I Believe, Too

I spoke with a friend today whose husband is stationed overseas on military duty. The anguish in her voice was palpable as she shared with me the burden she carries here while her husband, her best friend fights for our freedom across the ocean. With all my heart I wanted to make all her heartache go away, to bring her husband home so she wouldn't have to see the pain in the eyes of their four children as they live day after long day with his absence. I wanted to fix it so she wouldn't have to face another sleepless night in their empty bed, praying that he would still be okay when she wakes up in the morning.

But all I could do was listen and cry with her, never once pretending to understand what she feels. And I prayed for His grace to surround her.

God's grace is a crazy thing. It becomes to each of us whatever it is we so desperately need and it surrounds us and carries us when we don't see how we can make it another step. We just have to fling ourselves out there in it, letting it carry us wherever He wills. Easy to say. Hard to do. I pray His grace today to military families and I thank Him for a selflessness that I do not understand but that brings Him such unspeakable delight. I pray His grace for those who fight and defend and for their families who wait and believe. I believe, too.

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Let Them Eat Cupcakes...

This, dear friends, was our recent St. Augustine discovery. We vacation here nearly every summer and just after we left last year, this little slice of heavenly yumminess opened up near Old Town on San Marco Ave. It is called LuLi's and they pretty much just sell cupcakes. Now, I have always held cupcakes in high esteem, but this just put them over the top for me. This experience must have been something akin to the devout Mormon making a pilgrimage to Salt Lake City. I felt as though I had come home. To the great Temple of Cupcake Deliciousness. This is my middle boy shoving a peanut butter cupcake into his face. I love my middle boy. And we both love peanut butter. And though I cannot verify this, I am pretty sure that peanut butter loves us. My big man ordered the keylime pie cupcake which was beyond amazing and my baby boy had the cookies and cream cupcake but he didn't share. My oldest boy didn't get one and we figured out why when he threw up in the van on the way back to the condo. We were just thankful there was not a peristaltic chain reaction among us. Behold the magical display of cupcake grandeur. It changed my life forever and, if you get the chance to stop in at LuLi's next time you are in St.Augustine, Florida, it will change your life, too. I promise. I promise on all that is good and chocolate in this world. And I do not make chocolate promises lightly.

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I Am Here...

That's right, my bloggy friends, I am away at the beach for a little R & R with my family. I would not even try to tell you how draining the past twelve months have been for us, but suffice it to say that it has felt at times like we have been climbing the cliffs of insanity from The Princess Bride. And I am afraid of heights. Anyway, we have found a way to get away to my favorite place to be so I may or may not be around this week. I think I will just leave you dangling so check back here and see what might pop up. I will definitely be back in full swing next Monday. Don't.... forget me when I'm gone.....my heart would break....I have loved you for so long....It's all I can take....
Oooh, sorry. A little Glass Tiger for your Monday pleasure...

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Are You A Family On Purpose?

I have spent the past week on my couch watching movies and trying to get well. I cuddled up with my youngest son yesterday and we watched "National Treasure 2-Book of Secrets." The second "National Treasure" flick was about finding another enormous treasure but it was also about clearing the Gates family name after false accusations threatened to ruin it. I love both of these movies because of the rich history and the love of country. And I also love Ben Gates' determination to preserve the good reputation of his family's name.

In my family, we have taught our three sons that wherever they go and whatever they do, they do not just represent themselves. They also represent the Taylor family, and our God whose name we all wear. One way we have made that concept more tangible is by developing a family purpose statement which we have posted on the wall in our family room. It is crucial to establish a family identity while your children are young so that as they grow up and other people become increasingly more influential in their lives, they have something to fall back on. A strong family identity gives kids a sense of belonging to something larger than themselves and also a sense of stability. If we are going to have a purpose statement in our business plans, in our governments, and for our churches, how much more important is clearly laying out who you are as a family and why you exist as a unit? What about your family? Who are you and what do you stand for? If we don't give our kids a sense of purpose, someone else will.

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New Year's Resolution

What's that you say? It's May 13th??? I do not care. I am making a resolution anyway. It's my blog, I can resolve if I want to.

Sunday was my second Mother's Day since my Mom died and these past few days I have been looking at pictures of her when no one is looking. I do this when no one is looking because pictures of her make me cry, especially around special days, and I just like to cry by myself. That way no one sees the snot drip off of my nose and into my lap. Very sexy.

