When people find out that I have a birthday on Christmas Day, they always give me the same response:

Oh, wow.  I am so sorry. That must suck for you.

But it really doesn't.  I love having my birthday on Christmas.  I love that the world is decorated and people are singing and everyone (well, almost everyone) is in a good mood.  It does not suck to have a birthday on that day.  It's all a matter of perspective.

That being said, I had a hard time getting into Christmas this year, just because it was warm enough to go tubing at our favorite swimming hole.  We didn't do this, but I sure thought about it.  A trip down the Paluxy in an inner tube is one of the nicest things ever.  But, we tried to make it Christmas-y.  We opened presents.  We gorged ourselves on holiday food and treats, which are all still overflowing from our refrigerator and cookie jar.  We went out to eat and saw the new Star Wars movie.  NO SPOILERS HERE, so relax.  But I do want to see it again...like, fifty times.

The point is, we're blessed. And I'm thankful.

Dark Elves and a Christmas Tale: Marystown Holiday Short

“Hurry up!” hissed Fabrisius.  The metal wire cutters looked huge in Axel’s small, sinewy hands, but  finally, the thick chain fell and they were able to push the metal gates open.

“Are you sure he came this way?” asked Axel.  They crept forward, their deer-skin boots silent on the concrete.

“Of course I’m sure!” scolded Fabrisius.  “Anyway, look!” He pointed to the ground. There, illuminated by the perigee moon, was a fresh pile of reindeer droppings.

“We know he stopped here.  We must have just missed him,” he continued.

Nicholas, they knew, had a mini-storage in every town on earth.  It was a complete myth that he could fit all of those toys in his sleigh on a single night, and although he did have his own magic, it was near impossible for him to make that many trips back and forth to the North Pole on Christmas Eve and still manage to visit all of the children who observed Christmas by the time the sun rose on Christmas Day.  Fabrisius and Axel had been tracking him all evening.  One thing Nicholas couldn’t do anything about was the reindeer droppings.  The reindeer could fly, it was true, but they were still living creatures that ate and pooped whenever they needed to.  The fact that no one had put this together with the once a year journey attributed to the man everyone called Santa Claus did not change the fact that it happened, and it was good fortune for the two dark elves.  The contract they had on St. Nick expired at three am.  They were running out of time.

“You know when this happens that people will blame us.  They always blame us,” whined Fabrisius.

“We’re the ones doing it anyway, so what does it matter?” grumbled Axel.  He was examining the pile of magical turds.  They steamed in the cold air, so he knew that they were catching up to Nicholas.

The truth was that Fabrisius and Axel both had a serious alcohol addiction.  Last winter, overcome by the holidays blues, and by the fact that their North Pole counterparts were having all the fun, yucking it up in the big house while they froze their asses off in a pile of rocks outside Reykjavik, they had decided to go on a drunken spree.  When dressed properly and with hats on to hide their crude, pointed ears, they could pass for dwarfs, or as the humans referred to them…little people...and they had hit up every bar in the Laugavegur, gotten close with a Nordic beauty named Giselle, then stolen a car and taken her for a joy ride around town.  Unfortunately, they had ignored Giselle’s pleas that they take her back to town, and  they finally crashed the vehicle into a cannery down by the wharf.  By this time Giselle was so disgusted with their lewd comments and insensitive behavior that she unfolded her six-foot frame from the convertible and punched in a number to her cell.  If Axel and Fabrisius had been sober, they might have paid attention and known that it was probably a good idea to take their skinny elf asses back to the rest of the Huldufolk, but they were drunk, and they laughed at Giselle’s irritation until a white limousine pulled up the wharf.  A man in a white suit with gleaming white hair emerged from the car, and two trolls...or were they men?...emerged as well.

“Oh, no!” whispered Axel.  “Do you know who that is?”

“No!” giggled Fabrisius.  “Who is it?”

“That’s Jack Frost!”

“No way, man!” laughed Fabrisius, and continued to laugh while the trolls grabbed them by the back of the neck and shoved them into the limo, much to the disgust of Giselle, and the amusement of her father, who studied them in silence the whole way back to his ice palace. No, seriously.  Where else would Jack Frost live?

The long and short of it was, Jack Frost promised to forgive them for harassing his daughter, if they would kill Nicholas Claus.  If they couldn’t fulfill the contract by three am, then Jackson P. Frost, origins unknown but most recently of Reykjavik, Iceland, would have them skinned alive and boiled until their carcasses fell from the bone like tender meat in a stew.

