Serving others: the gift I always forget

I want to be better about service.

I always feel like I'm too overwhelmed to help. I remember the proverb in Luke 4:23: Physician, heal thyself. I often feel like before I can really serve, I need to be happy enough with myself, healthy enough to do so. However, the trick is that part of healing ourselves only happens when we serve. So, I start small. I help my wife more. My kids. I try to offer encouragement to others.

But I don't take my kids to soup kitchens. Or to nice old ladies' houses. I have in the past. And it makes for a marvelous experience and, at this time of year, a more memorable Christmas.

I want to do that again. Feel that again. So, I guess I'm trying to say that, along with the physical gifts we give, maybe we can do something for someone else that will ease their burden a bit.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays.

[Note: this short was made by a wonderfully talented team led by my friends Jed Wells and Gavin Bentley. My wife put in hours hanging lights on all of our neighbors houses and made everything look good. Our house, tree, and family has a 2 second cameo.]

Best Christmas Gift Book Ideas for Oddly Specific People on Your List: 2013

As a blogger, I have a really bad habit. You see, I have a terribly short memory and will frequently come up with "ideas" for posts, only to realize (usually after I have written and hit publish) that I basically already wrote the same blog post a year ago. So as I was thinking about a blog about gifting for the holiday season, in my head I started re-writing this post that I wrote a year ago. But then I realized that if I made it a series and did it every year and it was intentional, I wasn't plagiarising myself, I was just creating repeat content. So I present you with The Best Books to Buy as Gifts for Oddly Specific People on your list.

For your brother who is a bibliophile, but also want to work at Google and recently moved to San Francisco

Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan.

Clay was a designer for a popular tech company, but when the bubble bursts, he needs a job and begins working as a night clerk at a mysterious old bookstore. He soon notices that the clientele are odd, come in the middle of the night and seem to borrow books in telling patterns.

The book is part mystery, part love letter to books, part techno-nerd geek out. I listened to the audio book and it would be a great one to listen to with older kids on a long holiday road trip.

For your Aunt who loves "The Jerk" and is slightly neurotic and just created her Match.com profile.

The Pleasure of my Company by Steve Martin

Remember when Steve Martin was just that one funny guy in those funny movies? And then you found out he was a writer and you thought "Vanity project!" and then you read one of the books and it was touching and beautiful and artfully written? And you really wished Steve Martin would stop sucking up all the talent in the world.

This book is the story of Daniel,  a bit of a recluse who watches the world go by from the safety of his Santa Monica apartment. He's neurotic and odd but completely charming and his story will warm the cold dark cockles of your heart (I've never actually used the word cockles in a sentence before and I am feeling pretty good about it.)

For your Dad who just got a Kindle Fire and keeps saying he really wants to "get into these graphic novels the kids are always talking about" and loves Star Wars, Romeo and Juliet and really weird sci-fi.

Saga by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples

This was my first foray in graphic novels written for grown ups and I thought it was awesome. It definitely has some adult content, so please don't give this to your 12 year old nephew. The artwork is great, the story is odd and crazy but fascinating, and I can't want to read volume 2. And then wait a billion years for volume 3 to come out.

For your sister who is the one that told your dad he should read all those graphic novels and was at the midnight showing of all the Marvel movies

The Girl Who Would be King by Kelly Thompson

This book is the story of two girls who's mothers both die tragically around the same time. They both discover that they have inherited extraordinary powers and have to decide how to use them. The book expertly jumps back and forth between the two girls points of view as one chooses to use her powers for good and one chooses less virtuous pursuits.

The descriptions sounds a little lame and obvious, but Thompson creates two distinct characters who are equally likable and interesting, even though one is good and one is evil. And their names are Lola LaFever and Bonnie Braverman. How great is that?

For your co-worker who loves the 1930s and was super excited for The Great Gatsby to come out and then, like most people was disappointed

Rules of Civility by Amor Towles

It's hard to describe this book exactly. It's basically a story of a girl, Katey Kontent, who meets an upper class investment banker, Tinker Grey in a bar on New Years even in 1937. Its about class, New York, the 30s and has great characters. It's not the type of book I normally read, but I was hooked.

Did I miss anyone? I feel like this pretty much covers every oddly specific person on your list. And stay tuned - after Christmas we'll be sharing all the PTAs best books of the year.

Such a Good Story...or Two.

So....as I'm sure you know, because you follow every post I post with the vigor and vim of a toddler seeing snow for the first time, I have been using this December to search the world for crazy Christmas Traditions that would entertain us American's and remind us how lucky we are to live in a Nation where an overweight bearded man will creep down our chimneys and give us an x-box.  Well, all of this was to culminate today with David Sadaris' amazing Holiday Tale:  6 to 8 Black Men.  I don't know exactly what my plan was...was I going to plagiarize it? Summarize it?  Jazzersize it? Who knows. All I know now is that in my effort do whatever I was going to do, I found a Video of him reading that story by lamp light:  So whatever I was going to do it would never be as good as this:

And so what am I left with?  Now what?


A Story.

In my life I have come to learn the power of story.  I love to hear a good story and I love to tell one. My mother planted that seed when she would read to her "little boys" at night.  She had a Story Voice that was different then her Real Voice or even her Telephone Voice.  Her Story Voice was warm and rich and soft and lulling, coaxing you to dig in and listen or drift off to sleep.  She has always collected Children's Books and because of her, so do I.  There was always a hunt for a good story...pictures are very important to a children's book, but it takes time to sus out a great tale told well.

Perhaps my favorite book she ever discovered is a Christmas Story called, "Santa Calls" By William Joyce, who both illustrates and illuminates this story for young readers.

The Pictures are magic and full of details that you can catalogue as you are read the words, but it is the words that do the magic.  Joyce is unafraid to take a long time to tell you things that are important to his characters.  I know what you're thinking, when you see a full page of words in a Children's Book, but his voice is so matter-of-factly magic that once you get the ball rolling you will not stop.