I am sad to say that there just aren't very many pictures of my Mama and me together. For that matter, there aren't very many pictures of her at all. And then I started thinking about the pictures of my own family and I think I might be scarce in those pictures. Why do we take so many pictures of our kids and so few with us in the pictures with them?

I know why. At least for me, anyway. It is because I hate how I look in most pictures so I only make my way into a few of the family shots. And I haven't been letting the boys post pictures of me on their Facebook pages if I think I look yucky in them, which I usually do.

But I don't want my boys to look through the family albums one day, searching for a shot of just them with me and find nothing. I would give anything to have a few pictures of my Mama and me together.

Happy.

Laughing.

Acting silly.

Just being together.

And even though no picture could ever fill the vast void left by Mama's death, it sure would help my heart to just see her. With me. A long ago moment, forever captured, that would wrap itself around me like a blanket and comfort me a little when I miss her.

I want to leave my kids with lots of pictures of all the fun we are having now and all the laughter. Oh, we do laugh. And they know what I really look like. They won't care if my tummy pokes out or my roots need touching up in a picture. I don't notice those things when I look at pictures of my Mama. All I see is the woman who gave me life and only occasionally threatened to take it back. And my boys will one day (a really long time from now) look at pictures of me and remember-not what my hair looked like or how much I weighed, but rather who I was and how I made them feel.

So, my resolution is to jump in all of the pictures and not worry how I look, but instead just enjoy how I feel. Because life is so good and so full and I really do love every minute of it. Go check out your own photo albums....are you there? It really will matter one day.

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Expect the Unexpected...And Then Laugh

So, I try to write posts with valuable content, offering helpful or at least encouraging information. But I can't be helpful all the time and I really just want you to see how awesome I look on the back of a tow truck.

I made 40 deviled eggs and my husband made a huge dessert to take to a family gathering on the other side of Georgia. We had all of that, our luggage, three boys and one small dog crammed in our little van and we were headed out of town. Until.....
Until our van started running hot, the engine began smelling like waffles, and smoke billowed out from under the hood....miles and miles from civilization. And why not? So that was when the nice police officer pulled over and asked us what was the problem. As if we looked like people who would have any idea what they are looking at when peering under the hood. Puh-lease! The kind officer took pity on us and called a towing service because clearly we were in danger of blowing up our engine. Uh, sure, we were aware of that. It seems that it is illegal to do what you see pictured here, but the four out of five Taylors that would NOT fit in the cab of the tow truck voted and decided walking 30 miles back to town was clearly not an option. I, of course, did what I always do in situations like this....I took pictures and cracked jokes. I made my oldest son jump off the tow truck and take this picture while my husband was inside paying the nice tow truck driver a small fortune. It seems that jumping off of the tow truck once you have been "attached" is frowned upon. Who knew?

Here is a picture of what it looks like to ride down the highway from the bed of a big tow truck. I realize that many of you may never have this important life-altering experience and I feel it is my responsibility to allow you to "see" from this perspective. I do what I can to broaden your scope of experience, people.


















And, finally, here is a picture of two of my little punks enjoying the ride. Okay, they really weren't thrilled about the turn that the day took, but I try to teach them to find fun in any circumstance. Except a root canal. No fun to be had there, my friends.


So that was my exciting weekend. We find out today if we have a cracked radiator or if a resurrection occurred and our van was miraculously healed. A girl can dream...

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Adventures in Parenting

I wanted to write something for today's post that would be deep and inspiring, yea even life-changing. But then I said "Nahhh". You see I have two sick kids and one other who wishes he were sick so he could get out of his school work.

No such luck!

I met our new doctor yesterday and oooohhhhhhh how I miss our old one! (Heather, where are you?????) Then I followed her directions to the diagnostic center where my son would be getting a chest x-ray and I learned that being able to prescribe narcotics and such does not necessarily qualify one to give directions. Yeah, I got lost. My husband suggested I call the office back and ask someone else for directions but I knew in my current state of PMS that I would most likely wield my sword of sarcasm in a less than life-giving way. So I refrained. And I found the diagnostic center on my own because I am just stubborn like that. I also decided that I would not let my new doctor's inability to tell her left from her right dissuade me from trusting her medical advice. I may later regret this decision.

