Tag Archives: Mississippi

Brett Favre Pass

This morning we woke up in Rockford, Illinois one time home of the Rockford Peaches of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. Growing up, one of my favorite movies was A League of Their Own. This morning we took our time driving up the Wisconsin country side, lots of crops, barns, and livestock. We also stopped at a hunting and sporting goods store to buy warmer clothes, all in preparation for a football game.

The origin of this trip was way back last year. My buddy, Charity and I wanted to make a road trip to a Packers game. Life and the trip changed and Safety was added to the mix. We picked our trip date early in April, just after the schedule was released to the public. I think Brett Favre was drinkin’ beer in Mississippi and filming Wrangler commercials in April. There wasn’t any talk of Brett being a Viking. During the summer ESPN started reporting the possibility of Favre’s return to the NFL. Then one day, in a frenzy, a jet left Hattiesburg, Mississippi and when it landed Brett Favre was a traitor.

Now it is Halloween and I am here with my parents. We have had a great trip and we are anticipating a great game. I am sure it would be more enjoyable to see the Packers beat up on a lesser team. Or see Brett Favre in his younger days. But that is not going to happen on this trip. There is a battle brewing tomorrow and it will not be pretty.

Many articles and blogs have described Favre’s defection to Minnesota as a nasty divorce. There was talk of making the world’s largest waffle to honor Favre’s indecisive nature. Maybe he is dragging his feet as he heads to retirement, but let’s look at the Packers for a moment. They wanted to go in a different direction. Green Bay wanted a divorce as much as, or more than, Brett wanted to play another season. They wanted to chase another younger woman, Aaron Rodgers. No matter what, Brett is better off with a more complete team to finish his career with and Green Bay is building a team for the future.

Brett Favre Ass

The only thing missing in this whole saga is class! There have been passive aggressive comments made by both sides. I have seen lots of angry fans and nasty comments. But I leave with a photo taken just outside Brett Favre’s restaurant located on Brett Favre Pass. I will let the photo speak for itself. No matter what, this has been a great adventure so far.

Back Seat Blogger

This morning with a quick stop to drop of the Boo-ster, we drove from Huntsville to Memphis, Tennessee to meet up with my parents, Big Mama and Big Daddy. Our final destination will be Green Bay, Wisconsin and the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field. I am merely a passenger on this trip. A trip that I almost canceled days before, because I wasn’t sure I could juggle all my commitments. Marcia, you were correct! I am glad I am here now.

So far today, I have taken a nap, passed out mid-flight refreshments, and spotted a camel on the side of the road. Heck, a camel on the side of the road is an every day sighting in Missouri! Our road companion and GPS guide for this trip is Le-a (pronounced Le-dash-ah and is a real name). We call her Le-a because she is on the dash-ah board of my parent’s vehicle! Le-a reminds us to drive straight on I-55 north. When we exit the interstate for snacks or gas she gently reminds us to make a “legal U-turn” or “turn right to I-55.” Really what Le-a wants to say is “Fool, I didn’t tell you to turn back there. Get back on the dang road!”

Big Daddy likes to drive yelling at all the crummy drivers while Big Mama knits. I am aft of the driver’s seat trying not to get sick as I type on my laptop and Daddy curses the mini-van drivers. You know, mini-van drivers are the world’s worst drivers! And yes Amazon, I am blogging!!! However, Chris has had his lap top out longer than I have. I think he is doing work or looking at porn.  (That was added to see if the former-editor was paying attention. He is really doing work.)

We stopped in Sikeston, Missouri at the “Home of Throwed Rolls,” Lambert’s Café. It was quite an enjoyable meal. The waiter that was the designated roll thrower wore an Alabama ball cap. He caught my eye and I nudged Chris, hey isn’t there some customary greeting you Alabama people give in passing? Chris being the shy guy, didn’t belt out Roll Tide and the President of the university is considering revoking his diploma.  I digress.

Alabama ball cap boy got me to thinking. Do you think that they have relief pitchers in the bull pin just in case the lead thrower misses the plates and hands of hungry customers? Do you think they scout minor league waiters to see if they have what it takes? Do the managers talk to each other asking who the star hurler is in the organization? “Hey, we got a great prospect here in Foley, want us to send him up to Sikeston?” Or the manager that has the difficult conversation with a struggling waiter, “Son, you lost something on your delivery. We are going to send you to Branson for a few rehab starts and see how you progress.” Really, if you think about it, if you are the home of the throwed rolls, your talent has to be good.