The story is about two boys, Spaulding Little Feet, a young Comanche Brave and Art Acthinson Aimesworth, an inventor and adventure who also has a Sister, Ester. The three of them are called north to help Santa, though they don't know the reason.  The North Pole is more then you've ever imagined but exactly as it should be and my favorite character is Mrs Claus, a smart, pulled together (surprisingly skinny) woman, who would not stay behind as Santa heads off to do his yearly quest for the children of the world.








I hope that this last week before Christmas, you take every night to amaze and delight the little ones in your life with a wondrous tale either plucked from your a book or from your own life...and if you can't manage that...well, at least take 'em to 'Frozen', there is magic there too.

Gift Giving & Other Love Languages

Have you read Senor Gary Chapman’s book The Five Love Languages? A fascinating read! And by “fascinating” I mean “easy enough for even me to understand.”

According to Captain Gary Chapman, love is spoken in five different languages. You want I should spell them out for you? Done. They are 1) Physical Touch, 2) Acts of Service, 3) Gifts, 4) Quality Time and 5) Words of Affirmation.

One of these is your “love language,” that is, the way you feel loved. (No, Eating is not one of them. But mark my words, Sir Chapman has a sequel in the works, and it includes a title somewhere along the line of The Sixth Love Language: The Most Delicious of All.)

As I read Sergeant Chapman’s theory, it made me feel like a genius, because I was pretty sure I was multi-lingual. I spoke several of these love languages, if not all of them. Give me a hug (physical touch), and you bet I’ll feel loved. But give me a hug while telling me how smart I am (words of affirmation), pulling money out of my ear (gifts), and brushing lint off my shirt (acts of service), then I really feel loved. And if you make it a long hug, then that’s quality time, and we just covered all our bases, and I’m feeling more loved than Santa Claus.

After a more thorough reading and much deliberation, I have concluded that my love language is actually Words of Affirmation. Although after seeing this sketch, I think maybe I need to become more adept at the love language of Gifts.

According to Saint Chapman, the reason it is so difficult for me to narrow in on my love language is due to his theory that if you hear your love language spoken regularly and your Bucket O’ Love (scientific term) is full, then it’s difficult to detect which language is yours. Or, if you feel absolutely no love, and your Bucket is plumb empty, then it is equally difficult to determine what your love language is. But if you know Katie, then you know that my my Bucket runneth over. But I think there's still room in that bucket for more gifts!

Terrifying, Magical Singing Elves

By far, for me, the best part of Christmas is the music. Well, and the food. Well, and the gifts. But I love the music so much. I’m totally fine with hearing it creep in during November. I love playing it my car, playing it while I am cleaning my house, playing it while I am baking delicious holiday things to eat (because, seriously, the BEST part of the Holidays has to be the food. Or the gifts. Or maybe its the music.) I love singing holiday songs. I’m not an amazing singer by any stretch of the imagination and I think that everyone, at least once in their life, should sing carols in a large group for an audience. Maybe you join a local or ward choir. Maybe you go to one of those Messiah sing-a-longs, but there is something magical about communal singing that just makes you feel the spirit of Christmas.

I know some people don’t love Christmas songs. They think they are too annoying or too saccharine or too ubiquitous during this season. They want them only played beginning on the Friday after Christmas and playing until December 25th. No more. I heard once of a group of friends who played a group game every holiday season called “The Drummer Boy Challenge.” The game would start on November 1st. You would go about your normal errands and lives, but if at any time, you heard “The Little Drummer Boy” paying in a public place, you were eliminated. The person who went the longest without hearing the song anywhere was declared the winner. Obviously you have no control over when and if you hear that song, unless you just stayed in doors all day. But it adds a certain menace to the season that feels appropriately festive.

Last year, I posted a Spotify playlist of some of my favorite, unusual Christmas songs. I think it’s still an winner - in fact, I’ll post it at the bottom of this post again. Consuming the vast amounts of Christmas music that I do has made me realize that there are some artists that definitely should be recording Christmas songs. And other’s that shouldn’t. Twisted Sister should probably stay out of the Christmas Album game, as should David Hasslehoff (Do you remember when Heidi Klum had a Christmas single? Auf wiedersehen, indeed.) . The album that has been getting the most play for me this Christmas is Annie Lennox’s Christmas Cornucopia. One of her songs is on the playlist, but you really should go listen to the whole album. Annie Lennox makes me thing of a bizarre and beautiful Christmas Angel who is equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring. I imagine that her and Tilda Swinton ride sleighs made of ice pulled by albino reindeer and wear fox skins while they listen to this record. It’s odd and magical and amazing, just like a holiday where we imagine a magical elf puts toys in our socks.

I love to buy new albums and expand my never ending Holiday playlist. Please come over to the Facebook page and let me know what albums should add to my list. After all, it’s pretty clear that other than food and gifts, holiday music is the best part of Christmas.

Time For Some Christmas Poop!

This week we are diving in deep to Christmas Traditions...and I have found a doozie, THANKS INTERNET!

Meet Tio de Nadal

Which in english means, 'The Christmas Log'!  He's so super cute.  So, here's what you do..in Catalonia that is.

First, you give the gift of the Christmas log.  Everyone is so super excited and they love him, they love him to death.

Next, you need to feed your log.  Kids stuff little treats into the hollow log day after day, night after night.

Then, you tuck your log in.  It's cold in Catalonia, so you need to cover him in a blanket and send him to dreamland.

