Wednesday, December 28, 2011
The scale was not kind to me this morning. I managed to gain 5 pounds in the last 3 weeks!
Do you remember a TV ad (I think for a gym membership or some kind of weight loss program) years ago showing a man stepping on his doctor's scale while the nurse kept pushing the weight farther to the right to get it to balance? Everytime she pushed it he said, "fruitcake, fruitcake, fruitcake". Mine would say, "candy, candy, candy". Made 7 batches of homemade candy between Thanksgiving & Christmas (some were for the neighbors), but I ate more than my share!
Starting today I will get back on my treadmill (have been lacking in exercise too), watch my caloric intake, keep up with my nutrition tracker & get rid of the few pieces of candy left.
This morning I joined the January Jumpstart Workout Challenge which starts this Sunday ( 1/1/12). It sounds hard, but I intend to do my very best on the exercises & finish the entire challenge. Anyone else with me on this?
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Santa Claus Is Coming to Town (this was on www.guideposts.com)
A little boy who didn’t believe in Christmas? I had to do something...
By Gerry Steinbock Parmet, Prescott, Arizona
"Baking Christmas cookies!” “Our big tree!” “My favorite part of Christmas is the presents!” My first-graders and I were discussing what we liked most about the holidays. “How about you, Bradley?” I asked. He hadn’t said a word. Bradley just shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t believe in Santa Claus and I don’t believe in Christmas.”
The room went quiet. I didn’t know what to say. I’d never heard anything so sad. And I’d only made it worse by putting him on the spot.
While the children packed up their desks for Christmas break, Bradley’s comment hung in my mind.
What would make a little boy give up on Christmas? I knew Bradley lived in a rough part of town. His single mother worked to try to make ends meet. As the “man of the house” Bradley had to take on many adult responsibilities, including caring for his younger brother. He often seemed tired—too tired for a first-grader. Somewhere along the way Bradley stopped believing that Christmas was for boys like him.
I sent the children home to get on with their celebrations and watched Bradley leave the room. Lord, won’t you do something special for his Christmas this year?
The next day I still couldn’t get Bradley off my mind. I phoned my friend Lucille, who was president of the PTA. If there was anyone who’d understand, it was her.
“We can’t fix everything,” Lucille said. “But we can do something.”
Even for a little boy like Bradley? I wondered. He stayed in my prayers the rest of the break.
School resumed the Monday after New Year’s. One by one, I asked the kids about their Christmas. I skipped Bradley. Why add insult to injury?
“You skipped me!” he shouted.
“Well, I know you don’t believe in Christmas,” I said.
“Now I do!” he said. “We came home after grocery shopping and found a huge wreath on our door. I thought we were at the wrong apartment, but it was my door. And when I opened it, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Santa had been there! He put up a tree that touched the ceiling. With presents!” Bradley jumped up and spread his arms wide: “He left a card that said Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. And he signed his name.” The kids cheered.
At the end of the school day, I ran into Lucille in the hallway. “Bradley had quite an exciting Christmas. I thought you might have had something to do with it.”
“What makes you think it wasn’t Santa himself?” she asked.
“I have a feeling it was an angel.”
Lucille grinned. She and the PTA had turned Bradley’s modest apartment into a Christmas wonderland. Bradley saw that the magic of Christmas belongs to every child, thanks to that child who was born in a manger, bringing hope to the whole world.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid.
I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.
For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.
I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church.
I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."
The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it.
Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.
Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were -- ridiculous. Santa was alive and well and we were on his team.
I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.
May you always have LOVE to share,
HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care...
And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Christmas is a season,
For gifts of every kind;
All the glittering, pretty things
That Christmas shoppers find;
Baubles, beads, and bangles
Of silver and gold.
Anything and everything
That can be bought or sold,
Is given at this season
To place beneath the tree;
For Christmas is a special time
For giving lavishly.
But there's one rare and priceless gift
That can't be sold or bought,
It's something poor or rich can give
For it's a loving thought.
And loving thoughts are something
For which no one can pay,
And only loving hearts can give
This priceless gift away.
Written By: Author Unknown
Wishing You and Your Loved Ones a Merry Christmas full of Loving Thoughts...
Saturday, December 03, 2011
Right about now some of you are saying, "I wasn't even born then!" Oh well, bear with me. On that particular day (12/03/1960)I was standing next to the love of my life (high school sweetheart) & repeating marriage vows. He was in the Army and only had a 3 day pass. Neither of us wanted a large wedding so we got married in my folks living room with family present.
I never thought I could love him any more than on that day, but I love him more today after all these years! He adores me & I hope we have many more years together, but at our age and health I consider every day that we have together a blessing!!
If I can figure out how to get our wedding picture (I scanned) here, I will post later. If you check my photos here now, you will see some of last years 50th & the cake. I took the top of the cake out of the freezer this morning & we each ate a small piece.
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