Top 100 Ways You Know You Live In NEPA No.96

96. Your bathroom's GFCI receptacle is on the same circuit as all your apartment's essential functions, so when your hairdryer goes trippy, it also cuts out the fridge, the Christmas tree lights, the modem, and the only basement light near the breaker box.

But on the flip side, it does give the huz an excuse to pull out his cute little head lamp. I think he enjoys that. :)

Culture No. 35: Christmas Trees

I am kind of particular about my Christmas Tree.

So particular, in fact, you might say I am a borderline snob. As a child, "Get the Christmas Tree" Day was up there with Christmas and the Fourth of July in terms of favorite holidays. In college, I even got into a shouting match with a good friend about the merits of real and fake Christmas Trees that ended with me storming/getting kicked out of the room. (Honestly, artificial is just a fancy word for NOT REAL.) That particular.

My Christmas Tree must be real and it must be freshly cut by either a close male relative or myself. (Usually the former, which I don’t mind. Especially those years when mid-December is a mud fest.) It must be sold by a farm that provides free cider or cocoa, preferably both. (Free candy canes are bonus points.) It must be taller than myself, but shorter than the ceiling. (An obvious requirement, but unfortunately sometimes forgotten. Even by me.) It can have a maximum of one bald spot. (This is turned towards the wall.) The branches must be strong enough for those heavy Hallmark monstrosities and there must be enough of them for 27 year’s worth of ornaments, but not so many that it feels like you’re decorating a hedge.

And finally, it must be hardy enough to live until Valentine’s Day, because sometimes that is the first chance I’ll get to take it down.

Borderline snob? Hehe. I think that border is about two states behind me.

Bert and I went out yesterday afternoon to procure our first married Christmas Tree. Thankfully, Georgia Boy jumped on board the “Cut Your Own” train several years ago, so we didn’t have to fight that battle. He did, however, miss my memo on “quaint farm with snacks.” (In his defense, I never actually told him. I hate to look bossy.) So when he took me to the “farm” where he’s cut down his recent Christmas Trees, I was a bit aghast to discover it was actually someone’s back yard. With an unattended shoebox cash box.

Now, before you think I am being utterly ridiculous and commercialized, I’ll have you know that one year I did make an exception and cut down a tree from someone’s backyard. But that was in the Berkshires, there was significant snow, and my roommate had never cut down her own tree before. It felt like we were in a Norman Rockwell painting. I have never felt that way in NEPA or else I would act accordingly.

Bert, bless his heart, saw my face when we turned into that house’s driveway and pulled a quick u-turn. (He is sensitive to my particular ways.) We set off driving north into the wilds of Pennsyltucky and eventually happened upon a trail of Christmas Tree signs for a place called Bennie’s. “That’s looks promising,” we said. “Let’s go to Bennie’s.”

Well, let me just say: Bennie’s has a rockin’ marketing department because we followed those signs for over 10 miles – long enough for it to turn from a desperate search to a game and then back again. Surprise! Bennie’s is in Tunkhannock, a very rural 25 miles from our house. There was no cocoa or cider, but there were trees in the ground and saws. And as there are only so many hours of sunlight here in the frigid north, I decided I would live.

They had a lot of nice trees and it didn't take too long for us to pick one out. Geoff the Mazda carried it home with his usual panache and Bert had it up in no time. (Although unfortunately, he seems to suffer from “Rigging Up the Lights” Syndrome just like my father. We always used to run and hide when it was time for Papa V. to put up the tree. ;)

The tree’s only about half-decorated now - we need to run out and get another string of lights – but I’ll post some photos later. It’s not quite bright enough for me yet!

