Tag Archives: I do so celebrate Christmas

Bring back Thanksgiving! Please, no Christmas decorations until Black Friday…

This is a post originally published last November. For some reason, ever since September, a lot of people have searched for “turkey” and landed on my post from last year, skewing my stat counts since I know all of them got the pictures of the turkey and left without even looking at my blog.

Tis unfortunate. Not because I am vain (well, I am) and I want to treat the increased page views as real numbers (well, I do) but because I really wish more people will heed the plea, not just by me but also by some other bloggers, for example, Midwestern Mama said, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas… And frankly, its pissing me the fuck off!”

The following is my tirade against the demise of the significance of Thanksgiving in the face of overwhelming commercialism…

Yeah tirade! Aren’t you glad that I am back in more ways than one?!

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I started campaigning for a forced postponement, a temporary deferral, of celebrating Christmas until AFTER Thanksgiving Day four five years ago.  I even registered for the domain name: BringBackThanksgiving.com (which is still available… Any takers?)  I stopped paying for it after two years when I realized that with a full time job and three boys to take care of, I simply did not have the capacity to deal with Microsoft FrontPage. (Yikes. Do you remember the days, the days before Blogger, WordPress, etc. when one had to use a software such as FrontPage in order to have one’s own website? *shudder*)

“Curb your enthusiasm!” I beseech you.  “As you recover from the sugar high from all the Halloween candies.  As you dispose of the spider webs, the goblins, the mummy tombs, the rotten carved pumpkins.”

Please, oh, please don’t switch directly from Orange and Black to Red and Green.  However tempting it is when you move all the Halloween boxes down to your basement and see all the Christmas boxes beckoning at you. The smiling Santa with the chubby cheeks.  The snowman. The reindeer.  Resist the temptation: Didn’t Jesus die on the cross partly to teach us this lesson?  Be strong for the sake of your children.

The children need you to show them that, Yes, you believe in the meaning and significance of Thanksgiving Day. Yes, it is important that we take one day out to deliberately remember and show gratitude to all the people who add meanings to our lives, to all the material goods that we are blessed enough to own. To strangers who give you a smile in the street and thus brighten your day. To strangers who by merely doing their jobs are making the world a better, safer place.

My heart aches upon seeing houses adorned with Christmas lights right after, sometimes even before, Halloween.  Of course I am not intimating that the homeowners are therefore not thankful.  No siree.  I am simply dismayed that the significance of Thanksgiving, the arguably ONE holiday that we should all be able to agree on and celebrate, is undermined sandwiched between Halloween and Christmas.

(I admit: I may be putting my foot in my mouth by saying this. I have no clear idea how the native Americans take this holiday though I suspect there must be a lot of conflicting feelings. Do they sometimes wish that Squanto were not so kind as to assist the pilgrims? FWIW, by reading “Thanksgiving: A Native American View” and “Teaching About Thanksgiving“, I am convinced that Thanksgiving is indeed deeper and bigger than just the Pilgrims and the Indians… I hope I do not offend should anyone of Native American descent stops by this post…)

I blame the turkey.

You heard me right. It is the turkey’s fault. In terms of merchandising, turkeys are just not as attractive as say, bunnies, chicks, Santa Clause, snowman, reindeer, and so on.  I have not seen any child hugging a plush Turkey toy lovingly.

turkey

To be honest, that red thing hanging down the throat freaks me out.  Pardon me for being crass, but it always reminds me of testicles. I don’t know why. But it does.

Many, especially Hallmark (bless their heart!), have tried to turn the turkey into an adorable icon:  but seriously, how adorable can you make a turkey?

Turkey for eating

Even more sickening is that in these cutesy depictions of turkeys, they are all forced to celebrate the event in which they will be slaughtered, cooked and eaten! The abomination!

No cute icons, no easy way for merchandising. No easy way for merchandising, no rampant commidification of Thanksgiving. No rampant commidification of Thanksgiving, no shelf space at your local drugstores and grocery stores.

(I am grateful for no longer being in the academia which affords me the opportunity to posit theories full of holes and preaches them on the Internet with no qualms… I am like Glenn Beck on an anti-Turkey path…)

But with your help, we can stem the tide.  We can start it from inside of our homes.

Perhaps we can all start a tradition of having each one of the family members mention one thing that they are grateful for, every day, in the month of November.  No matter how small or how trivial.