So, here they were, in a lonely little town in Texas called Marystown, tracking Nicholas Claus by following piles of reindeer crap, ruminating on their miserable lives and wishing to Odin that they had never laid eyes on Giselle in the first place.

The mini-storage was empty. Nick had cleaned out and moved on. They needed to hurry.

They held a whispered consultation and decided that he must be headed to the east; the piles of droppings indicated that that was the correct direction.  

They turned to go, and stopped, gasping at the figure that loomed over them.  He must have moved so quietly; quieter than snowflakes falling on the rooftops of Iceland, more silent than the wishes of hopeful, dreaming children, waiting for Saint Nicholas to visit them that night.

His feet were bare, and ugly.  HIs yellow horns were magnificent and horrible at the same time, they curled around his head and around his ears, and his long, pointed tongue snaked out of his mouth and licked his black lips.  He wore an ugly Christmas sweater and held a sack full of writhing lumps.

“Just some last minute housekeeping,” he said, gesturing to the heavy, burlap sack. Axel shivered and Fabrisius felt a thin stream of piss running down his spindly leg.  

“Blood,” said the nightmarish vision in front of them, “Is thicker than water, the humans say.  My brother,” he gestured to the sky, “My younger brother, is a pain the ass.  But he’s still-MY-BROTHER!!!!!” he roared, and the elves jumped together, arms entwined, trembling.

“Wh-wh-” stuttered Axel.

“Spit it out, little man,” growled Krampus.

“Wh-what about Jack?  We’re here, on a job for him.  He’s not going to be too happy if you get in the way!” he finished defiantly.

Fabrisius, for once, kept his mouth shut, willing Axel to do the same.  Clearly, they were no match for Krampus.  No one was.

Krampus laughed.  “I am the stuff of legends, and he is the stuff of fairytales.”  His laughter boomed, echoing off the metal storage units.  “Jack is a wise man.  He knows better than to anger me.”

With that, he produced a long hook.  Deftly he hooked each elf around the neck and pulled them closer.

“I know just where to take you,” he hissed.

Far above, full-throated laughter echoed among the stars.  “Ho ho ho!!!”  A large brown glob fell onto Axel’s head, running down his face and into his eyes.  “HO ho ho!!!  Merry Christmas!”  

Krampus waved, and was just about to stuff the elves in his bag when Fabrisius said, “Wait, wait!”

“What is it?” growled Krampus.

“If we promise to kill Jack  Frost, and bring you his head, then will you let us live?”

Krampus paused.  He really hated Jack.  Jack, with his fancy suits and big limousine, his fairytale life and gorgeous daughter.  

“I’ll consider it.  If.”

“If what?”  squeaked Axel.

“If you bring me Giselle, alive.”

“Done!” said Fabrisius.

“But I must warn you, little man.  If you do not deliver, I will find you next Christmas, and there won’t be any second chances.”

“Agreed!” they squealed in unison.  Krampus watched in amusement as the two dark little pissants ran away down the street.

“I’ll be seeing those two again on Christmas Eve,” he muttered.  He took out his cell phone and fastened the bluetooth into his ear.  It had been challenging, finding one that was the exact right fit, but he’d done it.  “Yeah, I just saved your ass,” he said.  He listened and started walking, slinging the bag of unfortunates over his shoulder, ignoring their whimpers and pleas.  “I’ve got a heavy bag here.  Can I bum a ride?”  The dial tone sounded extra loud in his pointed ear.  “Jerk,” he muttered.  “Maybe if I get a red suit and eat a bunch of gingerbread, people will like me.”

Up above, a fat man in a shiny sleigh rode the wind, laughing with delight, scattering joy throughout Marystown as the perigee moon shone on the silent rooftops..  “Ho, ho, ho!! Merry Christmas!” he called, and a dark elf flipped him the bird before vanishing into the night.

Christmas is two days away and I am finally excited!!  I was in a horrible mood at the beginning of the holiday season, but after thinking about it, I realized that sometimes it just takes time to stabilize yourself and shake things off. Taking five classes this last semester was probably not a good idea.  We were also hit with some unexpected events, like having to re-evaluate our son's medication.  My job is also stressful.  People look at realtors and think, What's the big deal?  You just sell a house.  But there's really more to it than that.  We do have to take classes to get certified to do this in the first place, and we have to keep taking them to keep our licenses current.  We have to keep up with changing laws and regulations.  Show twenty houses and then deal with a buyer who decides "now is not the right time".  File paperwork with title companies.  Negotiate contracts.  The list goes on.  Forever. So I won't bore you with any more details.

