The Procrastinator’s Countdown to Christmas

christmas-countdown

 

Think you’ve got all the time in the world to get your Christmas crap done?!? Think again…

First Weekend in November: You smirk at all the Christmas lunatics who have: (a) already started their shopping, and (b) started putting up their Christmas decorations. Don’t these seasonal sickos have lives? Sit back and relax – you know you’ve got plenty of time.
Second Weekend in November: Briefly you toy with the idea of getting started with your shopping—but why rush things—so you decide to stay home and watch TV, but every other channel has on a Christmas movie. Tossing your remote in disgust, you glance out the window and notice your neighbors are erecting what can only be described as a Christmas mini-golf course in their front yard. “Festive fools,” you mutter under your breath.
Third Weekend in November: You have every intention to start shopping, but unexpected guests drop by who stay the whole weekend. In great, giddy detail they gush about not only being done with their shopping, but that their halls are decked as well. You consider decking them, but force a gracious smile instead.
Fourth Weekend in November: Everyone in the house has come down with the flu.
First Weekend in December: You finally start Christmas shopping on Saturday, and plan to spend Sunday decorating. However, you spend the entire weekend looking for that toy your child’s been begging for, only to realize it’s no longer available anywhere. You’ve got zero shopping done, and accomplish zilch in the decorating department. Slight panic begins to set in.
Second Weekend in December: The biggest blizzard known to man or arctic beast blows into town. You decide it’s no big deal; you’ll just shop online for that elusive toy, and try to get in as much other shopping as possible while you’re at it. Yet as soon as you sit down at the computer the storm cuts the electricity. You move on to decorating, but it’s a bit difficult without any light to see what you’re doing.
Third Weekend in December: On Saturday your child has a Christmas play, a Christmas pageant, and a Christmas party to attend. On Sunday you get to go visit your in-laws.

Fourth Weekend in December: You have sixty-eight million things to do and only two days to do them in. You head to the mall to find everything pawed through, ripped open, and stampeded upon. You buy the least offensive stuff you can find, rush home, wrap it, and throw it under the tree. You notice the tree looks like someone put it up in the dark—oh wait, they did—but there’s no time to fix it now as you’re having a dinner party in three hours and haven’t even been to the store yet.

Later during the party, you confess to one of your guests that you haven’t found that toy your child wanted. She smugly looks down her seasonally satisfied nose at you and divulges that she bought it for her child back in early November, when it was available everywhere. You smile your best fake smile and make a mental note to never speak to her again. Just then the lights on the tree blow out. You explain to everyone that it’s because they were last year’s lights, as you didn’t have time to buy new ones this year. Under her breath, you hear that same rotten woman mutter “Unfestive fool…”
The Moral of the Story: If you’re going to be a fool at Christmastime, it’s far better to be a festive one than the alternative.

http://www.authorbonniedaly.com/
https://www.goodreads.com/BonnieDaly

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Tis the Season of Ghouls, Goblins, and Styrofoam Gravestones

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The Halloween season will soon be in full swing. Lawns will be scattered with scary scarecrows, wandered upon on by wicked witches, and covered from corner to corner in creepy cobwebs. Some yards will set the stage for a happy haunting while others will look like Halloween threw up.  Excited children will try to decide what to “go as,” while perplexed parents craft costumes late into the night and acquire an overabundance of candy.

I find the ever-increasing amounts of Halloween decorations available to the general public to be both amazing and scary–scary in more ways than one. While many displays are brilliant, there are others that look like someone ransacked a dumpster out behind a Halloween store,  and flung the contents all over their yard just before a hurricane hit. Not only are these displays trip hazards for unsuspecting trick-or-treaters, but it wouldn’t surprise me to ride by these places and see prison inmates–complete with orange jumpsuits and shackles–performing state appointed clean-up duty. Who knows, maybe my perfectionist nature just isn’t allowing me to see the artistic beauty of it all.

However, the Halloween costumes of today are far better than the lame ones available when I was a kid. I remember wearing pathetic looking plastic masks that always had a cheap, cheesy, stretched out string across the back, meant to hold the mask in place but never actually did. The masks’ material didn’t breathe, and neither could I when I wore them. These days, the masks are form-fitted, breathable numbers that look like something out of a Wes Craven flick. Not only are they ridiculously realistic, but almost scary enough to make you pass out while you’re passing out candy. At our door we see everything from precious little girls in intricately detailed princess costumes–which I’m sure their moms slaved away on for weeks–to the late night teenage ninjas who show up on the doorstep, not in costumes, but in hoodies–with blank, vacant stares being the only things masking their faces–and say nothing while they hold out their grungy pillowcases waiting for you to add to their stash.

Most costumes are store bought, but there are many mothers who make their little monsters–I mean darlings–homemade costumes. There are two possible reasons for this: (a) they’re wonderfully creative women who can lovingly craft an award-winning costume that their children, and their children’s children, will rise up and call them wonderful for, or (b) their kid couldn’t make up his mind about what he wanted to “go as,” and when he finally did, the stores no longer had it. Any time I’ve ever made my child a costume, I’ve fallen into the latter category. But either way, moms will lose sleep, lose feeling in their fingers, and lose their minds as they sew, super glue, and staple their nights away leading up to All Hallows’ Eve. Hopefully, at some point during all of this, the moms will remember to head out and get some choice candy before the stores are all out of that too.

