Out With The Old, In With The New

Now that we’re through with the holiday season preliminaries of Halloween and Thanksgiving, the Christmas advertising season is running full tilt.  From now until after New Years Day, you’ll be hard-pressed to see a television advertisement that doesn’t feature jingling bells, huge red bows, and snippets of seasonally appropriate songs.  Some are new, but some return like old friends, long lost relatives that pop in for the holidays.

hershey kiss christmasSince 1989, the Hershey company has been running an adorable holiday commercial featuring the iconic Hershey kisses arranged in the shape of a Christmas tree and performing a hand bell arrangement of We Wish You A Merry Christmas.   I remember the first time I saw it.  I was enthralled.  What a cute and clever way to advertise the wee bits of foil-wrapped mass produced what-passes-in-these-parts-for-chocolate treats.  It’s one of those commercials you look forward to seeing every Christmas season, where conversation stops while everyone in the room listens, faces shining with nostalgic smiles.

But then…(you knew there was a but then, didn’t you?) last year K-Mart rolled out a new holiday commercial which, at least in my personal Top Ten List of Holiday Commercials,  has completely eclipsed anything Hershey, or anyone else for that matter, ever considered putting out on the airwaves.

Ladies, I imagine you know what I’m talking about (gentlemen, just chat amongst yourselves).  Perhaps they were simply attempting to shake the negative image earned in part by a sentiment oft-repeated in the movie Rainman, namely that “K-Mart sucks.”  I don’t know, I don’t care.  Just know that I am ever thankful to the marketing geniuses at K-Mart for this little gem of advertising.  Here, take my money.

Merry Christmas, girls.

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Puppy Paranoia

wpid-20140115_110626-1.jpgOne of our favorite times of the day is just after work.  On any given weekday, Mr. R. and I return home, pour something cold to drink, and sit out on the back patio chatting about our day.  Usually, he tosses a tennis ball for Jack, our 85-pound land shark, to chase in the yard.  Today, I left them outside for a moment.  As I returned I overheard Mr. R. talking to Jack.

“You’re my favorite puppy in this yard right now.  Yes, you are!  Of course, we have another puppy at another house.  There are two cats there, too.  In fact, that’s where Mommy and I go everyday, to visit our other family.  We like them better.”

Anybody know how much dog therapy costs?

Bear Poop or Further Proof That He Loves Me

I know that I’ve mentioned the wisdom of marrying a man who can cook. My sweet is a fantastic cook, and what’s more, he enjoys it. Which is great for me since although I can cook, I don’t really like to.

At work I’ve been assigned to the Hospitality Committee. Every month we plan some morale-boosting treat for the staff. This November, we elected to forego the traditional pot-luck in favor of providing dessert-type nummies the last day before the Thanksgiving holiday.

I knew just what I wanted to contribute to the cause–Mr. R.’s famous Bear Poop. I’ll describe it for you. The three-layer confection is chocolate chip cookie topped with Oreos topped with brownies.

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So today, after working hard all day long, my sweet came home and made his famous treat (it’s famous at my work anyway). Because he loves me.

I’m a lucky girl.

No, Thank You

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Here in the US we’re on the eve of Thanksgiving, that day we’ve set aside to gather with family and friends as we count our blessings and express our gratitude for the past year.

Thanksgiving Day can also be considered Black Friday Eve, the day when frugal shoppers pore over store sale flyers and plot their Christmas shopping strategy like the Allies D-Day invasion of Normandy. You know, the 50-inch tv for $200. The tablet for $20. Local news showed people camping out in front of our local Best Buy on Tuesday.

I for one will be nowhere near all the pandamonium. I hate crowds of people on a good day. And there’s absolutely nothing I need worth sleeping out in front of a store for three days.

Here are things I’d rather do than go shopping on Black Friday: Sleep late beside my sweet. Watch the Macy’s parade on tv. Organize the plastic containers and lids. Chew off my own arm. Have a root canal.

Is all of my shopping done? Of course not. But I can shop online 24/7/365. And I don’t have to camp out in my living room.

The Shirt Off My Back

It’s turned chilly here in the land of sunshine and citrus. And by chilly I mean low to mid-70s with a very cool biting breeze. It’s brutal. Don’t be a Judgy Judgerson.

I got out my favorite fleece hoodie earlier in the week. Mr. R., being much manlier than I, just dug out a microfiber pullover last night. We had this conversation this morning.

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Mr. R.: I’m not worried, I’m in danger. (very anxious look)

Me: Why? What’s wrong?

He: I’m in danger of you taking this pullover away from me. I love it so much.

Me: *eyeroll* I would never take your jacket from you.

He: It’s like the hugs of a thousand angels.

Me: Well when you put it like that

It’s (Not Quite) The Holiday Season

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We’re staring down the barrel of Thanksgiving here in the U.S. That means we’re seeing lots of Christmas ads on television. We’re hearing lots of holiday songs.

I, for one, am so happy it’s time once again for good old Wal-Mart’s reminders about that age-old holiday tradition, Black Friday, with it’s beloved yuletide carol, AC/DC’s Back in Black.
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Being sung by a choir, optional.

My Kingdom For A DeLorean Time Machine

wpid-fb_img_1416517031160.jpgMr. R. and I have had this conversation once or twice (or a million times, who’s counting?).  We met in our forties and had three failed marriages between us.  If only, we’ve speculated, we’d met years before.  What if we’d met in our twenties?  We could have saved ourselves so much heartache, so much misery.  We could have been as happy as we are now for all this time.

I’m sad sometimes that we’ll never make it to our Golden Anniversary.  And there are moments (okay, brief and perhaps fueled by sauvignon blanc) when I wish that in addition to our three combined children, we’d had a child together.

But the truth is that years ago, I wasn’t ready to meet my ‘happily ever after.’  I was too young and too stupid.  There were miles I needed to travel, potholes I needed to bottom out in, and breakdowns I needed to grow through.  So I guess I’ll settle for my twelve-year-old Honda and intensely appreciate the man of my now dreams.