Merry Christmas

It is Christmas morning and I am trapped at my mother's house, waiting for the festivities to begin. In a very un-Christmas-like way, I'm teed off at my older sister, for deciding not to rush her kids and choosing to attend family Christmas nearly one hour later than planned. So, I have to wait for family time for one MORE hour.

As I stew, hopped up on crappy coffee and fake sugar, I realize that I desperately want Christmas magic to still extend to me. Even though I am 37 years old. And, it doesn't. With six children in the family - my sisters' kids - the adult magic gets lost - or at least subjugated until the kids' needs are met. And intellectually I understand this is part of Christmas - the joy children experience. And emotionally I feel aggravated and disappointed.

So what's a girl to do?

Right now, I'm contemplating calling my older sister to apologize for snapping. And then emotionally checking out 100% so I don't have to worry about managing angry or sad feelings. However, if I do this, I won't appreciate the giving or the receiving part when it FINALLY gets started. Maybe I could refuse to come home for Christmas ever again, or at least planning on driving home for Christmas on Christmas day - and arriving at my sister's house at approximately 1:00 so I don't have to do this crappy waiting around for things to get started stuff. Or, maybe I could stay home and be with BMG who doesn't restrict his feelings of adventure and curiosity to all things niece and nephew.

Sigh.

I know my sisters and brother (and my mother) appreciate giving and receiving from one another - this is why Christmas is such a big deal. And I've often said it feels like there is no place for me here because I don't have kids. On Chrismas morning, this is particularly acute. On Christmas morning this is particularly acute.

Sigh.

What's a girl going to do? I'm going to finish drying my hair. Then I'll pour another cup of weak coffee and plaster a smile on my face until it is noon. Then I'll pour myself a drink and get planted in a chair and pretend this is all exactly what I asked Santa to bring me on Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

Santa is phoning it in

We have Secret Santas at the office (separation of church and state - hah!). My Santa is phoning it in. I got three pairs of ladies' trouser socks, coasters with snowflakes on them, and, today, I got what appears to be a leftover mug from a Hickory Farms gift basket. It has six pieces of that strawberry candy that seems to come in all Hickory Farms gift baskets, with mounds of dust in the bottom of the mug.

Sigh.

I actually love finding treats at work - and really love giving them. In my family tradition (at least as I understand them), gift giving is about letting someone know "I understand you as a person and want you to be happy." I know other people don't ascribe to this philosophy of giving, and I feel bad for being ungrateful. But, I don't want a bunch of random crap that I cannot use. If you don't know me (and there is no reason to believe everyone in my office of 15 KNOWS me) then don't buy me personal items for my home. How about things like edible treats (candy, dried fruit) or a box of tea? Is it possible my Secret Santa is so oblivious that s/he doesn't notice I drink Starbucks, eat cookies, or like to pinch candy from others' candy bowls?

My personality is enormous, and I wonder if I am feeling affronted because people (or at least one person) isn't paying enough attention to me to notice these details.

Top 10 ways tater tots are NOT like french fries

I've been munching tater tots today as a mildly unhealthy reaction to way over the limit stress at work. My delight in these yummy potato treats has led me to create this list of the top ten ways Tater Tots are NOT like French Fries. Let's get started.

10. Professors and teachers alike are buoyed by the fact that there is very little confusion about the plural form of tater tots.
9. Tater tots don't make you feel greasy after you eat them.
8 You CAN eat tater tots for breakfast, in their delicious hash brown form.
7. Their handy cylindrical shape is easier to gobble than those dangerous french fry sticks.
6. Tater tots give off the impression of being healthy.
5. Tater tots can be classed up, with recipes like "Savory Tater Tot Casserole" roaming on the Internet.
4. It is almost impossible to lose a tater tot into the mouth of the ketchup bottle when dunking.
3. No chance of making a controversial political statement when eating tater tots.
2. You can microwave a frozen tater tot and its integrity is not compromised.

And the number one way tater tots are not like french fries....
1. Tater tots are neater to stack and count for those binge eaters with obsessive compulsive disorder.

*Special thanks go to BMG for his help with this list. All other contributions are welcome in the comment section.

I surrender!

I've decided to throw in the dishrag at BMG's little cottage. I will no longer be hand washing dishes there.

This is not a decision born out of the traditional female frustration that her "man" doesn't appreciate her, nor is it an act of defiance in reaction to a mounting pile of dishes that only I appear to wash.