Finally, on Christmas Morning, the grown up's tell the kids to leave the room and go somewhere in the house to pray that the log will give them lots of gifts.  After your prayers you toss your new best friend into the fire and literally tell him to...let's say Defecate...though that's not the word they use.  All the kids sit around singing songs to encourage his defecation.  If you don't have a fire place, then you beat the poop right out of him.  Kids thwack the log with branches to get his poop to come out. When you've beat him long enough then a grown up reaches under the blanket and low and behold the log has pooped Nuts and Candy which are then given to he waiting child and then the next kid comes up to beat the log. This goes on and on until the log finally poo's something like a Salt Herring, a Garlic Head, and Onion, or it just Urinates (the details of which were vague).

Now we here at PTA certainly don't want to poke fun at other cultures holiday traditions, and it should be noted that the Christmas Log only brings small presents and it's the Three Wise Men that bring the presents for under the tree...which is super sweet and is a better reminder of the Savior then flying fat guy. No, we wanted to just give a gentle nudge of a reminder of how everyone is different and everyone is beautiful and everyone loves to come together and tell the kids if they hit that log hard enough we will let you eat it poop.  The CHRISTMAS POOP!!

Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

When I was a teenager I was fascinated by the federal mandate that if two people found themselves under the mistletoe at the same time, they were legally required to kiss or suffer the consequences of the appropriate fines and possible jail time.

I secretly pined for the opportunity to somehow be at a Christmas party where romance was in the air and suddenly I and someone with whom I had been exchanging quasi-flirtatious advances for months serendipitously found ourselves under some strategically placed mistletoe, and it was just the nudge we both needed to move past our awkward teenage inhibitions and take our relationship to the next level: sharing our first kiss in front of a crowd of ruthless, unpredictable adolescents.

Of course I was juvenile in expecting such a thing to actually take place, and I blame Hollywood. For two reasons: One, there isn’t a single movie scene with mistletoe in it that does not involve people passionately, passively, or even reluctantly kissing under it. Whatever the back-story, they end up kissing because of that mistletoe. And two, I just think it’s been a while since we’ve blamed Hollywood for something.

The only plant-provoked kissing I’ve ever participated in was in 1979. I was 8 years old and not savvy to the rules surrounding mistletoe; however, I had heard rumors surrounding the effects of red roses on the women folk. And I happen to have one I fancied: My neighbor and sometimes babysitter, Christy Stovall. Christy was what is sometimes scientifically referred to as babe-o-licious.

Undeterred by the fact that she was 10 years older than me, I remember playing in my backyard that fateful afternoon and noticing my mom’s rose-garden. Beautiful red roses for the taking. And I remember the thoughts coming together as if I were solving a great mystery, putting together a delightful emotional puzzle.

I looked over at my younger brother, Justin. “I bet if I give a rose to Christy Stovall, she’ll kiss me.”

“Why would you want her to do THAT?” he asked.

I asked my mom if I could cut one of her roses to give to somebody.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Who do you want to give it to? Your teacher?”

Was she kidding? Mrs. Colunga? Clearly my mom had not spent enough time volunteering in my third-grade class and standing next to Mrs. Colunga, who looked as happy as Droopy the Dog and barely had the restraint to not smoke directly in front of the students. I wouldn’t kiss her at gun point, much less under mistletoe; and certainly not by my own initiation with roses.

“Oh, I’ll find somebody.” And that somebody was a tall brunette with Jordache jeans and a voice that put butterflies in my stomach. Somebody who went by the name of Christy.

I took my rose and crossed the street to the Stovall house. My little 8-year old heart was thumping, but I felt pretty confident in my scheme. I knocked. Christy opened the door herself, and I silently handed over my rose to her. She reached out and took it; brought it up to her nose and inhaled it.

“Is this for me?” she asked.

I just nodded my head.

“Oh, you are so sweet!” she gushed, and then bent all the way down and softly kissed me on my left cheek. “Thank you so much; it’s beautiful.”

With a silly grin on my face, I shrugged my shoulders and turned to walk home, kind of shuffling my feet in an awe-shucks manner.

I could not believe I had pulled it off. I could not believe I conceived the idea, put the dominoes in order, knocked over that first one, and then watched everything magically come to fruition. It was genius. I was a quixotic mastermind! I had powers some men dare not dream of!

I like to think that since that day I have used my powers strictly for good. I’d like to think that; but Hollywood has really blurred the lines for me on what is “good” and what is “bad.” That Hollywood. They just go around making a mess of everything. 

Santa was seriously injured, but he doesn't have to die

Photo from koikoikoi.com

Author's note: This contains my frank feelings about some Christmas traditions and will shatter the illusion for some younger readers. Parents be advised.

Our kids have stopped believing in Santa.

I told my daughter that if she stopped believing, he'd stop coming. Amelia didn't like that. Neither did my daughter. She has the Malibu Dream House on her list this year.

It was probably harsh of me. I was trying to joke about it. It's not like Christmas is canceled. But my point to them—that was missed—was when you stop believing in the Tooth Fairy, you're out a few bucks. When you stop believing in Tinkerbell, she can't fly. When you stop believing in Santa, Christmas Eve is a little less magical. Christmas morning is a little less anticipated. The Christmas spirit is just a little less bright. So, I tried to smile and laugh it off and then I went into my bedroom and cried.

I didn't always have such a pro-Santa agenda. When I was single, I had this idea that when I got married and started having kids, I'd never perpetuate the existence of a real Santa. I thought that maybe, if I read the myths and traditions surrounding Santa leading up to the holiday, made it clear they were legends, and then left a few gifts from "him," that Christmas could always be focused more on family and Jesus. My kids would know from the beginning that he was a part of Christmas tradition but not Christmas itself. But I married a woman with two kids who already believed and I wasn't about to stop that. I've never been logically sold on the idea of lying to my kids about a mythological man shaped by department store and Coca-Cola marketing. In our home, we've never used the jolly old elf as a bargaining chip, a behavior monitor, or threat. When there have been little questions, we've been vague. When the questions got specific like, "Are you Santa?" they have gotten the truth. So it's never been this huge dedication to the guy.

