December 2009

About two weeks ago, something appeared in my neighborhood.   Something strange.   Something I had never seen before being a lifelong resident of Texas.

Sheets.  Big giant patterned sheets all over the front yard of a house down the street from me.

I am not amused.

At first I was willing to shrug this off to someone freaking out over the unusually cold temperatures we have been having around here.

I’m going to pause for a moment here to let all you nice Northern type people finish laughing.   Done?  Okay, carrying on…

Here’s the thing, they’ve been firmly in place now for over a week.  Also, it’s not really that cold anymore.   Highs in the mid 40′s, lows in the low 30′s.    Yet there they are, day in and day out, taunting me.

If you were to ever be my neighbor, here are some things I don’t want to see:

• Sheets.
• Sheets in polka dot pink.
• Sheets with tiny Cowboys and Indians dancing around on them.
• Any of these sheets left for over a week on your shrubbery causing me to yell, “ARRRGH!!!!” every time I drive by.
• Side note:  If you cannot hear me yelling “ARRRRGH!!!!” every time I drive by, your hearing may be impaired.

They appeared a few weeks ago during the first cold snap.   (Again, you Northern types can yuk it up to your hearts content…)    I wouldn’t have even known had The Man not called me to alert me to the situation at 7:00 am.    However, they were gone as I left my house around 10:00 and I worried I had missed the spectacle.

I needn’t have worried so much about missing it however because a week ago they came back and they haven’t left since.   We had a brief “snow moment” here earlier last week which was lovely but only lasted a few hours.   The temperatures rose to about 40 degrees and I headed out for the day.   As I rounded the corner, I literally stopped in shock.

::blink::    ::blink blink::

After absorbing it for a few moments, I did what any caring neighbor self involved blogger would do and whipped out my iPhone and snapped the picture and made my getaway.

Here’s the thing that really kills me, there are several houses around this one that are for sale.  If there is one thing I know having lived in five different houses in my 15 years of marriage, you don’t need this kind of thing going on when you have a “For Sale” sign in your front yard.    Sure, your landscaping is important, but not nearly as important as days ticked off on the market when you are trying to sell your home in an economy that just ain’t pretty right now.

(True story:   when our previous house was for sale, there was a house under construction that went into foreclosure while we were listed.    They erected a  10 ft chain link fence around the front of the house to stop the contractors from coming in and taking their stuff out and on Halloween I actually saw a guy running down the street with a toilet in his arms.   Classy.)

Anyway, we are at this point but one glass of wine away from me sneaking over there to remove the sheets, fold them neatly and place them in a color coded stack on their front porch with a lovely note telling them to knock this nonsense off.

Because that’s how I roll y’all.   Can you blame me?

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

I’m in a book! A real book!

Well, I mean my name isn’t in the book but whatever, it’s me. Let me explain.

A long time ago, I took four years off work. Here’s the thing I learned, I have no idea how not to work. So I started several ventures, one of which was a Christmas decorating business.

I’ll let you absorb that for a minute given my stance on Bitchmas.

Still here? I know. It’s crazy. But back then I needed something to do and people needed my surly attitude around holiday decorations advanced sense of home decor.   Or, they just didn’t know what they were getting themselves into.   Whatever.  This was 2005, the money was flowing in my home town, the wives were busy with their kids and activities, and I made some good money doing it.   Everyone wins, right?

Two years into it, after countless broken nails, dried out cut up hands, and children who did not see Mom until December 15th or so, I called it quits.    That’s where the book starts up.    The author, Hank Stuever,  (a Washington Post reporter and Pulitzer Prize finalist) spent three holiday seasons in my hometown  with my ex-business partner after she chose to go it on her own when I left and went back to the corporate world.

From the book, on pages 20 and 21…

When October comes, her Christmas craze ignites.  The decorating business began three years earlier as a partnership between Tammie and a friend. (That’s me!)  They decided to call it Two Elves with a Twist and did just a few houses at first, finding their clients by word of mouth.   “You know what was great about that partnership,” Tammie says, “was that we were never friends before Two Elves with a Twist.   We didn’t really know each  other, didn’t have a lot in common, except we had boys the same age.   We had a great time, She led a great life, I led a great life, but we were just never – “  Tammie pauses here, thinks about it.  “She just never wanted to do more.  I felt like at the end, that second year of the business, every time we were in a house, she kept looking at her watch and saying ‘ Okay, we gotta be in here and outta here in three hours.’  And that’s not what it’s about.  I want people to be happy.”   Tammie stayed in some of the houses long after her co-worker elf had elf had left for the day, making sure everything was just so.

Huh.  Okay.   Well, I’ll fully admit to that statement.  You negotiate three hours of my time?  You get three hours of me busting my hump for you for three full hours, maybe a little more, not hours more.   I will twist the ribbon, fluff the tree, hang the ornaments….and I will do it at warp speed.   Cut into my time with my kids though?   Well, then we are talking double, if not triple pay.   Hang your own damn garlands.

You know, not that I’m bitter or anything.

The best line in the book though was this:

This year it’s just the one elf.   The official story, according to Tammie, is that the co-elf (That’s me again!!!) decided to go back to her full-time corporate job. (For all I know, the other elf’s body is neatly bubble wrapped in a Rubbermaid tub way, way in the back of Tammie’s garage.)

I’m not neatly bubble wrapped though.  And I refuse to be tucked in a Rubbermaid tub in anyone’s garage.  I’m happily wreaking havoc on corporate America…and loving every minute of it.    I loved Tammie, still do, and I loved my time decorating with her.  It just wasn’t me, you know?

But enough of me , back to the book.  I loved it on some levels, and on some I didn’t.    I loved the look into what was once one of the most affluent communities in America in 2006, my hometown of Frisco.  I loved remembering when we all had not a care in the world, before spouses lost jobs, before neighbors were lost.    I loved looking back on my friend Tammie’s idiosyncrasies (oh, we all have them honey…) and I adored remembering our moments together, even in the waning moments of our partnership.    Tammie is a fantastic girl, full of spunk and the “show dog” character in this book.   If her Christmas energy could be channeled, she could light up the tree in Rockerfeller Center on her own.  She’s sort of awesome like that.

I loved getting to know two other families I’ve never had the privelege of meeting that were covered in this book…one a deeply religious woman who I wish I was more like.  The other, a childless by choice couple who spreads the joy of Christmas by covering their house and yard in so many lights it is actually visible by Google Earth.  I’d love to know them…you would too.

What I didn’t love?   His cynical view of one of my city’s most beloved charities, Frisco Family Services.   Honestly Hank, you could have laid off on the gas on that one.   They need all the help they can get…there are whole lot of people hurting here, we need to help no matter what the back end process is.   Lend a hand  and don’t ask for meaningless back end details because I know a lot of the women who work tirelessly to provide for those less fortunate and without fail, they do.    They really, really do.

I’d also like to add that not all of us are bottle blonde, Aqua-Netted, squealing, twangy, bling obsessed women.  Most of us are caring women (albiet a few…oh and you know who you are) who genuinely care about our families and communities.

So if you are in the market for a dishy read, and you can look beyond the stereotyped Texas women,  and would like a  look into the excess of 2006 in one of the fastest growing communities in America with abundant wealth before the era of foreclosures and responsible spending, I highly recommend Tinsel. 2006 was a great year indeed.

And Hank?  If you are ever in this neck of the woods again…look me up.

But I promise you, I will confiscate your notepad.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }