All posts tagged Christmas

Three days in

Published January 3, 2019 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I’ve been meaning to write for several days now, but my first world problems got in the way. WordPress would not let me post anything and instead of writing my thoughts in a document, I just slugged about.

I’m trying to cram in the last few moments, hours etc of low tension relaxing.  I have to go back to school on Monday. The kids come back on Tuesday.  BatBeard won’t be here until maybe Monday night.  I am thrilled about this.

I knew what I was getting into when I fell in love with an actor. I know that Christmas is the only time of the year where actors can consistently work.  I know that. I also know that this is the beginning of the third year of coming in a distant second to a pirate ship.

I know, I know, holidays are rough.  My holidays were a bit easier becasue I finally escaped the money pit and am now in my quaint little apartment.  But, the holiday was a bit harder because I didn’t go visit Batbeard so I didn’t have my sweetheart for Christmas or New Years. There .I’m done complaining.

We have many challenges ahead. I mean all of the we’s. We, the country, we the teachers, we the mothers, sisters, daughters,etc.  These challenges include the usual first of the year challenges, weight loss, drinking more water, working out, reading more, being kinder, being more productive. Some of us are even going to jump on the “Let’s do all of the above” bandwagon.  So what will, I, WriterChick be doing this new year?

I am going to focus on being healthier- I will be 50 this year

I am going to focus on being patient-I have four incredibly challenging students and I get another one on Tuesday

I am going to focus on getting stronger- Everyday I truly believe we getting closer to Armegeddon. I know I have been saying this sine 1992, but it’s still true

I am going to focus on letting go of the things I can’t change-Seeing BatBeard whenever I want. He is an actor and he is happiest when he is performing. My brothers rampant alcholism. He is no longer the brother I grew up with and he will not quit drinking until he is forced to.  I have chronic insomnia and the only way to deal with this is to keep regular hours.

I have accomplished many things. I get to celebrate them. Being proud doesn’t equal pompous.

I don’t have to do everything today.  It’s okay to stop because you are tired.


Happy New year people


Because a girl has to try

Published December 11, 2017 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Today, while not the craziest day I have had teaching, and is not by far the most challenging, it is a rough day. It’s rough in a hurry up and wait kind of day.

Many years ago when I was in late teens I still fancied myself an actor, even though it was more nerve wracking than fun and I was far too thin skinned to last very long in the business. (In fact the thought of being in “the business” makes me roll my eyes.  You see, friends and neighbors, if you are female and more or less fit into the ingenue category (doe-eyed, more boobs than sense, and a strong endurance for the scent of Aqua Net)  You have a very small window of time to actually attain some level of success. It is a small and very narrow window.  In fact, it is so narrow that at 20 when I weighed a 138 pounds and was a size 7 on the bottom and a 10 on the top, I was STILL too fat to be considered a true ingenue. I would have to lose twenty pounds to at least be in the right shape, week and woozy it may be to audition for the “right” parts.

Anyway, around this time I was an extra in a little film called Born on the Fourth of July, staring a little actor named Tom Cruise. This movie was filmed in North Texas and one of the teachers at my college had an agent who got a whole bunch of students in on the film. Oliver Stone touched my hair and said I was pretty.  I spent a long, chilly day standing outside of the Dallas Convention Center pretending to be a young Republican.

All I can remember of this experience is that if the Film Industry is all hurry up and wait, then I was better off focusing on Theater.

Today the music teacher is staging the Christmas Musical. In the first place, none of the students is feeling particularly malleable, none of the  staff feel particularly festive and no one knows what are schedule is. So all day I have been herding kids from place to place and trying to get at least one piece of information to stick in someone’s head.

On the plus side, BatBeard is safe and I am at the point in my life that if I decide to jump back into show business I am now safely in the Ethnic Character Actress, so at least, I will get to eat.

I have had the weapons all weekend and haven’t killed a single zombie!

