Tidings of Comfort and Joy

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Merry Christmas! Ho! Ho! Ho!  And fresh little springs of Mistletoe -

Chocolate goodies for one and all!  And multiple trips to the shopping malls

Glass balls fall each day from the tree   - We chase down the dog, pleading, “Give that to me!”

A piping hot cup of Hot Buttered Rum – That sits here beside me while this letter gets done.
Carols play on the radio – I look out the window and wonder ‘bout snow.

Is it coming or will it not?   It’s okay by me – cuz’I likes it hot.

We go over the river to St. Cloud this week. (Kayla’s a grad. Isn’t that sweet?)

They’ll give her a paper (that cost 40 grand).  We’ll all go to watch it and give her a hand.

She’s learned all they taught her (and might study more). But Pharmacy school is more years (like 4!)

She’s been selling drugs at a job that’s part-time. Legit!!  At the Wal-Mart (but I read your mind).

Kirstin still studies for nursing someday.  And she did alright while Ben was away.

They spent six long months while he was deployed - but he’s back in the states and she’s over-joyed.

And even better he’s flying back home and she won’t have to spend her Christmas alone.

It will make the whole holiday having him here … And together on New Year’s they’ll toast a whole year.

Kyle’s a junior at ole’ Brainerd High. If you saw him now – I swear you would die –

The hockey boys made a sort of a bet … about growing their hair and it’s still growing yet.

They slather the mousse and the spray all about - Its way worse than girls before they go out.

They talk styles and product (I know – I’ve heard!) ...The shears are on standby just waiting the word.

In March Kirk turned 50 he’s showing some wear – mostly memory and hearing.  (He’s still got his hair).

In June we were married for twenty five years. Celebrated in style with pizza and beers.

Just like it started way back in college … but oh now we have so much more knowledge.

We flew to Las Vegas with some friends this fall. We walked most the strip - hardly gambled at all.

Saw a few shows and took in the sights – And it’s true those fountains are way cool at night.

Most of our weekends this summer and spring - we spent up at mom’s helping with things.

The boys fished a little and hunted some too – They don’t have to look hard there for something to do.

In September she left us after such a good fight – And Christmas this year just hasn’t seemed right.

So here’s hoping your shopping is almost all done. And you find some time to fit in some fun.

Friend us on Facebook (or just stalk our site).  Check out our photos and what people write.

Its okay – There’s no need to feel bad if you do. (Chances are we have done it to you).

So Happy Holiday! May your wishes come true …and only the best things in life come to you!!

May your cheeks all be rosy - your Christmas cards done.  (May I recommend the Hot Buttered Rum?)

The Helmbergers

It's a Hard Knock Life

I probably have the perfect job.
I don't have to crawl out of bed, get dressed, brush my teeth, fight with my hair and report somewhere to punch anything to prove I was there.

Basically I can plan my job around my life and once in a while I walk to the mailbox to retrieve a paycheck - not a large one mind you, but one that gets to be semi-rewarding when I pool a couple together.  Also fortunate for me is the gift of a husband that has been willing to get out of bed, brush his teeth and do all of that other stuff so that he can actually leave the driveway and go to a real job.

Although my freelance writing doesn't always pay spades in hard cold cash I'm still rewarded with the opportunity to meet some pretty cool people and have some pretty great experiences.  It is an interesting gig this opportunity to write in my den in the dead of winter and on the front porch in the summer. People always ask - How do you know what to write about? Do they tell you what to do?
Sometimes they do. Sometimes I have an idea of my own and once in a while I get a phone call from someone who knows what I do and has a possible idea for a story. More than once a stranger in a store has come over and told me about something interesting and I've done a story on it.
I've written about food, shoes, the flu, high school graduation, camping equipment, walking trails, dogs, cats, grilling, babies, senior citizens, summer, fall winter and spring. I've wrote about thank-you notes and buying new cars. Garage sales and formal dances.
I've done several pieces on my own family and I've interviewed lots and lots of local residents. And now I'm writing a story about writing stories.
Just because I really do like to write I'm willing to do research on home flooring and school lunches.
I've interviewed child entrepreneurs and successful musical artists and couple of summers ago I, a non-swimmer, learned all about the world of sailing and a national race that was happening locally. Last winter I, a non-ice fisher person, drove 90 miles to talk to a well-known ice fishing expert. I have learned a lot sharing other people's expertise. Last fall I spoke with elementary school children diagnosed with Diabetes and was awed by how brave they handled their situations along with daily self-administered insulin injections.
Recently I took an assignment from a magazine in St.Cloud for a cover story about a young female BMX racer that has a great possibility of qualifying for the next Olympics. I interviewed her by phone in Baxter while she was at her home - the Olympic Training Center in Los Angeles. She was packing for a competition in South Africa.
How cool is that?!