Perhaps we can start a quiet movement to resist the Red and Green color scheme from popping up inside of our own houses. Until the day after Thanksgiving.

On the morning of November 27 this year (because November 26, Black Friday, is reserved for Competitive Shopping, or most likely, nursing a stomach ache and hangover headache), I am moving up the Christmas Tree from our basement first thing in the morning.  I am really looking forward to it. And to optimize my effort of transforming my house into a winter wonderland for Christmas, I shall keep the decorations up until after Valentine’s day. Thank goodness for the lllloooonnnngggg winter here. That is, of course, until one of you starts a campaign for bringing back Valentine’s Day…


Christmas Day Rambling

The presents were all opened, displayed, oooo-ahhhed, ridiculed, and appreciated. The floors have been cleaned up, except the piles of new possessions pushed against the wall around the corners of the small family room in my in-law’s house to make room for foot traffic. And for Zhu Zhu pets, which my husband discovered online (specifically at Slickdeals where mostly MEN take to bargain shopping as a competitive sport)  to be HAWT this year. He got the children some even though they were not asking for them, probably did not even know about them JUST because everybody’s looking for them, apparently, and HE found some…  Oh, he was so excited. Score one for daddy. Yeah! (… I wish you could hear the enthusiasm in my voice…)

This post really should be called “Insert Foot in Mouth”, in reference to my earlier post “WTF Wednesday: Christmas Presents Don’t” which poked fun at the drugstore’s suggestions for “Great Stocking Stuffer!” Well…

Tis the morning of Christmas day, we jumped out of bed as soon as my youngest child, the only one who still believes in Santa, opened his eyes and sat up in bed. He rushed downstairs, looked at the presents surrounding the tree, and went into the other room to snuggle up to Grandma. Alas, Mr. Monk has learned to wait for his cousin (who along with her mother keep an entirely different schedule from the rest of us) to wake up and come downstairs before he can open the presents. Can you even imagine? A 7-year old, patiently waiting to open the presents that Santa brought, NOT even holding them up and shaking them?

As we dumped out the content in the stockings to while away the time: Candy, as usual. Mini flashlights. COOL. Chap sticks. Very useful for my unwashed, bare face. I put it on right away, laughing quietly at the post I wrote. My brother-in-law exclaimed,

“Wish we had some mini deodorants too!”

I burst out laughing. Too bad I couldn’t tell anybody why…

There is something pure and magical about how a young child’s favorite presents often turn out to be the ones least expected… Mr. Monk’s favorite items this year:

Kichen timer and mini flashlights (aka "bomb" and "detective tool")

Grandma hung up Mr. Monk's "silver ball" ornament as soon as she was presented with it...

Christmas Eve Shuffle

Every year we come back to my husband’s childhood home for Christmas. We are fortunate, I guess, in that we never have to worry/argue/agonize about splitting time between two sets of grandparents since mine are 7,500 miles away. It has become a holiday ritual:

Santa goes to grandpa and grandma’s house.

This year I let my 7 yo, Mr. Monk, pack his own backpack for the plane ride. Not surprisingly, “practical” was not his top priority…

Packed with Love by Mr. Monk



I have been doing the holiday the right way: I did not accomplish a thing since we arrived here on Monday. It certainly feels good to not have to be mindful of efficiency 24/7 because now I have plenty of time to burn… I am after all, as the British calls it, on holiday.

My mother-in-law on the other hand makes the gingerbread house, does arts and crafts, plays “pretend games”, bakes cookies, plays cards and Scrabbles, in short, provides great childhood memories for the boys. And in all honesty, things that I am not good at. I do however remain an accomplished “efficient” dishwasher, as my father-in-law commented appreciatively. Here’s the thing: I don’t mind helping out when I am at my in-laws because they are always so appreciative, making sure I know that I “don’t have to do this or that”. They actually thanked me EVERY TIME I did the dishes. Because of my own anal retentiveness, I cannot sit around watching the mess built up anyway. I volunteer to vacuum the house while they entertain the children. I consider that a more than fair trade.

There is no rest for the wicked as the cliche goes, especially on the day when baby Jesus was born: I do need to pay the piper today. Christmas Eve. An entire holiday tradition of my own: Frantically wrapping all the presents that have been arriving at my in-laws since November and accumulating in the basement. The “DO NOT ENTER” zone for my kids until December 25, aka, Santa’s Workshop…

Santa'w Workshop...

The most annoying part of “Santa’s job” is to open up all the packages, tear open the plastic wrapped around the items and discard the cardboard boxes and the said plastic thingy. Seriously, Amazon.com, have you not heard of global warming or any environmental alarm about our impending doom? You do NOT need to wrap books in that fashion: they do not break! One of the boxes has an elongated shape, and is about 4 feet tall. You wonder what it contained? A nylon kitchen spoon for my mother-in-law, wrapped in giant bubble wraps! Yes, yes, yes, I do feel guilty for being part of this… But they (Amazon.com) make it so easy to just order everything and have it shipped to my in-laws rather than lug them all the way from Chicago…

So. Now you know what I will be doing the whole day on Christmas Eve: Hiding in the basement. I only wish that Santa’s Workshop came with a bar…

If you celebrate Christmas, here is wishing you a peaceful Christmas Eve and a very Merry Christmas.

My treasured James Garfield card from The Bloggess

WTF Wednesday: Christmas Presents Don’t

If you must, get the hand wipes.

Your pending divorce. Or the future bildungsroman written by your children. Courtesy of CVS.

While you are at it, get one of those cards strategically positioned by the cash register at any liquor store to go with an item you carefully selected from this section.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas: Jackal & Hyde Style

This post was written on December 20, 2009, the Sunday before Christmas…

I am a gullible cynic. Or rather a cynical _______ (Fill in the blank for “a gullible person”). If it is possible to have such a conflicted personality. Or I may just be plain crazy.

Despite the making fun of the over-exposure of the so-called holiday “shop till you drop because the economy needs YOU!” season, the rampant commercialization of Xmas (not being Christian, I don’t really lament the secularization of Christmas but I do sympathize), the frenzy and stress we arguably inflict upon ourselves, I do look forward to the holiday season.

It is a time for family to gather around, for friends to get together. And for each one of us to marvel at how much the children have grown, even just through the sending of the holiday cards, or the much-lampooned holiday letters. For snow: always nice to admire from inside a heated house even though we curse at it when we shovel. For hot cocoas. For fire in the gas fireplace. For remembering how blessed one is. For thinking of the others, even if only once a year. Better than never, really. For teaching your children to think of the others, hoping the once-a-year lesson will stick with them as they grow up. Better than not even trying, really. For vacation.

I go through the holiday season playing Jackal and Hyde. Flip-n-flopping. Thanks to the “Stolen Day” and my will to procrastinate till the last minute, I am enjoying an atypical day of leisure and peace, and I am feeling especially schizophrenic. One minute I am all cynical and wondering how hilarious it would be, albeit absolutely not advised, to give my mother-in-law one of these ornaments…

Come on. You know you want one of these...

Or how “wink wink ain’t I hip and cool” it would be to hang this on our Christmas tree, at the risk of DCFS pounding on my front door (since I assume they have such a law against passing down cynicism against Xmas to children under the age of 18)…

For truth seekers only

The next minute I am merrily humming, going through Bing Crosby’s Christmas song repertoire inside my head. Driving through the burbs, appreciating the snow-covered trees and rooftops during the day, admiring the twinkling lights by night and, as much as I am tempted to make fun of the enthusiasm, the extravagant Christmas displays some families put up. The radio in my car is turned to the Christmas music station (though back to NPR on Saturday mornings). I sing along to almost every song, and I feel… *gasp* HAPPY. *ashamed* HOLIDAY-y. Except of course when they play “Christmas Shoes“. I cry so hard every time this song comes on that I am unable to catch my breath. Sappy? Sure. Do I feel manipulated and stupid? Of course. But is it the saddest, most depressing song ever and your heart is made of stone if you don’t cry when you hear it for the first time? YES!

The next minute, not satisfied with the old Internet meme of “creepy/scary Santas and crying kids” photos, I am spamming the Interweb with the new meme called “Santa Gone Wild”:

Annual Santa Speedo Run in Boston

Santacon in UK, complete with a pub crawl!

And the next minute I am wistfully looking outside at my boys frolicking in the snow while Sinatra crooning “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” in the background…

What reminded me of the true spirit of what has come to be known worldwide as “Christmas”, yes, the secular holiday that is widely celebrated in say, China, Taiwan, Japan and even India, the non-Christian countries, ironically, is when Mr. Monk, my youngest, observed out loud,

“Why did they call the radio station ‘Holiday Music Station’ when everything they play is about Christmas? How come they don’t play music for other holidays?… Shouldn’t they just call it Christmas Music?”

