begin the trails of the traveling jesters.

So what are the hot topics this year? Oh let’s see. We start with a little, haha Searcy lost her job this year and had to move in with her parents after seven years of complete independence. Then we sprinkle a little, “Did ya’ll hear about my mother and her luncheon group’s trip to the shooting range?” And then we top it off with a big “Anne Harmon is bringing home a boyfriend, and his name is Even Williams. Dad, didn’t you drink that for about twenty years when you were saving money to put us through school?” What makes each year complete is my sister’s ability to tell each story in my mother’s strong, southern accent, and my ability to stay out too late and “ruin” Christmas Day.

For the record, I was home at ten o’clock last night, and up before everyone else this Christmas Day, but I did manage to piss my mother off before 6 am by screwing up the washing machine. Nothing says Merry Christmas in this house like a few over dramatic deep breaths and some stern talkin’!

All I want for Christmas is to never lose the humor in my family. Times are getting hard in the world right now, and I truly believe if we can just sit back and laugh at ourselves in pure humility, we will all be just fine.

Happy Holidays!

Material Girl

I have never thought myself to be a materialistic person. My dream home doesn't consist of high ceilings and granite. I don't shoe shop outside of the sale rack at Dillard's, and I certainly don't know much about fancy wine. I don't even know how to really put on makeup. I just thought I was a simple girl living in a complex world. I must admit I have been a bit judgemental on people who take pride in their belongings. I am, of course, at times wrong. Today I realized I am absolutely no better than the high dollar man who had to watch all of his belongings get auctioned off to complete strangers.

Over the past three or four years I have hired the same movers to come and pack up my house only to move to the next destination in life. I have seen my furniture wrapped in packing material and seen my home drive away from me, but this time it wasn't the same. This time it wasn't going to a new adventure, it was going to a 10x10 storage unit. Oh, poor me, right? I know. I should have a lot more things to dwell on or to feel sad about.

It just felt different. I saw the things I walked on every day and threw my keys on each time I walked in the house wrapped up for an undetermined about of time. I wasn't watching with anticipation of the next town and the next life. I was watching with fear, or more so, anger.

I have worked so hard to make my life my life. I have listened to my gut and ignored my doubts, only to make life that much more amazing for myself. Honestly, each day has been so fulfilling and so worth it because it was mine. When I left school I searched for myself. I found her. She rocks, by the way. Now, I feel like she is wrapped up in moving papers in a climate controlled storage unit. (At least she has come A/C!!)

I know I am not in control, and believe me, I know God has something unthinkable at the end of this for me. I just think watching all you have being taken from you (whether it be for good or for an undetermined time frame) puts life into perspective. Who knows how bad this recession will get. I might have to sell what I have in that 10x10 (I have a great washer and dryer I am willing to part with for $300), or I may be lucky enough to unwrap it all and make a new home.

I think it is the life undetermined I am most afraid of. I shouldn't be. I have done that before. I just can't even start to guess where it will go this time.

Ultimately, I would love to be a writer and fisherman for the rest of my life. hummmm, is a charter boat 10x10?

Total Change of Attitude

The good thing about being crazy is that your mood can change from boarder line manic to passionate and unstoppable in a mater of seconds.

I was obviously not feeling up to par in my last post (only 45 minutes ago), so I decided it was time to go for a little jog outside. (Another good thing about these mood changes is that I find it a lot easier to jog vs. walk when I am in one extreme mood or the other. Let's just hope the jogging overcomes the cheese dip in this whole thing.) So, while on my jog, it started to rain. I don't know about you, but this made my day! I know most people may have allowed this to ruin their day, but I am obviously not like a lot of other people. I LOVE getting dirty and would much rather swim in my clothes than in some bikini.

I turned up my ipod, stuffed it in my bra (the only dry spot I had, OK?) and just ran. Then I realized that by running I was going to make this experience end that much sooner. So I stopped.

Now I know rain has become quite the cheesy subject. What with Clint Black's heart wrenching Like The Rain, Julie Robert's Rain On A Tin Roof and multiple other comparisons of rain to the cleansing power of love, it still has an overpowering effect on me that I only seem to remember when it starts to fall.

It never hurts to get a little baptism for the soul every now and then.

I Can Stop Complaining....Really, I Can

Not only did I lose my job, but I can't get an interview because nobody is interviewing!

I am so tired of packing up this house, knowing I am going to have to do it all over again when I do find a job.

Seriously? I have to LIVE WITH MY PARENTS like I am not capable of taking care of myself? Oh, wait...I can't.

I think my blog is the ugliest thing I have ever seen and I have no idea how to make it look the way I want it to, because I have no idea what I want.....Just like the rest of my life.

My computer now has a virus, so I can't spend my days looking at my friend's fun facebook pictures wishing I was them.

Sooo, I think I am giving up complaining for New Years. I don't do much of it anyway, so it should be pretty easy.

Did I mention I am going to have another lonely New Years because everyone else has someone to spend it with!?

Does Obama's Election Signal A New Day For America?

If you are even remotely interested in answering this question or even simply asking this question, I beg you....read this article.

http://www.helium.com/items/1236642-does-obamas-election-signal-a-new-day-for-america

I Salute You, Mr. Septic Man

Twas the night before Thanksgiving and all through the house, not a toilet was flushing, not even in the out house.

Every year in November you are forced to become one with your inner feelings and really come to understand what you are thankful for. There are always the understood ones like family, friends, God, your health, but this year I was feeling a little different. I had one thing that really stood out in my life that I was extremely thankful for – the septic man. His name is Mark and mom said he resembled Kevin Costner. I think she may have been a little over come with joy to think that the sight of a man digging into our septic tank could be attractive, but never mind that.

Thanksgiving in the one holiday each year my family plans to spend the week at our family’s bay house on Soldier’s Creek in Lillian, AL. This house was built over 50 years ago and is pretty much in the same conditions as it was when it was built. Everything from the toilets to the showers to the sinks and the dishwasher run through the septic tank in the side yard. (Has the name Griswolds come up in anyone’s head yet?) There is a smaller separate house in the back that was built for the “help” 50 years ago. This house is literally a 10x10 floor space with a toilet and has not been used in over 15 years.

It is about seven o’clock Wednesday night before Thanksgiving and my family has just all arrived. My sister came in from Atlanta with her nice fancy vodka and bouffant hair, and we are all wearing every article of clothing we packed because my parents refuse to turn up the heat. We have all just sat down with a drink when my father’s panic button wasn’t just pushed; it was smashed and broken into a million pieces so we couldn’t turn it off. I hear him screaming for our Lord when I notice there is a river running out of the master bathroom. The house goes wild within ten seconds. While Dad is screaming about the impossibility of going on and living this way, I stuff my sweat pants into my brand new camo wading boots and start throwing down towels. You may be wondering where my beautiful sister was during all this commotion, well she was calm as could be sipping on her vodka.

Did I forget to mention that as soon as all this begins to happen my mother decides she really has to use the restroom? Seeing as how all the bathrooms in the main house were now class five rapids and there is no way in hell she is becoming one with nature this year, I was left to abandon ship and prep the out house. Not a soul has been brave enough to walk through the bathroom door of the out house in 15 years, so excuse me when I don’t take off my wading boots. I clean it up in a jiffy so my mother can have her peace and head for the main house to see what nerves I may be able to salvage for my father. I walk through the door only to see a smile wide across my fathers face as he says, “Everything is going to be okay. Mark will be here at eight o’clock in the morning.” I sure as hell didn’t know who Mark was, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to question him.

Finally, peace has come over the ark and all the little animals are able to rest at ease. Well, almost. My sister and I are awakened by a cheerful yet frightened “Happy Thanksgiving” from my mother at seven o’clock the next morning. She has just discovered the toilet in the out house has decided to join in all the fun. We now have nothing but a bush to use for “powdering our noses”. Perfect.

Needless to say, by nine o’clock on Thanksgiving morning, my family learned a very valuable lesson, as we also learned the ins and outs of the septic system. Septic lines have holes in them to, you know, fertilize the earth. Roots grow into these holes and can clog up the system, causing great fun inside the house. Do you know what keeps these roots from growing in your lines? I do, but I think I will let you figure this one out on your own. Let’s just call this my way of helping the world dig a little deeper into what they are truly thankful for.

Yes, The World Can Be Cruel

Yes the world can be cruel
It can be sad and cold
It can be frightening and dreadful

But it can also be hopeful
It can be loving and warm
It can give fascination and drive ambition

Today, my world can get pretty frightening at any given minute. One comment or view of our economy can send my mind into this panic. It’s like everything is fine and my hopes are up and then something just reminds me that everything really isn’t okay. I have spent the first 22 years of my life dreaming up this outstanding future. Then the past three years I have understood what it takes and how it feels to live out these dreams. Now, it is all gone. Uncle Sam has taken away my freedom to live my dreams. How can you lose freedom in a free country?

That is how I feel at times, but I know Uncle Sam didn’t do this “to me”. I have faith that God did this “for me”, but this view doesn’t always hang strong in my head. When I panic, these are the things that run through my head:

When am I going to get a job?
Will I even like the job?
How can I interview for a job I don’t want?
Even if I like the job will it pay me enough to live on my own?
Will I really have to move back to Montgomery and get trapped?
Will my relationship with my parents suffer if I move back to Montgomery?
Will I be single forever because I refuse to settle just to be married?

Some day this will be over. It may not be any time soon, but that just means I need that much time to become what I need to be. I know I will be different when this is all over, and I look forward to meeting her. Hopefully I will become a writer beyond my expectations, but I may not. I know I will get through this, simply because of how I live my life and who I live in it with.

Each day is different. Some are good, some are alright and some are just bad. I know there are a lot of people who are out there in my same position and I feel for them. I do. I just can’t seem to find comfort in that knowledge. I am not going to be comforted knowing there are others hurting like I am or even worse than I am. Taking comfort in that will not change anyone’s situation; it will only make me greedy or selfish. Maybe I already am, but I honestly don’t feel that way. We just somehow need to come together as a union and just stop taking.

I know tomorrow will be different, but today, I am sad.