I am an utter failure when it comes to wrapping presents. I have never been good at it, and now that I'm 29 years old, I think I have to face the fact that gift-wrapping is something I will probably never master. I remember back when I was in college, when I worked for a stationery store, and this woman came in and asked for help picking out a present for her child's schoolteacher. When we got up to the register, she said the dreaded words, "Would you be able to giftwrap that for me?"
As I finished it up, I apologized to her for the fact that it was not done in anything remotely approaching an expert fashion, although in my defense I really did try. Her response was something like this: "Oh that's alright. It'll be fine, because it'll look like my 8-year-old wrapped it."
Hmmm.
So I'm awful at wrapping, but I am absolutely phenomenal at UNwrapping. And I simply love getting presents. To this day, I am like an impatient child on Christmas morning, begging everyone to hurry up with breakfast and whatever else they are doing so we can OPEN THE PRESENTS. I have become a bit of a joke in my family over the years, because of this tendency. They all think I am terribly amusing when I start whining at them, "Come on, you guys! I want to open my presents!" On my side, I don't understand why they aren't more excited to open theirs!
But last night I got a pretty awesome present, and a total surprise too. I came home from work, and everyone was in the dining room, when my youngest brother walked in on the phone with the woundedbug in morocco (another brother). Woundedbug was the only one not with us this year. So Timer put me on the phone with him, and we were chatting away, when suddenly into the room walks...woundedbug!!!!! I screamed and squealed like a twelve-year-old, and my sister the world traveller got it all on the video camera. It was great! Apparently my dad got him a ticket home at the last minute.
So for the first time in two years, my whole family is together at Christmas time. And that, my friends, is a Christmas present in itself.
Note: this will be the last frogg files of 2004. The frogg is off to the "toasty-warm" (yeah right, kenny) midwest til the end of the year, and will recommence with the daily posts after January 1. Merry Christmas and happy New Year to all of you! See you in 2005...
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Wonderful and Strange
I saw a man in my town the other day, biking down the street with a cat on his back. Not a stuffed cat; it was a real live one, perched on his shoulders and balancing perfectly as they rode along together. The sight made me very happy, kind of like the time when I saw a horse standing in the back of a pickup truck on the very busy streets of Amman, Jordan. You don't see these sorts of things every day, and when you do, you really have to take a moment to enjoy them.
Here's wishing you a glimpse of the wonderful and strange today, something that will enrich your life, not because of what you will gain from it, but simply because of what it is.
Here's wishing you a glimpse of the wonderful and strange today, something that will enrich your life, not because of what you will gain from it, but simply because of what it is.
Memory of Christmas Past
Strange to think how, at this time last year, I was just finishing up a short backpacking trip on the acclaimed Abel Tasman Coastal Track in New Zealand, before heading down to the tiny little town of Loburn to celebrate Christmas with a friend's family.
That was a great trip, in spite of incredibly blistered feet, sore muscles, and a tent that had obviously once been put away still wet and then never opened again for a hundred years. I remember the first night we pitched the tent, my friend Sabine and I...we could smell it before we even got in it. We looked at each other, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing: how cold can it really get outside?
Well, the answer was "pretty cold" so we stayed in the tent, but let me just offer this little tip for campers: ALWAYS dry out your tent before putting it away in storage. Mold is not anything close to an attractive smell.
On our last day on the trail, it rained. Naturally. You can't have a true camping experience without getting rained on, according to all the humor articles, sitcoms, and movies on the subject. We awoke at about 6am, so that we could make the necessary low-tide crossing to the coastal point where we would be picked up by a water taxi and taken back to the beginning of the trail. Unfortunately it was not quite low-tide enough. I stood at the water's edge, and knew it was going to come up at least to my knees, possibly higher. Then I wondered what I was worried about--I was already soaked from the rain, since I didn't have any waterproof clothes (I might add that, between me and Sabine, we managed to illustrate every possible scenario of what NOT to do on a backpacking trip).