All in all we have had a great day. The trip has reminded me of all the long family vacations we took. Growing up we visited Chicago and St. Louis for baseball games. Once we even took the train to New Orleans for a football game. There was another time we drove to Dallas in Johnny Stahls’ van to see Brett Favre and the Packers face the Cowboys in the NFC Championship game. Favre lost that game. We will see how he does on Sunday facing his old team. Wow, there will be some conflicted souls in Green Bay.

Welcome to Missi-Sloppy, Rain Boots Required

This week recruiting I get to visit my home state, Mississippi! My companion is Amazon, fearless X-Camp Counselor and guardian of half names. Our trip to Missi-Sloppy (a Marcia Lindstrom term) started off rainy and wicked! The whole trip down, we drove under gray skies. We arrived in Starkville on the campus of Mississippi State University in the middle of a flood. Quickly we noticed random girls walking around campus with designer rain boots and running shorts. Yes, rain boot and running shorts.

It was not just a few girls. It was enough sightings while we were looking for parking that we felt obligated to ask a few who passed. The first girl we asked said she didn’t have clean jeans. The second girl said that her jeans wouldn’t fit in her boots. Hum… We met a good friend of mine at the student center of MSU. We asked her at the same time I was text messaging Auburn alum and sister of a current Auburn student. It was uncanny how precise the story duplicated itself across the SEC. I even asked a friend who lived in Oxford, home of Ole Miss, about the boot phenomena.

All girls witnessed with boots and running shorts wore designer boots. They had paisley, polka-dots, stripes, or plaid boots on and Nike running shorts. Why? What fashion statement does this send? Is it a cultural thing? Is it a sorority hazing? Or better yet, is it the minimum leg required shown on campus before the first frost of the year. Maybe it is a dress code for cow colleges (Miss. State & Auburn). No wait, it has been spotted at Ole Miss as well. Maybe this is the female answer to guy’s Bama Bangs.

As we left town we stopped at a local store that sold MSU gear, footwear, and Greek-wear. We found a rack stocked with hundreds of Nike running shorts and over in the corner were those fashionable boots. So if you want new rain boots, Sperry is the brand to buy. They will look great with your running shorts. If someone can figure out why these girls decided to make this fashion statement, please tell me. Until then I will continue to think for myself and wear what I want. Maybe they should pick their own clothes out too.

After leaving Starkville we visited Camp of the Rising Son. I listened to the rain falling on the trees and longed to be seventeen again. I loved working at CRS. Now, I am traveling all over the southeast recruiting staff to work at Space Camp. Amazon and I stood on the back porch talking to Carrie Browning, CRS Camp Director for about an hour. When I was seventeen, Carrie and I worked as cabin mates. She was the counselor, and I was the AC. If someone would have predicted that she would be the director of CRS and I would be managing Aviation Challenge as grown ups, we would have both thought you were crazy. It was good visiting Lake Anne, even if the dock was covered in water.

On the drive to the farm I think Amazon discovered why all the girls needed rain boots. We turned of highway 407 onto to a dirt road. Yes, I am sure there is a redneck joke somewhere. Amazon thought I was going to take her out in the middle of nowhere and feed her to alligators. She said, “What is this?” I was shocked. I thought she was a country girl from Tennessee. I asked if she had seen a “dirt road” before. Her answer was classic! She said, “Only in movies!” The roads were messy and sloppy. And I am sure the crew that works on camp vehicles will look at the Endeavour and ask if we went off-roadin’. No, we didn’t need to play in mud puddles, but we did visit my home. And to me home is from Starkville, to CRS, to Winona, and across to Okra-Land, Delta State University. But that is tomorrow’s story.


This weekend Chris and I visited the farm in Mississippi! We arrived just before a thunderstorm hit. And I am not talking about my nephews, but that too. Chris and I have grown accustom to peace and quiet so when we visit the farm we must be ready to rumble. The boys want to play, the boys want to wrestle, and the little girl wants to sing and dance. What more could dinks ask for?

