The Jesus Sock: and Other Traditions

          Each of us has traditions.  Many are the same.  Some vary. Some get lost.  Some don’t work.  A tradition may be carried on for generations. Some may brush away.

          One of my favorite Christmas books is “God’s Vitamin C for the Christmas Spirit”  which shares stories, ideas, traditions and reasons.  One of the thoughts I read was written by Christi Anne Shepeard in which she shares a tradition of “The Jesus Sock”

          The story unfolds that there is an extra sock in her possession – one that doesn’t match the other socks selected for each family member that year.  She decided to make it a sock for the Savior in which her family would write letters and insert them into the sock – every year. 

          I thought that sounded like a cool tradition – one I wanted to incorporate into my brand new family.  But only Randy and I seemed serious about keeping the tradition and wrote faithfully for three years or so.  And I continued by myself for a while.  But then I seemed to lose track as well.  But our thoughts and words to Jesus are pretty much all year around without the sock.

Gifts  -         One of my favorite traditions is to actually take turns watching one another as we open our gifts individually.  When everyone is tearing into their own gifts they miss out on the joy of watching one another – I think.  I don’t know when it started for the family I grew up with, but I remember doing it that way more than not.  And that’s how we did it after I married into my new family.

          I thought the greatest Christmas would be if we could milk unwrapping packages all day.  I tried incorporating thoughts and scripture or singing carols between each gift.  That lasted only one Christmas.  But I finally got my wish when Jenna was a year and a half.

          Oddly enough her sisters actually spent Christmas Eve night with us – but Roland was instructed to have them home by 1:00 on Christmas afternoon.  The ward had provided many of the gifts that were under the tree – plus there were some from each sibling and the girls had brought gifts for Jenna, Roland, me and the boys.

We had set up an appointment to feed the missionaries for an afternoon lunch. And just so the girls wouldn’t miss out on seeing one another’s reactions, we had to make sure to open all the gifts that were to or from the girls before the missionaries arrived. 

We’d opened maybe 20 gifts before the missionaries arrived.  Somehow we had missed the one to the boys from Francis and Pamprin.  But Jenna took it upon herself to find and open the gift while we visited with the three Elders who came for lunch.

After the Elders left our house, we loaded up the cars.  Roland took Francis and Pamprin back to Malificent’s and I took Jaime and her brothers to my mom’s and we opened more gifts after Roland joined us.

We were at my mom’s for several hours, playing games with siblings and cousins and enjoying the holiday.  It was kind of late when we returned back to the house where Roland and I resided at the time – still many packages awaited beneath the tree.  Each we opened one at a time.  It had been an all day event!  I absolutely loved it!  And would love to do it again.

Ornaments -         And then there’s the ornaments.  Mom and Dad had no ornaments the first year they were married.  They decided each of their children would have ornaments to take with them when we left the nest. My mom and dad traditionally brought each child an ornament for every year they lived at home. 

Actually tried that one with the boys – but it didn’t take.  They had ornaments. I had ornaments – more than just the ones from home – they had doubled, quadrupled even.  And the amount of ornaments in the box always outnumbered the branches on our mostly Charlie Brown trees.

Roland was more into themed trees.  One year we had a boring one that consisted only of silver baubles.  I like the personalized ornaments much better.  The children have always decorated the tree.  I believe Jenna rearranges the ornaments on a daily basis.

Family dinner -    we do this on Christmas Eve. For the longest time we had it at the home of my great aunt on my father’s side.  It continued – even when the family seemed to outgrow the house.  10 of us became 12 and then 16, 17, 20 . . . and then it became too much work for my great aunt.  So we did it at mom’s house for a while – 25, 30, 32 – in-laws, schedules, more-than-not inconvenient weather.  And one year we said: “Maybe we can do a family bbq in July instead” which has its perks. 