I really wish I had pictures of that day, me and Sabine looking like nothing more than a pair of nearly-drowned cats. As it is, you'll just have to imagine it.
Good times in the land down under. But it was hard being away from my family at Christmas time--my riotous, loud, overbearing, overwhelming family. Have you ever seen "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"? That's not a totally inaccurate portrayal of my Egyptian family get-togethers (I don't know about weddings, because there haven't been any yet, but any holiday gathering looks pretty much the same). We drive each other nuts sometimes, but I really don't think I'd have it any other way.
(By the way, danthefrog, since you asked...yes I will be at Christmas dinner!)
I hope you are all having a great week, and that your Christmases this year will give you all sorts of good memories to last throughout the coming year.
That was a great trip, in spite of incredibly blistered feet, sore muscles, and a tent that had obviously once been put away still wet and then never opened again for a hundred years. I remember the first night we pitched the tent, my friend Sabine and I...we could smell it before we even got in it. We looked at each other, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing: how cold can it really get outside?
Well, the answer was "pretty cold" so we stayed in the tent, but let me just offer this little tip for campers: ALWAYS dry out your tent before putting it away in storage. Mold is not anything close to an attractive smell.
On our last day on the trail, it rained. Naturally. You can't have a true camping experience without getting rained on, according to all the humor articles, sitcoms, and movies on the subject. We awoke at about 6am, so that we could make the necessary low-tide crossing to the coastal point where we would be picked up by a water taxi and taken back to the beginning of the trail. Unfortunately it was not quite low-tide enough. I stood at the water's edge, and knew it was going to come up at least to my knees, possibly higher. Then I wondered what I was worried about--I was already soaked from the rain, since I didn't have any waterproof clothes (I might add that, between me and Sabine, we managed to illustrate every possible scenario of what NOT to do on a backpacking trip).
I really wish I had pictures of that day, me and Sabine looking like nothing more than a pair of nearly-drowned cats. As it is, you'll just have to imagine it.
Good times in the land down under. But it was hard being away from my family at Christmas time--my riotous, loud, overbearing, overwhelming family. Have you ever seen "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"? That's not a totally inaccurate portrayal of my Egyptian family get-togethers (I don't know about weddings, because there haven't been any yet, but any holiday gathering looks pretty much the same). We drive each other nuts sometimes, but I really don't think I'd have it any other way.
(By the way, danthefrog, since you asked...yes I will be at Christmas dinner!)
I hope you are all having a great week, and that your Christmases this year will give you all sorts of good memories to last throughout the coming year.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Ode to Indy...and Christmas!
I just watched my dog catch and eat flies in my room. Gross.
Actually he is the cowgirl's dog. He's a bit of a freak, but an adorable freak. You can't help but love him, because he so obviously loves to be loved. He wriggles with joy when you call him over, and he can't seem to get close enough to you. It's really cute.
What's a bit more annoying is his complete fixation--addiction, really--to playing fetch. As soon as you set foot out of the door, he is off running to find something for you to throw for him. Sometimes it is no more than a twig. Sometimes it's a pebble. My favorite is when he drops at my feet one of those weird prickly little balls that grows on some kinds of trees. How the heck am I supposed to throw one of those? Sheesh.
He will play fetch til he collapses. This actually happened once, when I took him to the park on a hot day and forgot to bring water. I threw the stick for him until finally one time he ran to get it, lay down, and couldn't get up again! I was in a total panic, thinking that he was going to die and the cowgirl would have to challenge me to a duel which I would be bound to lose because I am NOT a cowgirl. No seriously, but she would have been devastated, and for that matter so would I, so I went running around to see if I could find something to put water in for him. I finally found a paper cup next to a trash can, so I filled it up with water, and helped him drink it. He ended up being ok, but I decided we were done playing fetch that day. Even though he still wanted to!
Oddly enough, I did not start out my blog today with the intention of talking all about Indiana Bones (yes, that's his name, but we just call him Indy). I was going to talk about something else, but now I don't remember. Oh well.
