Monday, December 23, 2013

On the tenth day of Christmas, your Geevie brings to you...

A holiday song:

A happy, positive tune that will drive the bah humbug right out of you with lots of 80s cheer. It's a message good for every single day of the year.



A holiday movie/show:

So I finally got around to watching "It's a Wonderful Life" this year. When I was a kid, I never wanted to be bothered with old movies. When I got over that, I just never timed it right. Whenever I'd see it on the guide, it was usually half-over, and I HAVE to start at the beginning. So year after year would pass and I'd really kind of forget it. This year, the stars aligned and I was finally able to watch a show that fit my sensibilities to a tee.



You had the angst and the near misses for poor George as he put himself dead last to everyone else, and kept seeing his dreams dashed of doing the one thing he wanted to do more than anything: see the world. It really didn't seem that wonderful of a life. When Phoebe Buffay on Friends caught up on all those shows her mother wouldn't let her watch because they were too depressing, she figured it was a safe bet to pick a movie called "It's a Wonderful Life," but was quick to catch on to the irony.

PHOEBE: Hey. Oh thanks for the great movie tip.
MONICA: Did you like it?
PHOEBE: Oh yeah. You know, I don't know if I was happier when um George Bailey destroyed the family business or um, Donna Reid cried, or when the mean pharmacist made his ear bleed.
MONICA: All right, I'll give you the ear thing but don't you think the ending was pretty wonderful?
PHOEBE: I didn't watch the ending, I was too depressed. It just kept getting worse and worse, it should have been called, "It's a sucky life and just when you think it can't suck any more, it does."

Most of the time poor George was fighting off the evil Mr. Potter, who takes everything of what's wrong with our country's economic divide and puts it on the screen in literal black and white. Whereas the Bailey family gave poorer people chances to use what they had to lift out of their economic circumstances, all Potter worried about was money... and the control that came along with it. He proved in 1946 that trickle-down economics only works if you don't have a greedy capitalist elitist hogging the dough. When we see what would have happened without George Bailey's faith in humanity and willingness to put his own financial success behind the success of the community that surrounded him, Pottersville is a lot like modern America. You have angry, stressed citizens working hard to make a dime, and playing harder to escape their dead-end life experiences... and we're supposed to thank our greedy capitalist elitists for the privilege.

Per Jimmy Kimmel:



Politics aside, the message of the movie is one I've been examining very closely recently, one that suggests that we humans aren't driven to compete to be "the best," the "richest," and the most "successful," that success itself is more tied with how we connect to each other. In fact our very existence depends on it, a sentiment reinforced by this beloved Christmas classic.

Toward that end, I recommend everyone watch Tom Shadyac's "I Am," a documentary that challenges us all to figure out if we are part of the solution... or part of the problem.



I guess it boils down to this: do we want to be greedy and miserable like Mr. Potter? Or do we want to be surrounded by love and touched by angels... like George Bailey?

Favorite holiday gift/memory:

After my dad died when I was eleven, my mother worked very hard to make ends meet. This was challenging as a single mother in 1981, especially with my father's end-of-life care. He went into the hospital on December 6, 1980 and died on December 19. Though our bills were steep enough we had to move in with another family to make ends meet, my mother never took government assistance to pay our way. She worked very hard for a very long time, and I'm afraid I didn't make things much easier for her. After years of being spoiled by my dad, it never dawned on me that I might not get what I wanted. Well, Christmas of 1981 offered those first, crucial life lessons. More than anything I wanted a pair of skates. I got...



Needless to say, I was disappointed. She did the best she could with what she had, but I was too immature and selfish to figure that out at the time. (Feeling pretty shamed about it now, though.) But one gift she could afford to give me was a blue, imitation-leather-bound diary with its own lock and key. I had just discovered the power of words scant months before, so I really didn't understand the true gift I was being given that year. Looking back, I see it was a key to something amazing. I had a place I could share every thought and feeling freely without judgment. For a kid who had been mired in the Southern Baptist church from the womb, this was HUGE. Those blank pages became my friends, and shared with me some painful transitions as I worked my way through my first real crush (unrequited love) and separating from my best friend when we ultimately had to move.

That friend would later give me another diary that helped me through yet another painful era of my adolescence. And these two diaries became the places I could daydream about what I wanted, even when it seemed completely out of reach. They became the place I'd share my deepest, darkest secrets and any pain that might be associated. The diary always understood, even when people around me couldn't.

Today we blog and everyone can see these innermost feelings, but there is significant editing going on to make these thoughts and dreams more acceptable to a wide audience.

Those nonjudgmental diaries from my past were complete freedom of thought, and took me a lot further than a pair of skates would have.

Here's to moms who have a little more wisdom than their children, to show that sometimes the best gift we get is the one we didn't even know we wanted.

A holiday recipe:

I am not a fan of eggs. I'll eat them every once and a while, but usually they're paired with other things to diffuse the taste. I discovered a few years ago I have a slight allergy to sulfur-based antibiotics, so I wonder if the two of those things are related? Either way, when I make eggs it is usually for someone else. Never was this more true than the first Christmas dinner I prepared, where I made deviled eggs for my husband and my mom.

Apparently, I can do it well. It has been a mainstay in our holiday gatherings ever since, whether I eat one or none at all.

Ginger's Southern Deviled Eggs

12 boiled eggs
1/4 cup mayonnaise*
2 tbsp mustard
Salt and Pepper to taste
Paprika to garnish

Boil and peel eggs. Halve lengthwise, and put yolks into a bowl. Add mayo, mustard, salt and pepper. Blend and fill egg halves. Top with paprika.

*You can also use Miracle Whip for extra tang. If your eaters are more adventurous, add 1 tbsp of pickle relish, or top with pickled jalapeno slices.



Book of the Day:

I've created a deluxe book bundle of all the books in the Groupie Universe for the holiday season. There's eight books for less than $10, which makes it a great gift option for any of your friends who have not yet been introduced to the series. It will discontinue by January, so if you want to get it (or give it,) do it fast!



Spread some joy!

Clock is also ticking on the Star of Hope Charity Fundraiser through Martini Times! It is a chance to get some of your favorite books from some of your favorite authors, and raise some money for Houston's homeless. Let's do some good. :)

You've read the blog, now ENTER THE GIVEAWAY!

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