I’m a paid spokesperson…

Today I decided that I was through with my funk. I said “Funk off, funk, I’m over you already.”

Really though, I decided that since I cannot change anything that has happened in my life I should just go ahead and embrace it. Oh, okay. I’m not going to embrace it. But I’m through letting it slap me around. So, in preparation of moving on, I ate a Totino’s Party Pizza, drank a Mtn Dew, and now I’m ready to go (cracking knuckles as I type…). Bring it. I’m coming out swinging.

I’ve also decided that I’m not going to tone down my writing because I’m afraid of offending someone. I’ve edited and re-edited millions of words since beginning this blog and I’ve come to the conclusion that the purpose of my writing is to express MY feelings. And then, sadly, I realized that I’ve never been “ME” before. I’ve always edited myself for an audience. For family. For a spouse. I have had this strange need of gaining everyone’s approval. And despite trying to make everyone happy, I always manage to piss someone off. So, that being said, since I’m going to make someone angry anyway, I’m just going to be myself. This means that I’m going to say some swear words now and then. I LOVE words (well, except for the word “moist”) and there are times that the true experience of a situation cannot be expressed without dropping some foul language here and there. I say swears. There. I’ve said it. I am proud of who I am, potty-mouth and all.

Besides, I have a FABULOUS story that I’m going to tell in the next month or so that is fraught with naughty words. I cannot tell the story without them. I cannot insert “BEEEEP” instead of the actual words that were spoken because it would detract from the story. And to alter this particular story, well, that would be a tragedy, because it is the story that is going to make me a STAR. Bet you can’t wait, right? I know, me neither.

Okay. So now that I’m done being in my holiday funk, I’ve been thinking a lot about what Christmases were pivotal in my young life. What stands out to me were all the years my mother added to my dollhouse furniture collection. I was obsessed with Lundby products. Lundby is a Scandinavian company – I suppose they were the IKEA of the dollhouse world – and I was the only kid I knew who had any of it. It was soooo awesome. The lights really worked, the cabinets really opened, the toilet seat went up and down… it was uber-cool. I played with it for hours on end and every holiday season I poured over the latest catalog searching for what had to go on my “most wanted” list. I’d circle my choices with a big, black marker and pass it on to my mom, who would use her lunch hour perusing the toy department of Lazarus in search of my holiday treasures.

Gosh. This picture brings back memories. All my Central Ohio friends have to remember how awesome Lazarus was… it’s a tragedy that they are no longer around. I worked at this particular Lazarus many moons ago. Remember the Talking Tree? Man. What incredible memories. 

Anyway, Christmas morning, I would wake up and creep down the stairs, knowing that mom came through with the goods. She would watch with anticipation as I opened them one by one and cried out with great joy. She once told me that she really looked forward to  finding those furnishings for me. I cherished them so much. Fortunately, I still have most of them. And, true to Scandinavian design, the stuff that was made in the 1970’s (when I was an avid collector) is still in style today. The 70’s never got stale in Sweden. Just ask ABBA. 

Now, my sister owned the actual doll house, I just owned the furniture. And when we went our separate ways, she took the house and I took the furniture.


Funny how the same thing is about to happen in my current world… my ex-husband is now the sole owner of the house I’ve lived in for the last five-and-a-half years and all I’ll be left with is the furniture I brought with me. It’s okay, though. I got an apartment nearby and am truly looking forward to doing my own thing. Everything is going to be okay. Deep breath. Again. It’s gonna be okay.

So, it’s the last Christmas I’ll be celebrating in this particular house. The tree is up. I’m ready for the kids to come home Christmas morning and open their gifts. I think I’ve obtained the items on their most-wanted list. Maddy has been anxious to add to her Monster High doll collection and I was fortunate enough to find two of the “hard-to-find” dolls a while back. My joy bubbled over the top as I greedily swiped them off the shelf, knowing that Mad is going to flip her lid when she opens them Christmas morning.

This must have been what mom felt like when I opened my beloved Lundby toys on Christmas morning. This simple parallel brings me that much closer to her – the first Christmas we’ve had since she died. I didn’t appreciate the levels she went to in order to ensure that I had a Merry Christmas. And I’m sure that Madeline won’t cross that threshold until she has children of her own.

Just as I’m doing now.


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