Bigger is Better and Better is Bigger

First, name the song that line is from. Come on, I know you can do it.

Second, it depends. For example, bigger scoops of ice cream, better. Better beds, bigger. Bigger shoes, worse. Seriously, have you seen the mini-baby Sperry’s? I almost died when I saw them because they were so cute. Big Sperry’s? Eh, kind of dumb looking.

Today I watched someone (who will remain nameless for their protection) buy the largest jar of peanut butter I have ever seen.  Because we all know, when we’re hungry for PB & J, we’re stinkin’ HUNGRY for PB & J. So hungry that we need a can the size of Montana to satisfy that intense craving for the creaminess of smashed up peanuts melded with chemicals. Clearly, we all know that. Also, why buy those tiny little jars that are only big enough for a knife or spoon to fit into the top? I’ll definitely buy one big enough for MY HEAD to fit into. That way I can skip the middle man and just dive right in. That’s the way to go.

If this were Nutella (AKA nectar of the gods) we were talking about, I might understand it a little better. But it’s not. It’s peanut butter. Regardless of its many uses, there is never ever ever ever ever a need to get a can of peanut butter that could hold its own gravitational pull and maybe even a moon or two. That is just slightly excessive.

Now, I do realize that my mom . . .  stink. I wasn’t going to tell you who it was . . . anyway, she had a good reason for buying such a ginormous jar of peanut butter. It was supposed to be a funny gift, but I still couldn’t help wondering what the cashier thought of us as we checked out. Do they live on peanut butter?? This is like a life-time guarantee. You are guaranteed never to need to buy any more peanut butter. EVER. This family is weeeird. He was just jealous of our outrageously sized jar of goodness.

So, all I’m getting at is . . . please don’t buy huge jars of peanut butter while I’m around. It really gets to me. Thanks.

m®

Gifted at Giving

It is better to give than to receive. It's the honest truth. As much fun as it is to open gifts, it's just as much fun to give gifts, especially during the Christmas season. I just have one problem.

I'm a terrible gift-giver.

That is the honest truth. Whenever a birthday comes around, or I go out shopping for Christmas presents, I have a mini seizure as I rack my brain to figure out what in the fat world I'm going to buy for someone. I always go in with that mentality of 'I'll just look around till I find something perfect'. I might as well say, "I'll just wander around aimlessly for a few hours until my feet hurt and my eyes are sore from reading price tags and I get even more convinced that I'm a terrible person because I don't see anything that's just perfect, except for all those things that I want to buy for myself which I can't do."
You can only make so many trips around Wal-mart before the other customers start staring at you in bewilderment. Yes everybody, I know I've passed this aisle 14x . . . I keep hoping it will magically turn into a different aisle full of wonderful gifts right in front of my eyes! Yes, yes, I did notice that it's the Tupperware aisle. You never know what kind of things can happen around airtight containers. You really just never know . . .  

Some people have the knack of gift-giving. I've had several relatives that always got me something surprising, but wonderful. I'm envious of them. I would steal their abilities if I could. I think good gift-giving could technically be considered a superpower, but that's just me. Now that you all know how bad I am at picking out gifts, I'm going to delve into what I think are the three main categories of gifts. This is ... probably useless. However, I feel it my duty to tell you.

Category 1: Useful gifts
These are the gifts that we can always use. It's when you see a need or hear a request and you fill it by giving a gift. Very nice and thoughtful, but at the same time, it's something the person would probably have bought in the future anyway. Not that that's bad. It does save them money and time and they know you were observant when thinking of a gift. This a gift that gives back in the long-term.

Category 2: Funny gifts/Inside jokes gifts
These are the gifts that you will never ever use, but make you laugh anyway. They are good for very close friends (in addition to a real gift is best) and provide much merriment at the moment they are opened. These gifts are not usually long-term, but sometimes the joy of opening such a gift is enough to make it worthwhile.

Category 3: Perfect gifts
These are the gifts that you might never have thought of getting for yourself, but once you see it you know that you are going to love it. LOVE it. They are surprising and usually insightful. In case you didn't guess, I have never been able to give this kind of a gift. But I have received a perfect gift or two. And it's the best. This goes back to the superpower thing.

I'm still struggling to buy the last few gifts for people on my Christmas list, but I just keep on hoping that someday, somehow, when I least expect it . . . I'll find that perfect gift for someone.