Here's a question: When we perpetuate this myth, what stops kids from reasoning that, perhaps, the other kind, gentle, loving Man they've also never seen is fiction? They both take the exercising of faith yet one turns out to be mom and dad. There's not a lot of physical evidence of God. For kids, at least Santa drank milk and ate cookies. One thing that helps is the The Spirt and, thankfully, that can be powerful.

So, is it better to not start the myth or is it good for them to practice this belief in someone they can't see so they can do it for other things? How should I have approached the Santa Let Down of 2013?

Someone shared this on Facebook and it intrigued me. Martha Brockenbrough wrote it for her daughter and it later appeared in the New York Times. Here are a few excerpts and you can read it in full here.

"I am the person who fills your stockings with presents ... the presents under the tree, the same way my mom did for me, and the same way her mom did for her. (And yes, Daddy helps, too.)

I imagine you will someday do this for your children, and I know you will love seeing them run down the Christmas magic stairs on Christmas morning. You will love seeing them sit under the tree, their small faces lit with Christmas lights.

This won’t make you Santa, though.

Santa is bigger than any person, and his work has gone on longer than any of us have lived. What he does is simple, but it is powerful. He teaches children how to have belief in something they can’t see or touch.

It’s a big job, and it’s an important one. Throughout your life, you will need this capacity to believe: in yourself, in your friends, in your talents, and in your family. You’ll also need to believe in things you can’t measure or even hold in your hand. Here, I am talking about love, that great power that will light your life from the inside out, even during its darkest, coldest moments.

Santa is a teacher, and I have been his student, and now you know the secret of how he gets down all those chimneys on Christmas Eve: he has help from all the people whose hearts he’s filled with joy.

With full hearts, people like Daddy and me take our turns helping Santa do a job that would otherwise be impossible.

So, no, I am not Santa. Santa is love and magic and hope and happiness. I’m on his team, and now you are, too."

I guess that's why I cried a little. I didn't want hope and happiness and magic to leave our home during Christmas. But it doesn't have to. It won't. It will still be in our Christ-centered activities. In how we treat people. In how we give to each other. And I bet, just maybe, there could be a little magic in our daughter's eyes when she drowsily, yet exitedly, opens that ...

And The Eyes Have It!

Happy Holiday's everyone!  So because Thanksgiving was so super late, now Christmas is in, like, three weeks.  Blam-O!

So I wanted to take these next three weeks and bless you with Holiday Figures from around the world. Not everyone believes in Santa Clause and that is not because they are non believers, but it's because they believe in far scarier things then a jolly cherub who loves all children and gives them gifts if they are good and warmth giving coal if they are bad...I mean if you are a cold kid, you might as well invest in a coal burning stove and then live it up all year long.

This week we are going to learn about...Bum Ba Ba BUM...

SAINT LUCIA!!!

One of the girls at my work is from Northern Italy and she had the audacity to tell me that Santa Clause is ridiculous and only a fool would believe in him.  I then asked her who she believed in and she introduced me to Santa Lucia...A lovely woman who gouged out her eyes so that no man would see them and fall in love with their beauty.  Also, she creeps into your room on the night of the 13th of December and leaves you small gifts.  Also, she keeps her eyes on a plate, like in this picture here:

Or, I guess sometimes she grows them on a plant, like this picture here:

Now, don't get me wrong, I love a good crazy religion, Heaven (literally) knows, but if I'm laying in my bed one December night and two eyes come slowly up outside my second story window...I'm not real in to whatever gift those eyes on a plate are giving me.

But the girl at my work was.  She said, every year should would pray to Saint Lucia and say, 'Please come to my house and please leave me presents, but please do not let me see your eyeless face.'  Which is not entirely correct as Saint Lucia does get her eyes...or, I guess another set of them when she is martyred because she wouldn't give an offering to the Roman Emperor...cause she had give all she had to God, and so they said she would be the offering and they went to drag her from her mothers house and they could not move her, even after hooking her up to some Oxen.  So they called a guy and had him come to the house and burn her...but she wouldn't burn and so they stabbed her...which, I guess took.  I mean, I could be wrong, but when you done lit someone on fire and they give you that, "really?"look, don't you quietly douce the flames and slowly back out the door?!  I mean, OXEN couldn't budge this lady and your gonna just stab her?!  I'm sure it was a surprise to everyone when that worked. 

Anyway, now she travels all night long and you are suppose to put food and water in the corner of your room for her and then some more water and straw for her donkey and then get yourself to bed...uh, cause she's a comin'!  and everyone knows that if you are a wake when she comes she won't leave you presents...and she has no eyes!

I hope you learned something here, and we hope you learn something new everyday here at Part Time Authors, a multicultural melding pot of fascinating facts!  

Here are more pictures:

Mending Quarrels & Forgotten Friends

I was in college during the short nine months that Howard W. Hunter was president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I have two memories of him speaking. First, I remember his words that we - the members of this Church - should be a “gentle people.” I wrote it down. I committed to be a gentler person. I am still trying. And failing. And trying. 

The second thing I remember was when he spoke at the First Presidency Christmas Devotional on December 4, 1994. It was President Hunter’s last public address. He said: 

This Christmas, mend a quarrel. Seek out a forgotten friend. Dismiss suspicion and replace it with trust. Write a letter. Give a soft answer. Encourage youth. Manifest your loyalty in word and deed. Keep a promise. Forgo a grudge. Forgive an enemy. Apologize. Try to understand. Examine your demands on others. Think first of someone else. Be kind. Be gentle. Laugh a little more. Express your gratitude. Welcome a stranger. Gladden the heart of a child. Take pleasure in the beauty and wonder of the earth. Speak your love and then speak it again.

Isn’t that a great list? I love that list. I read it every December and try to focus on it as part of the season. Because once I hit January, and I’m forced to go a month without sugar, all bets are off, people. 