Anyway...Christmas is almost here! In spite of the holiday stress, I am happy about it. The last two Christmases I have spent in New Zealand. Which was ok, but weird, because there Christmas is in summer time, and everyone is going on summer vacations, and the whole tenor of the season is off. I mean, granted, weather-wise it was a pretty comparable experience to being in Southern California for Christmas, but it's the overall atmosphere that's different. Summer and winter are different, even if the weather doesn't change all that much. It's something in the air.
Ah, I do miss New Zealand sometimes. A shout out to all my kiwi mates...I love you guys and miss you all HEAPS! Have a great Christmas, and eat some pavlova for me!! Mmmmm, pavlova....
Actually he is the cowgirl's dog. He's a bit of a freak, but an adorable freak. You can't help but love him, because he so obviously loves to be loved. He wriggles with joy when you call him over, and he can't seem to get close enough to you. It's really cute.
What's a bit more annoying is his complete fixation--addiction, really--to playing fetch. As soon as you set foot out of the door, he is off running to find something for you to throw for him. Sometimes it is no more than a twig. Sometimes it's a pebble. My favorite is when he drops at my feet one of those weird prickly little balls that grows on some kinds of trees. How the heck am I supposed to throw one of those? Sheesh.
He will play fetch til he collapses. This actually happened once, when I took him to the park on a hot day and forgot to bring water. I threw the stick for him until finally one time he ran to get it, lay down, and couldn't get up again! I was in a total panic, thinking that he was going to die and the cowgirl would have to challenge me to a duel which I would be bound to lose because I am NOT a cowgirl. No seriously, but she would have been devastated, and for that matter so would I, so I went running around to see if I could find something to put water in for him. I finally found a paper cup next to a trash can, so I filled it up with water, and helped him drink it. He ended up being ok, but I decided we were done playing fetch that day. Even though he still wanted to!
Oddly enough, I did not start out my blog today with the intention of talking all about Indiana Bones (yes, that's his name, but we just call him Indy). I was going to talk about something else, but now I don't remember. Oh well.
Anyway...Christmas is almost here! In spite of the holiday stress, I am happy about it. The last two Christmases I have spent in New Zealand. Which was ok, but weird, because there Christmas is in summer time, and everyone is going on summer vacations, and the whole tenor of the season is off. I mean, granted, weather-wise it was a pretty comparable experience to being in Southern California for Christmas, but it's the overall atmosphere that's different. Summer and winter are different, even if the weather doesn't change all that much. It's something in the air.
Ah, I do miss New Zealand sometimes. A shout out to all my kiwi mates...I love you guys and miss you all HEAPS! Have a great Christmas, and eat some pavlova for me!! Mmmmm, pavlova....
Monday, December 20, 2004
Deep Things
There's a line in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing that says, "I were but little happy, if I could say how much."
I feel like that very often. Not just about happiness, but about any truly deep emotion. It's pretty easy for me to dash off an amusing little anecdote, and I totally enjoy it, but sometimes I want to write about something more, I don't know, substantial, and then I find that my words sound tinny, like cheap windchimes, when what I want them to sound like is a full-scale symphony orchestra.
For example. I really want to write about how much the music of Handel's Messiah means to me, and what it does to me when I hear it, but I just...can't. I went to a performance last night, a "Messiah Singalong" at a local church. I didn't have a musical score, so the singing along part was a tad difficult, but I just thoroughly enjoyed the evening anyway. There is something irresistible, something heart-breakingly beautiful to me about Handel's Messiah, but I can't put it into words, and it's so frustrating, because I want to!!
I remember one time, long ago, being moved to tears by the "Worthy is the Lamb" chorus. The power of the voices, the words, the music--I don't know how anyone can hear it without being shaken up inside. And when the opening bars of the "Hallelujah Chorus" start playing, I get all excited, because somehow I just know that God himself is listening in, and he's feeling pretty stoked on it too.