Until then, I'll just keep wandering around the Tupperware aisle. 

m(r)

The Graveyard of My Self-Confidence

Whenever I see a bunch of pictures of myself, I always cringe and think, do I really look like that? And we all know that the evil invention of facebook made this problem so much worse, because, well, everyone and their mother can now look at all these pictures. I cringe some more. Then, after the initial cringing is over, there are three possible attitudes that follow. 

Number 1: Denial. I pretend that those were just bad pictures. This is ludicrous, because you would think that out of 30 pictures at least a few would be good. But no. They must all be bad, because I clearly do not look like that. Then I look back at several good pictures of myself to reinforce this. 

Number 2: Acceptance. I say to myself, That's just how it is. I decide to accept that, although I didn't realize it, I look worse than I thought. Then I move on and don't think about it anymore. Because I still have friends who think I'm normal and plus, I have schoolwork and work and many other activities to keep me busy other than worrying about how I look. 

Number 3: Small emotional breakdown. This is where all my self-doubts pop out of thin air and begin pestering me about those pictures. My soul becomes a graveyard for self-confidence. It dies. I feel as though everyone is watching me. I want to wear a huge coat that covers from my chin to the bottom of my toes - except that I would not hide my shoes, because I always think my shoes look nice. Then I furiously grab my planner, write in unhealthy expectations like exercising every night (ha!), look in my email and find all those spam-like emails from some magazine that tells me all about how to eat right over the holidays and read them as if my life depends upon it.  

Then, after several days, I eventually forget all about those pictures, except for the random Exercise! written in my planner. I stare, puzzled, at that entry, wondering why I wrote it in there. Then the moral dilemma overtakes my soul about whether or not I should exercise . . . but let's not get into that.

For the sake of my mental, emotional, and physical health, I think I'll just refrain from looking at pictures of myself from now on. Good? Good. 

m(r)

All I Want for Christmas

Classes are over and the only obstacles looming in the distance are my 6 final exams next week (5 of which are cumulative). I'm tired just thinking about them. I am, in fact, lying in my bed right now thinking about how tired I am. But I have to use the restroom and they are being cleaned at the moment, so I have to wait 10 more minutes before I can even think about going to bed. You probably didn't care to know that, but I'm too tired to go back and erase it. So there it shall stay. So, other than the obvious answer of SLEEP, I'm about to tell you what has me excited about Christmas break. 

1. I get to see my family

I miss them a lot. I'm excited to make a big breakfast with my dad, play Scrabble with my mom, and mess with my little brothers and sisters. I'm ready to be able to help my family out and be there for them and let them be there for me. I want my family. 

2. My house

I haven't been inside my house since January 9th of 2010. That's a stinkin' long time. Much too long. I'm ready to rush into that house like George Bailey, yelling at the top of my lungs about how much I love it. I might even kiss the stair rails. You never know. And seriously, my bed has been missing me somethin' turrible. It called last week to tell me to hurry back. I don't want to disappoint such a loyal bed, especially when its sheets come out of the hope chest and smell like cedar. Oh yeah. 

3. My church

Do  you know that there have been babies born at my church that I have not even seen yet? Do you know how much that grieves my soul? Probably not, but I'm telling you now that my soul is grieved. Believe it. And if that isn't enough, all the babies and toddlers that were my special buds have all grown up! I swear when I left them a year ago, they were still muttering in baby language and now they're in high school! . . . ok. maybe not that much change has happened. But it feels that way. My babies are growing up. *sniff* I will literally walk into church, bypass everything else, and head straight for the nursery. It's where I belong.

Also, I miss all the grown ups that shaped my life as a puny high schooler. I still can't believe how much was invested in my life. I miss them all so much. Lots of hugging going on next Sunday. You can bet on that. 

4. My friends

I miss them. Period. A year is clearly too long to be away. That's all I can say without tearing up or bursting into a sappy Disney song. Hey, don't judge. It's just what I do. 

5. Missouri

It's so pretty. I used to think the weather was weird, but it's perfectly normal compared to the bipolar emotions of Greenville weather. Plus we get snow. So fooey on Greenville and its windy coldness with no snow. I want good ol' MO. 