It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year...Already.

So there you are, 9:30 at night and you realize you need a cup of sugar.  You could ask you neighbor but it's late and you hate them so you head to target.  You are wandering around the Home Decor section because you remember your sister-in-law's cousin pined these chevron candle sticks that you think might be on sale now that Halloween is over and before you know it, you realize that you are standing in the middle of a winter wonderland, complete with actual snow and Jewel singing "It Came Upon A Midnight Clear".  And you huff out in distain, "CHRISTMAS?!!  Already? That is disgusting!  Disgraceful!  Stores bring this crap out earlier and earlier just to make a buck well, I won't have it!" So you pull out your phone and update you status to the tune of "Those brash capitalist money grubbers!  Christmas right after Halloween?  What about Thanksgiving?!  Disgusting!  Disgraceful!"  and all your friends 'like' you in agreement and update similar statuses which are 'liked' by similar friends who update their status which are 'liked' forever and ever, amen.

So, you've done your part so you turn to leave and there you see it.  The small sign that says 'Holiday Decor 25% off'.  You pause for a moment and look at the offering and it's all disgusting and disgraceful but there are these adorable boiled wool ornaments of ballerina mice that your daughter will love and she'll pull out year after year to hang on the tree and she will name them and assign each one to a different member of the family and she will tell her own children, your grandchildren, about the Christmases she had at home hanging these mice by their tales in your flocked tree (you saw it on Pintrest and it's super coming back) and those grandchildren will gather in you lawyers office the week after you die, all of them holding each other grieving your loss, but also shooting sideways glances at each other each of them wondering the same question...who's gonna get Grandma's Christmas Mice...and they are 25% off.  So, you take the set, because, you justify, they will be gone by this weekend and you want to pick the ones with the cute faces and not be stuck with the leftovers at 2:00 am on Black Friday.

Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Swipe.

and you are on your way.  You pause for a moment at a stop light to check your phone and you get that twinge of excitement over seeing so many comments/likes over your 'Save Thanksgiving' status.


Well, let me tell you sweetheart.  Josh and I work retail, and if you are disgusted then just picture us, two months ago getting our Holiday Binders with plan-o-grams and concepts and holiday 'raps' ready to have a smooth roll out for Christmas on November 1st! Both of us thinking, it can't be time already?! Really?!  Didn't we just do this?!

AND YET....

There it goes, November 1st, and with it, baskets full of Christmas Loot leaving with a smiling customer who quips quips about the early bird and worms and such.

We sell it.

Every year earlier, every year more of it.

Josh's store has even started opening on Thanksgiving day (a terrifying trend) and you know what?! They make scads of money. You better believe if I'm the fat cat sitting on top of a huge company, home on Thanksgiving with my family, but my marriage was a little shaky this year and my wife thinks I don't appreciate her the way I did when we were dating, so I think I will get her a little something extra for Christmas and that something extra should probably be a yacht, then yeah, I'm gonna open on Thanksgiving, because people, even people with inscrutable commitment to tradition and the season, will shop, they will hand over fists full of cash to be able to have first.

Several years ago, I worked at a retailer in Orem, Utah who relocated its store to another part of Orem, Utah and part of the relocation was that we would be open on Sundays.  We whined and begged but the Company, based out of California, knew best and we were open on Sundays.  Years later, and just last Sunday, I drove by that store and it was closed for the day.  No one shopped.  The store didn't make enough money to keep the lights on and pay the employees and the company was loosing money and companies HATE to loose money so they closed, just for the day, because it made the most business cents (that's right).

So this is the world we have, it was given to us by our parents who lived on farms and had to hand make their Christmas decorations and chop down their Christmas Trees and the entire family budget for Christmas was an orange, and they took turns opening four handmade presents, two of which were a separated pair of crocheted socks and they were grateful, so grateful, in fact, they closed all the stores on Thanksgiving so they could all sit around a table and tell each other who thankful they were of all that they had and so the people who worked in the stores could to the same! And for one day in November the country gathered and reminisced and laughed late late into the night, because no one had to get up very early the next morning.    

Merry Christmas from Part Time Authors

Christmas is love

Christmas is many things to many people — from the eager, materialistic grasping of a child for a present to the deep spiritual thankfulness of the mature heart for the gift of the Savior of the World. If there is one common denominator, perhaps it is this: Love. Christmas is love. Christmas is the time when the bonds of family love transcend distance and inconvenience. It is a time when love of neighbor rises above petty day-to-day irritations, and doors swing open to give and receive expressions of appreciation and affection.

Thomas S. Monson

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM PART TIME AUTHORS!

A Very Traditional Christmas

"Something old, something red, something borrowed, something dead," as Krampus, St. Nicholas' holiday devil, famously said. What that phrase I just made up now means is that holidays are steeped in tradition. For most of us, Christmastime is when we dust off winter traditions we loved as kids and continue to build them within our families and/or we try to create new ones that we hope will catch on.

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When I was growing up, my mom and dad tried very hard to make Christmas different from other times of the year. Much of the time we were either lower-middle class or poor but that never seemed to matter. It was magical.

The decorations would go up (some handmade the year or five before), the egg nog and wassail would flow freely, and the kitchen smelled at various times of ham, turkey, spices, rolls, cocoa, sugar cookies, homemade mints, caramels, and pecan logs.

We always had music playing and I remember especially loving Andy Williams, MoTab, Johnny Mathis, Nat King Cole, and John Denver and the Muppets. Each year we'd mark the calendar, much like my contemporary Ken Craig, so as not to miss any stop-motion or traditionally animated holiday special. My favorite? "Santa Claus is Coming to Town."

We often went caroling, sledding, and visiting Grandma's house during the holidays and one of my favorite Christmases was when we took boxes of food, blankets, and other supplies and gave them to homeless people.