Listening to the soaring voices and music last night, I'm glad I had the opportunity to forget, at least for a little while, all the Christmas presents I still haven't bought, the Christmas cards I haven't sent, the frayed edges of my life that seem determined to keep unraveling despite all my efforts to keep them together, and instead focus on the One person that has never been unfaithful to me, never left me alone, and never stopped loving me, even when He gets so little of my heart in return.
There's this awfully cliche'd little phrase we hear at Christmas time: "Jesus is the reason for the season." Well, cliche'd it may be, but true it still is (as Yoda might say). Jesus is the reason for the season. At any rate, he's the only reason that I haven't run away screaming from Christmas all together. It's a stressful time of year for me, all too often. But when I have the rare chance of sitting down and just enjoying his presence--as I did last night--Christmas becomes awesome all over again.
I feel like that very often. Not just about happiness, but about any truly deep emotion. It's pretty easy for me to dash off an amusing little anecdote, and I totally enjoy it, but sometimes I want to write about something more, I don't know, substantial, and then I find that my words sound tinny, like cheap windchimes, when what I want them to sound like is a full-scale symphony orchestra.
For example. I really want to write about how much the music of Handel's Messiah means to me, and what it does to me when I hear it, but I just...can't. I went to a performance last night, a "Messiah Singalong" at a local church. I didn't have a musical score, so the singing along part was a tad difficult, but I just thoroughly enjoyed the evening anyway. There is something irresistible, something heart-breakingly beautiful to me about Handel's Messiah, but I can't put it into words, and it's so frustrating, because I want to!!
I remember one time, long ago, being moved to tears by the "Worthy is the Lamb" chorus. The power of the voices, the words, the music--I don't know how anyone can hear it without being shaken up inside. And when the opening bars of the "Hallelujah Chorus" start playing, I get all excited, because somehow I just know that God himself is listening in, and he's feeling pretty stoked on it too.
Listening to the soaring voices and music last night, I'm glad I had the opportunity to forget, at least for a little while, all the Christmas presents I still haven't bought, the Christmas cards I haven't sent, the frayed edges of my life that seem determined to keep unraveling despite all my efforts to keep them together, and instead focus on the One person that has never been unfaithful to me, never left me alone, and never stopped loving me, even when He gets so little of my heart in return.
There's this awfully cliche'd little phrase we hear at Christmas time: "Jesus is the reason for the season." Well, cliche'd it may be, but true it still is (as Yoda might say). Jesus is the reason for the season. At any rate, he's the only reason that I haven't run away screaming from Christmas all together. It's a stressful time of year for me, all too often. But when I have the rare chance of sitting down and just enjoying his presence--as I did last night--Christmas becomes awesome all over again.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Weird Week
Ok, so this past week was a record-setter on the frogg's scale of total weirdness.
A couple days ago, my dad was on his way to the airport to pick up my youngest brother (yeah, timotye! Welcome home, man!). He gets rear-ended by some lady who was not paying attention to anything in particular, but especially not her driving. Then on the way back home from picking up Tim (mind you, this is the same exact day), he gets in another rear-ender. Interestingly, both times the other party had the same insurance company. I can picture a few raised eyebrows over at Mercury next week.
But that's not all. The very next day, the cowgirl got in a car accident. Not her fault, and she is ok, but still it prompted our insurance agent to advise that no one from my family should get behind the wheel of a car for awhile.
Too bad my brother the biotech boy didn't hear about our agent's suggestion. He got rear-ended today, by someone with no insurance.
I actually couldn't believe it when I got the call on my cell. I was at the airport picking up my sister (what's up with the accidents happening on days featuring airport runs??) and the phone rang. I missed the call, but rang right back, only to hear my brother say that he had just gotten in an accident and he would call me right back again. I wasn't sure I heard him right. But oh, I most certainly did. Basically in the short amount of time between my missing his call and then returning it, that's when it happened. I mean, what are the odds people??! I ask you!
