Merry Christmas, What I Want for 2017, and BoTB Results

Skidding into the office breathless...

I'm here. I'm here. I know I'm late with the results for Battle of the Bands. I know I was lousy about commenting to your comments. Yikes.

You know what I want for 2017... I mean besides all the obvious things like good health and world peace? I want direction. Focus. I want to finally get going. My ongoing (read: constant) prayer is that God simply give me direction on what He wants me to do and then guide my stubborn nose in the right direction. I'm praying for open doors and new opportunities and courage to walk through those doors and grab onto those opportunities. Even if they are scary. Or feel uncertain or new. I suppose I'm praying for a Jesus-style kick in the rear end. And joy. Lots of joy. I really want to seize the joy in life and be present for it. And live in the moment. All that good stuff.

Okay, now that we've covered where my mental energy has been spent (see above) instead of blogging, let's get back to it. 16 of you voted in the December 15 round of Battle of the Bands. The contenders were Amy Grant and Michael Buble. The song was Grown Up Christmas List. I confess that I found this song by going to YouTube and looking for Amy Grant Christmas songs. I'd gotten stuck in a Christmas song whirlwind (that place of too many songs = confusion), so I decided to begin with an artist I knew I liked. Work from there. Back in the 80s, I had Amy Grant's first Christmas record. It was the collectible variety with her the cover of the album imprinted into the vinyl of the record. I thought I'd choose something from that record. But then I came across her rendition of Grown Up Christmas List (awesome song!), checked out who else recorded it (serious contenders!) and a battle began to take shape. Point of fact, I liked the Michael Buble recording so much that he stole my vote from Amy (who started this whole thing in the first place!), which doesn't seem fair. But, that is how voting works. You think it's going to go one way, but then someone else does it better, and voila. And Michael Buble did it better to these ears. I couldn't have been more shocked.

What did you guys think?

Well, Amy Grant began very strong garnering the first four votes. After that it was back and forth. Then Michael Buble came from behind at the end for the win. And that was without my vote, which turns out doesn't actually count for anything in this battle, because you guys decided it. Final tally:

Amy Grant: 7

Michael Buble: 10 (inc. mine)

I think that was a darn good battle. Very close. And some of you heard a new song (Cherdo, yes, I'm looking at you:)/

Michael, I'm going to let you walk us out with a favorite in our house. Merry Christmas friends. I hope yours is overflowing with blessings!!!

And then this happened... Merry Freakin' Christmas!

I posted over on my TV blog this clip:


I said that my house sounds very like the exchange between Frasier and his father. Sub in me and my mother and you're now cooking with oil.

I really can't finish this year without a complete meltdown on this blog. I mean seriously... I melted down daily for the first year I blogged, and you guys were THE BEST. Now, I mostly do HERE'S TO YOU, Battle of the Bands, and gripe occasionally about the state of the language and the world. But, I mostly don't whine about my life. Mostly.

Well, keep on reading, because that is about to change! (Bryan over at A Beer For the Shower says I really should use those exclamation points when I'm getting loud, or my characters are getting loud. Whatevs.) Note the exclamation point.

I know I wrote a long-winded post a while ago about my mother getting scammed online in one of those Romance Scams. Since that initial incident, she's been in communication with several more scammers (who didn't net anything but my ire). I actually told one of them off on the phone, using more expletives in a few sentences than I've used all year. Man, that felt great. Mom was less than happy, but oh well. I can't please everyone.

She is currently embroiled in another "relationship" that's stemmed from an online dating site. I need only say that she and her "beau" haven't met, he's foreign, and he's working (right now... hahahaha) in another country. As Christmas has drawn near, I hear more and more about this Wonderful Guy. I hear about how hard he works. How he really wants to be home for Christmas. There are gifts for him from Mom under my tree with cute endearments in the "Name" place. My mom even asked if I wanted to wait to exchange gifts until He got here.

And that was when the inside of my head exploded. Outwardly, I think I kept pretty calm with a polite "No." Since I think his arrival will coincide with hell freezing over... that is a long damn wait.

Yesterday she asked what I'd like for dinner on Christmas. I told her cheese spaghetti, which has been my favorite meal ever since I could eat solid food. So, this wasn't a shocker. For those of you unfamiliar with this delicious dinner, my grandma made it up. 1 pound thin spaghetti (or the noodle of your preference), 1 pound colby cheese, 1 can crushed or whole peeled tomatoes crushed by you, and 1 can tomato soup. Mom prefers it without the soup. I prefer it with the soup. I digress.

So, today she asks me what she should fix for Christmas dinner. Ham or Cornish Game Hens?

I said, "Cheese spaghetti."

She says, "I don't think He will want cheese spaghetti."

OMG. This again. I say, "Whatever He wants then. Why'd you ask me?"

Later... I say, after listening to the usual tirade about Him and how hard He works, "So, does this mean He is or isn't coming for Christmas? Since He's in Australia if He's going to make it (the flight is 24 hours long) I'd think He'd know by now."

She says, "Don't know."

Later... She says as I'm wrapping her gifts, (I elected not to buy anything for Him.) "If He and I get married, I'm going to want my bed back." I am currently sleeping in her king size bed because it fits in the master bedroom, which doesn't have a tub. She is sleeping close to the other bathroom, which does have a tub. Even though it is MY house, I would let her have the master bedroom if the other bath had the tub. So, we swapped beds. And she ditched my mattress for a foam thing so it'd be close to the floor. And I felt my blood pressure rising. Again.

And then I just stopped. The chances of Him ever darkening our door? I figure somewhere between slim and none. I took that thought further... as crazy as she's making me (much crazier than normal, and that was plenty bad enough), would I be willing to trade beds so that she'd move out with some man, any man, and give me some peace of mind? Yep. Sounds like a fair trade to me. Bed for peace of mind.

Of course, what I'd PREFER is that she step back from this dating thing and choose wisely. I can attest that living with another person... not easy. I want her to be happy. I don't see her being happy with anyone that she has met online (since I think they've all been scammers...). The fact that I can't figure out what this one is up to only attests to the fact that I don't think like a scammer.

Perhaps my dilemma is similar to that of the Good Lord who wants the best things for each and every one of us. The problem is that we persist with unhealthy choices. So, how does God just let go and let us muck about? It's not lack of caring or love... but it's something I don't think I have. So, I ask you friends... what is it????? How do I sit back and allow this just to roll off me?

The blog is now open for all of you "therapists" to weigh in...