Turns out my young son does NOT have pneumonia but our new physician still feels it necessary to have us give him the antibiotic she prescribed. My son showed her, though! After taking both pills for day one he then proceeded to throw up.

Everything in his stomach.

All over the trashcan.

Lid.

Because if you are that close to a trash can, why bother to lift the lid when you can, instead, splash the entire contents of your stomach all over your shoes and pants, the trash can AND the cabinet behind it. Good plan.

You would have been proud of me...I just laughed and then cleaned it up. Did I mention my PMS? And because I am a good mother, I curled up in my bed with my son and watched three hours of Orcs murdering each other with every form of sharp weaponry. I actually do like "Lord of the Rings", but I am more in a "You've Got Mail" frame of mind right now. I did, however, cheer loudly when Legolas slid down that flight of stairs while shooting arrows at Orcs. I so would have face-planted half way down the stairs and been brain dead on the spot. Ring? What ring?

There you have it. I know. You are overcome with inspiration. Just lie down. I promise you it will pass.

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The Skin of Knowing

"Many believe that it is love that grows, but it is the knowing that grows and love simply expands to contain it. Love is just the skin of knowing." -from The Shack by William P. Young


Last night, as I drew a tepid bath for my fevered little boy, I was swept away to some moment in the winter of 1970 when I was just a baby and my mother was my hero. I don't actually remember that long ago night, I only know the story of it so well that it feels like I can remember what happened. I was very, very sick with a fever of over 105 degrees and my father, then a Secret Service Agent with the federal government, was out of town, leaving my mother alone with my older brother and sick little me. Mama told me how she called the doctor and they told her to strip me down to my diaper and walk me around outside in the snowy night until my fever came down. And so she did. She walked me about in the snow, holding on to my burning-hot, diaper-clad little body as I chattered and hallucinated and she cried and prayed.

Fast forward thirty-nine years and here I am with my own little boy, fighting his high fever and understanding what my own mama felt all those years ago. And as I look at his flushed face that is so like my own used to be, I am moved by this small reflection of me and my husband. You don't just love your child because he is yours. You love your child because you know him so very well and his delicious uniqueness is divinely irresistible. And I remind myself that this same mystery exists between God and me and He invites me to truly know Him that my love for Him might expand. He knows and loves completely, a reality that I do not pretend to understand, but that I do find irresistible.

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My Caped Crusader Grew Up!

Yesterday was the 14th birthday of my middle son, David. He is 5' 9" so we see eye to eye now and he has a deep voice, hairy legs and a haircut I would have never chosen. My hubs and I have always called him Dave the Brave because he was so fascinated with super heroes as a little boy. When he didn't have on clothes he would still wear a cape of some sort even if it was nothing more than his baby blanket draped around his shoulders and fastened with a clothes pin. Now his shoulders are always draped with a guitar strap and the world he lives in is no longer fraught with evil villains, but riffs he is trying to master.

Where does the time go? And how has that little boy with the glow-in-the-dark smile and the big imagination become a young man with such big dreams? I so love having three sons. I love the privilege of watching them change and become. And I have to bite my tongue sometimes and remember that listening to my teenagers is far more important than lecturing, fussing, and rubbing their noses in their mistakes. That is what God does for me. Although He encompasses all wisdom and knowledge, He never beats me up with His words. He never rubs my nose in my failures. Instead, He invites me to draw near to Him, to know Him intimately and to be loved. And He lets me feel the consequences of my actions. What a great parent God is and I run to Him every day as I try to follow His example. I thought the "terrible twos" were hard...no one told me about the "heaven help me they are teenagers-now what??" Some things you just have to figure out on your own!

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Fleeting Snow Angels

My good friends at The Weather Channel predicted 1-2 inches of snow for Columbus, Georgia but, friends, we got nearly five inches at our happy, little home yesterday. And it was glorious! Those of you who live in the great, white north can't appreciate my excitement and, truly, I can see how snow could grow wearisome . But for those of us in the deep south, yesterday's snow was a gift and we enjoyed it to the fullest! We threw snowballs, made snow angels and attempted to make a snowman, but our boys were more interested in launching snow missiles at us. Good times!

I know the clock ticks at the same rate for all of us but when you have children, it seems to race by at a breathless clip and if you aren't careful, you miss the most priceless gifts that come wrapped up in the plain, brown paper of the everyday. Play-Doh, crayon drawings on the fridge and snow angels are fleeting...don't wish them away.