On Christmas Eve, we were allowed to open one present, not including the less exciting traditional new pajamas gift. In our home, we had 4-7 kids at various times – there was always a baby to play Jesus –  so this night was when my dad would read Luke 2 and Mark something while we dressed in robes and towels to portray the remaining roles of Mary, Joseph, Wise Men, and Shepherds. Christmas Eve at our house always felt calm yet tinged with excitement. We would eat, watch movies or specials, play board games, put ginger bread houses together, and continue working on some 5,000,000 piece puzzle. There was always a puzzle being built. My little brother Jared was the king of puzzles, even at the earliest age. I was good at finding the edges.

Christmas morning, when we were finally allowed to stop pretending we were asleep, my mom would turn on the twinkling lights, put on Bing Crosby, and we'd all line up at the top of the stairs or in the hall according to age, youngest first. My parents were masters of the Ty Pennington reveal, creating suspense, joy, anxiety, and glee with one or two well-timed grins. As we'd enter the main room of the home, screams of delight would fill the home as we'd find the part of the sofa or recliner where our stockings were pinned, marking also where Santa had left each child's gifts. We never tore into our gifts at this point. We always went around in a circle, one gift at a time, so that we could share in the awe of each sibling's haul. Doing this made the morning last and, by the time we were done, the tough choice of which toy to free from its plastic prison faced each of us. We were never poor on Christmas.

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Today, I have a wife and two kids. Our time together during the holidays is mostly filled with trying to figure out how we can do as little as possible and get more couch togetherness time. It's what we like to do. We're pretty good at it year round but we do have our traditions too.

We still cook at Christmas (Amelia is fantastic at it) but we don't really do the homemade candy part. We "try" to eat healthy-ish treats (and by that I mean packages of peanut M&Ms). We love egg nog and cocoa time. We often have a "pickin' ham" which, once we've used it for the main dish, we cover in the fridge and pick at it to make sandwiches or ... just eat a drive-by handful.

Amelia and the kids usually decorate the tree after school one day while I'm at work and I think they like it. This year we got our first fresh tree as a family, tied it on the roof, and brought it home without incident. Our home smelled like what I imagine Narnia would smell like – crisp, clean, fresh, piney, and British – for at least a week.

Music is still a big part of Christmas for us, and thankfully, my kids love the John Denver/Muppets album as much as Amelia and I did/do. It might come from our iPhone speaker set via Spotify but it still infuses our home with holiday cheer. "It's a Wonderful Life," "Miracle on 42nd Street," and animated shows we remember to DVR are regularly viewed. We also love to go to the theater to see as many movies as we can during the break, something we could never do as a family when I was young.

We serve others given the opportunity and get wonderful drop in visits from our dear friends and near strangers. We'll take cookies around from time to time as well. We'll build snowmen, have snowball fights, and go sledding from time to time but not every year. I'm ok with it.

On Christmas Eve, the kids open new pajamas and my dad usually drops by with their gifts, watches them open them, and has some cheese and crackers. That night or sometime the next afternoon we get visits from other family in the area. Our home is sort of the gathering place at Christmas.

I always read Luke 2 and Mark something while but we haven't done the role-playing part. The kids simply listen as they cuddle their mother. Christmas Eve at our house is calm yet filled with anticipation. We eat, watch movies or specials, play board games, and work on some 5,000,000,000 piece puzzle. Amelia and the kids are brilliant at puzzles. I am good at finding the edges.

Christmas morning, I turn on the twinkling lights, put on Bing Crosby and we line up the two excited munchkins in the hall. We try to master the Ty Pennington reveal but the truth is I'm just as excited as they are. As we enter the main room of the home, gasps of happy breath escape and fill our home as they find the part of the sofa or chair where the stockings were hung. Our daughter always checks to see if Santa has eaten the milk and cookies and if he's left a thank you note. He always does but he only leaves a few gifts for the kids. (The best ones come labeled "From Mom and Dad.") We never tear into our presents. We go in a circle, one gift at a time, so that we can share in the experience of giving and receiving. Doing this makes the morning last. I never want it to end. I hope our kids feel it too and I hope they find some tradition like these they enjoy enough to try and pass on.

We've been blessed in recent years so money at Christmas hasn't been the issue I imagine it was for my parents. But, I don't think it ever would be. Our love for each other, the Spirit in our home, and our traditions make it feel special to me. We'll never be poor on Christmas.

Happy holidays.

Christmas Elixir

Say what you will about eggnog, but unless you are saying “It’s delicious,” then you’re wrong. I love this beverage. I love everything about it. Well, not the name (which sounds dangerously dangerous; like you are destined for food poisoning.) But for the love of all things holiday-ish, this elixir is an instant party in your mouth. Your senses are heightened. You can actually smell colors. (P.S. Your senses might be confused as well.) (But you won’t see that warning on the box.) (Because if eggnog were to start putting warnings on their containers they would have to include things like “Warning: You will quickly and gladly sell your children for more eggnog.”) (I like writing inside parentheses.)

Eggnog is not so highly endorsed by all people. In fact, it’s not even endorsed by all of my family. In fact, it’s not even endorsed by all Ken Craigs in my family. Take for example, my father who also goes by Ken Craig, and whose response to eggnog is, “Whoever would drink that stuff would drink their own bath water.”

Touché, Dad.

Fact is, there aren't too many fence sitters with eggnog. People either love it, or they are communist. You don’t see too many folks who say, “I can take it or leave it.” It’s usually, “I can and WILL take it – with both hands, if necessary” or “Get that swill away from me, you filthy beast.”

Well, I adore it. In all its forms – Dreyer’s ice cream, Jack In the Box shakes, pumpkin flavored, and on and on. But my favorite is Southern Comfort’s Vanilla Spice Egg Nog. Oh, hold me. I get the fever for it just talking about it. You must try it. I defy you to not fall in love with it. And for those of you concerned; no, it does not come with Southern Comfort already in it. It’s just pure heavenly non-alcoholic eggnog. You have to add the Southern Comfort yourself. But being the non-drinker that I am, I don’t add any Southern Comfort. I add a cup of my own bath water.

