How cute is this?

Last year at this time, I whined about not getting a care package from my mom. My lovely sister-in-law took that as a challenge and sent me a box of goodies. Being the amazing people they are, my brother and sister-in-law once again sent a Christmas care package, stuffed with the World's Best Sugar Cookies, among other items. Tucked in the box was an ornament just for me.

Check out this guy, decked out in a top hat and Christmas scarf. He's like a little Bob Cratchit hippo rushing home to Tiny Tim.

Here he rushes to the Gingerbread Bakery for treats for his hippo kids at home.

You might notice my favorite book, peeking into the frame back there!

We haven't put a tree up yet (and may not), but Bob here will have a place of honor for Christmas regardless. He's so goshdarn cute. I can't stand it. And my family is so goshdarn good to me. I can't stand that either.

And the award goes to ...

Me! Yay, me. Well, I do have to share the award, but that's OK. Any award is worth accepting.

The award comes from my very good friend Lisa, who blogs over at Grandma's Briefs about the love of her life, her Bubby.

Here's my award:
I'm sharing it with two other good friends: K at Won't You Be My Cubemate, whose sharp wit always keeps me on my toes, and Heather at Jackadillo Princess, who writes hilariously about the antics of her toddler. You'll have to read her site to learn more about her blog's name.

So, here are the rules:

1) Present this award to 7 others whose blogs I find brilliant in content and/or design, or those who have encouraged me.
2) Tell those 7 people they’ve been awarded HONEST SCRAP and inform them of these guidelines in receiving the award.
3) Share “10 Honest Things” about myself.

Like my friends K and Heather, I don't know if I can come up with a full 7 blogs I regularly read -- that will care. But I do have a few I can mention.

The rules don't say I can't re-Award, so I'm awarding Honest Scrap back to Lisa at Grandma's Briefs. I will also award Won't You Be My Cubemate, for the reasons stated above. Likewise to Jackadillo Princess.

Next award goes to my friend Melissa at You Drive Mommy To Write, whose precious and precocious children inspire her musings and always bring a smile to my face.

I will also award MoArdy at A Motivated Notion, because she consistently makes me laugh and she inspired me to run my first ever 5k.

So, that's only five, and while there are many brilliant blogs out there, these are five I consistently read that aren't giants of the industry.

Now, the hard part: My 10 Honest Things.

1. I consider being told I'm funny the highest compliment, followed closely by being told I'm snarky, bitchy or cute.

2. Since my mom died, I have very little sentimentality about my family. I feel like friends are a choice, and I can choose to be friends with my family. But I don't want being around my family to feel like an obligation simply because we share genes.

3. I hate admitting when I'm sick. I almost always say something like, "I'm fighting a cold" or "I'm trying not to get sick." Very seldom will I actually come right out and say, "I'm sick."

4. I'm sick right now.

5. I am terrible perfectionist. Terrible because if I can't do something perfectly, I generally won't do it at all. Which leads to ...

6. I am a classic underachiever. I do -- and have always done -- just enough to get by. Lucky for me, I'm smart and got through school with mostly As. Give me a task and I will do it, quite capably usually. But I never really went in for anything that took a lot of extra effort.

7. I'm not good at relationships. I have multiple divorces. My current relationship is a record -- more than five years with the same guy!

8. I'm dying to get a tattoo but don't want to be like everyone else.

9. I only cry at movies when I am by myself because I don't want anyone to think I'm weak.

10. I am self-deprecating -- probably to a fault. Which probably makes it hard to give me a compliment or take me especially seriously when I give you 10 Honest Things.

That's not my name

I've been listening to the Ting Tings, and they have me be-bopping in the car:



Thanks, Kate!

All was merry and bright

Christmas 2008 has been a good one, despite my initial misgivings. I received a care package from my sister-in-law. I spent time with friends and family. We had a great meal of turkey, baked sweet potatoes and green beans with pine nuts. I watched some Christmas movies, including "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and one of the 12 showings of "A Christmas Story."