6. Food

Grits. Amen. My mom's pot roast. Can I get another amen? Grandma's chicken casserole. I'm already salivating. Okay, I will stop talking about food because it's too late to eat anything, even if I could find anything in my room. You can only eat so much Nutella straight from the jar. Don't judge me, it's yummy. Oh yes, I can't wait for homecooked food. 

7. Realization

It still hasn't really sunk in that I actually get to go home after a year away. I think when I walk in my front door, that's when the realization will sink in. It will be a beautiful moment. There may be tears. Also, maybe singing. I can't say for sure. I'll let you know.

Please, Christmas, don't be late. I like punctuality. Thanks. 

m(r)

White Elephant

I'm not sure just who exactly came up with the idea of the white elephant gift exchange. Maybe it was some poor guy that had just gotten a bunch of really bad presents for Christmas, and instead of moping about it, decided to make a game out of giving them away. Very resourceful of him, I think. 

The path of a white elephant gift is quite interesting. Where does it begin? Mine began as something useful. My parents sent me extra batteries for my alarm clock when I went off to college in 2009. However, circumstances being what they were and my carefulness being what it is, I accidentally melted my alarm clock with my clip-on lamp, therefore rendering it useless. Meaning I didn't need batteries for it. So when I pulled out my options for a white elephant gift I saw batteries, crayons, a Speed Racer folder, and hot chocolate. Everyone said, "Take what you'll use the least . . . " And I said, "I don't use any of these things." (Except the crayons. I do use those, but I already had another box of them that was bigger. More selection, you know.) I searched for something that needed double A batteries, but I found nothing but my broken alarm clock. So, thinking that I would be a nice person and take something useful to a party for useless gifts, I wrapped the batteries with masking tape and last week's edition of my university's newspaper. Perfect!

While at the gift exchange, it recklessly changed hands several times, as is the nature of the game, eventually ending up in the hands of my pastor's wife. When asked why she picked the batteries over another gift, she said, "Do you know how many of my grandchildren have toys that need double A batteries?" She was quite pleased. And I was quite pleased, because, it is better to give than to receive. Thus, those batteries traveled halfway across the US, sat in a box for over a year, and eventually will be used to power the toys of happy children. 

Isn't that a good ending for such a small object? I think so. 

Wanna know what I got at the exchange?

Toilet paper.

m(r)

For the Love of Footie-Pajamas

I awoke this morning realizing it was first of December, meaning that the month of joy, yuletide, and cheer has entered to clear the fog that accompanies final exams. But to be honest, I wasn't feeling it. To me, it felt like any other day. Fear struck my heart as I heard that whisper inside my head . . .

It's just like any other day. 

My mind began whirring with the scary questions that this phrase prompted. Had I outgrown Christmas just like some kids outgrow their footie pajamas?? Was I destined to become a female version of Scrooge who would yell 'Bah Humbug' and refuse to sing Christmas carols or get a Christmas tree? Would the Christmas season never again excite my soul and bring light into my life and the lives of those around me? Was Christmas gone forever?

I placed a hand to my heart to make sure it was still beating. Okay, clearly it was still thumpin' away and even beating a little faster because of my sympathetic nervous system kicking in. It had, in fact, not turned to stone. Funny. What was wrong with me? I had gone from being the jolly Ghost of Christmas Past to being the scary Ghost of Christmas Future without pausing for the Present.

With these troubling thoughts, I headed off to my first class. As I looked around the campus, fully decorated for Christmas, I struggled to find the warm glow that usually accompanied the Christmas season and thoughts of the Lighting Ceremony where Christmas carols were sung and the Christmas lights brilliantly lit up the area . . . but no glow came. Only my dark shroud of normalcy remained as I trudged on to class with a heavy heart.

Classes came and went; Christmas stayed away. But then I opened the door to the back office where I work. And I immediately yelled, "CHRISTMAS!!!!" For you see, at that moment, when I walked into that place that I love and saw it decorated with Christmas trees and lights, that, my friends,  THAT was the moment that the Christmas spirit of cheer and joy burst from beneath the gloom of everything else around me. It felt great. It felt glorious. I wanted to sing a Christmas song . . . or twelve.

So now I’m sitting doing homework, listening to Christmas carols, and wishing for snow. I’m glad my Christmas spirit appeared, because I don’t want to be Scrooge. Also, I don’t want to accept that I’ve outgrown footie pajamas. And I definitely don’t want to ever outgrow the joy of Christmas, because that is something too special to ever let go.