Mr. Monk, who still steadfastly believes in Santa, unknowingly expressed, IMO, what a true Christian should reflect upon– the existence of and the respect due to the others– as Christmas fever sweeps the nation, nay, the world. Faster than you know. Whether you like it or not.

Stolen Day

I feel that we have got an extra day out of this insane holiday season…

The original plan was for me to be away for 3 days this past week on a business trip. I would come back late on Friday night and start cleaning, doing laundry, packing, addressing holiday cards, and finishing up holiday shopping ALL on Saturday, and then we would fly out to my in-law’s this morning.

Thank goodness for the snow storm in the DC area. Reportedly the highest amount of snowfall that DC has seen in at least seven years:  at Dulles airport snow accumulation reached 16 inches on Saturday, and 13.3 inches was reported at Reagan. Instead of agonizing over the prospect of waiting in the airport for indefinite time today, we had decided to change our flight to Monday morning. As soon as we made that decision, I felt physically the lessening of the winding inside my head and my body. A collective sigh of relief felt in every corner of the house.

I worked through my check list at a leisurely pace yesterday:

Laundry detergent and gift cards at Costco. Check.

Gift cards & holiday cards for Catechists and gym coaches. Check. (And I assume it is safe to wish the Catechists a Merry Christmas without the possibility of offending them?)

Hold the Mail request at the Post Office. Check.

Newspaper hold. Check.

Neighborhood watch request at the police station. Check.

Kids’ haircut. Check.

Lip wax. Ooops. I forgot. I guess I will just have hairy lips with face powder dangling off the end of my upper lip throughout the holiday.

Laundry and the dreaded folding part. Started and ongoing. (“Predecessor task” in MS Project lingo)

The chaos of packing. Started and ongoing. (“Successor task” in MS Project lingo)

Addressing holiday cards, figuring out whether the cryptic emails from my friend with no mentioning of her husband means she is now divorced, deciding whether to say anything or what to say on the cards to distant cousins who are now divorced, coming up with proper words for our Jewish friends now that we have missed the entire 8-day window of Chanukah to show that we did not forget about Chanukah and we are not sending them the holiday cards now out of our callous Christian (+ 1 pagan) hearts (Thank goodness we can still wish them a “Happy New Year!”), stuffing, licking, stamping. Check. (With NO paper cuts to fingers or tongues. Success!)

In the evening we behaved as if it were any other Saturday evening: my husband went to the movie with my 11 year-old (AVATAR, in 3D); I took Mr. Monk, my 7-year-old, to the mall because he wanted Auntie Anne’s pretzels.

What? Was I crazy to hit the mall on the Saturday before Christmas? Yeah, I thought so as soon as I turned into the mall drive and saw all the cars, moving, squeezing, waiting, and parked.

Here’s a tip for you out there from a Mall Veteran. One word. SEARS. Go to Sears and I guarantee there is a spot for you. Probably not too close if it is the last weekend before C-day. BUT still closer than what you could find at the other parts of the mall. Trust me.

So here is the GOLDEN parking space Mr. Monk spotted. Good job, my lad! I was so excited I wanted to call everybody I know.

I never want to leave this spot again!

Seriously, this was no small feat. I did not want to leave that spot when we were done at the mall. I wanted to stay there, to stake my claim, to “Put a flag on it.”

In addition to getting the best parking space I have ever gotten on a crazy day like this, my stolen day ended up on a high note also because a light bulb went up after I’d had two drinks at the stupid Rain Forest Cafe (aka the worst tourist trap because it is located inside a goddamn MALL! Why is there a tourist trap inside a mall?), ok, a fuzzy light bulb nonetheless, and a thought bubble formed:

I think my kids are scarred by this Christmas song…

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus*

Yeah. You know the lyrics. And seriously? This song is wrong on so many different levels…

The innocent explanation of course is that DADDY is dressed up as Santa Claus. So mommy is actually kissing daddy, only that the poor kid has no idea and is probably going to grow up with this terrible secret weighing him down and become… well, you guessed it: either a great writer or a serial killer…

As a matter of fact, my tongue was tied since my youngest is determined to still believe in Santa. That leaves me no choice but to listen, while pressing my lips hard so I wouldn’t burst out laughing, to their reactions to the lyrics…

“Is his mommy single?”

