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Christmas, One Holiday Out of Control!

Boy, its hit and its hit hard. What am I talking about?  The Christmas shopping season of course.

Black Friday, which normally starts the day after Thanksgiving, this year began a week early and as far as I know, is still going on. The saving of a few bucks on any given item brings forth the phenomenon of docile adults turning into savage children. I feel a certain amount of shame when I see the fist fights on television when said childish adults begin to duke it out over the latest widescreen tv.

It seems we’re running a holiday contest on how much we can spend. It started with Black Friday, moved to Cyber Monday and now, we have of all things, “Orange Thursday.” The commercialism of Christmas began years ago, but I don’t believe anyone could have predicted the monster we have created.

How could we take a holiday that was meant to commemorate the birth of a savior, our Lord Jesus Christ, and turn it into a money grubbing free for all? And, don’t think for a moment I’m leaving myself out of the mix. I’m just as guilty of spending too much and leaving the importance of Christmas behind.

We live and learn . . .  hopefully we truly learn.

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Is it Now or is it Then? I Can Never Keep Them Straight

I guess I’m doing what authors do when it comes to hurry up and wait. To clarify, I am waiting for my latest novel, “Dalon Con – The Essence of Time,” to return from its second trip to the editor. Once this series of rewrites and edits is complete, the manuscript will take a journey to my publisher, while I once again hurry up and wait resigning myself to the publishing process.

This process causes me to rare back in my chair and ponder the meaning of life. As I ponder, I notice an antique shelf supporting a speaker. This one glance at said antiquity causes my thought process to move in that direction.

We clamor for every technological advance that comes down the pike. It could be a phone or the latest in e-book readers. Perhaps it’s the new personal computer or then again, it may be a doorbell button that mounts to the wall beside your front door on the outside of your home. This doorbell initiator does much more than ring a bell on the inside of your house. This button also comes equipped with a camera to let you know who is standing at your door waiting for you to appear or lets you know if they have devious intentions.

Once we gather all the new gadgets we can, we live our lives in technical bliss until we see a unique antique. It is then we begin to swoon over the aged object and long for the good ole’ days. Depending on your desire to own antiques you may begin to collect these beautiful old symbols of yesteryear.        

And there you have it, we bounce back and forth in time desiring bobbles in the here and now and trinkets from our past. I guess in this way we can truly experience a form of temporal travel.

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I Hate to Complain but Enough is Enough and Too Much is Too Much

It’s the Monday after Thanksgiving, bright and early in the morning. The sun is shining giving the promise of a splendid day ahead. I am sitting at my writer’s desk penning my blog for the new week ahead and for some reason contemplating lunch which is several hours away.

Why, you ask, would I be thinking of the second meal of the day having only just broken my fast from the night before? My answer to you, as if you haven’t already guessed, is my previously planned fare for this midday meal. Yup, it’s a turkey sandwich, my staple for the past five days.

Fresh in my mind I remember alluding to the cache of leftovers in last week’s blog that would invade my diet for the next week. However, this overabundance of foul fowl may be perceived as pro or con.

Some folks could eat turkey every day if not every meal. For my tastes once a year is quite enough, which is why we have prime rib for Christmas.

I just glanced at the sundial on the wall, and see that it’s time for the 12 o’clock force feeding. To everyone who shares my feelings for eating  one of the smartest avians in the wild . . . when grown in captivity . . . not so much. Hang in there, this soon will pass.

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Hush Up That Snoring Then Get Over Here and Eat

Well, here it is again. That day of days that comes, but once a year. Not just once a year, but once a year in the same month (November) and on the same day (the fourth Thursday). What you ask could be this day? Why naught, but Thanksgiving, where we gorge ourselves on fowl, stuffing, potatoes, gravy, breads, all manner of vegetables, candied yams, cakes, pies, and many more delicacies too numerous to recall. And what do we do after finishing this great feast?

We take a nap, not because of the tryptophan in the turkey as the tale goes, but because of the huge amounts of food we throw down our neck.

Leaving a puddle of drool to mark our bedding down area, we arise to feed again. It’s much like the instructions on our shampoo bottles, wash, rinse, repeat. And just like our shampoo, we may repeat these instructions as many times as we like each day. These meals usually take the form of turkey sandwiches and whatever is left from our lunchtime ritual. Then one day the bird and all the fixins have been consumed not to be eaten again for another year.

Personally, I think we should take a hint from the fare served at the first Thanksgiving. From what I understand, turkey was a no show, but that opens the door for what did make an appearance at this extravaganza which was lobster, oysters and clams. Kinda makes you wonder what happened in the translation of recipes from then til now.

What outshines the food no matter which century you’re in, is spending time with family and thanking our heavenly father for the bounty he bestows on us each day.

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I Mean What I Say and I Say What I Mean . . . Except When I Don’t

Clichés can be good or they can be really bad. Case in point, the one cliché that has stood the test of time and is a mere one word

long is, “cool.” Other clichés include, “You can’t judge a book by its cover,” which is something the majority of people do when purchasing a novel.

 “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Taking a moment to think about this saying makes it clear that the cliché fails to produce an overabundance of sense. If I’m dead, then game over. If I manage to survive this harrowing experience, I’ll probably remain skittish of whatever it was that nearly took my life.

“Innocent until proven guilty.” We all know that once you’re accused, you are automatically guilty in the eyes of the people. So, we might as well skip the middle man and stamp guilty on the suspect’s forehead.

I try to shy away from many of the new clichés that jump out every so often, especially in my writing. Some of the most notorious being, “My bad” . . . “What up” . . .  and one of the most overused, “Let’s do this.”

All in all, one that certainly rings true, yet if taken literally leaves one of two sides at a severe deficit, is “The pen is mightier than the sword.”

I realize that clichés have literal and alternate meanings; however, it’s a lot more fun bringing them to you as I have . . . still I can’t imagine bringing a pen to a sword fight!  

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