Thank you to those who made my holiday season better than I thought it could be without my mom. I hope you all had as good a day as I did -- or better.

God bless us, every one.

I am loved

I never meant to upset anyone or make anyone feel sorry for me, but after my wonderful sister-in-law read this post from earlier in the month, she sent me a care package to let me know that three people in Michigan love me. I'm not ashamed to say the gesture and her accompanying note made me cry. In a good way, of course.

I'm also not ashamed to admit that I will probably eat every one of those sugar cookies all by myself. My sister-in-law's sugar cookies are that good. Too bad the significant other wasn't here when I opened the box.

I grew up without sisters, but my sister-in-law has been in the family for a while now, and I think I should start considering her an actual sister. Especially after this.

I think my mom must have rubbed off on my sister-in-law as much as she did the rest of us kids. And I like to my sister-in-law rubbed of on Mom a bit, too. I'm pretty sure Mom got a lot sassier after Melinda married my brother. And that was a good thing.

Here's Yoda!

Years ago, I worked on an I.T. Help Desk. While the job was mostly hell, I had a good friend who made the days bearable. One of the things she did to help me keep from screaming and pulling my hair out was to hide a Happy Meal Yoda figurine around the office. Some days, I'd get off a particularly frustrating phone call -- "if you reset my password, you'll know what it is" -- I'd look up to find Yoda peering at me from the leaves of a plant or peeking out of a coffee mug at me. It was as if he were saying, "Take deep breaths, you will. Suppress your dark urges, you must."

I wonder if the people who design Christmas tree ornaments know Yoda's effect on me or if they're just trying to make a buck. I suspect the latter.

Either way, I'm thankful for my latest ornament find. And I'm thankful to Maureen for helping me get through those Help Desk years.

I'm getting too old for this

Last night, some of my former coworkers and I got together for a Christmas party. We had great food and delicious Margaritas. I felt relaxed and a little tipsy, but certainly not drunk. The significant other played designated driver, so I didn't have to worry about how much I drank, anyway.

Unfortunately, either because I really am getting too old to party or because I don't party enough and my body doesn't know what to do with high-fat snacks and tequila, I woke in the middle of the night feeling like crap. My stomach hurt and I had trouble sleeping. I didn't wake up with a hangover and I feel mostly fine (other than tired from a busy day and lack of sleep). So, I'm going to say that it's not my age but rather my normally clean living that made me feel so lousy after a few Margaritas -- and celebratory shots -- and Mexican food.

It was all worth it and I'm thankful I went, because the party was great, as was hanging out with some of my best friends -- and definitely the coolest people I've ever worked with. I even got a present that made me laugh out loud. Nice stitching, Kate.

WARNING: Naughty word in the image below!

Trimming the tree

It's hard to think about Christmas without my mom. Even though I haven't been home for the holidays in several years, Mom was still a part of my Christmas. She sent care packages with her homemade peanut brittle, cookies and gifts -- usually at least one of which was handmade. Mom's peanut brittle was legendary. Even people who claimed not to like peanut brittle were won over by her recipe -- handed down to her from my paternal grandmother (the secret is the cooling and pulling process).

This year, there will be no care package. As I hang the ornaments and put out the decorations, there are plenty of things to remind me of Mom: Santas and ornaments she made and ornaments and decorations from when I was a kid.

While it makes me sad to not have her around any more, the decorations also make me nostalgic. And I'm thankful to have the things she made, items she created with care and love, items that can't be bought or duplicated.

And maybe someday, I'll figure out how to make peanut brittle the way she did.

Another day of thanks

I woke today to an outside temperature of one degree Fahrenheit and a sore throat. So, today, I'm especially thankful for hot showers, silk/wool-blend socks and space heaters.

Ripley is especially thankful for sunbeams and down comforters.

When I first moved in with my significant other, we didn't let the pets on the furniture. I had Ripley and the Fat Cat, and the S.O. had a Doberman. If we had let any of the critters on the bed, we wouldn't have had anywhere to sleep. That, and Jenny, the Dobie, had some issues with incontinence, so, yeah.