Culture No. 34: TSO/Mohegan Sun Arena

When I found out in October that the Trans-Siberian Orchestra was coming to Wilkes-Barre's Mohegan Sun Arena on Veteran's Day, I started droppin' "I want to go hints" like they were hot. (That sentence sounded funnier in my head.) By this point in time, Bert knows how I operate, so when I replaced his Sunday morning comics with the Entertainment section's full page write-up on the upcoming concert, he caught my drift and bought tickets. Surprise! :D

We went out for burger's at Grotto's beforehand - a low key treat for us! - and set out an hour early to brave the inevitable traffic disaster that occurs with any big event at the arena. NEPA suffers from a severe lack of qualified parking lot designers. (Who would that be? The civil engineers? The landscape architects? Let's blame it on the latter, otherwise Papa V. won't buy me any Christmas presents this year. :-*) The arena is right off 81, but it took us almost 45 minutes to inch off the exit and park. (Leaving was just as bad, although I guess that's a bit more understandable.)

Regardless, we made it to our seats in time for the show, after I landed this comment on our way down to the floor. I think this was probably the first "big" concert I've ever been to and WOAH. You'd think it was directed by Michael Bay! Just when you thought the rotating lights, moving catwalks, hydraulic scissor lifts, and epileptic laser shows were getting old, they'd throw in a few flame throwers and chorus lines just to shake things up a bit. It was over-the-top to the point of being hilarious and I loved it! So much fun!

The concert was divided into two parts with no intermission. The first part was all Christmas music; the second, everything else they play, which I was completely unaware of until that point. The Christmas music was great - especially my favorite, Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24 - although all of it was "narrated" in a Suess-ian nature with a story that didn't make much sense. (Something about an angel wandering around the earth? It was hard to make out the words...) I felt like I was at an 80's hair band concert. You can tell the guys have a lot of fun playing. (And the soloists were all great as well! :)

The second half was all songs I was unfamiliar with, but the band kept up the same fun, over-the-top tempo. At one point, the lighting and staging took a turn for the bizarre and turned into a two-eyed, three-jawed monster. I felt bad for the kids in the audience. Little Sarah would've been hiding under her fold-out chair. (Big Sarah wanted to feed her fold-out chair to the monster. Why is it that the more you pay, the less uncomfortable your seats are?)

All up, it was a good show. It wasn't quite what I was expecting - So. Much. Hair. - and I'm not sure if I'd go again, but it was a fun Christmas treat nonetheless. I'd definitely recommend going at least once, if only to see the crazy violin player! :)

Top 100 Signs I Married the Right Man No. 84

84. When I call Mr. "I worship Apple and all things clean, white, and shiny" from the Target seasonal aisle to ask what color Christmas lights he prefers - 99% sure he is going to make me buy the boring white ones - he sheepishly confesses to loving the multicolored, "tacky" ones like it's some sort of industrial designer sin.

I love that - six years later - we are still surprising each other. There's something new to learn every day. :-*

Big Thought of the Day No. 1: Guiltless

What is this? This is me, looking not guilty, which is a great look that I ought to rock more often. Why do I look not guilty? Because originally I felt guilty for not posting in, like, forever. I had a whole slew of excuses to give you, but then I remembered that this blog is supposed to be fun and the only reason it was turning into a chore was my own sense of obligation. And that's no fun.

Our pastor hit close to the mark last night when he gave a little talk on Matthew 11:28-30 and pointed out that Jesus doesn't call us to a doctrine or twelve step plan, he calls us to HIM. And getting to know HIM is much more fun than following a laundry list of rules. And I am all about fun. Especially at Christmastime.

Life lately has been fun. And Busy with a capital B. Can you believe it's December already? Christmas alone is enough to make your head spin. (And because I don't have enough to do, I decided to throw a Christmas party this year. My first! I'm so excited. :) I love this time of year and I'm going to un-obligator-ily enjoy it. First up? I get to make a Jesus birthday cake for a party Monday night. For him. Not of him. (Remember my cookies? Can you imagine if I had to pipe Jesus out of frosting? Oy vey.)

At first, I thought about making a tower of whoopie pies with alphabet candles spelling out "Happy Birthday, Jesus!" (I read too many blogs. I know.) Then I drew it out. And realized I'd have to bake over 100 whoopie cakes. And frost them. That didn't sound like fun. So Jesus will probably be getting something a little more conventional this time around. But still fun. We're both all about that. ;)