Am I the only person who thinks the period between Christmas and New Year’s Day is freaky? It’s like this weird lull. You have the denoument of Christmas and the anticipation of a fresh start in a new year, the kids are still out of school and you have all the holiday decorations that are now passe–this time sort of hangs there like houseguests who’ve overstayed their welcome. :confused:

Before my husband was self-employed, we used to travel during this time. Now, that was a good use of the freaky period.

Hmmm…I could go for a dose of Baja sand, sun, and surf right now. :cool:

Be forewarned–this is definitely a rant! I am still so angry over a woman’s ignorant attitude today.

Three and a half years ago, my brother in Minnesota had a massive stroke at the age of 48. He was very fortunate that he didn’t suffer any type of paralysis. However, the day I flew out to Minneapolis and walked into his hospital room, he couldn’t speak at all, even though he looked perfectly “normal.”

In three years, he’s come a long way. If he’s not rushed or nervous, he communicates well for the most part. He was telling me last night that it’s so frustrating because he can think things through but he can’t get them out of his mouth. He can read, but it doesn’t always translate immediately for him. So, if you look at him, he’s a good-looking, broad-shouldered guy who is 6′6″ tall and looks as if he could be a lumberjack. And there is absolutely no way he can get himself through an airport alone–especially not Atlanta airport. Just as I did the last time he came home, I got a gate pass and met him at his gate when he flew in last week.

Tonight The Girl and I took him to the airport. I went to the kiosk and got his boarding pass and then The Girl and I went to get our gate passes. He was standing beside me. I said to the woman, “I need a gate pass. My brother’s had a stroke and I need to see him to his plane.” She looked at him, sneered, and said, “Sure he has.” He, obviously embarrassed, just turned and walked away.

How dare she? Let me tell you here and now, it took everything in me not to give in to my inner redneck girl and call her a few choice names. However, I didn’t want to further embarrass him, my daughter was standing there, but the real kicker was she had the power over whether I got a gate pass. I pulled out my previous pass and said, “This is from when he flew in last week. I need a pass to get him to his plane today.” Honestly, I don’t think she would’ve given it to me had I not had the other one.

We got our passes and other than remarking to my brother, “She was a b*&ch,” I let it go because he’s self-conscious enough. BUT, two and a half hours later when he got on that plane, I turned to The Girl and said, “Let’s go have a talk with that lady.” See, I no longer needed her gate pass. The Girl said, “Mom, you’re not going to be rude, are you?” Hmmmm.

She wasn’t there. But, the three people I talked to were all appalled by her ignorant behaviour. She had looked at him and sneered, “Sure he did” when I told her he’d had a stroke. How does she think that made him feel? How would she like to be in the position of having to be escorted onto and off of a freaking plane because she couldn’t get there on her own? How would she like to no longer be capable of doing the job she’d done for thirty years? Tomorrow she’ll enjoy a discussion with her supervisor. I requested specifically that the point be made to her that handicapped people don’t always look different. :plain:

Four and a half hours later and I’m still seething….

Christmas is over! :( I always have mixed feelings about that.

It was great to spend some time with my family. I think this is the first time my brother from Minnesota has been home for Christmas in over twenty years. That was very cool for both him and my mother. He’s visiting with me today and I take him back to the airport tonight.

Then…I’m buried in this book that HAS TO BE done…well, very soon. I’m not nearly as good at rolling out of bed at 3 a.m. or staying up late at night to write as I used to be…but I think I’ll be revisiting that habit very soon…like starting tomorrow. :confused: :crazy:

One of my brother’s is flying in from Minnesota today and The Girl and I are picking him up at the airport and driving down to my mom’s until Christmas Eve. I haven’t seen him in three, or maybe it’s four, years. I’m excited and a little nervous. Family is a weird animal. You can have totally disparate lifestyles as adult, yet you share the common bond of a childhood that is often interpreted very different by both parties. We’ll have a little four-hour drive to get reacquainted. :satisfied: And it’s a bit like being Peter Pan–no matter how old I am, I’m still the little sister.

This morning I read where group sex is no longer illegal in Canada. :confused: Had to copy that arcticle and send it to my Canadian editor who is ALWAYS giving me grief about how we Americans are so unreserved and wild. Uh-huh. :P :O

Hope everyone’s got their shopping done and the next few days aren’t such a mad rush.

Last night I was reading my latest Prevention Magazine at The Girl’s basketball practice and thinking I needed another workout alternative since I was missing kickboxing to take her to practice because my husband had to work late. Anywho…there it was, a workout/fitness article on dancing it off. Hmmm. This has potential because I like to dance…although I’m definitely a case of more enthusiasm than talent. :O The article covered six different dance workouts.