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Nights of the Round Table

Last night we called yet another family meeting. In our home, when things aren't clicking along the way they should, we sit down together, we look each other in the eyes and we talk. True, meaningful communication rarely happens by accident and we have tried to be intentional in our family about fostering openness and honesty. It goes without saying that, because we have three sons (two of them teenagers), our family meetings sometimes get, well, silly. But for the most part we are able to deal with hurtful behaviors and attitudes that sometimes creep in and threaten our peace. Our ground rules are simple: complete honesty, absolute respect, and what is said in the family meeting, stays in the family meeting. Each person can express what they think and how they feel and then we deal with it...nothing is minimized or swept under the rug. And the best thing is that usually, when the tough issues are dealt with, we end up laughing or talking about other things that we might not have talked about otherwise. And each of us leaves knowing that, even if no one else on the planet cares what we think or how we feel, there are four other people who do. And we will always work to keep that.

Adults who are capable of healthy communication do not grow on trees. They are best grown around your kitchen table. If you have never led your family into this type of interaction, why not start now? If you and your spouse do not have this type of open communication, then you will need to start there. You cannot lead your children where you have never been. It's not too late. It is never too late to unlock the hearts of your spouse and your children and let them know that you are listening.

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Love It, Love It, Love It!!

Well, I do hope you people had a great Christmas.  Ours was wonderful!  Christmas Eve was spent in Waycross with all of the inlaws and, my goodness, there are bunches of us now.  We packed in one house and ate a buffet of smoked, grilled or fried meat with all of the trimmings and a table absolutely full of sinful desserts.  We did our gift exchange which has come to look something like the floor of the New York Stock Exchange as we conduct our "Dirty Santa".  Then we headed back to Columbus, arriving home around 12:30 AM.  We spent the entire day on Christmas in our pajamas, napping, eating recreationally (nutrition had nothing to do with it) and playing with our boys.  Our boys saved their money and secretly bought Eddie and me the second season of Psych (best show ever!) which they taped to the bottom of a giant RC truck of theirs and wrapped in an unrecognizable mass of Christmas paper to throw us off.  Awesome!  For the last three years they have been using their money to get us a surprise gift and it gives us such a kick to see them get so excited over giving. I know I have said it before...I love Christmas!  

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Chocolate, Rudolph and Memories of Yesterday

I spent last night making Oreo truffles (cream cheesy goodness wrapped in dark chocolate...pure heaven!) and then I sat by the fire with my little boy in my lap watching Rudolph.  I have always had a love affair with all things Christmas and I cannot help but feel a bit nostalgic watching the same Christmas specials with my kids that I used to watch as a little girl.  I also find that at this time of year I miss my mother so much I can hardly breathe at times.  And now that she is gone, I no longer have that link to my grandmother who was my anchor growing up, helping me to find my way when everything around me was chaos.  But no matter how messy life was in my family, they always put aside what didn't matter to focus on what did at Christmas and I loved every day leading up to the moment when we could rush into the living room and see what Santa left by the fireplace for us.  And we all laughed and gave and ate and we had peace on earth even if only for a season.   Now that I am grown, peace is a way of life for my own little family and the moments of chaos are few and far between.  But still I love every moment leading up to Christmas day and I try to savor every moment with my children during these times that will all too soon be warm memories.  I pray that your time this week in celebration of the birth of our Savior will be filled with warmth and peace and nostalgia and great joy.  Merry Christmas to you all!

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Deep, Dark Secrets

We harbor in our family a deep, dark secret. Only one person outside of our family knows it. Until now. If any of you have ever wondered why our family has never given you Christmas cookies, I submit the following picture as evidence. Not one of the five of us can make a pretty Christmas cookie. As you can see below, it us not just the decorating skills that we all lack. We are not even good at cutting out the bloomin' things. In the earlier years, when our boys were very small, we would make the dough from scratch and spend hours icing them and still they looked like what you see below. I then began buying sugar cookie dough in rolls because, really, once three boys cover them in two inches of cream cheese frosting and an inch of colored sugar, they all taste the same. We soon learned that the word "nonpareils" is french for "are you crazy thinking that vacuum is going to suck all those up??" And truthfully, we all stand around the counter like starving buzzards on road kill, slathering the first few in frosting and shoving them down our throats before we even begin the "decorating" process. Our latest challenge has been explaining why it is in bad taste to use the frosting to make the Christmas angels anatomically correct. Well, it is out now. It feels good to confess. Feels even better to eat those Christmas cookies...no matter how ugly they are!