Please don’t get me wrong. My nephews, Rhett and Reese, are made from the same stock as me! I am loud! I am stubborn! And most of all I am a giant goof ball! On Friday the boys and I were watching baseball. They Yankees were trailing to the Twins. We shared stories on why we loved Derek Jeter and why A-Rod was over paid. The boys really like A-Rod! When Alex Rodriquez hit a two run homer in the ninth inning to tie the game Rhett and I went nuts! Unfortunately my dog, Boo, doesn’t like loud noise. Boo barked and howled at the two of us. This all happened in between efforts to pull out one of Reese’s teeth. Loud doesn’t really describe the noise level. To sum up the night, the tooth wasn’t pulled, Mark Teixeira won the game with a walk off hit, and Boo barked.

Boo doesn’t like commotion! On Saturday we visited our church up the road. We all piled into my dad’s truck. The seating arrangements were Rhett, Reese, Chris, Boo and me on the backseat and mom, dad and Lucy on the front. Yes, we didn’t have enough seat belts. But, it was a dirt road or something like that. We hopped out and left Boo in the truck with the boys and Lucy. If you want to know what terror looks like, trap Boo into a truck cab with my niece and nephews. His ears were cocked backwards and his eyes were as large as golf balls. If he could talk, he would be pleading for deliverance back home!

Lucy's FingersHe survived as did I. But I am not so sure about Lucy. Saturday we cooked steaks out on the grill. Hot grill plus little girl equals burnt finger. Poor little Lucy cried and cried! At first, I thought she had cut her finger on something. No blood, so it wasn’t a big deal. She continued to cry. I can’t speak crying kid so I didn’t understand what was going on. I tried to help with my expert Be Ready Camp skills, but setting up a triage tent was an over kill. When I saw the little blisters on her fingers I almost started to cry. We bandaged her fingers up by using ace bandages as substitute for gauze, but we didn’t use duct tape.

We changed gears from baseball to football on Saturday just as we were changing gears from treating a second degree burn to pulling a tooth. As a child, I felt that parents had a twisted desire to pull their children’s teeth. This was proven when my mother was so determined to pull Reese’s tooth that she bribed him. That didn’t work. She tried inspiration speeches… “Yes, We Can!” That didn’t work. I tried comparing it to an eight second bull ride. Reese loves cowboy movies, but that didn’t work. But my mom did wait, and wait until Reese fell asleep. She tried stirring him to get up and then yanked the tooth with floss looped in his month. As cruel as I thought it was, Reese jumped up, whimpered, and rejoiced! “Cool, my tooth is gone”, he proclaimed as I was having flash backs of my childhood!

The night settled down, Boo cuddled up, and eventually I fell asleep. I love visiting my childhood home. I would say that it brings me peace and refreshes me but that wouldn’t be completely true. I love my family. I love all the little kid hugs and cheers. I love my mom’s cooking. I love showing Chris around my family’s farm. I love it all! It may be noisy and rough at times. But the ruckus is what makes Rhett and Reese special! Lucy on the other hand is just sweeter than a rice-crispy treat! And being on the farm is simply magnificent!

Three Decades

Hall Lodge on Lake Anne at Camp of the Rising SonThe Mega Reunion is winding down. We have already raided the kitchen, and there is still activity in the lodge. Groups of staff from one generation or the other have congregated for the last time before they say good bye. It is similar to the last day or the last week of camp. Everyone chats and visits more often or reflects sentimentally after every activity, meal time, and flag rising.

The trip down memory lane is somewhat surreal. While looking back at my camp maturation this weekend, which started with so many of the people at CRS, has made me realize how much the world and I have changed. So funny, I have worked at a half dozen or so camps. Present this weekend are multiple people I have worked with at multiple camps. It is so amazing to see all the grown-ups with their children years later. Now so many people I have worked with work at other camps all around the U.S.

I have forgotten as much or more than I remembered. I was reminded of the car alarm, the waterslide, camp-outs with camp stew, and Pow Wow breakfasts. I visited with April Gunn Duvall and her little one. I got to see the greatest of all Chiefs, Mrs. Newman. Jennifer D. Davis was here, Brandi Lewis came all the way from Dallas, and lots of digital age staffers. The cabins look the same but they resembled the AC Bubble not the immaculately clean campus in my childhood memories. Seeing the slide show brought forth a flood of memories.

Looking back on my first summer I was so overwhelmed at the responsibility of camp. I grew and became more daring and stupid all at the same time. I was reminded of the frog bucket, raiding camp store, and sneaking into the Scout Unit on Unit Night. Wow, I was dumb! I remember driving around camp in my red Sunbird. Oh, all the trips to Starkville or running to Ware (Where?) to the grocery store. And how could I forget all the pukie kids.