“Why is she seeing Santa Claus?”

“Is she dating Santa? He is so much older than she is. Yew…”

“Is she cheating on his daddy? Yew…”

Yew… aside, they found the video hilarious and fascinating. My youngest asked me to play this version several times this weekend. Right before bed on Sunday night, I heard both boys humming, actually trying to sing, the first few bars of the song. On Monday, when we were in the car listening to the “All Christmas Music All the Time” Channel (which is, indeed, the epitome of “Season Treason” perpetrator since they start playing Christmas music right after Halloween every year), the kids complained about the songs being played and decided to substitute with their own rendition of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”, which went like this,

“I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night. La la la la la (off key off key off key)…”

Then my husband chimed in, “I saw daddy kissing Santa… OOOOOPS!” Ugh. Boys.

Is it the bizarre contrast between Santa Claus, one of the most benign, trustworthy, persona and something naughty even though they are too young (and for one of them, too immature) to put their fingers on it that makes this song so fascinating?

“When you are married, you are supposed to stick together.” Back on Sunday evening, my youngest ruminated on the only lesson one could possibly get out of this.

Then finally, he declared,

“I am going to go tell daddy!”

You do that, buddy.



Later my husband told me that my youngest offered this explanation without any prompting:

Mommy is on a break from daddy, and Santa Claus is on a break from Mrs. Claus.

Can I get an Oy Vey here? Oy vey indeedy.

* This URL links to the Jackson 5 version. Remember the times? When M.J. was a normal kid? In hind sight, if I had shown the kids this version, instead of the weird animated version with the slutty-looking mom and the perv-look-alike Santa, it would probably not have caused such an alarming, albeit hilarious, brouhaha…

Hello, December!

"Ma! There is nothing inside!"

"Ma! There is nothing inside!"



If not for the end of NaBloPoMo, I would not have been so eager to see December, in all honesty.

Who's your daddy?!

Who's your daddy?!



Sorry, December. It’s not you. On second thought, actually, it is you.

I am just remembering the things I need to accomplish before we get on the plane to DC for Christmas on December 20. I am too scared to start making the list. Christmas shopping is the least of my worry right now. (Hello! Walgreens and CVS!) Real Fear #1 is that I may need to send out a Christmas card, NOT with the adorable picture of my kids smiling after I yell “DAMN IT! SMILE NOW OR I WILL DO IT FOR YOU!” which sadly is an annual occurrence, BUT of a picture of James Garfield since it is extremely tempting AND it just seems so much easier than trying to capture the smiles of my kids in the midst of whining, grabassing and soon sobbing.

(Do we have an English teacher in the house? I am sure the above sentence is a prime example for teaching your students how to fix grammatic errors. You can use it for free. You are welcome).

Real Fear #2, or perhaps it is simply Annoyance #1: Advent Calendar. HOW TO FILL THAT SUCKER EVERY SINGLE DAY MORNING? Oh, and REMEMBER TO FILL IT EVERY MORNING. That would help.

I forget, the way I forget that “tooth fairy brings a coin the night you lost your tooth”, saved only by crawling under the bed and yelling, “Oh, honey, look! It is here all along. It just fell!”

An advice to you out there without an Advent Calendar but are considering it: Do NOT do it. But if you must, make sure you get the Advent Calendar with BIG spaces for the stuff. Ours has itzy bitzy spaces that are meant for the Lilliputians. I kid you not. It is a great source of stress for me every year, trying to figure out WHAT in the hell I can shove into that tiny hole, for TWO kids.

I decided on Quarters last year. I was so proud of myself: Who does not like cash?

Well, my kids don’t.

You think I can get pieces of coals that can fit in that box?

Bring back Thanksgiving! Please, no Christmas decorations until Black Friday…

Veterans Day.

I always thought it is a fitting coincidence that Veterans Day falls in November, right before Thanksgiving.

As you know, Veterans Day is celebrated in other parts of the world.  On November 11, 1918, at 11 am (Paris time), the Germans signed the Armistice that officially ended World War I.  The day was originally celebrated as Armistice Day (also as Remembrance Day in Europe).  In 1954, the U.S. Congress passed and amended an act to officially make November 11 the Veterans Day, honoring all veterans, and not just those who served in World War I. What took them so long?!

