What's For Dinner?

Let's go to Long John Silver's!

From Me To You

The garment of life, be it tattered and torn,
the cloak of the soldier is withered and worn.
But what child is this that was poverty-born,
the peace of Christmas Day.

The branch that bears the bright holly,
the dove that rests in yonder tree.
The light that shines for all to see,
the peace of Christmas Day.

The hope that has slumbered for 2000 years,
the promise that silenced 1000 fears.
A faith that can hobble an ocean of tears,
the peace of Christmas Day.

The branch that bears the bright holly,
the dove that rests in yonder tree.
The light that shines for all to see,
the peace of Christmas Day.

Add all the grief that people may bear,
total the strife, the troubles and care.
Put them in columns and leave them right there,
the peace of Christmas Day.

The branch that bears the bright holly,
the dove that rests in yonder tree.
The light that shines for all to see,
the peace of Christmas Day.

The branch that bears the bright holly,
the dove that rests in yonder tree.
The light that shines for all to see,
the peace of Christmas Day.

May you know True Peace this Christmas!
Love, Sue

My Imaginary Friends

I have tons of friends that live only in my head. I met them in books, movies, and on television. Sometimes they are lovely to be with. Sometimes scary. Always entertaining.

Harmless diversions that keep my brain company.

Leprechauns. Trolls. Goblins. The Boogieman. Mummies. Zombies. Witches and wizards. Vampires. Werewolves. Munchkins. Elves. Talking Animals. Fairies...

And dare I say unicorns and dragons too?!

Most of my friends have names: Harry Potter. Edward Cullen. Jo March. Elinor Dashwood. Jack Sparrow. Willy Wonka. Calvin & Hobbs. Patrick Star. Dorothy Gale. Santa Claus. The Tooth Fairy. Stellaluna. Bilbo Baggins. Ariel.

Would it be a sin for me to believe in the true existence of any of these friends? After all, I can picture them. Hear them. I feel as if I know many of them.

How boring life would be without them!

So I ask - is my soul, my very salvation, at risk because I have imaginary friends??

Low Tide

Oops. Forgot to blog in November.

This is the longest I have managed to keep a blog going and I'm really, really tired of starting over (I've done it 3 or 4 times already). So I'll make a little effort. Do I have any readers anymore? Probably not.

Let's see...

At eight-year-old's swim lessons I was reading Parents magazine. Paging through it I was struck by one thought - and it wasn't what a lousy parent I am. No. I was looking more at the ads than the editorial and I kept thinking I don't need any of this stuff. My kids don't need any of this stuff. Nothing. Not one thing in that whole magazine (the December issue) do we actually need.

I struggle with materialism. It is so hard to separate out the waaaaants from the neeeeds. And if I, a reasonably intelligent adult woman, have a hard time keeping my priorities straight, how hard it must be for children.

Financially we are not in very good shape. Just five short years ago we had six months salary in savings. Now we have about half a month. There is plenty of blame to go around. My fault. His fault. The real estate crash. I've got regrets. I've got hard feelings. And there is no relief in sight.

It is to the point that I am in a panic over our finances. Not a good place to be in before Christmas. The "budget" is tight this year. Normally Mr. Bee receives a Christmas bonus but there is none this year.

And it doesn't help that our clothes dryer just died.

The tide is really low...And I'm waiting for my ship to come in.

Initially in mid-October when this situation was growing rapidly worse, I was feeling very pessimistic. I was thinking we weren't going to celebrate Christmas at all. Now I'm looking at Christmas more creatively. I've put up almost ever decoration I own - the house looks festive! I'm brainstorming and surfing the internet for inexpensive gift ideas and I've come up with some winners. Christmas will happen...is happening.

Making lemonade out of those lemons.

Oddly enough what turned my thinking around was remembering Charles Dickens' "Christmas Carol." Scrooge, who was rich and could certainly afford a fancy Christmas, didn't celebrate it. The poor Cratchit family, however, did.

I'd rather be a Cratchit than a Scrooge.

Now to squash the materialism and put together a working budget for '09.