Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Art Works (via Mowser)

You can follow the summer's blog posts here.
You can read my experiences trying to learn to fly, which is here.

Continued festivities. (Not festivus.)

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 6 comments link this post

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L to R: Naomi, me. Piano in the middle.

On Christmas Day evening, the Neidlingers visited the Damschens. We ate. We talked. We laughed. We shared stories of people falling down, slips, spills, and all things in between. We played a game.

And Naomi and I played piano duets, as we are like to do when we get together. At my house, we play Rogers and Hammerstein. At her house, we play out of book that is "pure cheese" -- themes from Terms of Endearment, Cagney and Lacey, The Godfather, and...Axel F.

I killed Axel F. Got the video to prove it.

During the theme from Terms of Endearment -- a cheesy heart-breaker of a song if there ever was one -- dad, having difficulty hearing Naomi's grandpa Frank, hollered "What?! I can't hear you!" It was in the midst of a most climactic part of the music, which caused Naomi and I to burst into laughter.

"Great audience, yelling in the middle of the performance," I said as we broke into giggles. Naomi, who mans the peddles during our duet performances, began using the middle peddle to drop the volume. The guys eventually moved into the kitchen and the rest of the women into the living room.

Essentially, our great playing cleared the room. Naomi is pretty good as the Secondo part, but I, the Primo part, really crack. I tend to..."improvise." Scream. Panic during sixteenth-note runs. You don't even want to hear my attempts at the ever-challenging 5/4- metered "Take Five" (a favorite song -- love Dave Brubeck).

Nome and I also sprinkled a few quotes from the movie Elf throughout the evening, quotes that, if used with someone unaware of the film, would be insulting:

"You disgust me."
"You sit on a throne of lies."
"You don't smell like Santa. You smell like beef and cheese."

I am going to use these in casual discussion and see where it leads. Probably to more isolation in life.

::You know, I need to start understanding that during times when I am out of the house, there will be cameras and video tape, and, as such, I need to:

brush my hair put on some makeup wear my normal glasses or contacts not dress like a slob because I want to look nice when people see me and not some kind of schlump!

Gee.::

Today, at 4 p.m., the Neidlingers and Damschens will be going to see National Treasure: Book of Secrets, in Devils Lake. (We saw the first movie together a few years ago, around this time.) Afterwards, we will go out to eat.

A very fine holiday season. As long as you aren't Axel Foley.

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Labels: christmas, friends, my life

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Merry Christmas!

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

Christmas Present.
Christmas Past.

Labels: christmas, free stuff

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A quiet Christmas Eve.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 5 comments link this post

We've always been a family of Christmas Eve celebrations. When my grandparents were still alive, we'd walk across the road to their farm and have Christmas morning (with grandma making pancakes on a huge griddle) and our noon meal with them. But we've always had our presents and main focus on Christmas Eve.

This year, it was just mom, dad and myself, a nice, quiet evening.

First, the food. I did the cooking, and here's what was on the menu (sort of -- with some substitutions, of course, since I can neither follow a recipe straight due to rebellion and ingredient shortages). We are all still on the South Beach Diet, but there's really very little deprivation at this point. Our meal was fully SBD sanctioned. (heh)

Main Meal:

Cheese and broccoli-stuffed chicken, with roasted garlic and a mustard-pepper sauce [see photo]
Cauliflower "mashed potatoes"
Steamed broccoli
Lemon cheesecake and ricotta tart with almond and oatmeal crust, topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with cocoa and lemon rind [see photo]

MIA:

We didn't have our usual birthday cake for Jesus -- I was pressed for time and didn't get it made. I might make it tomorrow, and if I do, it will be a flourless chocolate cake (here are a couple of other recipes for it, if you'd like to try: with coffe, French version) a delectable and rich dessert for chocolate lovers that mainly consists of chocolate and eggs -- no processed flour.