Now the youngsters are in the lobby talking and the old people are sitting in a circle in the dinning hall. April has her little one bundled up next to her, Carrie and the Morgan’s have put theirs down for the night. I have called Sarah Annie for the millionth time and she has seen fit not to kill me yet. Brandi is hanging with us too. We hear chatter and laughter from the lobby, but our conversation is focused on baby names and pet stories. Chris and I can hold our own with the pet stories. He will tell rabbit stories anytime, anywhere, and to anybody.

There is a great difference between the digital generation and my generation. I am jealous by the amount of food they can devour. I can remember during my first years at camp eating two hamburgers, bag of chips, can of soda, and two cow patty cookies. Tonight I was doing good to nibble on my chicken, drink a diet coke, and down a cookie. I have my priorities and eating a cookie is one of them. Oh, I hear the guitar. There are some songs that are new. Some have been forgotten and some have been altered. Susie is now interchangeable with RJ. Who is RJ and why is he picking up papaws and putting them in Susie’s basket?

The constant across the generations is the focus on Jesus and serving others. They are good people. They all have a servant heart event though at times I wanted to go Red Bull on them. I think Chief Carrie said it the best: “Camp of the Rising Son is a special place in our heart. Probably what is the most special to me about CRS is how a diverse group of people is united each summer and across decades for the purpose of sharing the love of Christ with children.”

That absolutely sums up the weekend perfectly. All Chiefs have a common summer or two or three working together for kids and Christ. They leave on different paths but for a few days in July we have been reunited to share our memories but mostly what we have been doing since our summers around Lake Anne. There is still the common thread and that is the love of sharing Christ with children, but now that includes the staff’s own children.

Err McNair

Other than Texas and maybe a few other states, Mississippi is a power house in the football world. No, we don’t produce National “Titles” like other NCAA schools and most of our talent comes from historically black universities and conference USA schools. But when you produce Walter Payton, Brett Favre and Jerry Rice you can brag. California doesn’t produce all of USC’s great. But the fertile Magnolia State has produced a few stellar athletes. True, we don’t know if Favre is a former or current great.

Since Saturday I have been consumed with the press surrounding Steve McNair’s death. Why would a former NFL star who is married want to date a waitress from Dave & Busters? Why would you want to do that when you have a wife and four kids at home… OK lots of men and women are unfaithful. But when you portray the role of “good guy” why would you buy another woman a Cadillac Escalade? I am sure the service at Dave & Busters isn’t hat good!

Living in Mississippi, I cheered for Air McNair and the Alcorn State Braves. We wanted to see a Division I-AA star win the Heisman Trophy. After Hurricane Katrina we all stood behind McNair and the Manning brothers to support the residents of the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Good guys doing good things will be what I will remember. But now the memory of Steve McNair is tarnished. Will he be a hall of famer? That doesn’t matter anymore.

When hearing of the death of Michael Jackson, I wasn’t that shocked. I was a little shocked after hearing Billy Mays passed away. There goes Space Camp’s chance to have him market our product. But hearing that squeaky clean McNair was shot to death was unrealistic! Married, kids, and good guy doesn’t fit murdered next to mistress. It didn’t make sense? If I had heard Michael Vick, T.O. or Ray Lewis was found shot I would not be surprised. But now, good guy, Mr. Tennessee Titan, NFL MVP, and small town boy turns out to be a cheat, loser, and jerk!

What we all should learn from this tragic death is everything matters in the end. If we are to be taken from this world right now, what will be are legacy? What will the world remember us for? Will we be remembered for our performance in the spot light or our life in the shadows? Will people remember how we lived our life on the mountain top or how we preferred the valleys? Will we be remembered as Roger Clemens or Lou Gehrig? Now matter if you are a flea or a moon walker, you will leave a finger or foot print on this universe. What will be your impact? What will be your legacy?

The Farm

On Friday morning I woke up shouting “We’re going to the FARM!” This did not make the husband or dog very happy. But I was so excited to be on my way to Carroll County, Mississippi. Going to the farm meant visiting family, a crawfish boil, riding 4-wheelers, and shooting fire arms! The farm is better than any amusement or vacation destination. It is the Disneyland of Central Mississippi. It would be comparable to Disney World, but it is only one park, The Farm!

