Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

In the year of our Lord 2016 decorating the Christmas tree, for some strange reason, went down a little different than any past year I can recall. My husband was here “helping.” Now I get the song God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman! Just go take a nap already!

Last week some thoughtful male in our home brought the Jenny Craig imitation tree into the living room for me. How nice! Except that it didn’t get covered all year from Last Christmas and was filthy. Upon request, a son of mine dragged it to the backyard for me and I gave it quite the shower…. lights and all. I couldn’t remember if the lights actually worked and I knew we had 27 million strings of lights from our daughter’s wedding in the garage. Her wedding wasn’t IN the garage… that’s where the lights were.

A day later an extension cord was also brought to the backyard to see if the shower killed the lights. Surprisingly, they worked! Joy to the World! Back in the house that skinny tree was dragged.

Decorate-the-O-Christmas-Tree day quickly turned into clean-out-the-garage day, much to my chagrin. It all started at 10 a.m. with the typical where-is-the-box-with-the-decorations search and recover mission. Then the shelves got cleaned out and the toilet paper and paper towels were put on the clean shelves. Then we swept the garage floor. Then the camping equipment got put back on the shelves. Then a ton of junk got thrown out. Then I got a big scrape on my arm that produced blood. Then we swept the garage floor again. Then we threw out the dilapidated camping chairs that served their purpose for 11 strong years. (This is how my kids write stories. Every sentence starts with “then.” It really holds the interest of the readers and keeps the story moving along rapidly.) Then we found the bag of sheep’s wool that we will need to study sheep in January. Then we were all hungry. Then the Popsicle man came at the right moment. Then five kids from the youth group showed up and ate tacos at our kitchen table.

Side note: this was a stay-at-home-and-look-ugly day. I hadn’t even brushed my hair. I did brush my teeth because you can only be so gross on a stay-at-home-and-look-ugly day. I was sporting a red t-shirt, grey bally sweat pants that are floods, fuzzy black slippers and a light blue and pink Peter Rabbit apron covered with ruffles. The Popsicle man is probably used to this sort of housewife-dressing-down-deal. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

It was 7:30 p.m. when Nora, our 13-year-old, could not take the suspense any longer and begged to decorate the tree. Okay, Okay! Don’t get pushy! Let’s get this Blue Christmas rolling!

We weren’t ten minutes into our mission when realization hit me that my husband hasn’t really helped hang ornaments on the tree for YEARS! He was not aware of the ornament rules and was breaking the ornament rules faster than I could instruct him in the ways of righteousness. Little ones on top. Big ones on bottom…. but not the last row of branches. Ugly ones in the back. Elvis ones in the back. (I had to make that two rules so Rick didn’t know I think the Elvis ornaments are ugly. Shhhh.) Expensive ones at eye level and next to lights. Sheesh. How hard is it? It was notably NOT a Silent Night!

Here is the front and center of our tree: (Several rules are broken!)

Then he figured since I had rules, he needed to make some rules. “Don’t linger by the ornament box! Just pull out your ornament and move away from the box!” Sheesh! I’ll admit I rolled my eyeballs toward heaven a few times and thanked God that He gave me All I Want for Christmas in this helpful man.

So, It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas at the Crosby homestead! I pray your decorations went up with glee! May your Christmas be merry and bright at this Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

Don’t You EVER Look at Me?

Through the years, I have uttered these words to my sweet husband more than I can count on all my fingers. Just to name a few memorable moments, once I made it to church and through the service and into the bathroom afterward… only to have a caring woman tell me that the neck lining to my dress at the back was hanging out like a huge tongue. Nice. “Don’t you ever look at me?” was asked of my dear husband.

Then there was the baby spit up on my sweater. Then there was pink eye in both eyes. Then there was the drastic haircut that I got earlier this week that went unnoticed until my sweet Nora asked her daddy, “Do you like mom’s hair?” That translated in my mind to “Don’t you ever look at mom?”

But today, the tables were turned. It was $5 16 oz. day at Yogurtini and my darling husband, Nora and I were basking in the balmy Arizona March evening, when my handsome husband turned to me and used MY LINE, “Don’t you ever look at me?” I chuckled and looked at him… nothing. I had given him a terrible haircut a few weeks back when he asked for a cut at 11:30 p.m…. and I wondered if he went and had it fixed. Nope. I chuckled some more, “That is my line. Why are you saying that?” He just kept looking straight at me with his chin tilted up slightly.

Then I saw it. His soul patch was missing. I have never loved the 1/2″ square of facial hair that he has sported under his lip since 2007 or 2008. But I am not the boss of him. Here I found a picture for proof from his 2009 birthday. (Our photos are sadly missing from 2006 – 2008… don’t ask.)

Right outside Yogurtini, with my mint-colored plastic spoon in my hand, I could not stop laughing. Oh, my baby-face husband had returned without me even noticing. I think I have blocked the little hairy patch for so many years that I trained my mind not to look at his chin. Yeah, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

“It’s been gone since Tuesday,” he reported. It’s Saturday night. Oh boy.

Seems that his employment change brought on a more strict facial hair rule. Thank you State of Arizona. Reason #2,727 that I am glad we moved here 19 years ago.

 

The TP Nazi Rises Again

The TP Nazi topic has come up here before.  Yes, I am the TP Nazi in this house…. and any other house where I am staying long enough for more than one sit down.  But for today, I shall leave alone the topic of which way the paper rolls off the roll.

Today’s topic: empty cardboard rolls and the uncaring, or possibly unaware, people who leave them in their wake.  GAH!  I am pretty sure that I am the only one in our family of SIX who places the new roles on the dispenser in our downstairs Elvis bathroom.  What I am not sure about is how it is always perfectly the right amount of TP for the last person…. makes me wonder…. did they plan it? Did they skimp?  Probably none of my business, I know.

Even in our master bedroom bath, my sweet husband does get a new roll of TP out of the cupboard, but leaves it on the floor right under where it should be placed on the roller.  It’s OKAY!  I’m here.  I got it!  Please don’t go through any extra effort while you’re in there.  Relax. I got your back.  From my childhood, I remember my father calling this the “height of laziness.”  Wise man.

Yesterday, however, I was shopping at a mom and pop used bookstore for about two hours and I needed to visit their facilities. Low an behold… the cardboard roll was waiting for me, making me feel at home in this home away from home.  After digging through their supply closet, I restocked the dispenser and went on my happy way, knowing that I just made life easier for another person and had done my job that I’m called to do here on earth.

Seriously, if I didn’t spend my time as the TP Nazi, there would be empty rolls all over the Valley of the Sun!  If you go into a bathroom in Phoenix and the roll is new and coming over the top, know that I was there before you and thought of you.  :o)  You’re welcome, people.

Dr. Doolittle, I Think Not

Never have I been accused of being an animal lover.  We had a few pets during my childhood in suburbia Northern California, but never a dog and only once for a short time, a cat.  The kitty caused my brother’s eyes to swell shut, so she didn’t stay long at all.  But I did have the joy of picking out Meow Mix back in the day when the Meow Mix song was popular, hence making me popular. I was nine, it didn’t take much.

Fast forward to  my ten-year-old daughter praying every night that God would change her mother’s heart (ME!) so that she could get a dog.  I about coughed up a lung the first time I witnessed her heartfelt petition to the God of the universe.  Anyway, the two-year vigil ended with God changing my heart… and for the past 9.5 years we have had Trixie, the Rat Terrier burrowing into our hearts and lives.

Foolishly I read Dr. Doolittle to my children years ago.  Unmistakably, that was a cockamamie move on my part. Yes, we did do a stint with younger boys who NEEDED tadpoles, then frogs of course, lizards, mice, a hamster named Teddy, chickens, fish, turtles, and a hermit crab named Elvis.  Truly I felt that I did my time.  Of course there were requests for a horse.  Thankfully we live in an HOA that doesn’t allow for horses.

Then Christmas 2011 did me in.  It was December 23rd at 10:15 p.m. and my husband and I were sitting on the blue couch when my cell phone notified me of the arrival of a message.  Who would be texting me that late?  Of course it was a friend who had a friend who had a baby wiener dog FREE for Christmas.  Good grief.  We were sitting ducks.  The next day I called another friend who got a baby wiener dog for Christmas the previous year and DIDN’T keep it!  I gave her all my reasons for not taking the free dog, and she solved each dilemma as it arose…. we would need a crate.  She had one.  We would need a doggy door.  She had one.  And her reason for returning the puppy was because she was never home to train it….. she pointed out that we are ALWAYS home.  We homeschool.  We don’t leave the premises unless it is for church or a library trip.  So we got sucked into Ringo the wiener dog who has been snuggling with us for over a year now.