After our meal, we went into the living room, and mom read the Christmas story from the Bible. This year, we read it from Matthew; in the past years it has always been Luke. It was a nice change, to read from Matthew. I took a few photos of Brutus who had earlier caught a whiff of the catnip toy I'd sewed him this afternoon. I'd tucked it up in the tree but apparently he found it. He was was all over it, and was content to roll around and suck and chew on it while we proceeded to open our gifts.

Mom and dad got many nice things. Today I dumped out my wallet and other junk from a purse I had gotten a week or two ago from Amani Africa. Mom has repeatedly mentioned that she liked it, so I wrapped it up this afternoon and gave it to her. I think she really liked it. Mom got me a great selection of kitchen and cooking utensils ("For the little cook!" she said), as well as some things for cake decorating. I love to decorate cakes, and I've been wanting to start working in the fondant icing method; that's what she gave me -- stuff to do that.

We are now, after cleaning up the living room and kitchen, going to watch the movie I bought for us: Amazing Grace.

Tonight, after this extremely lovely and calm evening of rather simple and old-fashioned fun, I plan on going to my room, turning the lights low, and sitting on my bed with my cat and reading a book for a while before heading off to sleep. I will also finish working on a little Christmas gift for my readers, which I will make available to you tomorrow, after Santa* visits Lone Prairie.

This has been a nice, low-key Christmas season, and a fine way to tie of a rather hectic and tough year.

Photos: Brutus opening his gift | Brutus in front of the tree | Brutus with the Christmas stocking I got when I was a pre-schooler | Dad and Mom opening presents | Dad, mom and brutus

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*We were never raised believing in Santa, hence our Christmas Eve celebrations (before "Santa arrives"). We never had presents "from Santa" to open in the morning...I don't think I missed a thing. I always had to be careful when my cousins came, that I didn't say anything that would reveal that Santa didn't exist. I got into a fight on the playground once, trying to patiently explain to other kids why it was likely impossible and the many ways the Santa myth has changed across cultures. Fifth grade was a bad year.

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Labels: brutus, christmas, family, food

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A Christmas letter.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

Though I sent out cards this year, I decided to do a quick digital letter. I emailed it out to my friends and family, but for those of you wanting a gander at it, you can do so by clicking here: Julie's Fantabulous 2007 Christmas Letter (PDF).

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Labels: christmas, my life

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The lone trivializer.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 4 comments link this post

My sister Jacqui and her family, along with the folks and I, had a little early Christmas at my niece's house today. It was so nice, so relaxed and low-key. Pumpkin pie. Chili. A really good time. Plus, there were presents and I didn't think there would be.

I only ended up saving three sheets of tissue paper, otherwise, we wastefully trashed the rest. In my family history I have the memory of my mother saving every sheet -- "don't tear that paper!!!!" -- and ironing it the next day before folding it into a box to reuse for the next eight years.

Moving past this....

My niece got me this: Trivial Pursuit Scratch and Play.

I love playing Trivial Pursuit, the original, navy-blue boxed, out-when-the-craze-struck, genius edition game. I know there's a million other varieties, but I'm talking the original game that came out -- I am a fanatic about playing it.

No one -- NO ONE AT ALL -- will play it with me.

"What game should we play?"
"Let's play Trivial Pursuit!"
"No. I'm not playing that with you."

There is a family legend of sorts that suggests that I'm so smart, I will always win at that game. Here is my secret: I don't know if I've ever won at that game. I know hardly any of the answers! I know nothing! I'm a complete blow-hard! And yet, somehow, I've fooled everyone.

No one will play the original Pictionary with me, either, which is my second favorite game. Life is full of disappointments.

Anyway, back to my gift. Essentially, I can now play Trivial Pursuit with myself! This is the perfect gift. I'm almost rabid over it, but I am determined to not use it until I go to Nicaragua and have flights and layovers with time to kill. We're talking tough questions that I'm going to sweat over. Fabulous!

My sister and niece also got me gift cards to the bookstore (woo hoo!) and Old Navy (annoying music, but comfy, cheap clothes! another woo hoo!), and a cookbook. My parents received some good South Beach Diet books, and a really cool book on the history of the west which I might sort of sneak away from my father when he's not looking.

My also brother-in-law gave me a little cat-themed frame ornament. As I looked at the ornament and thought how cute it was, I briefly noticed the filler photo inside and thought "That is one ugly-looking cat. Why in the world would they use that as the filler photo?"

As it turns out, it was Brutus, my cat, after we'd clipped all his hair off this past Thanksgiving.

The ornament is hung. The Trivial Pursuit book is calling me. And I'm off to bed. This was, in the scheme of things, a Trivial Post.

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Labels: brutus, christmas, family

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Christmas party.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 5 comments link this post

The party was fun.

I happen to know that there are photos in existence that show I:

Talked to other human beings.
Wore fancy shoes.

We'll see if they make it online or not.

Anyway, here are the details of the weekend so that those of you who have been either a) emailing me about it, or b) constantly checking back to see if I've blogged, will have something to read.

Thursday
On Thursday night, after dropping my stuff off at my friends' house in Aberdeen and having a delicious meal, I drove to Groton to see my older nephew play in the band for the Christmas concert. The band director, Reid Johnson, looked to be about five minutes older than the high school kids he was directing*. Nevertheless, I was extremely impressed with the quality and performance of the smaller jazz band and the full, high school band. Despite his youthful appearance, Johnson really did a great job. I've seen some band directors direct with lackluster involvement, but again, I was impressed by what I saw.

My nephew plays the clarinet. When the band had filed out and found their seats, my sister pointed him out to me. His music stand was up so high that all we could see was the top half of the his head, making photos a little less dramatic than my sister had hoped. We both gestured to him to push his stand down; with a slight grin, he pushed it down, my sister readied her camera, and...Johnson stepped right in front of the line of fire. We were up in the bleachers. My sister spent the rest of the concert, from there on, trying to time the camera to shoot when the director raised his arms. She likely got a lot of armpit shots with my nephew peeking through.

The last song the band played, Russian Christmas Music, by Alfred Reed, Arr. by James Curnow, was simply breathtaking. I told my nephew, once the concert was over, how much I loved that final piece and that I was completely envious of him for getting to play in such a great band.

Friday
Friday was a busy day -- it really pushed the boundaries for an introvert, all the busy-ness and new-ness and out-of-routine-ness. I got a chance to do a little baking, bonding, dressing up, and singing of carols and laughing with some wonderful people. I never knew so many adults had all the words to the Chipmunks Christmas song -- and the high, squeaky voice of Alvin -- down so well.

I met a number of fine people whose names I have all forgotten. Some taught at Northern State University, and others were connected through the church. I also learned a bit about martinis, gin, vermuth, olives, why not to eat the pretzel sticks, how to make a sauce for Lil' Smokies in a last-minute rush pretending to have confidence about cooking, and a bunch of other stuff that I've forgotten. I do know I did fairly well on not eating too much sugary food as well as impressing (for I am sure they were impressed) my fellow teetotalers with delicious, sugar-free, vanilla/raspberry Italian sodas.

Saturday
My friend took me to an antique store and bought me a fabulous wooden makeup box, which is, essentially, a lovely box with a mirrored lid that I am currently using on my desk to hold correspondence and letters that I receive and need to answer. I feel very Jane Austen about it. She also bought me a delicate rhinestone bracelet that looks very much like one my Grandma Helen used to have when I was a kid. And then, to top it all off, we visited a wonderful used bookstore that I had no idea even existed, right there in Aberdeen. (I should have known about the store -- my sister's boss's wife owns it, I later found out.) I found a couple of great books, have a strong desire to go back, and momentarily imagined that I had a store like that to run.

But then, it was time to go. Time for the five-hour drive home so that I could get to work with my own clarinet, picking out a song to play for the short Christmas program at our church on Sunday as well as running through some other piano music in preparation.

All in all, a great and busy weekend.

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*A tall, nice-looking five minutes older.

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Labels: christmas, family, friends, my life

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Christmas party time.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 5 comments link this post

I'm headed to South Dakota to attend a Christmas party at my friends' house.

This will be my first adult Christmas party.

I sure wish the word "adult" hadn't become an adjective to describe pervy things.

What I mean is that I've not been to a "Christmas party" before, in the sense that my party-going experience has been church youth parties, or a small get-together before work for 20 minutes with my co-workers that hardly constitutes a party. All Christmas party experiences have had a feeling of being at work (co-workers) or a family friendly atmosphere where it felt like an extension of church. They don't have a separateness to them, a special "this is just a party for the sake of party and not just because we work together or the same people you see every week!"

No -- I've not been to a party held at a house for the sake of just holding a party for the holiday, inviting friends over.

Part of this is because most of my friends live far elsewhere. Hence, the drive to South Dakota.

Frankly, meeting new people terrifies me. Picture a seemingly normal person suffering from what I call "dry drooling." I generally get through it by pretending that it doesn't bother me and imagining that I have Oodles Of Confidence, and that I am A Confident And Out-going Person With Skills. Essentially, I lie to myself. It usually works. When it doesn't, it's painful.

I'm very introverted.

I told my friend in an email that I was concerned I'd embarrass her. "Sometimes I freeze in social situations. You'll know if it happens, because it will be apparent to all that I am ill at ease and socially retarded. But I'll have great shoes on, if it happens or not. My goal is not to shame you. 'This is Julie. She's...interesting.'"

The great shoes comment is due to an earlier email conversation in which I discovered I would finally have a chance to wear a nice outfit complete with high heels since the party would be held where I'd be staying and I'd not have to battle the winter snow. The problem will be in selecting which pair of impractical shoes that I have collected over the years and rarely get a chance to wear. There's so little call for high heels out here on the farm with my party-free life.

Previous email discussions included mention of velvet and velour, vintage and corduroy.

You'll just have to guess on those.

So, I'm off to be a party-goer, sometime tomorrow evening.

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Labels: christmas, friends

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God is not in human perfection.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 9 comments link this post

In my journal, after thinking about some earlier writing I'd done on music and worship, I scribbled out "God is not in human perfection!" Then I left a blank space, a kind of visual pause, and added a few thoughts about how, instead, God is working at perfecting us for a future time and place that we seem to forget in our efforts of making the perfect happen by our hand right now.

Yesterday, I saw this lived out in a small way.

Sunday was the 15th annual Special Delivery Christmas concert in Cando, North Dakota. Special Delivery is a local singing group made up of my friends Chuck Damschen, Cathy Anfinson, and Naomi Damschen. Gabie, Naomi's sister, also sings or plays an instrument with them sometimes. The violin group I'm a part of, the Silver Strings, played about 40 minutes of Christmas music before the concert started. We'd done this before, though that memory is mostly marred by the horror of being forced to wear a Santa hat at the insistence of our group's leader.

This year our group had seven violinists, the most I ever remember. Three were fairly new to the violin and so, as is the usual, I found myself shoved in the back with the piano music score and told to "make up some harmony" while the rest of the group had written-out first and second violin parts.

Grousing about in the base clef, squinting to see the smaller notes, I started to take notice of the small hilarities that so often strike my funny bone at the worst moments. This time, it started during the song "In the Bleak Midwinter", a song that doesn't call for smirks from the back row violinist.

I blame the ceiling fans!

The fans had not been turned on during our one rehearsal, but they were roaring on Sunday afternoon. Pages on the music books were turning Mid-song, much less Midwinter, and that left our little orchestra full of members trying to play and grapple with books simultaneously.

Oddly, in my location, I had no breeze. I just had a great view of everyone. I had a great view of our leader who, after her book flipped two songs ahead, leaned into her sister to read off of her music, flustering and bumping. The memory of a past outdoor performance in which her book went flying off the stand in a strong gust, causing her to step hard into my music stand's zone and all but body slam me out of the way, made me snicker a bit. Her modus operandi is amusing in this, and other, ways.

The woman sitting next to me had a music stand that did not want to keep an angle, and so, as it slowly moved vertical no matter what she'd try, her book would tip forward. At one point, sans book, she pulled her violin away from her shoulder and started humming the song we were playing. I began to envision all of us, one by one, as the music flew off the stands or flipped pages, resorting to humming out our parts. And I chuckled. While trying to still play.

Our group is splendid. We have the Tongue Chewer, the One Beat Too Fast player, the I Can't Play This Part Let Me Play The Melody Instead player...really, the group is a classic example of people just getting together and sawing away at their instruments the best they can.

The Special Delivery concert that followed our music was beautiful, though I suspect if you asked them they would say it felt like a disaster. During an instrumental duet with Gabie on the violin and Chuck on the guitar, the bridge on the violin snapped and went flying, bringing the guitar music to a screeching halt.

"Holy cow. The bridge broke," Gabie said. The audience gasped. While Chuck made jokes onstage about burning bridges and second fiddles -- he, the king of one-liners and dry humor and dead-air-killers -- I went to the side of the stage where I still had my violin sitting in the case and handed it it to her. Soon the music resumed, beautifully. It's hard, as a musician performing in front of people, to recoup your focus and edge after something like that, but she did a beautiful job on a violin she had not played before.

A few songs later, as my friend Cathy was singing, Chuck, who seemed to have forgotten the chords to the song, blurted out into the mic "Have I ever played this song for you before?"

Cathy looked at him, mouth open, mid-word, in some kind of aghast something.

At this point, I realized what we had here was a down-home concert. I had a sense that maybe Cathy was a bit mortified, but it was just starting to feel like we were all in a smaller room than a large auditorium, and that instead of a performance, we were having something more intimate.

Chuck figured out the chords, started the song over, and Cathy began to sing again, only to forget the lyrics. "Maybe it would have helped if I'd forgotten the chords, too" Chuck joked, as the audience laughed. "Let's just do the song anyway," he said.

And they did. And many more.

During intermission, Naomi and I were talking about these little mistakes and mess-ups that turn our best intentions for professionalism into a shambles and the frustrations we feel when things don't go as planned. It just seemed to further prove to me that, in moments like these when I can still feel something stronger and more beautiful in spite of all these things that mar our hoped-for and practiced-for perfection in performance, God is not in our human perfection but is instead made strong in our weakest and most imperfect moments.

In the end, the concert was lovely, smirking violinists, dropping books, flying bridges, fumbled chords, forgotten lyrics, and all. The Christmas story of hope and birth and re-birth was beautifully written across every squealing violin and microphone. We had nothing to do with it.

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Labels: christmas, friends, humor, music, my life

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Making Christmas.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 6 comments link this post

This is my busy season. A season of "Say, Julie, I wonder if you could help me with something..."

It's a season of getting things made for people, of requests, and of making things of my own imagining.

I rather miss having sisters or other people around the house or even friends in the semi-near vicinity. I like to make things, especially now, and it is always more fun to make cookies¹ or cards or crafts with another person.

When I was little, I made tons of junk for Christmas. I don't know how my parents bore it. Paper and glitter and yarn. Glue. Junk. I was also notorious for walking around the house and picking up random objects and wrapping them for under the tree.

"Where's my thimble?" mom might ask. I knew, oh yes I did. She'd get it back on the 24th, sometime after unwrapping a kitchen fork.

We have too much stuff, now. Do most people really appreciate a hand-knit scarf or the likely better-looking one from Target? I am really starting to appreciate something made by a person I know, thinking, as I touch it, that their hands made it. But sometimes I just find myself thinking "Is it really worth the time? Will the person appreciate it or will it be shoved in a corner because they already have so much stuff?" Is it just another Christmas card? Another scarf? Another piece of junk Julie made?

I used to read those pioneer story books as a child and was amazed at how kids would get an orange and a pencil, or a corn doll, for Christmas -- nothing else. But the crazy thing is, we didn't get a lot for Christmas as kids compared to others, and I can still remember (or even still own) some of those items. Crocheted doll clothes made by the neighbor lady. A homemade teddy bear my mom made. A fuzzy winter coat re-made from an old man's winter coat liner. Things like that.

I absolutely implore all of you out there to make at least one thing -- just one thing! anything! -- this Christmas, for one of your gifts. Food. Stationery set. Knit. Sew. Coupons for babysitting or back rubs. Anything!

I've just finished making all of my Christmas cards² -- a milestone every December, when that happens. This year, I topped off at just over 40, half of which had matching postage stamps to match the design. I started these back in November and worked on them assembly-line-like, bit by bit over the weeks as time allowed. A little gluing and cutting here, a little there. But now, done.

So far, I've made a sugar-free hot chocolate basket for a diabetic woman I work with, some stuffed toys, and am working on a purse for a friend who, like me, likes purses. Last year I wore myself out on knitting, so I don't have anything planned in the knitting realm this year.

I intend to keep putting up new things to make, over on my Stuff Blog, so I hope all of you who are inclined towards making things make use of the ideas. If you do try them, I'd love to hear from you. I'd love to hear about any of the other things you've made already, or are working on. It'd be like making things together, by proxy.

Making Christmas, by proxy.

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¹Provided the kitchen is cleaned and organized, because I can't cook or bake in a messy kitchen. Cannot.

²The theme of this year's card is and angel saying "Glory to God in the highest and on earth, peace, goodwill toward men"; the interior insert reads "May your entire life, in all that you do, in all that you are, in all your days, give Glory to God."

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Labels: christmas, projects

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The Unholy Night.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 4 comments link this post

I've heard this before.

I'd forgotten it.

It should be forgotten.

But, for you, I'm remembering it.

So go here, press play, and weep.

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Labels: christmas, humor, music

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Oh Christmas Tree with Trike and Horse.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

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My dad at Christmas, considerably younger than now.

Three wheeled glory.
Is the theme of this story.
Dripping tinsel and decor shines out
Yet there he sits, in some kind of pout.

You have a trike!
You have a horse!
Neither doing much moving
Of course.

Happy endings will soon be his
Once you click here, that is.

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Labels: christmas, family, poetry

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The best Christmas gift is mask removal made easy.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 5 comments link this post

I've talked about appreciating people on this blog many times, though not always outright, but rather, in terms of the ways of doing it.

Writing letters. Not treating people as useful tools. Showing that you care. Taking time even if you're busy. Listening. Not leaving people alone or abandoned. Not leaving people behind to eat your dust. Adding value to other's lives.

Most of these blog posts grew from a hurt moment in my own life¹ when all I could take away from the moment was nothing that I had hoped, but merely another lesson on the importance of showing people that you appreciate them whether they return it or not. I am always intimately involved with the subject of my writing.

I will never learn to accept as normal or acceptable that people do not show appreciation even if they feel it, and it will continue to hurt me every time. I will never, ever learn, ever remember to expect the disappointment. I continually forget, or think that "this time it will be different." The strong, silent type is just a type. And I question the strength.

Your silence hurts people.

It isn't enough to appreciate someone if you never let them know, in both word and deed².

Most of our communication in life is with some kind of mask, a shield that keeps us from being hurt or at least showing our hurts and weaknesses. We all have them. The good employee. The good student. The angry activist. The good Christian. The strong leader. The noble sufferer. Rare is the raw, true, from-the heart, easily-wounded, no-defenses communication that we all crave to have with other people. If you want to give a most precious Christmas gift this year, show the ultimate appreciation which involves neither buying nor making: give people a moment where you listen and be with them in a non-threatening way that allows them to peel the mask off, even if just a bit. Let them taste a bit of fresh air. Make it OK for someone to take a mask off and not regret it later.

I recently communicated with a person in a very truthful and honest way that left me without defenses, completely flapping in the wind. The response was one of silence.

Silence is troublesome. People live and die on silence. Faith cracks or grows in silence. Silence has endless meanings, and none. It confuses instead of clarifies. It gives a person no useful direction. It offers no suggestions as to what to do with feelings or thoughts. Silence doesn't say whether something is started or over. It is crippling. It doesn't ask for, nor deny, a reply. No response is its own response; it is worse than a negative response.

And, when silence is the reply to an unmasked moment of revelation, it is brutal.

So here I sit, yet again, amazed that I find myself reeling from taking another chance without a mask, regretting it. Trying to not let it make me angry and bitter, trying to tell myself that I shouldn't let it make me less likely to take off the masks in the future for other people. I wish, more than anything, that people would at least break the silence and give other people a chance to be safe while being honest, let them know their person-hood and their efforts to be unmasked are appreciated.

Heartfelt, unmasked communication on anything, met with silence, wounds deeply and creates scabbed hearts that make us all walk around, hardened, only able to hurt others. I think we would all be surprised at the hurt and bloodied people that exist behind the hardest of masks.

I would say to you that 2007 has been a fine and normal year while wearing my get-along-with-people mask, but then, as I start to flip through my journals, I see that it has been a hard and disappointing year. I am very eager for it to be gone, though it won't really make a difference. The marker of a new year is more psychological than anything. At least I can say, in all the things that happened this year, that I learned a great deal, and even shared some of it with you on this blog.

If I could share anything with you for this Christmas season, it wouldn't be to buy or to make something, but to appreciate the people in your lives. Appreciate them not for their job or their duties, but appreciate them for being a human being of worth. And one worth the time of a response. Appreciating them in silence is worthless.

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¹Frankly, I don't know why I have some of you regular readers, why you stick around. This is often a depressing Julie-stop on the internet. I can't promise it'll ever be otherwise. It seems unlikely.

²The beginning part of this blog post is interesting -- are our ways effectively making a person feel appreciated? Is it possible what comes natural for us in showing appreciation isn't necessarily enough for all people, that each person requires something else? Showing appreciation, which essentially tells another person that they have worth, is not easy, nor is it like second nature. It takes work and effort, and, often, a bit of humble pie. Things to think about...

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Labels: christmas, essay, personal, relationships

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New arrivals.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

I know that the season of Christmas has arrived, since I arrived home from work tonight with the front of our house lit up by Christmas lights strung on the metal structures dad made to look like a construction site during the day and a Christmas tree and star by night. One year, mom strung the lights on the five-spoke star structure the wrong way, and it looked like we were celebrating the Chrysler Corporation.

My friend Molly sent a letter that arrived today, except there was absolutely no letter. She has been trying for a month or two now to get me to sign up for the 5K in Fargo in May. Molly runs the Fargo Marathon or half-Marathon. The 5K is a piddly 3.1 miles compared to her minimum 13.1 miles. It's a joke that I even balk at the little 5K. But you know, I hate running. Even running in "honor" of turkey won't do it for me. My neice's boyfriend likes to run and she commented that "he likes to run and does, but you hate to run and still do." I think she meant to make me feel better. I just hated running all the more. I haven't run much since I had surgery in May. I'm in terrible shape. I haven't cracked the treadmill up. All of these excuses -- which is why Molly sent no letter and just the application form and information. No more explaining, no more subtle efforts to get me past my excuses and into doing it. Sign up or not. Ugh.

Last week, I had a box arrive which contained two wrapped items from Amazon.com (wrapped! in pretty paper!) -- a book I had wanted, and an excellent Christmas CD set by Sufjan Stevens. You know how picky I am about Christmas music. I really have to thank the giver. Much appreciated.

Here ends the tale of arrivals in the life of Julie R. Neidlinger.

Stunning.

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Labels: christmas, family, friends, health, my life

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15 percent gray Friday? Or Make Something Day?

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

I did not fully fulfill the requirements for Make Something Day, since I did go with my family to watch the wildness of shoppers today. I bought some candy canes. Sugar-free.

So, um...I don't technically consider myself as taking full part of Black Friday, although I was manhandled a bit by pushy people in a store.

But I have been making up a storm when it comes to making things.

I'll be working on posting project ideas, patterns and other stuff over on the aptly-named Stuff Blog in hopes of extending the idea of the homemade gift to more than just one day, keeping you a little busy (if you want) all through December. Keep your eye on the "make something day" category there.

Related Links:

Make Something Day Absolution Revolution: Make Something Day
Christmas Shopping Get started now: Lone Prairie Christmas Page (Free projects and idea links at the bottom) Lone Prairie Stuff: Make Something Day projects and ideas Make Something Day blogroll An idea a day

Labels: christmas, free stuff

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Christmas shopping.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 6 comments link this post

I know there's this "buy nothing / make your own stuff for Christmas" push out there. Since that would rather make life difficult for me and other artists who make our own stuff in hopes of selling it to you in order to stay alive, I would also add a third option to that list: buy from an artist this Christmas.

Sure, it might be more expensive than WalMart. And no, I'm not busy making homemade LCD flat screen TVs. But I do have some stuff...

So. Where to do this?

Well, all over. There are artists all over the internet. For example...

My friend Sarah is a fabulous artist. I really mean that. Her work blows me away with various forms of envy and jealousy. You can visit her web site or go to her Etsy shop and get some really great stuff. For you dog or greyhound lovers, you've found the perfect gifts.

Etsy, in general, is a good place to buy from. You should make it your first stop when deciding to go shopping online. Everything is made by artisans and hobbyists and you're helping support people in the most direct and true way possible: paying them for things they've made with their own hands.

To me, that's a more reasonable answer to the "buy nothing" concept since, if everyone bought nothing, it would sort of mean disaster on great levels. The idea is to kill wanton and excessive consumerism, but since things made by artists tend to be more expensive than the cheap "made in China" products, most people don't go and buy 20 of the same item. One will do. And buyers tend to treasure that one item more than something mass-produced and common, which is easily seen as disposable and replaceable. I buy from artists. I have purchased off of Etsy or in my local craft store. I still have those items.

And of course, uh, you can shop here at Lone Prairie. I don't have too much pride to mention that.

UPDATE: Find out about making your own stuff for Christmas.

(If you know of a great artist, leave a link in the comments section. Spread the love.)

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Labels: art, christmas, product placement, promotion

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The early Christmas.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 4 comments link this post

"I like your new blog header, but aren't you a bit early for Christmas?''

Thank you, reader.

But no.

Because, early this morning, the first wee bits of snow arrived and though they didn't stick around, it is a sign for me to get out my Christmas CDs and start the festivities. (The "festivities" include excessive hot chocolate and warm slippers.)

The cold -- COLD, I TELL YOU, COLD -- wind today and the gray skies make me wonder if we'll get a bit more snow, but I have a feeling it will be a low-snow winter...

Merry Christmas!

(I even have Christmas cards and postage stamps for sale.)

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Labels: blogging, christmas

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Spend your life wisely.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

::Still feeling a little guilt over the 13 cent Christmas card fiasco, I decided to put my Christmas letter online. I figure this would even it out in some kind of cost-per-read ratio in the nether world where I imagine math to be my abstract friend. I wrote this letter after receiving two Christmas letters in the mail. One letter was filled with long descriptions of travel and vacation exploits and financial success. Another letter, from missionaries we know, told of simple lives on a very different path. From this contrast my Christmas letter stems.::

Christmas is a season of spending. Our lives are this as well, temporary like seasons. How I spend my money, how I spend my time, how I spend my life -- it's a trade for what I deem important. Every moment,

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Continued festivities. (Not festivus.)

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Merry Christmas!

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A quiet Christmas Eve.

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A Christmas letter.

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The lone trivializer.

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Christmas party.

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Christmas party time.

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God is not in human perfection.

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Making Christmas.

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The Unholy Night.

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Oh Christmas Tree with Trike and Horse.

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The best Christmas gift is mask removal made easy.

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New arrivals.

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15 percent gray Friday? Or Make Something Day?

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Christmas shopping.

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The early Christmas.

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Spend your life wisely.