Yuletidiness

Today’s word: Yuletidiness. It’s that feeling of Christmas joy that you are expected to get around the holidays, that neatly wrapped box of goodness and light that is your heart, growing three times too large yet still fitting nicely inside your chest, and which causes you to squawk merrily off-key in front of total strangers, spend $15 on Secret Santa Costco gifts you would never buy for yourself, and long sappily for those good old golden days of yore. What is yore anyway?

Me? I’ve been looking for my yuletidiness. Instead, I’m filled with anti-yule, or scrooginess. So with nothing but football blaring from every technological advancement in the house, I got behind the wheel of my little red hooptie, on a mission to find that elusive yuletidiness. Surely I would find it at Target (smelly pumpkin spice candle section), and Big Lots (fake foil wreaths section), and Borders Books (Twilight mania section).

And still nothing. Not even squandering my arguably disposable income, jam-packed in the retail realm with all of Austin pressed against me in a living fruitcake nightmare, could I be delivered from the scourge of scrooginess.  

Maybe if my cat comes home, after four weeks gone, I will feel like celebrating. Or maybe when I figure out how to get photos in my posts again, I’ll get a nice yulie bump. Until then, bah humbug, and where’s the spiked mocha latte?

©2008 Nana Diaries

www.nanadiaries.com

Yep, I’ve finally moved to my new URL with my new hosting service.

In about 30 days, this site will come down, so please follow the links to www.nanadiaries.com. It’s a minor difference in the URL, but an important one to get to my site. :)

So come on over and let me know what you think of the new digs. Drop me a line and say hi!

Best,

KJ/Nana

Destructo and the Shark

Vacuum cleaners are a real point of contention among the toddler set. You probably didn’t know that. It’s not that they’re afraid of the sound, but rather that some other four-year-old miscreant might have a cooler one than they do. Honestly, they’re like starry-eyed vacuum cleaner sales-weebles at a tradeshow. I have seen with my own eyes as two four-year-olds spouted the features and benefits on their respective household appliances, each determined to walk away with the Coolest Vacuum Cleaner in Town crown. I’m not so sure how adoring they’d be once that vacuum was turned on. In any case, Miss America’s mother donated a real working appliance to the cause, and now Miss America is the proud owner of a Shark floor and carpet vac, which she stores next to our other two worthless dirt suckers in the broom closet.

Which leads me to this:

Shark Retractor Convertible
Shark Retractor Convertible

While painting my toenails the other morning, I was interrupted by Miss America who requested that I paint her toes too. She took a seat on my bed, stretched out her hairy little legs, and leaned back on her hands to enjoy the home spa treatment, courtesy of Nana.

It was about this time that little brother Destructo dragged in Miss America’s Shark and quietly pretended to vacuum the carpet beside my bed, pushing it jerkily back and forth — it was heavier than he was.

“Brother!” Miss America said sternly, careful not to move her toes under the polish brush. “That’s my vacuum. Put it up.”

Destructo adamantly replied, “No!”

“Yes, Brother. Put it back!”

“No.”

Unable to move her, uh, canister for fear of messing up the paint job, Miss America looked to me for assistance. I just kept polishing miniature toenails — I hate to get into the middle of a domestic squabble, you know? Besides, as Nana, my in-home demonstrations are limited to whining about my burgeoning physical ailments, not household machinery.

Destructo pushed the vacuum to and fro, taunting his big sister with the abandon of a self-propelled Electrolux Turbo.

I could see the ire rising in Miss America’s neck. She raised her hand toward him, calling on the Great Spirits of Terrible Two Disciplinarians throughout modern history as she warned: “One . . . two . . . . . . . . three.”

Destructo continued to vacuum, unfazed.

I continued painting little toenails and said quietly, “Now whatcha gonna do?”

Miss America could only glare impotently at her little brother. “Four . . . . . . . Don’t make me say five!”

I chuckled and sat back as Destructo continued to spite his sister just because he could, and Miss America found herself with no alternative but to call in the big guns. “MOM!”

How I love being Nana.

©2008 K. Jayne Cockrill

Put Me in, Coach

Yesterday, before my Saturday lunch date, I reclined on my deck, enjoying the morning sun and letting my newly painted fingernails dry. I’m not a really girly kind of girl — in fact, I’m more of a gotta-make-the-effort kinda girl — so I only want to mess with the entire process one time on my way out of Primperville, right after I brush my teeth. In fact, once my nails are painted, I touch nothing, do nothing till the universe assures me they are drier than a river bed in Arizona. So when my Dallas Cowboys-crazy daughter, TG, wanted to throw the football around, I declined so as not to screw up the righteous new paint job.

Read more »

The Sheet Spot

There was one tiny bright spot last week after my sister Dee’s passing: our family was able to gather together in the same state after many years apart. We are a pretty tight-knit group, and normally when together, our irreverence knows no bounds. But given the gravity of our loss, there was little to joke about. So I was surprised to find some comic relief in the perfunctory motions of having dinner at Harry’s in Ocala. My sister Eryn and her husband Steve told this tale: Read more »

Updated URL

Just FYI, please note the updated URL in your browser. This blog is now just http://nanadiaries.com, but still part of WordPress. In the next week or so it will have a new look too, and I’ll want to hear some feedback about it — the good, bad, and the fugly.

If you regularly receive the feed of this blog but it’s suddenly not showing up or coming through, you may want to update the URL. I’ll be posting more often, now that I’m official, and you won’t want to miss any of my uncanny, uncommonly witty, and just plain awesome insight, right? Right??  ;-)

A Eulogy for Dee

Thanks so much for all the kind words about my sister’s passing. It’s been really difficult to feel anything but alternately numb and incredibly sad. And it makes it hard to write in my normal smart-ass voice. But as the queen of smart asses, my sister Dee would surely want me to get back on that horse and ride into the wind. So in honor of her memory, I’d like to share a little of our eulogy: Read more »

Sister’s Gone

My little sister died late last night in a car accident. I can hardly believe it. None of this seems real. It’s true that the good die young. She was only 45 and had so much to live for, so much promise of a full, happy life surrounded by people who loved and valued her. Read more »

The Venturesome Furball Returns

Damn cat! For four days, I did nothing but worry about her. I plastered “missing” signs everywhere, wandered aimlessly around the neighborhood in my little red ride at 1:00 AM, and called her name so loud and often, even my hearing-impared neighbors complained. Then, unable to concentrate on anything but images of my dear cat dead by the side of the road or crumpled in a heap from a monstrous canine-thrashing, I hastily took a vacation day to go home and fire up the search party. Read more »

Tookata, Come Back

My cat ran away from home. I think she was mad about the barbecue and all the toddlers scaring the bejeezus out of her whenever she darted from one room to the other, pretending to be as invisible as the wind. They pulled her tail and chased her under the bed, and by the plaintive yowl and the “help me” look in her big blue eyes, I imagine she thought I should have dangled their little broken necks between my teeth for it. Read more »