We still do a family dinner, but right now it is just mom and her children and their families.  14, 15 16, 18 and growing. Neither my sister nor I have houses large enough to have us all around the table – but to take the stress off mom, we did a simple dinner at my brother’s house last year.  Their house is small, too – but somehow it seems to work.  As it would have worked at the first house that Roland and our children and I lived in.

Hats -          On Christmas morning the child who passes out the presents wears the Santa cap. Often the rest of us will wear elf or Santa caps as we open our gifts. 

Exchange - There is still gift exchange – though family to family is more of a recent thing where we draw names.  We used to get for everybody – but the economy’s made it tough.   Actually, we didn’t even draw names this year (that usually takes place on Thanksgiving)  Just as well.  We’re all on the financially strained side – three of the families are anyway.

Movies  -     I enjoy watching Christmas movies, no matter how trite and sappy.  I will always tune in to “It’s a Wonderful Life” just as Clarence jumps in the water to save George who jumps in after him.  I love that cute angel.

A tradition I have only for myself is to watch at least five different versions of the Christmas Carol between Thanksgiving and New Years.  Among my favorite are the Muppets, the American Christmas Carol, Mr. Magoo and the musical Scrooge.

And those are just a few of my personal examples. What are some of yours?

Origins and Legends of Christmas

          We had an awesome program at Relief Society earlier this month. The theme was on the origins of Christmas – why we use various icons in our holiday celebration.

          The star, the angels, the nativity . . . those I could figure out.  But where did Santa Clause come from?  Or Christmas lights? Or the candy cane – though growing up I had always believed that it was to represent the crooks of the shepherds who were “abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night”  but there’s actually more to it – or so goes the legend. 

          Origins have become fabricated over the centuries.  Or else the decorative plant life was adapted from pagan celebration and reasons were made to fit the Christian holiday – which (unfortunately) often gets overlooked about why we have a Christmas and why we started celebrating it in the first place.

          I’ve now come across two sources which tell me that the candy cane originated in Indiana – a treat designed as a reminder to why we have Christmas.  The original candy cane in red and white. 

          First off the candy cane is hard – that was to symbolize comparing Christ to a solid “rock” and white stands for purity.

          The shape of the cane is not only in the shape of a crook (symbolizing the Good Shepherd) but when turned, it becomes the letter “J” which stands for “Jesus”

          Jesus atoned for all of our sins.  His blood was shed. The red of the candy cane symbolizes that blood. 

          This may have some truth to it, but according to this web page the claim is false.  But I do like the quote, “meaning is still there for those who “have eyes to see and ears to hear” – I think that’s true with all symbols if we just focus on the possible reasons as they relate to Christ.

          Clement Clarke Moore had written a poem for his children.  This later became known to the world as “The Night Before Christmas”  Using the description of a jolly man dressed in red, an artist drew the symbol that would later be accepted by the nation as “Santa Clause” a symbol of commercialism.

          I LOVE the book “I Believe in Santa Clause” written by Diane G. Adamson and illustrated by M. Chad Randall.  The book has received criticism from the Pharisee types – “How dare somebody compare Santa Clause to Jesus.”  While others rave, “This is really cool.” 

          I’d rather see a Santa Wreath decorating somebody’s car bumper than the nativity scene. I’d rather see Santa drinking coke or riding a Norelco shaver than have the commercialism of Christmas desecrated or Savior by portraying him as the one drinking coke or using Norelco. 

          Santa Clause has been made fun of, abused, loved, accepted, rejected, used, given, smiles, loves children, wears red, brings gifts . . . Jesus has been made fun of, abused, loved, accepted, rejected, used, given, smiles, loves children, wears red, brings gifts . . . granted the gifts that Jesus gives are eternal and intangible whereas the gifts we receive from Santa are tangible and don’t last quite as long. 

But there are similarities between the two that don’t have to be viewed as sacrilegious.  Santa is a part of Christmas whether you like it or not.  Maybe the problem is he’s become almost bigger, more important than the “Guest of Honor” – but with Santa symbolizing the commercialism aspect, he helps to keep the sacredness of our Redeemer.

There are some symbolisms or décor that are offered that I don’t so much care about its origin – such as the Yule Log, Wassail Punch or Figgie Pudding.  They’re not a part of my Christmas.  That doesn’t mean they’re less important to others. 

From stars evolving into candles on the Christmas tree to lights (because candles start fires – and actually so can lights) improvements have been made on many Christmas symbols.  At the same time, commercialism has desecrated so many others. 

Whether the legends and/or origins have truth or not, I really appreciate the symbolism that ties so many icons to the true meaning of Christmas.

3rd year, 4th Christmas

          I have so many memories of Christmases – before Roland, after Roland, childhood, on and on and on.

          This year we will be celebrating twelve years together.  Half of them with financial struggles and at least three with sub for Santa.

          When I first moved in to our first house (Roland and the boys had already been living there for six months) it was September of 2001.  In December our family was targeted as the “twelve days of Christmas” recipients.  And that was fun and I felt very welcome to the area.

          Our first tree was an artificial Charlie Brown – the kind that gets used in a window display as part of the winter scenery – but not necessarily Christmas.  It is what would be used in a window selling skis or snow blowers or something – an insignificant tree that blends in to the background – the absolute smallest tree that I had ever encountered during my lifetime.

                                                It was flocked but much smaller than this one

                                                Maybe the second to the smallest - but skinnier

          (Apparently it was so small that I did not get a picture of it – and as it was so pathetic, I cannot even find anything on the internet that will match it.  I did not get my first digital camera until Jenna was three; maybe that’s why I can’t find anything)

          We had purchased two gifts for each of the boys.  We opened our gifts in the back room where we had placed and decorated our tiny tree.

          When we had our second Christmas, Ooki  was living with us.  It was the first time he had celebrated the holiday.  We showed him how to decorate the tree.  We had a large unwrapped gift for each boy.  Roland and I woke them up at like 5:30 or six.  It was too early for all of them – even Randy.

          Our financial struggles were really bad the year I was pregnant with Jenna – it may have been the worse for us – though we were still in the same house another five years – so maybe not?

          The experience that touches me the most (as I still cry when I tell it) is the year we were assigned to bring potatoes to the family dinner.  All month I had been trying to save up with any spare change – I had made a jar and labeled it “the potato fund” (or something like that) and asked each of the boys to assist Roland and me with our attempts to fill the jar.  (I don’t think we ever reached a dollar as Tony would take more than he would give)

Two days before the dinner there was a knock on my door.  I opened the door to find this Nephite  (he wasn’t dressed as a Nephite, but seemed to have that same stature as he filled the entire door frame) standing in my doorway with a bag of potatoes.  He handed them to me and told me that his mom wanted me to have them. And then he was gone.

My tears were (and still are) of gratitude, but brought concern to the ReliefSociety president who came by to drop off our sub for Santa gifts. She asked why I was crying and I explained.  The worse part of it all was I didn’t know who the Nephite was.  But she figured it out and told me and I was actually kind of embarrassed that I hadn’t known.

My mom called just as the RS pres. Left.  She told me that I didn’t have to bring potatoes if it was going to hurt us financially.  And I started crying again.

Randy was excited about all the gifts beneath the tree – while the other two were embarrassed over the very idea that we were a product of charity.  I was a bit embarrassed that there were so many gifts – way more than we had had the first two years combined.  There were even presents there for Roland and me.

Someone had donated an overgrown bag (like the kind you see Santa carrying) full of oversize shirts (Roland was on the heavier side back then) although none of them wrapped.  We did have wrapping paper, and so I went through the bag, sorting shirts, wrapping some for Roland and some of them for me (as some of them felt nice on my pregnant belly) 

And then when we lost our first house and moved into the smaller one (where we live currently) the ward we once belonged to followed us over with more sub for Santa gifts – mostly for Jenna.  They also supported our two boys who were out on missions.

