Christmas PJ's

I know, I really don't need to say anything more!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

Percocet Christmas

All I want for Christmas is a percocet, a percocet. All I want for Christmas is a ... no, it works, you just have to be sure to hit the syllables with the notes!

Scott and I are awesome parents, as an early Christmas present we gave Emily a wisdom tooth extraction! I know, you wish we were your parents. Well, if she could possibly take a few days off from school we wouldn't have had to do this at Christmas break. But, getting congress to agree would be easier than getting Emily to miss a day of school, and we didn't just finish a bunch of orthodontic work to have it messed up with those pesky wisdom teeth pushing their way in.

It turns out that my daughter is pretty fun stoned! She doesn't remember anything, but her Dad, the doctor, and the nurse thought she was pretty funny. It also turns out that anesthesia gives her the hiccups.

So, chipmunk cheeks is now resting in the recliner, with a liquid diet and a bunch of pain medications. Actually, Scott and I are feeling pretty guilty, she is in a lot of pain and misery. They say the third day is the worst, I think that works out to be Christmas, so while our timing may not be very good our intentions were the best. So here's to a heavily medicated Christmas.

It's Not My Fault

I've been thinking a lot about my weird, wry, sarcastic sense of humor lately. Maybe it's because my daughter has started catching on to some of my comments or the three new people at work keep making statements like "I can't believe you just said that." Anyway, I was wondering why I have this particular personality trait, then I thought of a favorite story of my sister Nancy's from her childhood.

My family had been pushing cows all day in the Dominguez Canyon on the Uncompaghre. The trail to get out of the canyon is pretty treacherous and was terrifying to Nancy. It's a steep cliff and as they were getting ready to start up, Nancy (ever the worrier) asked my Dad what would happen if the horse stumbled and she fell. My Dad look at her and said, "We'll sell that horse, right after your funeral."

See...it's not my fault!

Never Been Kissed

This morning on the way to school, a favorite Chris Ledoux song came on the radio, "County Fair". I really like this song, it has a catchy tune and I was happily singing along. I got to the line "there's nothing I know of, can make you fall in love, like a night at the county fair". In a moment of poor judgement I grinned at my son and said, " do you know how many times I fell in love at the county fair?". My son looked at me with all the innocence of a boy who is completely sure his mother has only kissed his father and said, "do you mean with the rides?". Mmmm...yeah, the rides.

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

This is a public service announcement for all my relatives, friends and most especially my nieces and nephews on Facebook. I think that you all need to be aware that my mother (the seventy year plus old woman) is a Facebook snoop.

I know what you thought, that like so many of your friends on Facebook, she logged in one day on a whim, created a profile, and moved on after friending you. Well, that is where you would be mistaken. You see, she used to get on with her laptop a couple times a week, but then in August she bought herself an iPad. There is no going back. The old woman is on Facebook all the time, she snoops around on your pictures, your comments, and even your friends. She knows how to wiggle around to look at everyone else's profiles too, but she doesn't make any comments, she won't like your status, and she never shares anything either.

So this is just to let you know, before you post that picture of your new tattoo, make off color remarks, or change your status...Harriet is watching.

P.S. The woman also reads blogs, and this will tick her off, so I will post this and go get my phone. Expecting a call in T- 5, 4, 3...

Snobs

My family is a bunch of snobs. Not the " I couldn't possibly be caught at Walmart" type snobs. No, because my family is pretty nerdy, we are office supply snobs. One of the most dangerous places for the Dederick family and their checkbook to go to is the office supply store. It's been building for years, but here is a summary. I'll go oldest to youngest:

Scott-a paper snob. Scott has a super nice laser printer, and he only likes 32# or better paper. Usually it needs to be Hammermill or HP, but the 24# will never cut it.

Allison-well, I'll admit I love all office supplies. But I'm a snob when it comes to file folders. I really don't like manila colored file folders. I like the pretty ones that only come 3 or 6 in a pack. I know that once they go in the file you can't see them, but I don't care. I also really like the designer binder clips, and any funky jump drives I can find.

Emily-a messenger style book bag snob. Emily packs (seriously) about 40lbs of books everyday. As a result she used to go through book bags like crazy. Now however we spend big bucks (and time) combing through the attaché, briefcase, messenger bag section of our local office supply stores. They have to be roomy enough and have the right closure, not to mention the strap has to be just right...yeah, snobby.

And Erik-(the reason I realized we were snobs the other day), who is a mechanical pencil snob. I stood in the office supply store on Friday night with glazed eyes as my son explained the various virtues of a 0.7mm lead over a 0.5mm lead. Although discovering the new 0.9mm pencil was exciting and he did want to purchase one package of these, but insisted on the standard 0.7mm package also, just to be on the safe side.

I know...we are nerds, but at least we are snobs in our nerdi-ness!

When I Die

I have a lot of dead relatives. In some ways it's probably good, how else would you find chairs for everyone at Thanksgiving? But, in some ways, bad because there are a some of those relatives I wouldn't mind seeing again. Well, in case you are new to my ramblings, one of the many things my gene pool is famous for is telling stories. Of course the stories get much better with time!

Anyway, we love to tell stories about our family, both the living and the dead. But, I have noticed that many times when we talk about some of the dear departed we tend to overlook a lot of their faults. Oh I know the whole "don't speak evil of the dead" thing, but the reality is that the those that are on the other side of the veil, had just as many foibles, shortcomings, and times when they dropped their basket as the rest of us.

My Dad was awesome, he is still awesome, but the truth of the matter was that he littered (copiously), he transported illegal fireworks across state lines, and he had been known to shoot deer without a license. And one time, I even saw him cut down a tree and it fell right on on his open pickup door. So despite what my Mother and sisters claim, he wasn't perfect.

My sister Ellen suffered for so many years with her chronic illness, but I'm pretty sure none of us can say she did it without a complaint. My Grandparents accomplished so much, but they had a few glitches too. Even my dear venerated ancestors that crossed the plains, I am sure, had a few faults. After all they didn't leave Nauvoo because they thought it would be a great adventure to journey in the wild west, they left because they were thrown out by the mobs.

I think at times we do ourselves and our children a dis-service when we make folk heroes out of their progenitors. After some of the stories I was told as a child there was no way, I knew, that I was ever going to measure up. Ten feet tall and bullet proof is a great story but the reality is that most of those people were just that, people. They would probably be extremely embarrassed about the way we have built them up. My ancestors struggled across the plains because they had no choice. My Grandparents achieved because they worked hard, and they all had serious setbacks both personally and financially. My sister struggled with her disease, when she would rather have led a quiet life. And, finally, I think my Dad would be disgusted with some of the ways we remember him. We are all human, put on this earth to do the best we can. I hope my children remember both my struggles and achievements at the end of my life, the times I achieved and I failed. Those are the stories from all of us that truly inspire.