Personally, I don't want to drive anywhere anymore! Tempting fate is not my style, and fate seems to be annoyed with the frogg family at the moment, for some unfathomable reason.
I haven't had any accidents recently, but I've certainly had my share. In one year alone, I think I had about four. Only one was my fault, but that one was a doozy. I was heading home from my advertising agency job in Los Angeles (doesn't that phrase just ooze glamour? More than the actual job did, I can tell you), and came to an intersection where I had to make a left turn. There was a bus in my way, blocking my view of one of the oncoming lanes, but the bus driver waved me to turn, and I did...right into the path of a car that was racing up the hill in the lane that I couldn't see. The guy hit me hard, and I did a pretty cool 180 in the middle of the intersection. I probably would have appreciated the coolness a lot more if I hadn't actually been in the car at the time. As it is, I was badly shaken. Somehow I got my car off of the road (I don't remember how, because the back wheel was totally bent due to axle damage or something), and then was "consoled" by the helpful LA drivers who went past, either honking at me for being slightly in the way on the street (sorry, that was totally my intention to inconvenience everyone during rush hour), or else just laughing at me (which I really, really appreciated. Really.).
But anyway, that last paragraph was what is known in literary terms as a tangent. I am an expert at these, as you've probably guessed by now.
Back to the weird week. Um, actually I think that was all I had to say. Hope you're having a great weekend, and getting in less car accidents than my family is these days.
A couple days ago, my dad was on his way to the airport to pick up my youngest brother (yeah, timotye! Welcome home, man!). He gets rear-ended by some lady who was not paying attention to anything in particular, but especially not her driving. Then on the way back home from picking up Tim (mind you, this is the same exact day), he gets in another rear-ender. Interestingly, both times the other party had the same insurance company. I can picture a few raised eyebrows over at Mercury next week.
But that's not all. The very next day, the cowgirl got in a car accident. Not her fault, and she is ok, but still it prompted our insurance agent to advise that no one from my family should get behind the wheel of a car for awhile.
Too bad my brother the biotech boy didn't hear about our agent's suggestion. He got rear-ended today, by someone with no insurance.
I actually couldn't believe it when I got the call on my cell. I was at the airport picking up my sister (what's up with the accidents happening on days featuring airport runs??) and the phone rang. I missed the call, but rang right back, only to hear my brother say that he had just gotten in an accident and he would call me right back again. I wasn't sure I heard him right. But oh, I most certainly did. Basically in the short amount of time between my missing his call and then returning it, that's when it happened. I mean, what are the odds people??! I ask you!
Personally, I don't want to drive anywhere anymore! Tempting fate is not my style, and fate seems to be annoyed with the frogg family at the moment, for some unfathomable reason.
I haven't had any accidents recently, but I've certainly had my share. In one year alone, I think I had about four. Only one was my fault, but that one was a doozy. I was heading home from my advertising agency job in Los Angeles (doesn't that phrase just ooze glamour? More than the actual job did, I can tell you), and came to an intersection where I had to make a left turn. There was a bus in my way, blocking my view of one of the oncoming lanes, but the bus driver waved me to turn, and I did...right into the path of a car that was racing up the hill in the lane that I couldn't see. The guy hit me hard, and I did a pretty cool 180 in the middle of the intersection. I probably would have appreciated the coolness a lot more if I hadn't actually been in the car at the time. As it is, I was badly shaken. Somehow I got my car off of the road (I don't remember how, because the back wheel was totally bent due to axle damage or something), and then was "consoled" by the helpful LA drivers who went past, either honking at me for being slightly in the way on the street (sorry, that was totally my intention to inconvenience everyone during rush hour), or else just laughing at me (which I really, really appreciated. Really.).
But anyway, that last paragraph was what is known in literary terms as a tangent. I am an expert at these, as you've probably guessed by now.
Back to the weird week. Um, actually I think that was all I had to say. Hope you're having a great weekend, and getting in less car accidents than my family is these days.