We have been in this house for three years now – but this is our forth Christmas.  Last year Randy proposed to Carrie.  This will be their first Christmas as a married couple.  This will be Tony and Rochelle’s first Christmas as mom and dad. Our first Christmas as grandparents – though we won’t actually be seeing them – unless they fly in for the holidays.  They have been here once this year already.

Jenna's very excited for Christmas this year.  She's already made several drawings depicting the holidays.

             

It Amazes Me What I Can Remember

          It’s been almost 40 years since Jill and her family moved out of my mom’s neighborhood.  They are the first family that I remember having moved.

          It’s only been in the last couple of months that I got in touch with Jill through facebook. She has since moved back to Utah. I told her about mom and made arrangements for us to visit.

          And so the other day Jill drove to mom’s house and we visited for a while.  She told me how she and mom had spent many a days visting at each other’s houses.  And made it known (for the first time) that her youngest had had a crush on me when we were younger.  Really?!  Because I had had a crush on him and wasn’t aware that he had felt the same way until Jill took us to lunch.

          I think the greatest thing was watching mom’s recognition when Jill first arrived – like nothing had changed.  But time has changed us all.  And mom didn’t remember doing lunch once we left the restaurant.

          This is a picture of the two kindergarten classes, the principal and the two kindergarten teachers.  It is the only colored class photo in my possession.  The rest are black and white squares.  But all the “class pictures” that I have are not just class but entire grade.  I like is that the picture included everyone in my grade – and not just the class I attended.

          I don’t know if mom wrote the names on the back of this particular photo.  I forgot to scan them in if she did.  But I actually do remember.  45 years.  53 faces.  And I seriously am able to put a name to 43 of them.  Not just first names, but last names as well. Give me some time and I can get at least 6 more.

          We had a lot of Lindas and a lot of (last name) Nelsons – though I’m sure each was spelled differently.  And I think Paul looks like a cut out.  But they didn’t crop and Photoshop and insert back then.  So probably not. 

          I’m a little embarrassed at not having recognized my neighbor from across the street – I don’t think it’s the best picture of him.  But I was able to pick him out because of the sweater.  5 boys in the family.  I think each of them wore it.  I think it might have even been passed on to the grandkids.  That would really be some super-strength fabric though. 

          I don’t know what happened to Mrs. Cannon.  I always wished that my teacher had been Mrs. Flinders.  But she did not finish out the year with us.  Nor did Miss Nelson who followed her.  No, my kindergarten year unfortunately ended with a Miss Wamsley – I’m quite certain it was Miss.  Can’t imagine any guy purposely marrying that old dragon. She was so bad that even the parents complained about her.

          I wish Jenna could experience the stability that seemed to exist in my own childhood.  I suppose I am able to put first and last names with so many of the faces is because I actually graduated high school with most of them.  Oh, there were the occasional moves – but not like today.

          When I was younger, I could step outside my house at any given time of the day, and there was always at least twelve other kids outside for me to play with.  Jenna doesn’t have that over here.  There are very few children in our neighborhood.  And there are only a few on the street who stay for more than four or five years.  I hope we will be able to move again – but because we want to – not because we have to.

          May I continue with this memory and not ever have to burden my kids with a memory disorder – because it’s rough.

         

I WANT MY SPACE!

So often sitcoms will portray the girl as the snuggler and the guy as the one who needs the room.

I don’t have a problem snuggling when we’re both awake -  but when I’m in bed asleep (or trying to) I would rather not deal with that extra weight crushing my bones, leaving indentations in my body, actually making it hard to sleep. 

Roland’s a cuddler.  He’s been extremely tired all week – and very much in the middle of the bed (note it’s NOT a king size bed) leaving enough room on his side for another person while my arm dangles over the bed.  His head like a bowling ball on my shoulder. 

I could actually tolerate all of it except for the dangling arm.  It’s annoying when I look at all the room to the other side of them.  I actually wonder if there might be more room on that side.  Probably not.  If I could just take my arm off, there would be plenty of room.