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Savor Every Moment

My oldest son turned sixteen yesterday and, for some reason, I find it hard.  It is a wonder to watch him grow up and become a man, but I just wish that could happen and I could still keep my little boy who used to dress up in funny costumes and wallpaper my everyday life with his wild imagination.  I can remember lifting him out of the tub and wrapping him in a hooded towel and then watching as he would tear down the hallway, laughing wildly as I would chase him to his room and dress him in his footed pajamas.  He always smelled so good at night all curled up next to me on the couch and I would pray that those days would never end.  This week I get to take him to get his driver's license and then watch him as he tears down our street, laughing wildly at all that life has to offer, but this time I don't get to run after him.  You don't think about such things when you are changing diapers and wiping spit-up off of your shoes.  It is always a good idea to savor every moment...to remember the smell of their hair after a bath and their breath after they have eaten Play Doh.   My baby is nine and he still likes to cuddle on the couch with me at night after his bath and so I am still soaking it up.  If you have the chance, I hope you are, too.

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Thanksgiving Reflections (or Why Family Holidays Should Only Happen Twice Yearly)

I have decided that, since my sister insists on being too busy to read my blog, I am going to do a little tell-all about my Thanksgiving experience.  It doesn't pay to be nonsupportive in my family (insert evil, maniacal laughter here). 

Upon arrival at my sister's home, we were greeted in the driveway by my sister who SWORE that whatever my oldest nephew had was NOT contagious although the doctor at the Acme Medical Clinic could not exactly say what the mysterious illness was nor could he explain why he had been sick for two weeks running.  This announcement was intended to be comforting.  FAIL!!

I awakened the first morning at my sister's house to the sound of my ten-year-old nephew catching what I understand to be "mole crickets" in the den where my husband and I were sleeping on air mattresses.  While these crickets are the size of moles, they actually resemble frogs with spider legs.  If you know me even a little, you understand how DEEPLY disturbing I found this.  I do NOT do critters of any kind, especially those that can HOP onto me while I sleep.  Fortunately he flushed the offenders down the toilet and I chose to believe that they were sojourners who had no kin in the nearby area.

I discovered while helping to prepare the Thanksgiving feast that, if you do NOT place the huge mixing bowl full of sweet potatoes and other gooey ingredients completely on the counter rather than partially on the counter, when you mix the said potato concoction, it will spill down the front of your shirt, your pants, and penetrate the tiny holes in the mesh of your running shoes.  It is also a difficult substance to clean off of the newly painted kitchen cabinets and the din of laughter from every member of your family does not help this process.  It's okay though, because I laughed until I nearly wet my already potatoey pants.

To further leave my mark on my extended family, I accidentally dropped my sister's blender on the floor which caused the pantry door to snap backwards and knock a picture off of the wall which then landed on top of my brother-in-law's head.  I found it fortunate that stitches were not required and that he didn't hate me for the fits of my laughter that inevitably follow any of my "unfortunate accidents", as they have come to be called.

Our visit was capped off by a knee-slapping funny display from my nephew with the strange and dreaded disease who was taking certain behavior-altering medications.  Apparently he recently entered the front office of his high school (where my sister also works) and renamed the school secretary Fonda Peters.  This was shared with a house full of Thanksgiving guests and then followed up with drunken hugs for everyone at which time he discovered that his tongue felt strange.Thankfully my sister told him to pull his shirt down and go back to bed.  I plan to find out what medication he was taking and never give it to my own children.

I really do love my extended family and I was deeply grateful that our messy celebration took place in her house this year.  Next year I will wear a rubber suit while preparing the sweet potato souffle` and I will make sure we are all properly innoculated before going to her house.  Hope your Turkey Day was just as memorable!!

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I Think I Need A Little Break!

I must confess that I am not feeling well and so being informative, encouraging or entertaining is just beyond me today.  I know, I know....it boggles the mind, doesn't it?  I had planned to take a little bloggy break for the remainder of this holiday week anyway, so here is my farewell until Monday.  I get to spend time with my sister whom I have not layed eyes on since Easter, so I am one happy little pilgrim.  Here's hoping that your turkey is moist, your gravy isn't lumpy and you don't do bodily harm to that relative who, quite frankly, really deserves it.  See you peeps on Monday!