I still cannot believe I have two dogs.  Linda Ann Crosby… NOT a dog person, has two dogs, and probably will have two dogs for another five to seven years.  Unbelievable!  I can hardly believe I am writing a blog about dogs.  I am not a dog person.  Didn’t I already say that?

So the moral of the story is DON’T READ DR. DOOLITTLE to your kids if you truly want to do little.  BAM!

Happy Bday to my Hunka Hunka

Yes, not only is February the month of looooove, but it is also the month of my Hunka Hunka Burning Love’s birthday!  Happy Birthday to Rickey, my sweet husband who is absolutely more than I could have ever hoped for in a best friend, husband and father.

We recently discovered Flying Wild Alaska on Netflix.  Basically it is a reality show about his first flying job… just the names have been changed.  We have watched it for a couple nights in a row now, with several episodes still calling our names.  Rickey is (I was about to say “having a sleep over”) overnighting away from home tonight which is extremely rare for him in his current pilot job.  So we won’t be watching FWA tonight.  Anyway, the show brought back MULTIPLE memories of our time spent in the North when he was flying for Little Red Air Service.  Seriously, the flight crew that spent the same three years up in Fort Vermilion would have at least two seasons of episodes simply from the stories I know about.  And as all good pilot’s wives know, there are many stories that we are glad we still don’t know about.

Those were exhilarating years we spent up in the freezing tundra, but I must say that our last 16 years in the desert have been my favorite!  We have traveled more, laughed more, forgiven more, cried more, spent more, prayed more and have definitely loved more in the last 16 years.  Thanks, Rickey, for making my life so thrilling by living out the calling on your life to be a man of integrity and passion.  I love you!  XOXO

HELLO! and come in for some hot cocoa!

Many disturbances in the force have contributed to my blogging absence… including, but not limited to, Christmas, my sister and her family visiting from Washington, Christmas Eve service, an Elvis Dinner Theater double date, Jesus’ Birthday party, cookie decorating, shopping, wrapping, Chelsea (Larisa’s friend) visiting for a week, and an Amazon gift wrapping experience that made me appreciate my life. (That warranted a blog all by itself!) Oh, and I almost forgot the most important reason I have not been on MSJ…. my laptop got a virus and wouldn’t let me get online.  It’s all better now, thanks to Howard.

Many Christmas blessings transpired which I have been eager to share.  #1 (and most important) I got a text from my friend Jill on Dec. 22nd near midnight that read “A friend has two free baby wiener dogs. Did you get Larisa a gift yet?”  That was it.  I was ruined.  Have you seen dachshund puppies?  They are irresistible… even if you have sworn by the Virgin Mother and the baby Jesus child that you will never go through puppy-raising a second time in your entire life.  My 18-year-old daughter has wanted a wiener dog for years.  She has a dog.  But she wanted a wiener dog.  I’ve said NO for years.  She has taped pictures of wiener dogs on my bedroom door.  She has posted wiener dog pictures on my facebook page.  She even doggy-sits wiener dogs… and brings them over to show me how adorable they are.  I finally broke down and told her I would buy a wiener dog for her as a wedding gift.  (She doesn’t even have a love interest at the moment… and as I said previously, she’s only 18.)  I thought it was a great compromise.  Then came the text.  I didn’t say anything, I simply showed the text to my husband.  We both raised our eyebrows and shook our heads.  We were thinking the same thing….. FREE…. and our little Colombian princess would love to have a puppy to play with.  It could be a doggy for both of our girls to share.  Then when Larisa goes to college, Nora is still here to clean up the back yard of doggy doodoo.  Perfect.

I called another friend who received a baby wiener dog for Christmas last year…. and didn’t keep it.  I wanted to know why.  Her answer didn’t help me.  She didn’t have time to train him.  Well, I’m home all the time… with nothing to do.  Perfect.  I started to list off all the things we would need to purchase for the puppy…. doggy door, crate, gate, etc.  She piped in with a FREE doggy door and crate.  Perfect.