Jenna likes to cuddle as well.  It worked out better when she was a baby and toddler.  Now there are parts of her body (usually an elbow or her head) that manage to find my ribcage or cut off the circulation in one of my legs.  She has always been solid.  I think she must weigh even more when she snuggles.

Roland’s always producing heat.  Great for winter camps.  Atrocious in the summer time.  I usually get up during the night to turn the fan on.  He always has the blankets around him.  Oh, please.  Like I want extra bedding around me as well.

I’m grateful that Roland does want to cuddle – that he wants to be close.  It is nice to be wanted.  Sometimes I’ll cuddle back until he falls asleep.  I do love him.  But I also love my space. 

Content With My 35 mph Route

          Every once in a while, instead of turning at my designated turn, I will continue on the road I’m on just to see where it goes.  Sometimes I have missed my designated turn.  Sometimes I have been rerouted by construction. Such was the case this summer.

          Sometimes there is just no way around the construction. One is doomed to hit it sometime during his or her commute.  I still have my hang-ups with railroadtracks and crossing over bridges.  But unless I take the freeway, there is just no way to avoid the train tracks. 

          I can’t take the freeway, though.  For one thing, I truly believe my car will fall apart if I attempt to make it go more than 50.  And that would have not helped with the construction situation at all – as I would still have to get off to get to mom’s street and house.

So whether intentional or not, I found an alternate route between mom’s house and mine.  I cross three sets at present. Sometimes I have to wait for the same train at two different crossings.  

I also cross three bridges.  Only one makes me freak somewhat.  The other two are small – like two cars long.  But the one that goes up and over and around – it’s winds and curls around and one cannot see to the other side while crossing.  But it beats school traffic.

The construction has finally been removed, but I still take the 35 mph route out of habit.  It works for me.  There hasn’t been much in the way of traffic and it’s been a comfortable speed for both me and my car.  No school crossing.  And no shopper’s fiasco. I do have to wait occasional pedestrians.  Not a big deal.

I’m actually happy and comfortable with the route I am currently taking.  

Thoughts for Today’s Post

          I took Highness for a walk for the first time this month.  Poor dog.  (I've been going to mom's, trying to assist at Jenna's school or the cannery and Biff has taken on two full time jobs leaving Highness somewhat neglected)
          The weather has been awesomely beautiful once the sun is out.  When it’s down, it can get quite cold. But during the day – I often get hot and will turn the heat off and open a window.

                                                    

          I don’t recall a November ever where I could get away with wearing just a sweatshirt over my clothes.  But then we had wonderful weather last Christmas.  I took a picture of Jenna in some new clothes that had been sent – she was outside by the pine tree.  No coat. 

          I was taking pictures on a daily basis for about a week and had posted them to facebook with date attached.  It snowed hard by nightfall on the 26^th and some pictures looked like the typical postcard Christmas of Utah.  But we had lots of “no coat” days as well.  Now that was bizarre.

          I remember a few Aprils when it had snowed.  There was one day in 2003 when there was quite a bit of snow actually.

          Ooki had come to us at the end of August 2002.  He asked if he would need to buy boots for the winter.  We’d been experiencing craziness of weather for the last decade at least, and I told him that if he made a purchase toward some boots that he might not ever need them, but if he didn’t buy the boots, then he would definitely need them.

          Ooki chose to ease the hardship of shoveling snow and whatever else is hated about the winter season as he bought himself not only a heavy coat but a pair of boots as well.  He did use the coat for four or five months – often with his flip flops, but only wore the boots twice that I remember.  And I don’t remember if that day in April was one of them.

          I took my three boys to the park. Ooki did not go with us – I think because of other obligations.  Ooki was rarely at home just to be home.  If we had something specific going – he made effort to be there.  But our going to the park was spontaneous.  And perhaps he just didn’t like the idea of the snow.  I can’t remember.