Your Essential Holiday Gift (Card) Guide

My Part Time Authors colleagues have done a smashing job this week of giving you ideas for those special people in your life, i.e. your kids, your women, your readers, and Chris Clark. But what about the rest? What if you've procrastinated until Christmas Eve or you get word that the neighbor you hardly know got you an iPad Mini?

Shhhhhh. Rest easy, friend. I've got you. There, there. I've got you.

Gift cards. Boom.

The perfect gift for when you don't have time, shipping funds, or creativity to spare. Or you don't know what to get your parents and they tell you they love getting them because it's better than another quote book by Neal A. Maxwell.

Still, knowing who to get them for specifically and how much to spend can be a stressful task. Here's what I would do (have done):

Specialty Gift Cards
These are great for someone you care about but they aren't in your immediate family and you only have limited information about their likes and dislikes. If you know your Aunt Eunice loves Kneaders, bingo, a $10 gift card there has you covered. Caution: Make sure you give the person enough on the card to get something without also using their own funds. Don't get your cousin a $10 gift card to J. Crew. They won't be able to get anything.

Prepaid Credit Cards
Prepaid credit cards are good for someone you can't peg. Do they like music? Do they like movies? Do they like groceries? It doesn't matter! They can get whatever they want! On a more serious note, when I was poor and single, I loved getting these because it meant I could get gas in my car and a movie ticket. It's really helpful for those strapped for cash. $25 is good here.

Restaurant Gift Cards 
If your long lost high school friend loves chain restaurants you could get a Cheesecake Factory gift card. For those who are "foodies" you can get them a Cheesecake Factory gift card and then laugh later about how they had to go to that poorly decorated abomination. I kid. People love food and going out and, if you really want to impress, give them a "date night" set of cards that let's them eat and then enjoy a movie or bowling. $25, or enough for two people to eat and give a tip.

Department Store Gift Cards
Great for the more "mature" tastes on your last minute list. Seniors, maybe all of us, love gift cards to Macy's, Nordstrom, or Sears. They can get a scarf, jewelry, make up, shoes, etc. You may need to give more ($50) but at least your mother-in-law can get something they really want. That will make everyone happy.

Amazon Gift Cards
This is what I'd love. If you are a human under the age of 60, you can't go wrong here. Any $.

That's it. So, tell me. What else is there? How have you used gift cards? Do you hate them? Express your feelings in the comments.


Also, this post borrowed a few ideas from a post you can read here.

You Want Gift Ideas?!

You've come to the right place.

Alright let's get started.  You got crap you gotta get done and frankly it's December 11th, some people are done will all this, but not you. So let me knock out your perfect gifts and then you can move on to other blogs that are doing nothing to get you ready for the big day...not us...that's why you came here first.

Neighbors: 
You sort of like them, but the real point is you need to be prepared if they come over and give you something you need something thoughtful and generic.

Boom!  The Monogram Mug, easy you don't even have to know the persons first name, just give them the first letter you see on the mail box.  Or if you really don't know these people, get a "Q", it's a charming letter also, looks adorable filled with Q-tips in the guest bathroom...and you thought this was going to be a funny, not helpful post...wrong again lady.

Kids:  
I do recommend reading yesterdays post by Ken, it's magic.  But if you are over your budget in magic, then might I suggest, a book:

The Little Prince.  It's an amazingly beautiful pop-up book with lots of pictures and words, so if you are looking for your youngest or dumbest child, get them a Monogram Mug...least they'll learn one letter.



Sister-in-Law:
You know the one I'm talking about, she's nice but only comes to Sunday dinner like three times a year, and you drew her name and now you're at a loss because you know your brother is waiting to see if you really like her or not.  Easy.

It's one of these vases.  BLAM-O! No, really, that Tiffany Blue Vase with the Coral Chrysanthemum is $28.00 and she will die, it shows you think she has swuper cute taste and that you and her do have one thing in common. It's that vase.

Sister:
You love her and she is off in DC, still single, and living the sexy life you once had before you married me.  Well, PTA comes through for you here too.

It's this sweater, now you're thinking "A sweater? Really, I mean, it's a cute one, but for my baby sister?"  YES.  She is out there all alone and for some reason is looking rock star sexy, this sweater gives the gift of style mingled with modesty, a little baggy, a little boob snugging, she'll love it and you will have done your part.
You're welcome.

Mom:
Luckily she's easy, she's been dropping hints since October, but she's right. You knew it before she told you.

Royal Apothic Conservatory Collection Eau De Parfum: Noble Carnation.  For reals I have smelled this stuff and it is intoxicating. Also I have smelled your mom and she thinks she smells like this, but she doesn't, she will love it and so will your dad...gross.

Finally...

Husband:
He wants a flat screen.  Nothing funny there.  I wish I could be more help, but you chose him, luckily you only said, " 'till death do you part." That way you can shop around Heaven and find a guy who wants this for Christmas:

A Bamboo Mouse and Keyboard.  But no.  He wants a flat screen.  The one tip I can give you is that he wants it bigger then the one he has, also to find that measurement, use your fabric tape measurer (your grandmothers) and measure diagonally across the screen, just the screen sweetie, then take that number to the guy at Best Buy and tell him the next one up from that, he'll know what to do.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS from all of us at PTA! 


*All the afore mentioned gifts can be got at your local Anthropologie...where else.

What Santa's Workshop Looks Like

Do you share your home with young souls that currently have visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads? (And by “young souls” I mean children. And by “sugarplums” I mean presents. And by “heads” I mean bee’s nests.)