In fact, this is a decision driven by the fact that BMG prefers that I NOT wash dishes by hand. Because, in fact, I stink at it. The poor guy. He is constantly fishing dishes out of the sink drainer only to have to resoak them and sanitize them in the dishwasher because I've left large hunks of food on them.

So, I'm embracing my incompetence, reducing my household work load, and hanging up my holster filled with Dawn today.

Crisis = opportunity

Everyone knows the old management adage that the Chinese character for crisis is the same as the character for opportunity.

My office is handling a crisis right now. I work for a public school system and one of our schools had a devastating fire two days ago, early on Sunday morning. As a member of the senior staff team, I have been pulled from all of my regular duties to assist with the response plan. And it is 100% overwhelming. I am managing the media and donations, working on community relations, and trying to reroute grant management at the school. This is all "non-essential" compared to the momentous task for finding new classrooms for these students and preparing said classrooms for teachers to teach and students to learn.

Through it all, I'm watching my boss as he rises to the leadership challenge, I'm watching the Principal of the school as she falters, and listening closely to the experts who are advising us on the next steps to take - at least with the public. Every chance I get I talk with students, to learn their reaction so that I might respond in customer-centered ways. And above all, I'm watching myself. How am I reacting to this crisis? Am I stressing out? Am I being strong yet kind? How do I make decisions?

I am preparing to start a lengthy process of readying myself professionally for the next step in my career. I'm not trained in education and don't have the desire to get the necessary academic credentials to move up in the hierarchy. My job is fascinating and is a dead end for me. So what's next? Private sector philanthropy? Think tank research and development? Higher education? A higher position within the government? Legislative advisor? I'm not sure yet, but I do know that I need to cultivate my projection of myself as a senior staff member, of someone who can take a crisis and make it an opportunity for growth and change.

Bowling alone

BMG and I were lying in bed this morning, talking about why my friends don't ever have parties. I started going through my list of friends and realize that many of them have circles of friends that I have been excluded from - either because they made these friends long before they knew me, or because their separate friends are married with kids and therefore I either don't fit in (I choose neither marriage nor kids) or the friends fear that I cannot relate. I also realize that a handful of my married gal pals use our friendship as an oasis from their suburban lifestyles. Boobra, for example, often wistfully talks about my crappy illegal basement apartment as if I lived in the Bachelorette Taj Mahal.

I then turned to BMG and said, "Your friends never have parties either!" "Yes they do, we just never go." As we went through HIS list of friends who have parties, we reflected on the fact that his family often has get-togethers that we DO attend. BMG lives 1/2 mile from his parents and maybe six miles from one of his brothers and his sister. "If we lived near my family we'd see them every weekend," I countered. Then I stopped. I would love to see my family every weekend. I would love to make cookies with my sisters, share coffee in the morning with my mother, and play Pet Shop Dolls and Playmobile with my nieces and nephew. But, I don't want to live in Syracuse, NY. I don't want to live in Syracuse because there is not enough to do there for me - this childless by choice, eclectic, and hard-to-pigeonhole adult woman. And, if there is not enough for me to do there, I'll get sucked into being a daughter, a sister, and an aunt all of the time. This I cannot do.

I think this is a classic dilemma of wanting what one knows is not good for them. BMG asked if I was sad about the bind I find myself in. "I'm both sad and happy," I replied. Continuing, "Sad because I love and miss my family. Happy because I'm making the choices that are right for me." "Oh, you are melanhappy" he said cleverly, before turning over and falling into lazy and self-satisfied sleep. "Yeah, melanhappy," I thought, feeling the word on my tongue and absorbing the feelings of wistful contentment. "Melanhappy."

Kitten

I still don't have a kitten, but it is apparently on my mind. "Why?" you inquire with mild curiosity. We got new paper recycling bins in the office today. They are minis, about one-third the size of the standard curbside bin. My reaction? "Oh, this looks like the perfect size for a kitten bed!"

*****

It is fun to recycle at work. I submitted a proposal today and realized my footer had a slight error in it - not one that would make or break the proposal. Rather than tossing the 11 copies (66 pages) into the trash and starting over, I decided to let it go. I can feel myself gearing up for a little internal competition to reduce my paper waste at work. Not at home. But I'll tell you more about that AFTER Christmas.