          We didn’t have a toboggan.  The boys took a long piece of cardboard, some plastic covering that had fallen from our covered car port, and Randy’s dune buggy (that one I still don’t understand) and used them to slide down the hill.  And I took a couple of rolls of pictures (though digital did exist – not in my possession) and probably would have tons more if Ooki had gone with us (he took tons of pictures; even posted them on his website which I don’t think he even has any more)

         The snow had completely melted by the next day.

          I really wish there was a way to stop the weather the way it is right now – and just keep it all year round.  Nothing warmer.  Definitely nothing colder.  No snow – at least on my roads.  No ice.  Spectacular elements.  That would really be sweet.

          Yesterday I was at my mom’s.  She must own a thousand books.  Over a hundred in her backroom.  And I would guess more than twice that in the spare room.  Some in her front room.  Some collectables.  Though not most. 

          I think there are three or four members who would be willing just to throw them all always – not even donate them.  Just get rid of them.  And I’m certain there are tons that Corey would like to have.  And he is probably the only one who would have room to house them.

          My main interest right now is the Norman Rockwell book that is too big to be shelved and too heavy to put on one’s lap.  If Corey can make a nice home for it, he can have it.  Otherwise I would like it.  I really like Norman Rockwell.

          On Friday mom and I will have lunch with a friend that we haven’t seen for over 30 years.  I don’t think mom will remember her.  But maybe once we get to talking?  She and mom used to watch each other’s children.  Or her two oldest girls would come over and babysit Patrick and me.  Corey doesn’t remember as he was only a toddler when they moved.

          I guess that’s all I have to say right now.  I have some organizing to do.

It is Okay to Dismiss Early . . . at least in My Opinion

          

          Whenever Roland and I were asked to speak in our last ward, l the subject was often missionary themed.  A couple of talks we’d given were in reference to Mothers’ Day, but I think for the most part it was missionary work. 

          Roland and I were the ward mission leaders for four years – and must have been called to speak at least twice during the time we were serving in that calling.  And also after our boys were out in the mission field we had been called to speak.

          With each talk I prepared, I tried a new approach from the previous talk.  One of the talks that I’d given I have posted here.   But the first time I was called to speak was before we had gone to see “The Guardian”  which seemed to speak to me with the analogy of comparing missionary work to the coast guard. 

          Not wanting my talk to sound like a plug for “The Guardian” I went to the library to do some research on the coast guard.  I also found some scriptures to go along with my talk.

          There were five of us scheduled to speak.  I still don’t know why it was that we were unable to fill up the entire time – but we did end up running short and whatever counselor was conducting that day felt obligated to recap our talks and add his own experiences and although I did enjoy his talk I wondered if it was really necessary to fill the time rather than dismiss from the meetings early.

          I’ve been to several wards in which the bishopric always feels obligated to fill that void.  But not in my current ward.  Yesterday we got out half an hour early.  Thus my husband was able to finish up with his responsibilities in staying with the bishopric and was home at 4:30 (I don’t think he’s ever been home this early since our ward moved to the 1-4 schedule;  come January we will be attending 9-12)

          I enjoy dismissing early once in a while.  And I enjoy the privilege of giving talks in Sacrament meeting.

Chatter Matters . . . especially for Jenna

          In 2000 Mattel distributed a game called Chatter Matters.  I don’t know how the game happened to fall into the hands of Sunny’s family, or if it had been given to a specific child.  But they didn’t seem to enjoy it.

          They left it at my mom’s house without directions.  It’s pretty self explanatory, but I printed the directions anyway.  Jenna absolutely LOVES this game.  We started playing it just this year.

          We must have started in summer when Jenna was off from school.  The game continued to live at Grandma’s house, and that is where we would play it.  Jenna wanted to take the game home.  I told her that it wasn’t ours to take.  But Corey said he thought it would be okay if we did.  But I know Jenna and her lack of ability to clean up after herself and how many game pieces turn up missing.  I fully believed we could make better use of it at my mom’s.

          And after Thanksgiving we brought the game home to live with us.  Not intentionally. But I haven’t bothered to return it – which has been intentional.