There really is something great about going home. Winona has changed a lot since I left for college and even since I moved to Huntsville. But home is what makes me who I am. You know, the stubborn, red headed, tomboy who doesn’t mind getting dirty or arguing from any point of view. I love getting dirty and playing poker. I can’t do justice to last weekend’s journey to the farm in my blog, but I will give it a try. The best way to understand life on my family’s farm is to just come for a visit one day.

From shouting at the top of my lungs to the drive down the Natchez Trace and stopping for crab boil in Tupelo we arrived at the hill close to two o’clock in the afternoon. It was perfectly timed for an afternoon snack of left over mac-n-cheese and prime rib. Not your typical snack, but Big Momma’s kitchen is always open. We did have to limit ourselves, because we had plans for “the Mexican restaurant” for dinner. It’s real name is something like El Cabrito but I never hear it called that around town. My mom had the El Big-o margarita and lots of cheese dip. Cheese dip and guacamole has become a family tradition.

Saturday morning was another adventure. Chris needed food so we stopped at Sonic before the coach pitch practice baseball game. Really, isn’t coach pitching baseball practice in the first place? Well the credit call machine at Sonic was down, so we had to give our only real dollars to the lady at Sonic. Needless to say we were late to the game, because our only real dollars were earmarked for the ball park. Game was good, but I wouldn’t have the patience to coach at that level. God bless those daddies!

Post game Edie and Mary Beth arrived in Winona for a warm up to the Camp of the Rising Son Mega Reunion in July with our own CRS mini reunion. We even had a ride on a gator. It wasn’t Babe-the-blue-airport-tug-converted-to-a-camper-hauler, but it was fun! We chatted and reminisced about our days as Chiefs. We plan to form the winning team for the first Camp Stew Cook Off! Iron Chef watch out, new series coming to Food Network, Iron Chief!

Late afternoon we had to clean mud bugs for the crawfish boil that night. My favorite part of this afternoon was shooting my new cowboy gun and teaching Lucy to pick up the dirty little crawfish. Fun! We even let Lucy and Reece shoot the cowboy gun. There was some excitement when Reece accidentally shut Lucy’s hand in the truck door. It was a scary moment, but I think all is good now and no broken bones. The crawfish was really good that evening. We eat it at the shop with the roll up door open on a home made crawfish table. Such good food! We finished the night with a little poker where I invested money into the Winona economy. Life is fun and simple on the farm. I love my time there.

Sunday we had to do some real work. Teach my parents how to use their new computer and patch up their old computer. This was fun and frustrating. We had to leave after lunch. That was the toughest part. I am sure I would be bored living in Winona, but I sometimes wish I lived there. It is a fun place where everyone is welcome… as long as you are not an Ole Miss alum or Democrat! We do have standards. If you don’t fall into either of those categories please visit some day.

Khaki & Blue Memories

Recently the Space Camp managers have moved from white shirt to light blue shirts. Being a red head, I couldn’t be happier about the change! But now that I wear a blue oxford shirt with khakis I am reminded of my grandfather’s standard dress code. He would work at his gin or drive his tractor Ford tractor in khakis and a long sleeve blue oxford. This has flooded me with memories.

Some memories are more vivid and fresh in your mind than others. When I remember my grandfather’s gin it is almost like I was transported back in time to my youth. It is so clear in my head. The sights, the sounds, the smell fill my head and tears come to my eyes at times. I loved those days visiting my grandparents and watching the world go by.

My mother sometimes helped out at the gin keeping the books and running the office. I tagged along at times. Farmers and gin hands would come in and out of the cinder block office, so I had to stay out of the way. I never could go into the gin while it was running. The machinery and belts would chew me up and spit me out if I was not careful. I remember spending my time visiting, playing in the office, coloring, or getting dirty in the gin trash. Gin trash is all the leaves, twigs, cotton burrs and some seeds that are removed from the cotton fiber during the ginning process.

On the rare occasion that the gin would stop I could go in and explore. I remember a dusty, dirty, greasy place with machinery and pipes everywhere. I remember playing and sometimes climbing on things until my grandfather spotted me. He told me it was no place for a little girl. I might get dirty. Being the only granddaughter this was somewhat of a disappointment. But I did love visiting the office with my grandmother.

I remember her desk was next to the window. There were two metal files jammed under the window silll. This made a perfect slot to slip gin tags through the window. The cotton trailers and the bales of cotton were all tagged to keep track of which farmer produced which cotton. See cotton is graded after it leaves the gin. Scores are sent back to the farm, the better the cotton, the better the price. There were all sorts of buttons and knobs I could play with behind the desk. But most of the time, it was off limits to me. I could only go behind the desk to sharpen my pencil. When I got a little older, my mother and grandmother would let me write down some of the weights in the ledger.

