Because I actually decided to drag the Christmas tree up from the basement this year and decorate it, I thought that it would be best to document the fruit of my labor.  Goodness knows if the tree will go up again next year.  Or ever.  Lulu is just unstable unpredictable that way.

Anyhow, I should have posted this for my Thursday Thirteen last week, but I didn’t really think about it until I read Blondie’s post about her ornaments.  Blondie is a flight attendant, so she’s got some pretty cool destination bobbles hanging from her tree.  And I’ve got a similar type of theme going for mine…I try to bring back an ornament from the places where I travel.

So, in no particular order, Lulu presents her tree…

King Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn (with her head intact), and their daughter, Elizabeth I.  I brought these back from my first trip to London in 2005…

Aruba is a Dutch country, hence the Dutch-blue color…

Unfortunately, my globe from Paris broke enroute on the plane home, but I tried to salvage as much as I could…

A pineapple from Maui…mmm…

A paper Hawaiian girl from Kauai…

A souvenir from The Sound of Music Tour in Austria…

A decorated palm tree from Charleston, South Carolina…

A wooden ornament from the beautiful Chapel of the Holy Cross in Sedona, Arizona…

A Navajo-inspired ornament from Albuquerque, New Mexico (this one belonged to GR’s sister who passed away in 2001)…

A beer hall waiter from Germany…Prost!

A wooden ornament with a scene from Lake Konigssee, Germany…

A painted sand dollar from Clearwater Beach, Florida.  I bought this in 1994—the year my mother moved to the area.

And finally, I tried to hang Gus from the tree, but this is as close as I got.  The hook was a little too thin to hold him up…

Oh, my poor neglected blog.  I’ve been so busy lately, that blogging has been pushed way down on my list of priorities.  In fact, I have so many events coming up over the next few weeks, that I vow to do only one post a week until after the holidays.

And speaking of the holidays, I have to admit that this year my heart has grown three sizes, and I’m actually enjoying the holiday season!  However, I find it nearly impossible to get through Christmas without being just a tiny bit Grinchy, so I must convey my yearly gift-exchange rant.  Lulu likes to put a damper on all the fun.  I promise to do it quickly and move on.  Scroll down if you can’t bear to read it.

<Begin rant> 

GR and I made the decision this year that the gift-exchanging between our families at Christmas had to stop.  To me, I see exchanging gifts as merely an exchange of money.  I spend $50 on you, you spend $50 on me.  I have a very difficult time in seeing the point of it all.  I am by no means a stingy person, but it makes me wonder if going into debt to buy gifts for people really has anything to do with what Christmas is all about.  I think not.

However, Lulu has rules.  And exceptions.  For instance, I do make exceptions for token gifts, such as chocolates or small lotions, soaps, hand-towels, and other whatnots.  Handmade items and homemade goodies are also especially nice and treasured.  I also make exceptions for buying gifts for my son and 10-year old niece.  I also have a rule to not exchange presents with GR; except for that rule was obviously thrown out the window by GR, because I see several gifts under the tree with my name on them.  I guess I won’t complain. 

<End rant>

Anyhow, because I do not have to suffer through the stress of spending my life-savings this year on Christmas gifts, Lulu is feeling so much more Christmas-sy!  In fact, I actually put up and decorated my tree this year, and I made Christmas cookies…all while listening to Christmas music!  Someone fan me, quick!  I might have to lie down.

Earlier this week, my friend, T-Nut, and her little Bella-girl came over, and we had a grand time sprinkling my kitchen floor with red- and green-colored sugar.

We made a mountain of sugar cookies:

We made thumbprint cookies filled with the one, single jar of German currant jelly that actually made it through customs:

And we made delicious pretzel/Rolo/pecan thingies:

Next week, I’m embarking on baking these gingerbread loaves topped with a lemon-flavored icing, pecans, and crystallized ginger to give away as gifts to my special peeps (recipe from Better Homes and Gardens):

Mmm…gingerbread.  Reminds me of Germany.