After a valiant struggle with Wobbler Disease, Jenny died, and we were left with the Rat Terrier and the Fat Cat. I think those two have benefited from our sorrow (and probably a little guilt) of losing Jenny. While neither one gets to sleep in the bed with us at night, they are very seldom chased off the bed during the day.

Because I chose to adopt two shedding machines and, even though I don't like to admit it, have allergic reactions to all that hair, I'm thankful the comforter has a removable cover that can easily be thrown into the washing machine and dryer.

Bird by bird

Today, I want to say thanks to Lisa. She's been a great friend and editor for several years. While she probably won't be my editor after this Friday, I'm confident that the friendship will continue. Lisa took me under her wing at the newspaper and taught me, among many other things, AP style and how to find my voice.

When I first started writing for her, I still had a host of other duties I had to perform for another boss. During some of those early days, I wasn't sure how I would get everything done on time. Because Lisa and I are friends, I was able to go to her and tell her my concerns. She sent me the following passage from Anne Lamott's "Bird by Bird":

"Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he'd had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother's shoulder, and said "Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird."

I printed it out and tacked it to my cubicle wall. I looked to it often when something felt overly daunting. Even now --with a work schedule that isn't so crazy --when life seems to put a huge obstacle in my path, I look to this passage, and it helps me through. And it reminds me that I have a friend I can turn to, whether I'm looking for advice on the correct usage of effect or affect or I just need a word of encouragement.

Coffee talk

I am thankful for good coffee. However, I'm not sure if I should be grateful to my significant other for getting me hooked on it. Until the past year or so, I spent my time perfectly happy being a tea drinker. I tried coffee in the past, but it always tasted bitter to me.

When I visited New Orleans years ago, I really wanted to drink a cafe au lait at Cafe Du Monde -- just to say I had. Little did I know folks in New Orleans add chicory to their coffee to make it really strong tasting. I couldn't finish the coffee and had to have hot cocoa with my beignets. It wasn't quite the experience I was going for.

I tried flavors and cappuccinos and finally gave up, deciding I just don't like coffee. No big loss. Except that coffee drinkers seem to enjoy it so much, there must be something to it.

One day, while sipping my chai with the S.O. at Starbucks, he suggested trying an Americano. I did, with a little milk and sugar. And I liked it. Next time, I ordered a latte and -- you guessed it -- I liked it. Now I find that I actually like the bolder coffees better than the mild ones. I don't even need as much milk and sugar in my coffee as I did when I first started drinking coffee. Does this mean my palate is becoming more sophisticated with age or just that I'm killing off my taste buds and can only taste strong, bold flavors? (I've also developed a taste for red wine, dark beer and black olives.)

The good news is coffee can be a significant source of antioxidants:

In fact, it is the top dietary source of antioxidants in many populations, including in the United States. Moreover, roasted coffee residues retain their antioxidant ability; it isn't lost in processing.

The downside is now we have to buy a bigger coffee pot.

Gratitude

This month, I'm participating in National Blog Posting Month. I started last month but got in a little late. The plan is to post something every day in December. The theme for December is thanks.

Years ago, while going through a bit of a rough patch, I learned about something called a gratitude journal (it was probably something on Oprah, but it's not as corny as it sounds). The idea is to write down the things you are grateful for -- count your blessings. For awhile, a couple of friends and I e-mailed each other every day with our gratitude lists. For awhile after that, I kept a physical journal. Funny thing is once the rough patch eased up, I wrote in it less and less -- the more I had to be grateful for, the less I kept track of it.

When things were bad, it was hard to find things to be grateful for, but I could always come up with at least a few. It seemed important to look at the bright side of life. I guess I had to remind myself it could always get worse. I always had a place to live, food to eat and people who cared about me. And when I dug deeper, I could find plenty of good things in life.

But when things are good, I think I take it for granted and don't thank my lucky stars for what I have.

Looking back through the journal I kept, I see I often wrote that I was grateful for my health, my pets and my loved ones. That still holds true, but should never go without saying.