What I do know is that this holiday season has given me the opportunity to slow down and really appreciate little things, like the fact that we are having 70+ degree weather so my son can play in the water outside. Gratitude can bring you so much farther than resentment.

R's Photo Spot

Hi, Everyone.

Over the last year, I've developed a keen interest in photography.  I had to make do with a cell phone camera for a long time, until my sweet Uncle Neal gave me a new camera that took much better, bigger pictures.  Add to that a penchant for playing with filters and effects and a full-blown hobby was born.

I don't have enough room to post my photos here, or on Facebook.  I've started developing another blog to showcase them, and you can access it at rsphotospot.net.  Eventually, I'd like to publish my photos, or take orders for prints.

Have fun strolling through my virtual gallery, and look for new photos to be added often!

Christmas is two weeks away. I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

This one is cool, too, just because of the conservatory.  Do you know how many plants I could fit in there??

http://www.zillow.com/homedetails/552-Glen-St-Glens-Falls-NY-12801/32918683_zpid/

http://www.oldhousedreams.com/2011/02/01/1910-classical-revival-glen-falls-ny/

My Dream House

I am a total sucker for storybook cottages.  This one is my dream house...



http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/14-Vanderbilt-Ln_Hyde-Park_NY_12538_M44747-15182

Last week I pulled my daughter out of school and started homeschooling her. In the course of figuring out her curriculum, we started discussing science.

"I hate science," she said.

I was horrified.  I was horrified because, just a couple of years ago, she loved it.

"Which science do you hate?" I asked.

"I hate all science."

And I was upset.  Not at her.  I was upset at her teachers, because science is so cool, and there are so many wonderful things about it, that someone, somewhere, should have brought some enthusiasm to the table and shown her how amazing it can be to discover things.  Considering that she accompanies me to almost every rock, gem, and mineral show I go to, we decided to stick with geology. She showed me the lesson she had been on at her previous school.  There was a list of words that she needed to know.  She was completely bored and didn't have a clue what any of it meant.

And that's when I put the book down and told her why I loved it so much.

Earth science involves materials that we use in everyday life.  If you drive on a road, live in a house, wear makeup, wear a wedding ring, use anything made of metal, or dig in a garden, then earth science affects you.  A lot of scientists squirm at the mention of "God" in relation to any scientific discipline, but the fact of the matter is, God created the earth.  We just don't know the mechanics of how He did it. If you look at a cross section of the layers of the earth, it's like being able to read the backstory of creation.  Learning about the materials that compose the place where we live is fascinating.  I've said it before:  It's God's diary.

Of course, after I explained this to her, all I got back was:  "Hmmm..".

Sometimes your work is just cut out for you.

Alternative Solutions

(image from telegraph.co.uk)

Every year I tell myself that I will get my Christmas shopping done early.  I tell myself that I will do the smart, thrifty thing and buy the presents all year long and stash them away somewhere until it's time to take them out and wrap them.

This is what I tell myself.

Myself doesn't listen.

Christmas is almost here and I'm still not done with it.  There's a part of me that wants to hide at this time of year.  The crowds and the social obligations are sometimes almost too much.  I remember when I worked as a travel agent, I had a client once that booked a one-week trip to an all-inclusive place in Mexico.  Single occupancy.  For Thanksgiving!  I was really young when I worked there.  I had just gotten married, and the idea of going someplace like that for a major holiday was really foreign to me.  At the time, I thought that lady was strange and wondered why in the world you'd want to travel to a foreign country when you were supposed to be at home, cooking and eating a feast and visiting with family.  Fast forward to now and I can totally see the appeal.  The idea of transplanting myself to a different location with beautiful scenery and making a true vacation out of the holidays has never been more enticing.  Imagine a cabin in the mountains with a simple Christmas tree and no phone.  Or a beach and 80 degree weather during November.  It sounds great, right?

So, I tell myself that next year will be the year that we spend Christmas in the mountains of Logan, Utah or rent that beach house in Galveston.  Maybe this time, I'll listen!

So exhausted. That's all I've got to say tonight.