I hope that you all have a very Merry Christmas!  I’ll be back next Friday with Pink Pig tales (or tails, as it may be) and other delightful holiday stories!  Happy Holidays!  Try not to miss me too much.  As if…

I haven’t been feeling well this week due to an emerging head cold (hence, no blog posts), so I decided that it was best to stay home from work today and catch up on some scrapbooking.  No need to spread my germs around the office at Christmastime, right?  Right.

I’ve come to the conclusion that scrapbooking is something that I could do even if I were lying at death’s door.  It’s quite rehabilitating, you know.  You just sit, and cut, and think a little bit, and be creative.  No real exertion is involved—unless you count peeling the backs off the adhesive mounting squares.  If there were such a job as Professional Scrapbooker, I would gladly apply.

Or even better, Professional Coloring Book Color-er…

The right-brained Lulu honing her mad skillz, circa 1977.  Pre-freckles.

So, my trip down to Florida with my grandmother over Thanksgiving was the typical cracker-and-Mountain-Dew adventure that we normally have…minus the Dukester.  Which was sad.  But we talked about him extensively and both agreed that he is in a better place, and not living through the Hell in which we were driving.

I made some new assessments about Nanny while on this trip.  She is definitely getting older, and she is definitely getting more and more ornery.  In fact, she’s starting to remind me a little bit of this woman, scowl and all:

Now don’t get me wrong.  My grandmother is a very caring and generous woman.  She would give you the shirt off her back if her back didn’t hurt her so much.  But let me just warn you, if you are a waiter or waitress, and you don’t give her piping hot coffee or butter for her bread, she’ll turn on you like a rabid beast.  Case in point:

On our drive back from Florida, I was so sleepy and was desperate for a double-espresso latte from Starbucks.  Now, my grandmother is from the old school of coffee (Maxwell House, Folgers, etc.), and she won’t have anything to do with what she calls the “stinky” coffee that Starbucks serves.  So, I knew that I was setting myself up for something big when I pulled off the expressway to order my latte.

We decided to go into the shop to use the restroom and sit for a minute while I waited on my drink.  My grandmother used the restroom first, and I went in after her.  When I stepped out of the restroom, I find Nanny yelling (because she is deaf and thinks everyone else is, too) at the male barista behind the counter.  I walked up to the counter, and here is what went down.

Nanny (to me in her loud, ornery voice): He said that they have decaf coffee and it’s not the smelly kind.  I think I’ll order a cup.

Me (in my loud voice so that she and everyone in the shop can hear): Nanny, you told me that you’ve ordered coffee from here before and you don’t like it.

Nanny: Well, he said it wasn’t the stinky kind!

Me: I know, but I really don’t think you’ll like it.  It’s a bit different from what you’re used to.

Nanny: Well, order me a cup anyway.

So, I place the order.  The barista hands Nanny the cup of coffee, and I walk over to the other side of the counter to wait for my latte.  When I turned around, I caught her out of the corner of my eye taking a sip of her coffee.  People?  See that picture up there of Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies?  That’s exactly how Nanny looked when she pulled the coffee cup away from her mouth.  Then, she took another sip.  Same look.

Three people are now in line, and one person is ordering.  Nanny marches up to the counter, completely interrupting the person ordering their coffee, and says loudly and with a scowl:

Nanny: Is this coffee fresh?

Barista: Yes, ma’am. It’s fresh.

Nanny: Well, it don’t taste fresh to me!  (She takes another sip.)  Blech!

Barista: I can make another pot, ma’am.

Nanny: Ah, shhht.  We don’t got no time!

She then proceeds to make her way to the trash can, takes one more sip, and throws it away while scowling and saying “shhht!” again.  Thankfully, I am far away from the scene and hidden from her sight.  When we get back into the car, she starts again.

Nanny: Is your coffee fresh?  Mine wasn’t!  Bleh, bleh, bleh!  I need a piece of gum.

Me: Nanny, I told you that you wouldn’t like it.

Nanny: Well, he told me it wasn’t the stinky kind!  I don’t think he knows what he was ‘a talkin’ about.

My dear, dear grandmother.  You just can’t take her anywhere.