          Jenna has always liked answeringquestions and listening to the answers of others.  We would play the ungame  – which isn’t a game but a pocket sized case containing questions.  Questions such as:  “what was your favorite subject in school? and why?”  “Where would you like to go on vacation?”  “What is one quality you admire about each family member?”    

          Each case came with two sets of questions.  The generic easy ones and the more thought provoking ones like: “name an experience involving death”

          I remember asking my dad that one before he passed away.  His Uncle Reese was seventeen when he passed away.  I think my dad was six.  He choked as he answered.  Kayla and I set the cards aside and decided to play something else.

          I don’t know how many years fell between the card packet to the board game (I would guess 14) – though it was still not a “game”.  There were no winners, no losers . . . no definite end. 

          Chatter Matter’s seemed to have many similar questions that were asked in Ungame’s level one – but with a twist.  The board game was designed with four rooms and a deck of cards for each room that would ask questions not necessarily geared toward the room – but may be where you are when you ask yourself the questions that come with the card.

          For example, the bedroom has questions especially geared to the player about his or her personal self like:

“What’s one of the strangest foods I’ve ever eaten?” 

or “If I could travel anywhere, where would I go? For how long? Who would go with me?

          The other players write down answers they believe the card holder will say and for each one that matches, both (or all) receive chips.

The Family room is designed for the player to answer questions about family members:

          “What religion, if any, did one of my parents practice as a child?”

          “What is the name of the first street I lived on?”

          Sometimes the other players will write down their predictions but not always.  The two questions above offers chips for each correct answer.  Helps if you actually have family members playing that can assist with the correct answer.

          Kitchen.  This card will allow you to collect chips for doing chores or will punish you and have you move your game piece to “time out” 

Examples of these are:

          I painted the bathroom.  Go to Chores/Allowance corner and collect

And then the player has an opportunity to talk about a project he or she has done around the house.

            The game room offers a variety of “games” to be played with each card.  Jenna’s favorite is called “Scavenger Hunt”

          It helps if you are familiar with the house of where the game is being played.  You divide into teams and look for whatever is written on the card:

          A receipt

          Something with a player’s name written on it (that could be a monogram or a piece of mail)

          A picture of me and somebody else in my family

          “Verbal Blitz” is the one I like the best.  It is also played in teams.  Three categories are listed on the card.  The player who draws the card selects the category and each team goes back and forth naming off soup flavors, or vegetables, or television shows or whatever happened to be selected, until one team stops or repeats an answer.  Winners get one chip each.

          “Doodles” is a mini version of Pictionary.  Three words are listed on the card (usually household items or chores) and you can draw either a chimney, a kitchen table or a window.  And the first person who guesses correctly gets a chip along with the “artist”

          The last game room play card is called “Home Movies”   Player acts out verbs that are written on the card:

          Riding a bike, skateboarding or skiing for example.

          Each player has a chip holder that will fill with 15 chips.  The first player to have 15 chips wins.  Not a tough game.  But can be long – especially when the players get stuck on a game card.

          I told Jenna that we would play it after our Thanksgiving dinner on Saturday – and we probably would have had it been on top, but Jenna picked another game.  And that was the only one we played as Grandma was getting restless and we needed to remove her from the environment.

          I told her that we could possibly play it after Thursday’s dinner – but everyone else had to agree.  We played Spades instead. 

          So on Friday, when I took her over to Bill and Kayla’s house, we played.  Anna wanted to play with the chip holders and game pieces.  So Bill decided that she would play the game.  So he shook the di for her and asked and answered questions.  Ironically I think Anna won. And Bill declared that it was really a boring game.  I think we could have ended sooner if he hadn’t insisted on taking a turn for Anna (as well as himself) every time (after all she had lost interest long before he did)

          It can get boring.  But so can Monopoly. And given a choice, I’d much rather play Chatter Matters.  And I’m really happy that Jenna really likes it.