Posting here.

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I have stuff under the tree...for me. I want to poke and prod. Shake and feel. But..T's gotten smart since last year..when I felt, shook, sniffed my way into guessing every gift. So, he's boobie-trapped the presents. Being a police officer trained in the art of boobie-trapping things which aren't suppose to be touched, he's done such a good job..I can't figure out what he did. "Touch any of them..and I'll know. If you touch any one of them, I'll return them all to the store." Harsh much? . I've looked and stared..and I can't figure out what he's done. It's not the the gifts themselves. I've become an expert at placing them back where they were before I messed with them. He probably did nothing. LOL. But..I can't risk all my presents being returned to the store. Yeah..he would too..the bastard! .

Nutcrackers. I them. I collect them. T's afraid, very afraid. What man wouldn't be in a house full of things that crack nuts. . I buy several each year. I have so many, I have to bring polaroids of those I have so that I don't get one I've already got. I have maybe...200, perhaps a few over. I love one of a kinds. Those are the ones I search for. eBay or specialty stores are a great place to shop. I've spotted the "3 Kings Nutcracker" set. VERY pretty...and VERY expensive. I'll have to wait until after Christmas. .

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What I want..and am getting for Christmas:

City pink boots. Yes...these will be mine.

Yes, it's what it looks like. A pink poodle purse. Why? Because I came, I saw and I wanted. 

'Holiday Hunt'. Part of the holiday Breyer Collection. I have every one except him.

A few days ago, a woman, Barbara, whom  I frequently hang around/play-date/shop with told me a few humorous things her sons have said recently.

Her eldest, Keith, is 9. Last week, she was at the bus stop waiting for her youngest son to be dropped off. Keith waited there with her, as he did nearly everyday. For those ten minutes the two usually spend the time chatting about school and such. Anyway, Keith was schedualed for a doctor's appointment the following day and was curious to find whether he'd need a shot. Barbara told him it was just a physical. No shots. Here is where it gets interesting.

"Mommy, how much do you weigh?"

"It's not polite to ask a lady how much she weighs, Keith."

For several minutes, the subject was dropped. Then suddenly...

"Mommy, why am I so skinny?"

"Because both your father and I are thin."

"Mommy, you're not that thin."

ZINGAR!

Now, it was her youngest's turn. Kevin, an adorible 7 year old. A few days ago..again, waiting for the bus, this time to be picked up.

"Mommy, how old are cars?"

"About 100 years old."

"That makes you really, really old then."

"How does that make me old?"

"Because you were born before cars."

*Laughs* Out of the mouth of babes, huh?

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Christmas. I love Christmas. It's my "PERFECT" excuse to spend a rediculous amount of money on people I rarely see. The time of year where I can spoil my children and no one can say shit about it. HA!

I have a huge family. Lots of gifts to buy. Which means...Christmas shopping begins in January of the previous year. I find it's a lot less hectic to shop year round..instead of squeezing in the gift-buying in two months. In which case, you'd probably forget someone. Now, whith a million gifts to wrap, you'd imagine I'm wrapping for days on end. Nope. I hire one of those professional gift-wrapper people. Her name is Susan. She comes twice a week until Christmas..usually on Tuesdays and Thursdays and wraps a few gifts at a time. All professional like..and really pretty. It's expensive, but worth it. Mind you, she doesn't wrap the kid's gifts...since I'm paying $5-$10 per package, depending on the materials used, and they're only gonna tear it open anyway.

Anyhoo, that's my family. Then there is T's. He also has a huge family. But, being the typical man, he waits until the very last minute. It's rather humorous to watch him rushing around, getting flustered, falling into an exhausted heap on his chair after a day of shopping. Yes...I laugh at him. Point..and laugh.

I've decked my house. Christmas tree is up, lights, decorations...yadda yadda. Good times.

I love Christmas.

Enough of that. T-day was alright. I ate some bad cooking. Passed out from probable food poisoning. Drank a liter of Pepto-bismol. All was good afterwards.

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For many years now I've pondered the idea of writing a book. Those who know me online have suggested I write a book pertaining to my RPing character. I've played with that notion for a time, even started it...but, as years passed...simply, I grew bored. I've attempted many stories over the last decade...I've gotten far in several, but, as usual, the more I wrote, the less interested I became in the topic. I have a file cabinet nearly full of failed novels, poems, and the like...all probably won't see the light of day nevermind a publisher.

A few nights ago, T and I had one of those "sitting in front of the tube" lazy evenings. Where we watch whatever happens to be on TV and chatter. The issue came up. I want to be published. T says I have talent enough. I think so too...not to inflate my own balloon, mind you. During our discussion I came to realize that the topic I've seemingly wasted all those years on, horror, was best kept to my DVD collection. Granted my sick and twisted mind can pop out a gut wrenching story or two...but, perhaps I wasn't meant to make readers vomit.

There are thousands of great horror authors out there and since I was a littlin', I've wanted to be in the same class as them. Now, I'd rather not. I got to thinking in what really interests me. Interests me enough to read and write about. Perhaps interesting enough for others to want to read. Using myself as an example, I recalled each time I'd browse the book section. What was it I'd pick up? Horror books? Not a-one. I'd skim titles, perhaps, but that was all.

Maybe it's age, children, a life full of responsiblities that's steered me away from my teen attractions. I don't know. In any event, I've found what captures my attention now is the lives of others like me or not even close. You know what I'm talking about. Biographies. Real life stories. So, yes...I want to write my own biography, sort of.

My life isn't filled with drugs, sex or wild parties. It isn't stuffed with one tragedy after the next. It's adverage, at best. On the same hand, there are experiences in my life that others may relate to or out of curiosity, wish to know about. For example, my eldest son, Jeremy. I could dedicate a chapter to him alone.

In the past 30 years I've personally delt (or am dealing) with an eating disorder, family issues (like everyone else in the world), physical abuse, raising a disabled child, suicide, relationships both good and bad, depression...to name a few. For the two or more years I've been posting blogs, I think I've touched base on each of these subjects. I'm not looking to be on the best sellers list. But, in sharing my life, maybe I could pluck a few strings of another person. Maybe, in reading my story, they'd nod and say "Yeah, I been there." 

I haven't decided yet. I'll see, I suppose. I have a goal though. One I set nearly 10 years ago. I'll be published by the time I'm 35.

*shrug*

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