Sometimes the world of freelance can be a little frustrating too. Often I get paid six months after I write an article and sometimes stories get killed altogether. After I've done the interview. After I've taken the time to sit down and write the article making sure I've met an editor's deadline. That's the not so fun part. Because even though I've done the work I might not see a dime. But it's something I know can happen.

I also write this blog. The one I don't update nearly enough. But Ive already made myself a promise to do better. That's what New Year's resolutions are for. (I'm also resolving to cook better, clean more thoroughly, exercise more often and a multitude of other things.)
Besides, I have interviews to do, topics to research and articles to write in my jammies.
I am going to be very busy.

I've got to remember...tis now is December

The tree is up.
Just one.
The one in the basement with the bulbs my kids have made and collected over the years is still sitting untouched at the bottom of the stairs beside the fireplace.
I will get to that one I swear I will.
Christmas is happening in baby steps this year.
I'm slowly getting in the mood.
Maybe it's because we don't have snow friends say. Truthfully, that would be cause for jubilation and celebration not disappointment.
And I'm not even very excited by that.
Grateful.
Just not excited or filled with jubilation and celebration.
Like normal.
Usually by this time I have my cards ordered, written, and stamped. Decorations sit on every shelf and flat surface and I've already played the holiday CDs multiple times in the kitchen CD player.
It will come.
I have two presents bought and wrapped and under the living room tree.
But it's December and there is so much more to do.
It's a start.
This year there will be no Christmas Day trek to my parents for a second celebration.
Their home is closed up until spring arrives.
Nobody is there.
We've locked the doors and the windows. We've turned down the temperature to a safe winter setting.
Already it doesn't feel like 'home' to me. It's nice to go there but it's just a gathering place for weekends for my brothers and I and our families.
It is definitely December.
Already we are a handful of days in.
And I know...I know...I am almost 50.  A grown up.
So this is the weekend I will dig through the other totes of decorations and lights.
I will put some more things up.
I know where the CDs are. I might even play them.
All of the songs except one.
The dumb one.
...I'll be home for Christmas.

Las Vegas Baby!

We came. We saw and darn it we gambled about a perfectly good $100 away. (Obviously we didn't spring for airline tickets to Las Vegas for the high rolling.) We went there for relaxing and good entertainment, laughs, and to spend some time with our good buddies and enjoy sunshine and 70 degree temperatures for one last time this year.

It's pretty well known among my friends that I'm not an enthusiastic flier. I'm getting better at it the more I do it but I still like to ensure a relaxing time on the plane by having a toddy before I get on.

Even though no one else felt it necessary to join me my entourage supported this weakness and helped me find a cold beer at 7 a.m. before the flight out (for the record there was another lady sitting down the bar from me with a 7 a.m. glass of wine - I hear ya sister - Salute!)  and a Bloody Mary at 10 a.m. before the return flight so both went incredibly well. Which is good because, for some reason, it didn't occur to me that we'd be looking at mountains, lots and lots of mountains, underneath us a great deal of the way. (I've seen those movies - I knew airplane pretzels and beef jerkey from my carry on backpack wouldn't keep us alive for double digit days if we went down in the Rockies.)

While we were in Vegas since we didn't gamble a whole lot we decided to do other things with our cash like treat ourselves to a once in a lifetime, wallet busting, authentic French meal. The waiters pulled out our chairs, put my jacket over my backrest for me and then waited for us to be seated and gallantly opened and placed our napkins in our laps.

It was pretty un-Pizza Ranch-like ya'all. I was kinda glad my kids weren't with. We were at a Bed and Breakfast out East one time and they thought having a mint leaf in our water was so exotic it made them giggle. Although we were surrounded by professional artwork by Picasso the room was so dark the waiter brought a small flashlight over for the table next to us to order wine by. Michelle and I would have liked wine with our fancy schmancy meal but when the menu came in the way of a catalogue with no prices and offered mostly by the whole bottle we figured we might be out of our Barefoot Moscata comfort zone.

Before we ordered we were allowed to sample a 'gift from the chef,' which came in the way of a small, lightly breaded morsel on our plates. "Tator tot?" I quizzed my fellow diners. For over a hundred bucks a person they thought likely not. My husband picked at his and declared it flaky. He took a bite and said, "Hmmm I think it's fish." 

"Aahhh," I said, nodding, "Fish stick." Although it was doubtfully perch, crappie or bullhead.