When all is said and done, no matter how messy your yard looks, how wrong your child’s costume went, or how stale that off-brand candy you bought tastes, Halloween is a magical time of year for our kids. So don’t wish it away, because as soon as it’s over you’re going to have to not only deal with decorating for Christmas, creating costumes for your little devils–I mean angels–Christmas pageant, and baking a whole heavenly host of holiday cookies, fudge, and fruitcake; but you’ll also have to shop till you drop, wrap till you weep, and feed  your family an endless supply of festively fattening feasts.

authorbonniedaly.com

Spring Fashion Statement

fashion

I could be wrong, but I seriously doubt my personal spring fashion trends will be the hit of Paris this season.

Neat, crisp linen suits in pastel. Adorable flowery dresses. Cute pink handbags with even cuter matching pink, strappy sandals. All the things a proper spring wardrobe is made of, right?

Every year I’ll decide this will be the year I’ll embody that fresh, spring look–that look which says I just jumped out of an Easter basket–which can currently be seen splayed across the covers of every fashion magazine from here to Easter Island. I’ll delight in the notion that this year daffodils and lilies will glare at me with immeasurable jealousy, muttering dark things to each other about how I’ve upstaged them.

As if.

While the flowers are starting to bud and birds beginning to sing, I’m still wearing hoodies, leggings, and short suede boots—all in black. The purse I’m carrying looks far more like an old, tired book bag than anything even remotely close to a dainty designer clutch. Don’t even talk to me about my nails. Or my hair, which is perpetually perched atop my head in a messy bun which looks more like a nest. A rat’s nest, to be specific.

Nothing says bridge troll quite like the look I put forth this time of year. I can get by like this—pretty much unscathed—in the dead of winter, but once spring peeks its perky, perfectionist head out of the dirty, melting snow I’m doomed. This is the season where looking like I just rolled off the couch leaves me looking like not only did I just roll off the couch, but that I’m also a dirt farmer whose couch is parked in a dilapidated, leaky barn.

Don’t get me wrong, I do have some mighty adorable spring outfits tucked into the deep dark depths of my closet–only most of them date back more years than I care to admit–and if I dig any of them out to wear, I’ll look so insidiously outdated I’ll be instantly put under arrest by the spring fashion police.

Of course, I could go shopping and buy new stuff to avoid the rap sheet, but that would mean actually going shopping, and I loathe clothes shopping—especially for a spring wardrobe. It also doesn’t help that seemingly all clothing manufacturers think every female who buys clothes falls into one of only three categories.

The first category is that of the “younger set,” whose current fashion trend is to dress themselves in clothes that appear to be three sizes too small. If I throw the stuff from the back of my closet into the dryer for a really long time I could almost achieve that very same look.

The second choice is that of the “business professional.” Dressing up in uncomfortable, uptight office attire made out of polyester, looking like I ache to spend my day bathed in fluorescent lights, is not my thing.

Apparently the only other choice left is that of the “old lady look.” You know what I’m talking about–geriatric looking shoes, stretchy waist pants, and ugly flowery blouses that resemble short housecoats. Not going there; even when I do become an old lady.  And in the spring, I might add, all three categories are mostly only available in pastels, and I don’t know about you, but I’ve never personally felt the need to dress like an Easter egg.

So instead of spending countless, unproductive hours shopping—when I could be out enjoying this beautiful spring weather—I will resign myself to simply wearing whatever I wear; even if the seasonal flowers do smirk and snicker at me as I walk by, while they whisper to each other that I look like a prime candidate for that creepy show What Not to Wear.

http://www.authorbonniedaly.com/

 

Scratch ‘n Sniff

I just got a Yankee Candle scratch and sniff catalogue in the mail. Here are my takes their new scents:
Happy Spring – Smells like someone ground dryer sheets and moth balls into a container of Ajax
Peeps – Exactly like stale Peeps
Jelly Beans – Fruity toxic crayons
Casablanca Lily & Iris – This one’s actually nice; it smells delightfully purple
Coconut beach – Someone wearing cheap perfume burped and it smelled like coconuts
Guaya Coconut Fushion – Smells like someone peed on an orange
Island Waterfall – Laundry detergent mixed with root beer
Tahitian Nights – Someone spent the night sleeping in freshly washed linen sheets after they bathed in seaweed
Black Sand Island – Creepy aftershave from The Dollar Store combined with what could only be dog puke

When Fictional Characters Come to Life

Bonnie Daly, author of the hot new YA fiction/children’s book, Surviving Gretchen, Book One of The Storms of Friendship, talks about how her fictional characters defiantly formed their own Facebook page. Has she gone insane, or have her characters actually come to life?

https://www.facebook.com/morethanjustheauthorsimagination/

http://www.authorbonniedaly.com/

http://survivinggretchen.com/

 

 

 

 

Maybe The Characters Can Survive Gretchen But Will The Author?

When the antagonist from your book takes on a life of her own and not only starts posting nasty rants on your fb page because she didn’t like the way you portrayed her, but also has the gall to use #notmyauthor in her stupid little spiel.

This is war. 

http://www.authorbonniedaly.com/

http://survivinggretchen.com/