Avoiding the Christmas Sales Onslaught

I am pleased to report that I finished my Christmas shopping yesterday.  And I am even more pleased to report that I totally avoided this nightmare:

Can you imagine a mob scene like this?  For what?  A couple bucks off a bad perfume set for your wife?  No, thank you.

Thanks to a bit of online shopping, free shipping, and one big box retailer (and not the great Satan that is Wal-Mart), I got all my shopping done yesterday.  The Boy was along for the ride and he was a good sport.  We had lunch at the Naf Naf to celebrate our victory over the shopping demons, and that was awesome, as always.

Accomplishing that allowed me to watch the Kona Ironman coverage, which made me tear up in the last eight minutes or so.  Seriously.  Then the Boy and I went down to the Fat Bean to listen to his buddies' jazz combo play.  These kids were pretty darn talented.  It was a good end to the day.

Only four more working days this coming week and then I am off for about ten days.  I could not be more pleased.  Really, really pleased.  And speaking of pleased, thanks to a suggestion from the running icon, Jeff, I think I have my first half-marathon of 2011 selected.  I'm kind of excited about it.  More on that later.

A Christmas Song I Really Like

My attitude toward most holidays is pretty dim and I can get mighty Grinch-like around Christmas.  I am delighted to say that I have yet to step foot in the Seventh Ring of Hell this year (any mall) and I'm hoping I won't have to at all (thank you, online shopping).  One of the things that tears me about the holiday season is the music - the music that's been playing on some radio stations here since Halloween.  It's mostly cloying and awful, with the following exception:

This is pretty awesome!  Handel's "Messiah" kills.  It brings me to tears pretty much anytime I hear it.

Now I can't help but wonder why, when on the rare occasion I go to the mall, that the only mob, flash or otherwise, I see is a gaggle of people who just hit the clearance sale at Skanks 'R Us, showing off really bad mullets and tattoos.  Why can't I see and hear something like this?  Such is my lot in life.

In-home healthcare?

So I find myself writing this post outside the normal confines of the now snowy Den.  I've headed south to warmer climes for several days to tend to my Mom as she continues her fiesta of recovery from this dang broken arm.

Last night was my first night here and my first night alone as Mom's 'nurse.'  Given how she reacted to me, you'd think I showed up looking like the male version of Nurse Ratchet.  I am eternally grateful for the nurses we've had with Mom the last several weeks.  One in particular, Chris, has been an absolute Godsend.  She has cared wonderfully for Mom and Mom loves her.  She has made it clear, painfully clear, to me that I am no Chris.  This morning as I made her get out of bed (good pete, it was 930AM - it was time), I was informed my bedside manner was lacking.  I'll give her that.  I don't have a particularly good bedside manner.  Talk to my wife and children, they'll vouch for that.  I find that I do better focusing on the tasks of getting the job done first and then serving up the 'sugar' later.  But the sugar isn't in huge supply in my mannerisms.

It was funny this morning as Mom announced she hoped I never had to go through what she's experiencing and I asked her why.  She quickly responded that no one will be able to care for me because I'm an awful patient.  She's right.  I should probably work on that.

A few more days of this to go.  It'll be fun to see how this turns out.  This much I know - I don't think I've ever seen a woman as beloved by her friends than my mom.  Wow!  I spend a lot of my time deflecting visitors and phone calls.  But each one of them is a blessing to Mom and I'm grateful, very grateful for that. 

Time for to get back into my squeaky, sensible white nurses' shoes.  Mom's ringing her bell...

On making an orphan cry

I've made it a point to NOT talk much about my day-to-day professional work life here in the Den.  That's by design.  The point of this blog is not to go on and on about what I might be doing at work or to rag on my job or my employer, who I need not mention.  Far too many people have been fired invited to find other employment because of a blog post written in the heat of the moment. 

That being said, I'm going to ask you to indulge me for this post.  Yesterday, I had the opportunity to visit a local orphanage as a part of a work volunteer service group.  Now don't get all Dickensian on me and envision the worst (I'm talking to you, li'l orphan Annie) but don't go all "Oliver" on me either.

Please, sir, may I have another?

We worked at a well-kept, comfortable, large and secure home that serves as an orphanage for a group of children between the ages of 3 and 11.  The facility serves children who have been abandoned or removed from their homes permanently due to abuse, etc.  They've seen more in their young lives than anyone of would want to imagine.

Our first task was to work the kids on their homework.  The kids' regular tutors were there and we could pick any table.  I found a table with a fourth-grader and his tutor.  The boy was whip-smart and was cruising through his list of spelling words.  Shortly after that, another boy, about six years old, was brought to our table and that's where things went south.  As he sat down, I turned to him and said hello.  He took one look at me and let out a shriek of pure terror and burst into a gale of tears.  My heart, which is notoriously hard, essentially shattered in that moment.  I feared instantly that I reminded him of someone who had done him harm.  I was helpless for those quick few seconds before one of the staff was at his side.  She quickly calmed his fears and assured him that I was OK.  She then turned to me and soother my fears as well.  She encouraged me to start reading the boy a book and that's what I did.  It wasn't long before the tears dried and a smile cracked.  Before long, we were negotiating the best way to make the letter "Q."  It wasn't long before we had to move on to some other tasks.  I was thrilled that this boy was still smiling as I left.

We did several other things while there that were incredibly rewarding.  The experience is still very near to me, and dare I say, tender.  I'm still reeling at the depth of depravity and evil in the world.  These young children been abused in unbelievable ways and now face an uphill battle to NOT have the system fail them.  I was uplifted by the work of the staff at this specific place and it gave me hope.  In spite of the evil out there, there are good, good people and they are doing good things. 

As I told my family about this experience, we are considering how we might give back this Christmas season.  We're looking forward to finding a project or two that allows us to make life better, if even for a few minutes, for someone.  It's something we need to do because we have been tremendously blessed.