I don’t think I will be able to say anything more eloquently, more heartfelt, than this blog post, “The Greatest Casualty is to be Forgotten”. As she put it so well, you don‘t have to support war to support a Veteran. [Update: The blog I linked to has since become inactive. But the saying “The Greatest Casualty is to be Forgotten” will continue to resonate]

Thus begins my tirade against the demise of the significance of Thanksgiving in the face of overwhelming commercialism…

Are you ready for this?

I started campaigning for a forced postponement, a temporary deferral, of celebrating Christmas until AFTER Thanksgiving Day four years ago.  I even registered for the domain name: BringBackThanksgiving.com (which is still available… Any takers?)  I stopped paying for it after two years when I realized that with a full time job and three boys to take care of, I simply did not have the capacity to deal with Microsoft FrontPage. (Yikes. Do you remember the days, the days before Blogger, WordPress, etc. when one had to use a software such as FrontPage in order to have one’s own website? *shudder*)

“Curb your enthusiasm!” I beseech you.  “As you recover from the sugar high from all the Halloween candies.  As you dispose of the spider webs, the goblins, the mummy tombs, the rotten carved pumpkins.”

Please, oh, please don’t switch directly from Orange and Black to Red and Green.  However tempting it is when you move all the Halloween boxes down to your basement and see all the Christmas boxes beckoning at you. The smiling Santa with the chubby cheeks.  The snowman. The reindeer.  Resist the temptation: Didn’t Jesus die on the cross partly to teach us this lesson?  Be strong for the sake of your children.

The children need you to show them that, Yes, you believe in the meaning and significance of Thanksgiving Day. Yes, it is important that we take one day out to deliberately remember and show gratitude to all the people who add meanings to our lives, to all the material goods that we are blessed enough to own. To strangers who give you a smile in the street and thus brighten your day. To strangers who by merely doing their jobs are making the world a better, safer place.

My heart aches upon seeing houses adorned with Christmas lights right after, sometimes even before, Halloween.  Of course I am not intimating that the homeowners are therefore not thankful.  No siree.  I am simply dismayed that the significance of Thanksgiving, the arguably ONE holiday that we should all be able to agree on and celebrate, is undermined sandwiched between Halloween and Christmas.

(I admit: I may be putting my foot in my mouth by saying this. I have no clear idea how the native Americans take this holiday though I suspect there must be a lot of conflicting feelings. Do they sometimes wish that Squanto were not so kind as to assist the pilgrims? FWIW, by reading “Thanksgiving: A Native American View” and “Teaching About Thanksgiving“, I am convinced that Thanksgiving is indeed deeper and bigger than just the Pilgrims and the Indians… I hope I do not offend should anyone of Native American descent stops by this post…)

I blame the turkey.

You heard me right. It is the turkey’s fault. In terms of merchandising, turkeys are just not as attractive as say, bunnies, chicks, Santa Clause, snowman, reindeer, and so on.  I have not seen any child hugging a plush Turkey toy lovingly.

turkey

To be honest, that red thing hanging down the throat freaks me out.  Pardon me for being crass, but it always reminds me of testicles. I don’t know why. But it does.

Many, especially Hallmark (bless their heart!), have tried to turn the turkey into an adorable icon:  but seriously, how adorable can you make a turkey?

Turkey for eating

Even more sickening is that in these cutesy depictions of turkeys, they are all forced to celebrate the event in which they will be slaughtered, cooked and eaten! The abomination!

No cute icons, no easy way for merchandising. No easy way for merchandising, no rampant commidification of Thanksgiving. No rampant commidification of Thanksgiving, no shelf space at your local drugstores and grocery stores.

(I am grateful for no longer being in the academia which affords me the opportunity to posit theories full of holes and preaches them on the Internet with no qualms… I am like Glenn Beck on an anti-Turkey path…)

But with your help, we can stem the tide.  We can start it from inside of our homes.

Perhaps we can all start a tradition of having each one of the family members mention one thing that they are grateful for, every day, in the month of November.  No matter how small or how trivial.

Perhaps we can start a quiet movement to resist the Red and Green color scheme from popping up inside of our own houses. Until the day after Thanksgiving.

On the morning of November 27 this year, I am moving up the Christmas Tree from our basement first thing in the morning.  I am really looking forward to it. And to optimize my effort of transforming my house into a winter wonderland for Christmas, I shall keep the decorations up until after Valentine’s day. Thank goodness for the lllloooonnnngggg winter here. That is, of course, until one of you starts a campaign for bringing back Valentine’s Day…