Wha?

So there are a few things that I don't understand about the Christmas holidays. Number 1: Gingerbread tastes like neither ginger, nor bread. Am I the only one that can't make sense about that? Second, why are the traditional Christmas colors red and green? I mean one means "go" and the other means "stop". Aren't we sending mixed signals here? Third of all, how do we manage to be most impressed by the decorations of homes with the highest electrical bills? Shouldn't we be a little more enthusiastic about the homes that conserve energy in this, our time of crisis? Number 4: Now, this is a little off-topic, but bare with me: Why do people wear scarves in 85 degree weather? I mean, part of them must know that it's hot outside, because they're wearing a tank-top, but somehow the neck didn't get the signal. And you'd think they'd figure it out when they go outside and their neck begins to sweat. Is it fashionable? I mean, I guess I missed that memo. It's possible, since I missed the memo that said "ain't" is really a word (and I'm still looking for that one, by the way). But really, even if I had gotten the memo, I'd still think that it looked kind of stupid. Now remember, for all the emo out there, you can wear all the scarves you want, since you're not people. Anything else off the top of my head that confuses me about the holidays? Mmmmmmmmaybe later. But now that I'm thinking about it, I remember at some point in 5th grade or somewhere around there Rachel decided that "ain't" really was a word, and said it frequently. Do you know who was at fault for that? Her name was Rebekah Schaubrooke (eh... me no spel gode). Her name and what she did to me will forever dwell in my memory. Rebekah... I will never name my child anything that sounds similar to that name because she was the reason that I had to deal with Rachel saying "ain't" for a year. Speaking of Rachel, and because it's Christmas time, I have a fun story. Most of you probably know this one already, but for the 1 of you out there that doesn't, it's worth it. It's one of those horrendously tragic, but undeniably amusing stories.

*Disclaimer: If you want to continue living a lie every Christmas, do not read the following segment.

So one day in her 4th or 5th grade, Rachel's sitting in class listening to her teacher give her a new assignment. It's an essay that has to be written about an event that changed the student's life, whether for the better or worse. Some of the students didn't seem to quite understand what she was asking for, so she began to give them examples. "Well, you know. Maybe... your parents got divorced. Or maybe you welcomed a new sibling into the family. Or maybe the day you found out Santa wasn't real." And Rachel's jaw just drops open. Her eyes fill with tears and she spends the rest of the class in silence as she tries to keep the tears back while attempting to prevent the other students from noticing the tears. Poor Rachel and her gullibility about non-existent characters. There was never a difinitive moment that I realized Santa was the embodiment of all evil within parents. And by that I mean, how cruel is it for parents to lie to their children every Christmas, until one year they come to the heartbreaking realization that the man they thought they knew, was nothing more than a figment of their imagination? It really sets the tone for the rest of their lives. Actually, come to think of it, learning Santa wasn't real could have been Rachel's snapping point.

Not that I really feel that way at all. I'll probably lie to my children about Santa. Hopefully they'll realize that the lie wasn't about deciet or anything like that, and the realization will be gradual, as opposed to abrupt like Rachel experienced. I'm pretty sure I never truly believed in Santa. I just assumed he was one of the symbols of Christmas, and about as real as Rudolph (who's not real, just to clarify). Mmm... Clarity. I like Jimmy Eat World.

That actually reminds me of another story about Travis one Easter. We were all riding in the car up to some relative's house in Houston, and he just sat there yelling at my mom for like 15 minutes trying to get her to admit that the Easter Bunny wasn't real. Hahahaha... ah... good times. Good times.

Nap time.