Peanut Butter Balls & Christmas

And so it begins.  Blair walked in the door last night laden with holiday food prepared by co-workers.  Hallelujah!  I live for the holiday cookies that get sent our way.  One woman who's worked with Blair for years makes especially delicious fare. This year she sent home with Blair a big tin of decorated sugar cookies, chocolate cookies and--my favorite--chocolate covered peanut butter balls.  Saint that she is, she even used crunchy peanut butter and a dash of coconut in them.  I had 3 for breakfast this morning.

The story of the peanut butter balls is amusing.  Last year, the Christmas tin from her didn't include them.

"What the hell?" I asked Blair, prying open the tin.  "Where are my peanut butter balls?"

"Maybe she just didn't have time this year," he said.

"Fire her," I said.  "No, wait.  Threaten to fire her unless she makes us some peanut butter balls."

"I will do no such thing," he said.  "You're insane.  Just eat a sugar cookie and shut up."

I grumbled, but let it go.  Until around Thanksgiving of this year when this co-worker invited us to a bonfire at her home.  We arrived and I didn't even bother with the small talk before pouncing.

"So what's the deal with the peanut butter balls?" I asked.  "Can I be expecting them this year or what?"  Blair went eight  shades of red but hey, I was on a mission.  She makes really, really tasty peanut butter balls.  So needless to say, I am an extremely happy camper this year.

We also received some excellent peanut brittle and a box of chocolate truffles.  And our new next door neighbors dropped by last night with a gift bag containing the most gorgeous apples dipped in milk chocolate, drizzled with white chocolate, with walnuts attached.  They were almost too pretty to eat. (Almost.  Mmmmm.  Tasty!)

I expect to be on a massive sugar high now until the end of the month and will feel no guilt at all.  It would be rude not to eat the lovely food people prepared for us.  Happy sugary holidays to all.

Pay Me, Pay Me, Pay Me!

Aauugh!  Sooooo close!  And the clock is ticking.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, I set myself a financial earning goal for the year.  This income goal is for all money earned from magazine writing and teaching, but does not include any monies earned from Lessons In Stalking.  That's its own category with its own expenses and earnings.

So, I have this goal of X number of dollars that, to be realized, must be fulfilled before the stroke of midnight on December 31st.  And right now, I am $68.50 away from goal.  $68.50!  I am THAT close.  But I only count toward the goal money that actually comes in the door, so even though a number of magazines owe me money, if the check doesn't show up before January 1st, it doesn't count.

All my hopes hinge on GTCC and UNC-G.  I'm owed money from both institutions for public speaking and writing classes taught earlier this year. 

I know it's silly.  $68 is close enough to say, yeah, I made goal.  But I'll know that really, I was just under.  I'll spend the rest of this week chasing the postman down, hoping for a check. 

Love that holiday spirit!

Right Hand Turns

A word to a few select drivers (and you know who you are) about right hand turns.  Ahem.

Is it really so friggin' difficult to make a right-hand turn? Do you think you might ever consider living on the edge every now and then and not come to a complete stop before turning right?  Life is short, so carpe diem, baby. Why not try whipping that car to the right at the speed of, say, at least 5 mph?

But, if you feel for safety's sake you absolutely must come to a complete stop, is there any chance of you burning off a few calories by raising your arm the 4 inches it takes to move your turn signal to the "right turn indicator" position?  That way those of us behind you don't wonder why you slammed on brakes and came to a complete stop for no reason in the middle of moving traffic.

Your cooperation in this matter would be greatly appreciated.  Thank you.

Holidays With Relatives

If ever I'm in left in any doubt that God has a sense of humor, I just stop and look at the family I married into.  Southern, Baptist, republican, gun-toting, men-rule-the-roost conservatives, I couldn't find a more polar opposite family to marry into if I tried.

Not that they were thrilled with Blair's choice of a bride.  A mid-west, liberal, vegetarian, new age spiritualist who likes to mouth off her opinions, I was probably the closest version to Hell on earth they'd ever experienced.

Not that they would have the bad manners (as I did) to show it.  Everyone here in the South puts on a good face and my in-law relatives have never been anything but kind to me.  Still, meeting them was a shock.  In every relationship prior to Blair, I had been "the catch."  Mothers loved me.  So much so that when relationships ended, the moms would be calling me to see if things could be repaired.  So it was a real ego-jolt to meet Blair's family and realize not only was there to be no love-fest celebrating my very existence (!), deep at heart they were all hoping I would go away.

It took years for me to be even vaguely comfortable with them.  I remember the first Christmas we spent at my mother and father-in-laws.  Like any family, they have their own traditions around opening gifts.  My family's tradition involved ripping into our presents like mad-dogs hoping for a beef jerky treat.  Noise, shouts, laughs, and confusion reigned.

Gift opening at the in-laws was a bit different.  My father-in-law would haul out this rickety spotlight worthy of a Hollywood film stage and each of us would sit individually in what I came to affectionately refer to as "the chair of death."  Then he would film each of us opening our gifts.  I was okay with that part.  What rocked my world was that there was close to absolute silence while this was done, I guess so stray conversations or noise didn't mess up the holiday tape.  So each of us would sit there in a police spotlight, camera trained on our every move, while everyone sat in a circle outside the light and stared, silently, as you opened a gift, raised it to the camera, smiled and nodded a thank you to whoever bought it for you, and then moved to the next.

I learned to open gifts with record-fast speed that year.

But things improved, mainly after I matured (all of you who know me--shut it.  I'm a work in progress) and realized I could not--no matter how hard I tried or desired it--change these people. And I stopped fighting so hard.  I admit, I was an extremely unpleasant person to be around on holiday visits those first few years as I considered it my personal duty to point out to everyone how WRONG they were about everything and give a detailed list of reasons why.  I have a very patient husband.

I don't really know how I got on this line of thought other than we had lunch with my brother and sister-in-laws and their kids the other day and it struck me how much I still have to work for conversation.  Even after 13 years, it doesn't come easy. 

And yet, I can enjoy being around them now.  Now that I've accepted they won't change, some of their traits that used to send me into the wall now make me laugh. And maybe they've come to appreciate a thing or two about me (maybe).

These aren't people I would hang out with if we weren't related, but maybe God knows this and that's why he places certain people in our path.  To learn lessons that maybe we wouldn't be so brave or eager to seek out on our own. Lessons I've learned from my relatives include patience, tolerance, and an understanding that I don't have to like every aspect of a person in order to appreciate them fully as a person.  And that's just the skim of it. 

When people come into your life you don't care for or have a negative reaction to--take a closer look. 

They're always there for a reason.