As for the fanciest and my most expensive dinner ever - My friend Michelle and I gave a thumbs up to the dessert and entree (young fallow deer...sorry little buddy...but you were tender and delicious), but thumbs down, enthusiastically, to the Pate' course (translation: goose liver). I know it was chef Julianne's specialty dish but a savory cheeseball with a Triscuit would have been just fine, really. Squash soup though? That was surprisingly enjoyable especially for someone who doesn't even like squash. The next night we were back to steak and garlic mashed potatoes - THAT I understand.

While we were in Las Vegas we saw shows that delighted and entertained.

We saw this one

 A Cirque Du Soleil that was mesmerizing to watch and had fun ushers too.

Although it was hard to get the song, "All You Need is Love" out of my head the rest of the night.

And we also saw this one: A comedian Kirk loves that brought his A Game that night. My side hurt.

No fun ushers but our table was three back from the stage.

I'm pretty sure he was talking directly to us the whole time.

We toured the strip a little everyday. The buildings and architecture are fabulous and because it was Halloween we were treated to all kinds of other sights as well.

 Michelle and I even stumbled upon a real live Betsy Johnson fashion show in progress with a catwalk and models. We're pretty uptown sometimes. 

And Bob and Kirk?

 Well, interestingly enough, they stumbled upon an Oompaloompah while we were in the Sugar Factory buying rope licorice.  Here's something you don't see everyday in Brainerd - but I'm guessing you probably do in Las Vegas.

Still, I couldn't love this picture more.

It was a great three days. We walked until we were limp, ate until we gained weight and gambled just long enough to come home with money still in our pocket.

Okay winter.... bring it!

 

It's coming... It's coming and I can't even stop it

It was painful to turn the calendar to October. November will hurt even more.
I suspect I'm one of those people that falls into the deepest of funks when the winter months arrive. I hate the snow. I hate the cold and more than that I loathe the feeling of being a prisoner in my home.
Oh, sure my son's hockey games and the 'parent meetings' before the puck drops help a little - but one can't really do that every...single....day. (Or shouldn't at least - since it's code for 'have a beer before the game').
I knew I should've learned to ski. I should have embraced snowmobiling at high speeds in below zero temperatures, or at the very least I wish I would have learned to enjoy the feeling of frozen snot on my scarf.
But no sir, not me. None of that happened. My distaste for all of it only settled deeper in my heart at each arrival while I fantasized of becoming a snowbird in my senior years.
But then, my snowbird years are probably still down the road a good chunk and October is already almost half way gone.
But on a bright note I did realized today that I do, however, enjoy winter as a spectator.
I like to watch other people ski. (Ideally with a novel in my lap and a cup of something hot in my hand). I also often jump up to look out of the window and watch as a madcap snowmobiler flies past the driveway at an unsafe speed.
And the pictures we take in the winter - those are admittedly breathtaking. Just beautiful.
There's no denying it. Winter. Is. Pretty. It's mere weeks away.
And that feeling of frozen snot...haven't really found an upside to that yet.

A bogged down blog

Blogging is hard.
My blogs, for awhile, have been far and few between.
Not because I don't have fantastic ideas about what to blog about because I do. I really do.
But this summer while my mom was sick my heart just wasn't in it.
The options were to blog about dark things and depress everyone else or just stay idle for a little while which is what I did.

But.... I think I'm ready to get back to the life of writing and writing well (or, you know,  standard, like I did before). So the plan is to update my blog a little more timely once again. At least weekly and we'll see what kind of excitement pops up that might require a more frequent random post.
It's good to be back.

Modern fashion meets inappropriate exposure

I owe an apology to another mother somewhere out there
It's not my fault. I can honestly say that.
My daughters try to dress me.
I know I'm too old to do it.
I know I'm too lazy to do it.
But sometimes I do.
In the name of fashion I occasionally don the trendy low rise jeans. The only real annoying thing about them is that they do require hiking up pretty often.
They are actually pretty comfortable though although they don't give me support in the exact place I need it (ahem - a little higher above the waistline of the low rise.)
But other than that - designers I salute you! Nice going.
Oh - except for the fact that the low rise has a tendency to become v-e-r-y low rise.
For instance, say, if you're bending over in the aisle of the local retailer on the bottom shelf for a jug of laundry soap and you feel a cool breeze below your back but above your thighs and there is a possible-nay-probable chance that a boy,  say about 10-years old, may have been schooled in what the butt crack of a middle-aged woman might look like.
If that was your son - I'm sorry.
I'd like to say it won't happen again but other 10-year olds consider yourself warned. They were capris and it's summer. They'll be appropriate for another four months.