Christmas Eve at approximately 11:59 and 1/2 Rick gave his blessing for the acquisition of the baby wiener dog.  Oh, were our girls going to be thrilled.  A few glitches have occurred.  It took us so long to decide, the puppy missed ride #1 from California to Phoenix.  Ride #2 is on Jan. 3rd.  At least that gives us a week before we start school again!  Here are the girls when they heard the new puppy news:

Shocked and amazed.  It was priceless.  We only have a few blurry pictures from which to choose a new family pet… and they are from a cell phone.  We don’t have a name chosen yet, and Larisa is leaning toward the bigger brown puppy not the smaller black puppy.  I’ll keep you posted and hopefully get some blog-worthy photos.

I’ll save #2 and #3 Christmas blessings for other blogs.  Needless to say… not much else could beat a Christmas puppy… and it isn’t even home yet.  (I’m seeing this as my ticket to new carpet… in a year!)

When the Cat’s Away…

Rick is in Houston at Flight Safety.  Never in his 9 years of flying for the state has he been this excited about flying the simulator in Texas.  His plane has been grounded since February and he’s been sitting in a cube in the aeronautics department.  I don’t think there could’ve been a greater shock to his system.  From the clear blue skies of AZ… lunch at a different Mexican restaurant around the state every day…. “safety” naps EVERY day…. to sitting in a cubicle doing data entry.  Boy, howdy, does he miss flying.  Rumor has it that flying might resume in the summer.  We’re thankful he still has a job, but this is tremendously cramping his style.

That’s not what I’m writing about, however.  Rick goes to Flight Safety twice a year, giving us the opportunity here at the home front to get down to taking care of business in a flash.  That was Elvis’ motto, if ya didn’t know…. TCB!  Here’s the tail of Elvis’ plane, the Lisa Marie, to show you….

Usually we rid his closet of nerdy, stained, out-of-date and unacceptable clothing items.  We have also emptied the garage of his nerdy, stained, out-of-date and unacceptable items during Flight Safety.  Once we did a room makeover and made the Elvis bathroom.  Rick’s been gone since Tuesday morning and we still haven’t figured out what to do…. leaving not much time… about 28 hours.  But OH!  You should see what we can do with 28 hours!  We’re simply lacking in the idea department. 

Here are the only glimpses of brilliance that came to mind, but they are not ingenious enough to prompt action:  sell his VHS movie collection on eBay, or sell his floor clean equipment that he bought and never used and is taking up 1/5 of the garage where my van should be parked out of the sun in Phoenix, Arizona, …..  see, nothing inspiring.  I also thought of rearranging the living room furniture, but there aren’t a lot of options with the shape of the room.  So, if you have ANY ideas, send them quickly.  The minutes are ticking away.

HOLLYWOOD

As Mr. Bang-His-Head and Coach Rick crashed in the hotel room in Anaheim after the 7 a.m. game, Larisa, Keeve and I ventured off to Hollywood.   We have never been there despite our many trips to L.A.  Can I just say that if you’re looking for weirdos….. they’re in Hollywood… particularly at Starbucks on Hollywood Blvd. just East of the Chinese Theater.  WEIR-DO!  Oh, my goodness.  I didn’t bother telling the kids to stop staring with their mouths gaping open because I was busy staring with my mouth gaping open.  Our favorite, hands down, was a little shriveled up man with long dyed-black hair looking rather spookily like Howard Stern in his 90s.  He had a little too much black eye liner on… and he accidentally used the black eyeliner on his lips too.  But I could tell he had realized his mistake because he tried to correct it with shiny silver eyeliner outlining his black lips.  Remarkably creepy.

Anyway, we were the typical tourists walking slowly down the street of the stars and reading all the names aloud, whether we knew them or not.  I just made it sound like I was excited to find each and every one.  Larisa finally figured out that I didn’t know who half the people were.  The only star we were in pursuit of was Elvis, for Rick of course.  Well, they have moved Elvis’ star three times and we finally asked enough people and were pointed in the same general direction about four times when we came upon the king of rock n roll’s star.  It’s by itself and the Beatles’ star in a large median, so as not to get too many people stopping up traffic in front of the junk souvenir shops.