Cardio Salsa. Nope. I’m thinking there’s too much coordinated footwork involved for me. Coordination isn’t my stong suit.

Masala Bhangra. “A challenging cardio workout based on the traditional folk dance of India.” Okay. Challenging cardio workout sounds good to me and it promises sinewy arms and sculpted shoulders. I read on…”Most moves are performed while vigorously shaking the arms at 45-degree angles to the sides of the body and doing multiple, rapid-fire shoulder raises…dancers shout ‘Balle, balle’ while waving a little scarf in each hand.” :P : :laugh: :P :laugh: Uh…I don’t think so…not even in the privacy of my own home!

Vegas Jazz. Nuh-uh. It’s that coordination thing plus I’m supposed to pretend I’m “starring in my own Vegas show.” Yeah. And while I’m in that mentally stretched out state I’m supposed to rehearse short sequences of “jazz staples like high line kicks and ball steps.” I’ve got a lot of imagination, but not even I can envision myself as a Vegas showgirl and while I can handle high line kicks, those ball steps aren’t in my repetoire.

Cardio Capoeira. Based on a form or maritial arts. Untrachallenging sweat session that involves heavy sparring, lots of kicking and spinning…this could work, sounds a lot like kickboxing…and cartwheels. Forget it! I’m genetically incapable of doing a cartwheel–have been since birth and I don’t see that changing.

Belly Dance. Well, this needs no explanation, but it too had its drawbacks. First, it says it was “once performed as a fertility ritual.” That alone is enough to stop me cold. I have The Girl and she’s enough. I don’t want to take any chances! Then there’s the idea of “holding the abs steady while vigourously shaking and rocking the hips.” Uh…exactly how long could you do this without expiring from sheer boredom?

Cardio Striptease. In the words of John Mayer on his live album, “Now we’re talking. Now we’re talking.” It’s touted as “part burlesque, part yoga, and part gymnastics. Hey, it even says “Forget following concise steps.” Since I’m not big on following concise steps, this is a big bonus in my book. But the real clencher was the endorsement from a woman who 8 months ago tried this workout and “became so hooked she installed a pole in her kitchen.” Alrighty. Bet that’s one heck of a conversation piece when she has guests over. :hehe:

Now I’ve got to try it. You know which one I’m going to order. If nothing else, it’ll satisfy my curiousity. And I wonder where she got that pole?

I’m taking a small measure of time– okay, like maybe a minute or so–to mourn Mel Gibson’s status as HOT! Cause he’s NOT any longer. Uh…how did he go from those Lethal Weapon days and kilt-clad hunkdom in Braveheart to a crazy-eyed man with a skunk-beard? :O

Speaking of kilts–guess I’d better get back to this time travel. I believe I’m settinga personal record for slooooooooow on this one. :O

This morning, I overslept which is very unusual for me. Heck, most of the time I’m up obscenely early, so I never both to set an alarm. Anyway, I rolled out of bed with about forty minutes to get myself and The Girl ready, to make and eat breakfast, and to take care of the cats and dogs. I was flying around with my broom in high gear. :rolleyes: The Girl comes upstairs where I’m putting on the last coat of mascara and says, with this big grin, “I saw it on the table, Mommy, and I love it.”

What? I had ordered a bunch of Christmas gifts from B&N and they were sitting on the front porch when we got in last night. I unpacked the box last evening after Girl was in bed asleep. The gift I was most excited about for her was a passcode diary. I knew she’d love it. I knew she’d be so psyched on Christmas Day when she opened it. Anyway, I unpacked it and left it on the kitchen table so I could show her dad when he got home, fully planning to take it upstairs and hide it until I could gift wrap it. He came in late. I was tired. I forgot.

So…I came downstairs to see what it was that she’d seen, saw the diary sitting on the table and promptly burst into tears (yep, with fresh mascara on–not pretty). So…then Girl bursts into tears. I’m crying because I’m an idiot and I’ve ruined her best gift and she’s crying because I’m crying and she’s apologizing for seeing it on the table. In the meantime, my husband (NOT a morning person) is disgusted, “Oh, for god’s sakes, it’s not that big of a deal.” At which point, I forcefully closed the door on his grumbling. (I think he’d say I slammed it, but I’m sticking to my version.)

Hormones + Holidays = Bad Combination :hehe:

This morning I figured out what I need –but I’m not sure if it means I’ve slipped into a state of fantasy or pyschosis. :O I need to check out of my life and into a hotel for the rest of the year. Room service. Maid service. Laundry service. Workout room. I think that about covers it. I like the linens at the Westin and there are decent restaurants nearby, so it’s my first choice. I’ll even come home for Christmas– if we can eat out. :satisfied: