I think Santa got the wrong stocking

It's amazing how an hour-long holiday work gathering can ruin your day.

I spent my lunch hour doing a Secret Santa type gift exchange among co-workers. I get a lump of coal. Seriously. And deep down, I feel that it was not given with the funny ha ha kind of intentions. More like mean spirited intentions. For reasons I really don't want to get into. But I put on an act. Smiled. Acted like it was no big deal. Said "Thank You" with a smile on my face. Got a grunt in return.

Went back to work. Threw the gift bag on the floor. Out of sight, tried to put it out my mind. Kept myself busy all afternoon. Didn't think about the coal sitting on the floor by my desk.

Went to the YMCA after work. Kind of wanted to run, but my calf has been bothering me. So I hopped on the bike and road 16.25 miles. Listened to some tunes, watched Tyler Hansbrough set a new North Carolina career scoring record, tried to clear my head and the image of the coal.

Finished at the YMCA, went to throw my gym bag in the backseat of my car. There was the coal. Got somewhat upset again. Thought about the coal. Called Mom and told her about the coal. Got more upset.

And me being upset? That makes the Monster in my head upset. And he has no reason to be upset, especially since the doctor called me today and told my my brain was "completely stable."

So the day goes from good to bad. All because of a co-worker and a piece of coal.

Need a dime? My Dad had a bunch.

My Dad doesn't spend his change. He doesn't carry it around in his pocket. And he doesn't give it out to the folks sitting on the corner rattling an empty coffee can looking for money.

No. My Dad saves his change.

Fills up coffee cans. Old liquor bottles. Any other kind of canister. And he keeps filling them up. Once they're filled. He moved the now full bottle into storage, usually in the basement or on the top shelf in the pantry, and moves on to an empty container. Not only does he save it, he separates it. Quarters go in one kind of container, I think he's using a coffee can at the moment, while dimes go in another, the favorite here is empty Galliano bottles.

It wouldn't be a big deal if he saved up his coins and every year takes them to the bank and exchanges them for dollar bills. Everyone does it. I do it. No. He doesn't do that. I think my Dad's been saving his change for the past five years or so. I don't even know how many containers he had. But it had to be a lot.

Because the other day? Dad combined all of those containers and weighed his dimes.

45 pounds. That's a lot of dimes. And a lot of money. Because the lady at the bank? She handed him $900 for his dimes. And then he promptly went and bought himself a computer.

And started saving some more dimes.

Cookie Monster probably wouldn't be a good job candidate

It's been a tradition in my family for as long as I can remember. The only thing that's changed? The sheer size of the operation.

The annual cutout Christmas cookie extravaganza.

My mom, brother and I used to go over to my aunt's house each Christmas to make cookies. Just the four of us in a cozy kitchen with Christmas music filtering through the house. Granted, my brother and I? We weren't much help. Sure, we'd cut a few cookies out using a cookie cutter, but the cookie making business kind of lost our attention after a few minutes and we'd be off, causing trouble with my aunt's dog or something.

Eventually my brother stopped going. Then I went away to school and stopped coming. But the cookies were still made.

I returned to the cookie making operation a few years ago. But by this point it had grown in size. Another aunt was thrown into the mix. And the recipe we used to double when I was a kid? Suddenly we were tripling it. And if that wasn't enough, one year we even quadrupled it. That, my friends, is a lot of cookies. We had so much cookie dough, we needed a second bowl just to mix it all up!

This year we were back to tripling the batch. We ended up with 30 dozen cookies plus a few "test" cookies along the way. For the mathematically challenged (I'll admit, I used a calculated here), that's 360 cookies if you don't count the test cookies. And we were done in about two hours.

Don't believe me? Here's the photographic evidence.

The ingredients. See that can of Crisco hiding underneath the partial bag of flour. That's a 48 ounce can. Keep the size of it in mind. It'll be important in a moment.

The recipe. We know it so well, it's just written in shorthand. We don't bother measuring the shortening anymore. A few years ago we realized six cups is the ENTIRE can of Crisco. Now we just dump the whole thing into the bowl.

For the record, this year we used about 22 cups of flour. That was the entire partial bag of flour that was sitting on top of the Crisco can and about half of the 10-pound bag of flour we had on hand. That's a lot of flour.

And when you're talking that much flour, you don't bother with mixing spoons. You just use your hands. Don't worry. All hands were washed prior to the cookie making extravaganza getting underway.

For some reason, my mom and aunts think it's important for me to learn how to roll out dough, something about me taking over the entire cookie operation when they can't do it themselves anymore. Yeah. I tried in the past and failed miserably. This year? I lasted exactly two attempts at rolling the dough before I got sent back to my speciality of manning the cookie cutters. Apparently I'll a slow dough roller.

Did I mention we made 30 dozen cookies?

Once the cookies are finished, the dishes done and the kitchen cleaned up the cookie making extravaganza is nearly done. But you can't make 30 dozen cookies without celebrating with a treat. In this case, an alcoholic ice cream beverage. Needless to say, this is a fairly new step in the cookie extravaganza that was not around back in the early days when I was a kid.

Once the drinks are finished, we all head out the door with our bucket full of freshly baked cookies. Then it's back home for the finishing touches - frosting and sprinkles. And mine? I store - and eat - them right from the freezer. Yum.

This year I'll be ready for the man in the red suit

It's hard to believe Christmas is less than two weeks away. And I've still got a ton of stuff to do.

The Christmas tree is decorated and the colored lights are strung around the railing on my patio. I've got snowmen strategically placed around my apartment, Rudolph and Santa Claus are hanging out underneath the tree and the Grinch? He's guarding the hallway to my bedroom.