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Transformed

, 
"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."       Carl Jung

When I was a kid, I had my future all figured out.  I was going to be a world-renowned psychologist with many books to my credit and a full speaking tour.  And I was going to do it alone-just me and God.  Growing up I saw very little that drew me to the idea of marriage.  And yet, when I was nineteen, I met Eddie Taylor and in him I knew I had found my home. One year later I married my best friend and today we celebrate twenty years of profound "heaven on earth".  These two decades have been filled with adventure, excitement, peace, passion, love and a little heartache.  Three sons, six fish, two cats and two dogs later, I wouldn't have my life any other way.  God's love has transformed me and His catalyst has been my husband.  I tell him that he is diet coke and I am mentos and that together we are infinitely better and entirely transformed, reaching heights that alone would be impossible.  I love you, Eddie Taylor!  Happy Anniversary.

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And Then The Roosters Showed Up...

Anyone who has ever sold a house knows how "unfun" it is to keep the said house in perfect order all the time.  This becomes even more challenging if there are three boys living there as they do not fully comprehend the reality that the realtor can call at any time and want to show your house with precious little warning.  Let me give you a fun example of what it looks like when that call does come and you have an hour to get your home perfect and your entire family, dog included, out of the house.

Yesterday, I got the call at lunch time but before anyone had eaten anything.  I then had to get my hungry boys to make the underwear that usually hangs out of their partially open drawers to magically disappear while assigning someone to quickly run the vacuum.  The vacuum decided to begin emitting a foul and suspicious "rubber belt simmering in a dirty sweat sock" smell which quickly filled the house.  Not to worry-there was plenty of time to sprinkle fragrant carpet fresh powder all over the carpet and then grind it in with my sock-covered feet because there was no way on earth we were turning that smelly vacuum back on.  Thanks to the refreshing fall winds that blew over the weekend, there was a three inch carpet of leaves on the front patio and walkway that had to be swept up.

  And then the roosters showed up.  I am so not kidding.  Sauntering through my front yard were two very stupid roosters who obviously had no internal clocks as they were crowing at the top of their lungs.  Did I mention it was noontime?  Now, for those who do not know me, I do NOT live in the country and I had no idea why there were roosters in my yard, but I was pretty confident that they would not be a bold selling point for the potential buyer that was due at my house in twenty minutes!!  And yes, I did go after them with my broom in my hand in true cartoon fashion, hoping and praying that a car would come along and make rooster pancakes of them.  

It turns out that the roosters really weren't the lowest point.  When I returned home after the showing I discovered a toilet FULL of bright, yes-I-did-take-my-vitamins-today yellow urine with the lid up for everyone to see.  Never have I felt so proud.  If these people do buy my house, I am wearing a bag over my head at the closing.

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Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus...

This weekend I was at the mall with my whole family doing a little Christmas shopping when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a mall Santa before Thanksgiving.  Now, I love Christmas more than the average person.  In fact, I love it so passionately that I have to force myself to wait until after Thanksgiving to watch Elf and begin listening to Christmas music.  So I think the mall people, or the village people, or whoever is in charge should put the Santa thing on hold until the turkey dinner is at least cooling in the fridge.  The pilgrims and the indians are seriously getting the brush-off from the advertising industry and this needs to stop.

That being said, if you know me and my family, you know that we like to take pictures of ourselves doing silly things in public places.  Yesterday the mall Santa was on break and obviously doing a little shopping for the Mrs. at the jewelry store near the center of the mall.  My oldest son was encouraging my middle son to go over to Santa and lean over the jewelry counter beside him so he could get a picture.  Well, let's just say that timing is not the forte of my middle son so he hurried over and old Santa noticed what he was up to before my budding photographer son could get the picture.  David, thinking fast on his feet, blurts out (in his very deep for thirteen voice) "I love you, Santa!"   Mr. Mall Santa looks right into the eyes of my son and says, "Well I don't love you!  Now get away from me!"   Ahh, can't you just feel the Christmas spirit in the air....love, joy, peace and all of that?  Yeah, me neither.  But we all got a big laugh and I can always use one of those.  So, dear friends, the Christmas season is apparently upon us and all I can say is, "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus...and he is a big, fat old grouch!!"

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