The office had such a great smell. It was a blend of cotton defoliant, black coffee, dust, and Pine-sol. I know you think that is an odd combination, but I remember the smell. Since I moved to Huntsville, I have heard people complain of the smell of cotton defoliant. But it is an intoxicating smell to me. It reminds me of growing up. It is the smell of fall to me. I remember countless trips to the gin and hundreds of rounds on the cotton picker with my Daddy. It is definitely strange how strong scent is in relationship to memories.

My stomach also has a strong relationship to my memories. On days that I would visit afterschool I would snack on left over biscuits, sausage, or ham. In the center drawer of the office desk was a stash of quarters. If I was good my grandmother would give me two. Just outside of the office was a drink machine which worked extra hard to keep the drinks cold. I loved getting a Sunkist or Coca-Cola that was almost frozen. It had little flakes of ice in them. My grandmother was known for her sweets. My favorite was her soda box cookies. She even taught me how to make the delicate cookies.

I have so many memories of my Gran and Ga-Ga around the gin. My cousins and I are now all grown up. My brother is the farmer, Sandy is the rebel, Russell is an architect, and his brother Dustin will be getting married this spring. One of my favorite pictures is all of us sitting on top of cotton bales outside the gin. I will always remember my grandmother behind the desk and my grandfather watching over the gin near the seed stand. He always wore a blue long sleeve oxford shirt with khakis.

Today while I was at work, I looked in the mirror and chuckled. I thought what do Space Camp and Land & Lott Gin have in common? The dress code! It is funny how life and khakis remind you of the past. I miss the gin and my grandparents.

Traditions and Symbols

I am now home from a long stay at my family’s farm in Mississippi where I celebrated my favorite holiday, Thanksgiving. I find great delight in the tradition of over indulging in turkey, cornbread dressing, and football. My mother prepares a traditional menu of turkey and dressing for the late afternoon meal. Then off to the couch to watch football or to a tree stand for deer hunting.

I have only spent one Thanksgiving away from the farm in my whole life. In 1994, I traveled with Aunt Wanda and Gran to visit my Aunt Phyllis in Indianapolis, Indiana. It was a wonderful trip, but wasn’t the same as being with my mom and dad around their table. Loving Thanksgiving in Mississippi so much that prior to my marriage, I negotiated a deal to be in Winona during Thanksgiving and Birmingham at Chris’ family during Christmas. I am certain I ended up with the better end of this deal!

With Thanksgiving in Winona and Christmas spent in Birmingham with the Keys, my husband and I don’t have many holiday traditions of our own. Every year I spend countless hours wrapping gifts in brown paper and tying them with string. Just like the Sound of Music song “Favorite Things” states. We also exchange Christmas stockings wherever we find ourselves on Christmas morning. But sadly, we have not decorated a Christmas tree in our home.

This will mark the fifth Christmas as a married couple and each year our home on Willow Creek Drive has been without a tree. Most years we haven’t decorated the outside of our home. Other than the brown paper packages and Christmas stockings hung by the fire/gas logs, our home is without traditional signs of Christmas. Most often I justify this as we don’t have the time to decorate a tree or we won’t be in our home on Christmas Eve, so what is the point?

I am tired of the over commercialization of Christmas. Main Street America was flooded with images of Santa Claus in the 1930’s to help sell Coca-Cola. We all know our favorite television commercial that helps motivate us to buy Hershey Kisses, Budweiser beer, Gap clothing, or McDonald’s hamburgers. Every retailer tries to get an edge on the market by decorating or playing Christmas music earlier each year.

Honestly, I am a self proclaimed scrooge! But not this year!!! I declare this year will be different. Different is definitely were I am going this Christmas.

I am not going to put up a Christmas tree! I am starting a new tradition this year. I am going to find a feed trough to decorate and place my brown packages in before Christmas. You are most likely scratching your head at this moment. You probably think I am nuts. But wasn’t the greatest gift in the world presented in a manger? Didn’t Mary and Joseph place little baby Jesus in a feed trough? I think a feed trough would be a better symbol of what Christmas truly means than an evergreen tree with lights and tinsel on it.

So tomorrow I am going to look for feeding trough to start my new Christmas tradition!