I actually started my Christmas shopping on Thursday. I didn't get much, but one Rugrat is finished and another is halfway complete. As for the rest of my family? I'm planning a major Christmas shopping trip tomorrow and hope to finish it up.

Tonight I was in the Christmas card writing groove. Signing the name, stuffing the card in the envelop, licking the envelop and then giving up and using tape to secure the flap since the envelop glue had no stickiness to it, but all of the nasty glue taste. Then I ran into a wall. I still had the urge to address the envelops. Too bad I ran out of envelops, cards and stamps.

Yes, I still have a bunch of stuff to do, but compared to last year? When I spent most of the month curled in a fetal position due to a throbbing head? I'm so far ahead of schedule it might as well be September. The Monster in my head resulted in me addressing my Christmas cards on December 22 and doing all of my Christmas shopping and wrapping on December 23. I didn't even do my own decorating since Mom did that for me during one particularly painful run in with the Monster.

Of course, all of this could be wrong since I did spend a majority of the month in a painkiller induced haze and truthfully don't remember much of the month of December.

Blame it on the Monster.

But I'm enjoying this Christmas season much more than last year. And since I don't really remember much from a year ago, I think I'm actually enjoying it a little more.

Now, time to attempt to get the nasty envelop glue taste out of my mouth.

Since when do they name snowstorms?

Mother Nature sure has a feisty side to her this winter.

First there was almost 5 inches of snow before Thanksgiving. And then a couple of rounds of an inch or two or three since then. And the early burst of bone-chilling cold that we had last week.

So why does it surprise me that the season's first major snowstorm is rolling in. And we're expected to get up to 14 inches of the white stuff? Who am I kidding. Did I momentarily forget that I live in Wisconsin and it's winter?

But the snowstorm, I don't know if it has a name or not, it arrived this afternoon and is expected to stick around until tomorrow night. And during its stay it's supposed to dump up to 14 inches of snow. And after it's done snowing it gets to blow the stuff around. Fun.

I admit, I don't shovel. My landlord does that, well, when he feels like it. And at least the roads will eventually get plowed, because the city I live in? They don't really like to plow. And considering they don't give reporters snow days, I'll be driving through the foot of snow on my way to work. But I think I can get away with a pair of jeans at work tomorrow, because my boss told me to "dress for the weather," and I think jeans qualify. Besides, my snow boats? They'd just look silly with a pair of black dress pants.

So bring on the snow. I'm ready.

Something to work for

I filled out the form and hit the payment button. And just like that I'm registered.

I've signed up for the High Cliff Triathlon, the sprint version, on June 20.

After finishing the Danskin triathlon last year, I knew I wanted to do that one again in 2009. But the High Cliff Triathlon is about a month before the Danskin. And I've been toying with doing it all fall. The last day of early registration, and saving yourself about $15 in registration fees, was Friday so I knew I should make a decision.

I signed up and I'm excited for the race.

For starters, it'll be my second tri and although it's a sprint like the Danskin, the distances are a bit different. A quarter-mile swim, a 22-mile bike and the 5K run. Not too much difference, but a different set of challenges that also have a few perks.

It's close to home. The course is at High Cliff State Park, which is on the northeast side of Lake Winnebago. And I won't even have to worry about finding a place to stay since Mom and Dad live just 5 miles from the park, which means I'm familiar with the area.

And it just so happens it's the "official" triathlon of the 2009 Badger State Games. Not sure exactly what that means, but it sounds catchy. And I'll get a chance to see some amazing athletes since there's a half-iron distance as well and I've heard a bunch of people who are training for Ironman Wisconsin participate in the event.

I'll admit, there are a few things that freak me out a little bit. For starters, it's only my second triathlon and it will be the first of 2009. It's still kind of new to me. And the swim? Did I mention it's in Lake Winnebago? I'm only hoping the water isn't that fluorescent green color it can sometimes turn. And let's not even talk about the hill at the beginning of the bike.

Bring on the challenges. I'm ready.

I decided the ice cube look really wasn't for me

The mercury was barely hitting the 20 degree mark. And the wind? It was howling from the north at 20 miles per hour. Low temperatures. Lots of wind. That makes for a nasty windchill. Welcome to a Wisconsin winter.

And that's why I opted not to run in the 5K tonight. Because I really didn't want to turn into one giant ice cube that may never thaw.

So I stayed at home, wrapped in a blanket with my feet keeping toasty warm in my slippers. And now it's time to settle my blanket-wrapped self into my recliner with a steaming hot mug of hot chocolate and listen to the radio.

Because tonight? The Badgers play Marquette. And even if I had cable, I wouldn't be able to watch it, because apparently ESPN doesn't think this rivalry is worthy enough. But they're greedy enough to keep the rights, just to stash it away on ESPNU. Seriously folks. Who even gets ESPNU? No one that I knew.

It's the radio for me.

Do I want to be an ice cube?

So I'm supposed to run in a 5K Saturday night.

Yes. Night. In the dark. And cold.

It's a 5K I wanted to do last year, but since I was curled up in the fetal position I couldn't. So I was planning on doing it this year. It runs through neighborhoods and part of it runs through the park that's on the lake. Add to it the big holiday light displays that are set up throughout the park and it could be a cool run.

So what's the problem?

Mother Nature.

It's supposed to be a bit frigid this weekend. We're talking a high in the mid-20s during the day. With snow. And once it gets dark? The skies clear up and the mercury in the thermometer plummets. Into the single digits. And don't forget the gusty winds from the north.

That's cold. Down right frigid. At least for the first weekend in December.

Brrr.

So do I run it and run the risk of turning into an ice cube right by the polar bear light display?