Look At These Neat Things!

Here's a blurry little video of me enjoying the wonderful motion-sensing Traveler's Insurance ads in the Minneapolis airport.

How I am (Finally) Feeling.

What can we call this feeling I'm feeling? This revelation of light after a forever of darkness; this first breath after a coma of restless loneliness. I tried to find a most excellent word for such an excellent feeling, but after much contemplating, I still wasn't able to find one. For the majority of this school year I've felt rather trapped, distant, and lonely. But with this time away from the chaos and turbulence of every day life, my exhausted heart has had time to rest, heal old hurts, and become its own again. Yesterday I felt the distict moment I had been subconciously waiting for. In that moment, I accepted the things that I had been denying about my life and who I was to be, I let go of the forced hope for a plan that may not be right, and something inside said to me softly; "Go on." Suddenly, I found myself thinking about the possibilities that lie ahead, rather than willing my way upon my future. I sat in the backseat of a silver car, driving through suburbia as I thought these wonderful thoughts, and smiled from my insides out. What a superb feeling with which to begin a new year. We could call this feeling hope, we could call it happiness, but really, I don't think a word exists that describes it entirely. But that's alright, a feeling this marvelous doesn't require a name, it requires only that we let it make us better.

Beige Everything and Business Centers

When I go outside and turn in a circle, I can find no mountains. Instead, I see buildings that sit heavily on the dead ground like enormous landlocked ships. When I look for color, I most often find beige. Beige houses, beige houses, beige grass. Worst. Color. Ever. Where am I? Minneapolis, Minnesota. I guess if I had grown up here, I wouldn't notice it, but since I live in under the big sky, the contrast is a stark one. As we drive around, my gramma tells us what cities we are in. How can one tell? There is NO space between towns; they all just run together like a big cluttery mess of malls and cars and "Business Centers." It's completely overwhelming. Luckily, I have the relative peace of Gramma's house to retreat to. Gramma's house is an oasis of food and boredom, where I have my own little room furnished with the senior high pictures of my mom and all her siblings. Tonight for dinner we ate Chicken Delight, a true midwestern dish, the main ingredients of which are: Velveeta cheese, broccoli, stuffing, chicken, and french fried onions from a tin. It was absolutely delicious; a big cheesy casserole of comfort. Tomorrow the girl cousins and I are taking on MOA. Mall. Of. America. On the front page of yesterdays newspaper there was an article announcing that a 200 person fight/riot/brawl/shoplifting spree had broken out at that very place just the day before, and here I am, going there voluntarily. What is this madness? All for jeans that make my rear end look fabulous. Well, maybe. I might get trampled to death before I can do anything about it. Being here makes me realize even more how amazing home is. Suburbia isn't my kind of place. I can't wait to breath in some fresh mountain air and look at the horses and cows as I drive the back roads.

Christmas Is Here Again

No other time of the year holds quite as much joy for me as the Christmas season. My heart fills up with love and I participate in every quintessential Christmas activity, from baking cookies to going caroling to walking in winter wonderlands. I love it all.  On the very day after Thanksgiving each year, I declare it to be Christmas time, and my family and I climb into the minivan together and drive to wherever I believe has the best and most Christmas-y Christmas trees available. We take the tree home, I make Walter pull the decorations from under the house, (the spiders under there are to big for me to do it) and then drive me into town to replace the lights that have stopped working. Then I pop in some Christmas tunes and decorate the tree like an elf on triple-shot espresso, smiling my face off the whole time. I love unpacking the ornaments, because when I lift each one out of the shredded newspaper packing it's like picking up a piece of my childhood and hanging it up to remind me of the happiest times of my life. Even the smells have stayed the same throughout my life; pine, potpourri, dust, and one other smell that I can't place. My brain just tells me it's the smell of winter. After the lights and ornaments comes The Star  We bought The Star before I can remember. We went to the store and let Walter pick it out when he was three. It's tinsel-y and gold, with lights that flash on and off when it's plugged in. We've been meaning to retire the star for years, it's missing several pieces and it's just kind of ugly. One year I accidentally chopped through the chord when I was trimming the top pieces of the tree. But duct tape can mend anything, and since we can't seem to get rid of it, there it blinks, year after year, becoming consecutively uglier with each passing Christmas...but I love it. The Funke family Christmas tree wouldn't be complete without it.
Now that the tree has been up for weeks, yesterday was finally, FINALLY the last day of school before Christmas break. Today I woke up well rested and ridiculously happy when I discovered the quiet blanket of snow falling outside. Right now I'm waiting for the cookie dough to chill in the fridge so that I can make the same sugar cookie cut-outs I've made for my entire life. Some other plans that I have include, but aren't limited to: sledding, visiting relatives in Minnesota, working in Sunday school at  the Christmas Eve service, spending time with my great family, and making them listen to me read Twas The Night Before Christmas on Christmas Eve. I decided the classic Christmas poem should become a tradition a few years ago, and even if everyone else could do without it, I adore it, and can practically quote the poem off the top of my head. I'm not sure why Christmas means all that it does to me. I don't know how I can listen to Christmas music on every day of December and not grow the least bit tired of it, and I don't know why I can't seem to have this many consecutive cheerful days any other time of the year. It's just the way things are. So, whether you feel the way I do about the holidays or don't really care for them at all, let me just be cliché with you for a moment; the holiday season is much more than it's commercial hype. It's a time to be bright, and make the days of others memorable, and a time to define the terms "blessed," "generous," and "grateful" in our lives. Whether you're be celebrating Christmas, Hanukkah, Saturnalia, Boxing day, or Kwanzaa, party it up and make it count. Happy holidays and Merry Christmas!