December 19, 2006

What do you do for your Christmas tree? (If you have one.)

We’re definitely a cut-the-tree family. We go to a great tree farm (if you aren’t aware, Michigan is the second or third highest producer of Christmas trees in the US) and make it a big production, usually the weekend before Christmas–which was, of course, just this last weekend.

The things I’ve learned about a good tree-farm experience?

1. You must be able to walk to the tree selection. It’s no fun to wait for a wagon or cart to bring you out and then bring you back. It takes forever, and if it’s cold….brrr! One year, we had to wait 45 minutes because they kept forgetting us!

2. They have to have hot chocolate available, either before or after (preferably both). Donuts are a bonus.

3. They have to provide saws. Sharp saws. (One year we brought our own saw and left it way out in the tree farm. We never saw it again and my Music Man has never let me forget that!)

4. They have to have a bathroom. (Please! With three kids, two of which are girls…you know what I’m saying.)

5. They have to have a variety of trees–heights, widths, and style. We have to get a short, fat one and we always get a blue spruce…at least, we always did until this year. This year we got a blue something else. It has long, soft needles (much easier on the hands when decorating).

6. They have to shake it for you, wrap it for you, and, the most important thing: they have to help you get it on your car!
after–or both–for the tree cutters. Donuts are a bonus.

PS. I’m guest blogging at the Writing Playground today…talking about my Cover Epiphany and also giving away a copy of The Rest Falls Away.

December 18, 2006

I’m glad to hear that Italy is now getting in line (behind Brazil) in cracking down on anorexic models.

A friend of mine sent me these pictures awhile ago, just before that young Brazilian (anorexic) model died. I used the images in a session for a middle school youth group I work with.

The scary thing about this is that at least 75% of the students in this youth group indicated that they knew at least one person who was anorexic or bulimic or both. Girls making themselves throw up in the bathrooms after lunch, etc.

My best friend in high school was anorexic. It was terrible. But at least it was never as terrible as this:

December 18, 2006

Have you ever been caroling?

Some of my favorite winter memories revolve around those crispy cold nights with flashlights or candles, red noses and excited, chattering friends.

I’ve been officially caroling–and by this, I mean going from house to house at night–probably four or five times in my life. I think I’ve been a carollee once as well.

The first time I went, I was in eighth grade and I went with a bunch of friends from my class. We ended up at our teacher’s house (she was expecting us), and she invited us in for an impromptu party.

Last year, I went with my daughter and her Girl Scout troop and froze my patootie off. But the girls had a blast.

One of the best times was when I went with my Music Man during our first Christmas together. We got together with a group of thespians we’d been doing a musical with, and, clutching our hot cider and hot chocolate (appropriately spiked, of course) we caroled through a neighborhood with beautiful, large old houses that must have been built in the early 1900s.

It was just cold enough that we didn’t want to be out all night, and that the hot chocolate and schnapps-laced mulled cider felt great in our cold fingers, but not so cold that it was miserable.

It didn’t snow, but it had snowed, so we had a white backdrop for our set. We thrashed through some bushes to get from where we parked into the lovely neighborhood with long, broad streets and front yards big enough to stand in without feeling crowded.

People were delighted to hear from us, and since many of the carolers in the group were musicians (we were doing a play, remember), we had some percussion and I think we might have even had a guitar in the mix.

I think caroling is a lost art. And based on that experience, with the obvious surprise and joy from the people we sang to, it’s an art that should be resurrected. Such a simple pleasure, and so traditional!

Now our streets are lit up with a blaze of Christmas lights so we hardly would need candles or flashlights, which is a shame. But there’s nothing like the sound of singing breaking in over the blaring TV or the family conversations, and a group of red-nosed, pink-cheeked singers wishing holiday cheer.

December 16, 2006

ejslack!

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Watch for another chance to win The Rest Falls Away next week.

December 15, 2006

Click here to see.

Oh, if only I could really dance like that!

(And thanks to Esri for the link. I’m sure I’ll be hanging out here the rest of the weekend.)