We got sucked into a souvenir shop and bought the $7 map showing the homes of the stars.  So off we drove to see if we could find any famous people’s houses.  The one that I got most excited about was the Brady Bunch house.  So cool.  Just like the show!  Except it’s orange now, not olive green anymore.  The ordinary people who live in it must be sick of people like us in minivans holding the $7 map and taking pictures of their home because their house number was nowhere to be seen.  Larisa said, “I can’t tell which house it is because there’s no number on this one!”  I didn’t need a house number.  I grew up watching that house.

Keeve asked if we could see Ben Stiller’s house, so off Hollywood Blvd. we drove to Ben’s place.  Well after Larisa has successfully navigated me up these winding, narrow, falling-apart roads we find the house number and Larisa says, “Oh, …..this is Drew Barrymore’s house.”  So we enjoyed her amazing view for a few moments before finding the correct house for Keeve.  And keeping up with our tradition of saving one famous line for posterity from each of our family vacations, the rest of the trip we kept saying, “Oh, this is Drew Barrymore’s house,” when we pulled into Taco Bell, Huntington Beach, Free Chapel, Chevron, our hotel, etc.

A Little Dessert, Please

Rick and I were asked to share at a couple’s night at our church several years ago.  The topic chosen was “Differences” and how we’ve melded them together to stay happily married.  When we first met and shared our life’s history with each other, it seemed as though the differences were few and the similarities many.  The longer we’ve been married the opposite has shown to be true. Back and forth Rick and I planned to banter about the differences between us… smooth peanut butter vs. crunchy, Rock music vs. easy listening, Ranch Doritos vs. Plain Doritos, Elvis’ Christmas tunes vs. all the other Christmas music in the universe, …. you get the picture. 

Before we began, the pastor told everyone that they had 3 minutes to get some dessert and then the Crosbys would begin speaking.  To my surprise, Rick got up and went and picked out a delicious piece of chocolate cream pie with whipped cream a mile high.  He came back to the front of the sanctuary and I asked him, “When do you plan to eat that?  It’s time for us to start.”  “Oh, yeah,” he realized and placed the pie on a seat.  Right then, the pastor came back up to introduce us, so being courteous, Rick sat down….. ON the chocolate cream pie with whipped cream a mile high.  Of course, he was sporting black jeans, so every little drip of creamy goodness showed up real well on his black back side.  As the pastor said, ”  blah blah blah…. Rick and Linda Crosby” Rick went to the mic with the pie still hanging in from his Levi’s.  He announced, “There will be just a few minute delay here while my wife wipes my bum.”  And I did… in front of everyone… being the compassionate (laundry doing) wife that I am.  The more I got off his pants right then, the less I had to get out later!

I’m not sure what the moral is of that story.  But here are a few off the top of my head (like everything else on the blog!):

Never cry over squashed pie.

It all comes out in the wash.

Pie comes before the fall.

When all else fails, pie, pie again.

Chocolate pie is always my friend.

A little chocolate pie never hurt anyone.

Anyone else quick with the one liners today?  Feel free to share.

Good Morning, Monday!

Yes, we survived gig #1 with Elvis and the newlywed game.  Rick was hilarious as Elvis, as those who know and love him can well imagine.  He forgot the words to one of the verses of Teddy Bear so he turned backwards and held up his cape…. for effect, I guess.  Then he started talking like Elvis, of course, to fill in the gap.  I don’t remember it all because I was laughing so hard, but I remember something like “If you are here with your main squeeze, take her hand right now and sing with me”…….. but he wasn’t singing.  We also forgot the tape for his sideburns, so they were flapping in the wind.

They boys won 2 of their 3 hockey games this weekend..Aus scored three goals… makes a mother proud.  I think I can see the light at the end of the tunnel for this season.

We accidentally left Rick’s car at the church yesterday in all of the commotion that went on.  It’s a half an hour drive.  Bummer dude.  So I hitched a ride with one of our pastors early this morning and retrieved Rick’s car for him. 

So, the week is starting…. on your marks.  Get set.  GO!