Well, from now on your troubles will be miles away, my friend – MILES a way. Have I got a magical place for you! It’s called Blickenstaff’s; and a finer toy store you will not find in all of Utah and possibly the universe.

 

What’s kind of cool about Blickenstaff’s is that while you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a toy store nowadays, Blickenstaff’s carries hundreds of toys and candy items that cannot be found in the big box stores. Original and often vintage toys and candy. And I love that they have many of the toys actually out of the boxes, so you and your kids can get a hands-on experience with them to see if you like what you're buying.

Last year we nabbed one of these gems that almost 12 months later is still played with like it’s fresh out from under the Christmas Tree. Watch this video and be amazed at how cool it looks despite the obnoxious voice over.

Know what one of the most popular items is for this holiday season? I already asked for you. I was told that it’s this:

It’s called Spot It, and it’s selling like crazy-cakes. I bought one on the spot – on the spot! My kids have been playing it non-stop. I don’t know how to play it yet, because I’m too busy writing blog posts to sit down and do that. But I hear lots of laughter behind me as I type away.

We recently went to the Blickenstaff’s in Provo and as we walked outside, into the beautifully well-lit Riverwoods, there was Santa, just sitting there by a fire. My four year old, Becca, ran up onto his lap. This was their discussion, and I’m not making this up.

Santa: What would you like for Christmas, Becca?

Becca: Everything inside Blickenstaff’s.

Santa didn't respond, because evidently, when you’re Santa, that mantle comes with the gift of restraint. He just laughed like a bowl full of jelly as he looked me in the eye, as if to say, "Nice goin', slick. Take your daughter directly from the toy store to Santa's lap. First time at the rodeo?" 

"Not completely, Fat Man," I wanted to say. "I'll be back for my free pound of bulk candy, sucka!"

Please check in at Part Time Authors each day this week to find helpful Holiday Gift Ideas! 

A Toast to Dan Fogelberg

I was recently driving down the highway, minding my own holiday cheer and avoiding WalMart like a punch to the throat, when I was exposed to an extra special (read: not extra special) Song of the Season.

I will accept some responsibility for this, as I was listening to the local radio station that is federally mandated to play Christmas music between Thanksgiving and Christmas; however, I maintain the real blame lies with the author of this little holiday hymn. 

The song began and, not having heard it before, I was intrigued. Somewhere in the middle of the song I thought to myself, “This was written by a hippie.” Then towards the end, I thought to myself, “I'm not sure this resembles a Christmas song by any stretch of the imagination.”

The song is Same Old Lang Syne, and it is written and performed by Colorado based and noted folk singer/songwriter, Dan Fogelberg. I've included the lyrics here, and I thought we should review them together. My notes are after each stanza.

Met my old lover in the grocery store

The snow was falling Christmas Eve

I stole behind her in the frozen foods

And I touched her on the sleeve

Okay, first, does your “old lover” have a name, Dan? Because frankly, that’s just rude to refer to her that way when making introductions. “Oh, John, this is my old lover – Old Lover, this is John.” And second, unless your name is Weird Al Yankovic or Barnenaked Ladies, the words “frozen foods” have absolutely zero business being included in your lyrics.

She didn't recognize the face at first

But then her eyes flew open wide

She went to hug me and she spilled her purse

And we laughed until we cried

I’m sorry, how hard did you laugh? I’m going to go out on a Christmas tree limb and guess that these two people don’t laugh often, and when they do, it is usually at movies where Adam Sandler is dressed like a woman. Also, the song doesn't say, but I like to picture Dan standing there, still laughing as his old lover crawls along the floor, unassisted, picking up all the spilled contents from her purse.

We took her groceries to the checkout stand

The food was totaled up and bagged

We stood there lost in our embarrassment

As the conversation dragged

You know what, this is where you say, “It was great to see you; have a Merry Christmas, and hey – are you on Facebook?” If after three minutes of catching up the conversation is already dragging, then don’t let’s pretend we are suddenly obligated to be buddies, since you, Dan, are obviously busy being a (folk) rock star, and she is merely your old lover.

Went to have ourselves a drink or two

But couldn't find an open bar

We bought a six-pack at the liquor store

And we drank it in her car

Still got it, eh, Dan? You old romantic. But why not just drive the rest of the way to her trailer park?

We drank a toast to innocence

We drank a toast to now

(And don’t forget a toast to Schlitz Malt Liquor, guys)

And tried to reach beyond the emptiness

But neither one knew how

She said she'd married her an architect

Who kept her warm and safe and dry

(the architect, or the tent he designed?)

She would have liked to say she loved the man

But she didn't like to lie

Yes, she has far too much integrity to lie, so instead, she just married a man she didn't love. Well played, Old Lover.

I said the years had been a friend to her

And that her eyes were still as blue

But in those eyes I wasn't sure if I

Saw doubt or gratitude

“I wasn't sure what I was seeing, because the beer was kicking in at this point.”

She said she saw me in the record stores

And that I must be doing well

I said the audience was heavenly

But the traveling was hell

I imagine traveling all over the great state of Boulder, Colorado would indeed be a grueling tour schedule.

We drank a toast to innocence

We drank a toast to now

And tried to reach beyond the emptiness

But neither one knew how

"But one's thing's for sure, the beer was helping."

We drank a toast to innocence

We drank a toast to time

Reliving in our eloquence

Another 'auld lang syne'

The beer was empty and our tongues were tired

And running out of things to say

She gave a kiss to me as I got out

And I watched her drive away

NOW who’s laughing, Dan? Guess she must have remembered how you stood there laughing while she had to pick all of her belongings off the grocery store floor without even an offer to help from you. Now you’re standing in snow up to your knees, out in the middle of nowhere with a Miller buzz on Christmas Eve while she drives off in her nice warm car! HA!

Just for a moment I was back at school

And felt that old familiar pain

And as I turned to make my way back home

The snow turned into rain

And God bless us, everyone.