Running Mucks

 I don’t know what I was thinking.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  I thought I could easily marry my love of prowling through discarded treasures and dragging them home with selling those treasures online.  And it all started so innocently. 

Last year we cleaned out a 10 x 15 storage unit we’ve been paying rent on longer than I care to tell you, and I spent the next few weeks going through boxes of stuff I had completely forgotten I had.  Now, our garage is only so big, so tough decisions had to be made.  As I carefully unwrapped and picked through the tidbits of our lives, I discovered, much to my surprise, a lot of things I wasn’t really all that attached to anymore.  But what to do with them?  Yard sales are a complete goat rope and, while I love going to them, actually having them myself, not so much. {insert chewing of lip here}  Which was followed by an AHA! moment when it occurred to me I have friends on Twitter and Facebook who sell stuff online.  Yeah!  I’ll do THAT! 

Long story mercifully shorter – I stumbled around a few selling sites, I researched, I photographed, I ordered up shipping supplies, and I listed a few things and waited.  And then I sold something.  Which was a whole lot funner than I had thought it would be.  And, just like that, I was addicted.  I mean, really, what could be better than actually making a vice work for you?  And, BONUS!, I won’t have to worry about being featured on “Hoarders”  anymore.  Well, maybe.  Cause now I need more stuff.  And a bigger garage.  Which is why I was getting rid of stuff in the first place.  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Whatever. 

Of course, nothing is ever as easy as it looks.  So, what I thought would be something I could do a few hours a week to earn some money and make me feel like a productive, grown-up, responsible adult again has taken me places I never could have imagined.  Finding the right items is the first challenge, and then there are the hours of research, the hours of trying to get just the right photos, figuring out shipping costs, listing, marketing, social media . . .   Aaaaaaaaah!  I have days where I feel like someone punched the flipper on a pinball machine in my head, and that little ball is zinging around in there disrupting all my synapses.   No, it has nothing to do with being blonde!  *glares at Hubby*  

With Christmas in my sights, I really got wound up in my quest for more stuff and was spending more and more time on my little part-time (Ha!) venture.  And friends and family started to complain they never heard from me anymore.  My prized garden became an afterthought.  My exercise routine went the way of the dodo bird.  And my house – well, let’s just say I wouldn’t let Southern Belle Mama in the front door.  In fact, I would probably throw a match on it before I let that happen.  Woops!  Sorry, Mama!  You can’t stay at my house, cause it burned down!  

So, there I was running amok and getting a very bad case of crankypants, and, just about the time I thought my head was going to explode, I had one last rational thought – I HAVE to get out of here!  I need to go to the wildlife refuge NOW!  

Ah, instant attitude adjustment. 

Yeah, I got a little "arty" with the duck butts.  By the time I took this one, it was getting dark, because I had waited and waited for all those duck butts to be in the air at the same time.  Never happened.  Contrary critters.  LOL

Now, I don't know what works best for you, but getting outside and into nature snaps me back into a happy place every time.  As far as I'm concerned, it's the best prescription for what ails you.  Try it.  Even if you just go into the backyard and watch the clouds, the birds in the trees, or a ladybug meandering across a leaf, I'm willing to bet it'll make you feel better. 

A line from a Robin Williams movie, Bicentennial Man, springs to mind here.  Working as a domestic droid for a suburban family, he has a habit of referring to himself in the third person.  So, when someone in the family says something about him "running amok," he replies, "One is not qualified to run mucks."

Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure no one is.  Life is too short to be constantly running mucks.  And it is very easy to fall into the habit, especially this time of year.  So, now, I'm going out to do a little communing with nature.  I hope you'll join me.

Thanks for taking the time to visit! 

A Christmas Story

In the winter of 1986, life was good. I was a single mother with one adorable, healthy, blond-haired, blue-eyed boy; I had a good job; I had a not-so-good second job; I had a fixer-upper house; and I had one spoiled rotten Doxie dog. Norman Rockwell might not have been impressed with the broken-down white picket fence in the back yard, but I thought of my life as having “good bones.” A little sanding, some spackle, a new coat of paint and everything would be perfect.

Money being a bit on the short-side, Christmas was something I planned long-range. The clerks at the lay-away counters at WalMart and K-Mart knew me by name. Of course, the best-laid plans of Santa’s helpers can and do go awry from time to time. This year I was completely blind-sided by an animatronic, story-telling bear called Teddy Ruxpin. About three weeks before Christmas, my son, Derek, started talking incessantly about this Teddy Ruxpin toy, so I checked it out to see if it could be worked into The Grand Christmas Plan. I was horrified to discover this new must-have toy was a whopping $75! No way was this going to fit into the budget. Period. This was all my precious baby could talk about, and I couldn’t afford it. I was crushed.

As I cruised the toy department hoping and praying I could come up with a suitable substitute, my eyes were drawn to a tiny stuffed bear, wearing a stocking cap and a Christmas sweater. I picked him up, adjusted his little sweater and stood there looking at him and, as I did, a New Plan suddenly came to me.

On Christmas Eve, after my son set out the requisite cookies and milk for Santa and finally went to sleep, I set my New Plan in motion. It was risky, but I thought it just might work. I retrieved the tiny bear from his hiding spot, and I sat down at the kitchen table and composed a note. A note from Santa to Derek. It went something like this:

Dear Derek,

Thank you for coming to visit me in the park and giving me your Christmas list. I know you asked for a Teddy Ruxpin toy, but I have been looking all over trying to find the perfect boy to take care of this little Christmas bear. He is very special and he needs a very special boy to take care of him. You have been such a good boy this year I know you are the only boy I can trust to give him the special care he needs. I hope you love him as much as I do. Merry Christmas!

Love,
Santa

I finished setting up the rest of the toy delivery from Santa, set Special Bear on top and tucked the note under one fuzzy little leg. And, yeah, there might have been a tear or two. I crossed my fingers, looked up at the ceiling, and went to bed.

The next morning, Derek bounded into the living room, and I stood back and watched. He picked up Special Bear, saw the note, and brought it to me to read to him. I read the note, took a deep breath and looked up at him. And this is what I saw.

Like magic, it was as if all thoughts of Teddy Ruxpin were gone. He was never mentioned again.

And, yes, Special Bear still lives. Every year since, he has occupied a place of honor in our home at Christmas and a special spot in our hearts. I always smile, give him a hug and adjust his sweater when I unpack him and remember that Very Special Bear Christmas. And, every year after Christmas, he is lovingly snuggled into his bubble wrap, placed in his special box and packed away.

I always knew there would come a time when Special Bear would get passed to a grandchild and, after some discussion, it was decided the time has come for Special Bear to work his Christmas magic for my precious granddaughter. So, I gave Special Bear a booster-shot of love with one more hug, triple-bubble-wrapped him and placed him in a new box for his journey, along with two pictures I found of that special morning. Just so my son will know which box Special Bear is in, I did this. Think I overdid it?

And, when they ask me at the Post Office if I want insurance on this package, I’ll laugh, because you can’t put a price tag on what’s in that box. Christmas is not about the Teddy Ruxpins. It’s about the love and the Special Bear places in your heart.

Stuffed Bear - $4.99
Pictures & Frames - $24.95
Magical, twinkly, smiley, love-filled, makes-you-teary-eyed memories – PRICELESS

One word of advice though – take LOTS and LOTS of pictures, because you never know when a Special Bear moment will happen.

“Oh, would that Christmas lasted the whole year through, as it ought,” Charles Dickens lamented. “Would that the spirit of Christmas could live within our hearts every day of the year.”

MERRY CHRISTMAS! God bless us every one!