Friday, December 17, 2004
It's Beginning to Feel Alot Like Christmas
I'm a bit nervous about Christmas this year because I haven't done a scrap of Christmas shopping yet, and I have this odd feeling that I actually might not do any at all. And then I will feel pretty horrible, because somebody out there is bound to get me something, and there is nothing worse than feeling guilty for not getting a present for someone who gets one for you. You know what I mean?
Part of my trouble with getting presents is the fact that I absolutely hate shopping. Because I hate it, I put it off to the last minute. But with every day that goes by, there is an exponential increase in shopping stress. Which makes me want to go shopping even LESS. It's a horrible, vicious cycle, and there's a good chance I'm not going to win this fight. The longer I wait, the less likely it is that anyone is going to have a present from me under their tree.
One time I had a bout of utter insanity due to all the impending guilt that I was feeling about not having presents for people, and I actually went shopping on Christmas eve. The less said about that experience, the better. The past is gone, but oh, the scars still remain.
But I really do want to give presents to people. I feel like such a Scrooge when I don't. I just don't know what anyone wants...except me. I want to go snowboarding, plain and simple. Anyone planning to give me a gift can just give me a pass to Summit or just about anywhere in Tahoe...guaranteed gratitude from me, I promise!
The last couple years I was kind of off the hook in the gift-buying department because I was in another country. Which was a bummer because of course I wanted to be with my family on Christmas day, but it was a relief because no one expected any presents!
Hmmm. I think I must be a bad person. Or at least there just must be something wrong with me...I mean, the other day I went Christmas shopping with a friend, and watched him buy presents for all these people...and I did not make a single solitary effort at buying anything for anybody. I mean, there was my opportunity!! I was there, I was AT THE MALL! I could have done it!!!!
But no.
I think I owe a big gigantic thank-you to everyone who is still friends with me, in spite of the fact that I don't buy you presents, or send you Christmas cards, or e-mail regularly, or call. Or do anything a good friend would do, really. Wow. Come to think of it, why ARE you guys my friends???
Hmmm. Maybe some questions are best left unasked.
But now I admit to being curious...what DO you want for Christmas?? Let me know! Er, not that I'll do anything about it, of course. Just wondering, really.
Part of my trouble with getting presents is the fact that I absolutely hate shopping. Because I hate it, I put it off to the last minute. But with every day that goes by, there is an exponential increase in shopping stress. Which makes me want to go shopping even LESS. It's a horrible, vicious cycle, and there's a good chance I'm not going to win this fight. The longer I wait, the less likely it is that anyone is going to have a present from me under their tree.
One time I had a bout of utter insanity due to all the impending guilt that I was feeling about not having presents for people, and I actually went shopping on Christmas eve. The less said about that experience, the better. The past is gone, but oh, the scars still remain.
But I really do want to give presents to people. I feel like such a Scrooge when I don't. I just don't know what anyone wants...except me. I want to go snowboarding, plain and simple. Anyone planning to give me a gift can just give me a pass to Summit or just about anywhere in Tahoe...guaranteed gratitude from me, I promise!
The last couple years I was kind of off the hook in the gift-buying department because I was in another country. Which was a bummer because of course I wanted to be with my family on Christmas day, but it was a relief because no one expected any presents!
Hmmm. I think I must be a bad person. Or at least there just must be something wrong with me...I mean, the other day I went Christmas shopping with a friend, and watched him buy presents for all these people...and I did not make a single solitary effort at buying anything for anybody. I mean, there was my opportunity!! I was there, I was AT THE MALL! I could have done it!!!!
But no.
I think I owe a big gigantic thank-you to everyone who is still friends with me, in spite of the fact that I don't buy you presents, or send you Christmas cards, or e-mail regularly, or call. Or do anything a good friend would do, really. Wow. Come to think of it, why ARE you guys my friends???
Hmmm. Maybe some questions are best left unasked.
But now I admit to being curious...what DO you want for Christmas?? Let me know! Er, not that I'll do anything about it, of course. Just wondering, really.
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