Published January 5, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I buy myself gifts for Christmas and my birthday. This year I bought myself “Rise of Nightmares” an interactive game for my Xbox Kinect. (The Xbox itself was a birthday present to me the last big check I got from teaching and directing. I  remember thinking that it was probably going to be the last time I would be able to do that. I was right. Sometimes a rambling fool will show you the way. Wow, that was a long parenthetical.)

In the game you punch and kick Zombies and other monsters. I am really looking forward to this. I just haven’t had the time and its already about to be shut down time.  I still have enthusiasm for the week and the upcoming madness, because I have the plan.

The plan only works if we stick to the time management schedule. (This is a hypothetical schedule because I’m waiting for my dayplanner refill to come in. I think it’s in, I just have to go fetch it from the UPS office. I’m really going to vexed if it’s not here.  Oh well, the UPS office should be an adventure. Why, yes, it does take years of practice to keep up with my conversation,just ask my Amanda-Friend, she’s been following the story for over two decades.)

And now, my something interesting and brainy for today, brought to you once again by the good people at the Daily Spark:

Ernest Hemingway once remarked that All American Literature since The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn owed a great debt to that novel.  Imagine that you are a famous writer about to publish the Great American Novel. Which aspects of Twain’s book might you play with or emulate in your own book. 

First of all, Ernest Hemingway was a big ol’ drunk.  I’m sure he said a lot of things, so why are we not looking to some of those other things to pry apart literature?  Considering the amount of time he spent in Key West and Cuba, I’m sure he had many clever ways to request more ice.  I know that I find it easier to write with a big soda with lots of ice.

Second of all, even if you are a famous writer, how do you know you’re writing the Great American Novel? What constitutes fame? Stephanie Meyer is famous as is E. L. James and I don’t think either of them will crank out (dirty) anything akin to great. Maybe American as in the Twilight series and the 50 shades series are both the processed cheese food of the literary world.

Unfortunately at this stage of my writing career, such as it is, I would have to focus more on themes that are trending, which might not survive the ages but be popular enough to sustain my living expenses without my having to work three jobs, and with that in mind, I would take Finn’s exploration on the Mississippi to an alternate, futuristic plane of existence where Huck and his pal, Gym  (a robot who is his physical trainer) shoot back and forth from place to place in a pneumatic tube.

As always, if anyone thinks this is a good idea, I call dibbs.


Tradition: Admission or Submission?

Published December 24, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

My mom has a friend who asked her what are our Christmas traditions.

For the past few years EH and I listened to “Kyle’s Mom is Bitch” from the South Park Soundtrack  as we drove down the mountain on our way to Mass.

I will not be driving down the mountain this year because of the whole EH and his Baby-Mama and their baby making things weird for my mountain attendance.

I will be listening to the song, because why should Eric Cartman have to suffer just because my life is so screwy?

My mother and I renewed the tradition of power shopping at the last minute on Christmas Eve, then enjoying some fast food before racing around again to get ready for Mass.

I always go to Mass at Christmas (Yes, I am one of those Catholics.  When it’s someone’s birthday, you celebrate with them.)

After Mass, I will go to my father’s mother’s house where eighty zillion of my family members will be gathered with way more food than anyone can possibly eat in the two hours that everyone will be there. (I will admit that I will bare knuckle brawl with blood relatives over my Tia Rita’s homemade burritos.)  There will be so much noise and chaos that I will be able to play my favorite game, Let’s See How Much Havoc I Can Wreak. I play this by drifting around the place and making loud random comments:

Who has a Ferret?

Is that the guy from last year?

What color is that supposed to be?

Is that my ear?

I love that.

When that has wound down a bit, the little kids always sing  Happy Birthday to Jesus, complete with birthday cake. Sadly there hasn’t been a pinata since one of my cousins got pasted in the stomach with the broom handle that an overstimulated toddler carelessly swung.

Then I go home.

Which is probably better because I am terribly, terribly vexed at many of the people on the planet.

But not you guys, you guys are ok,

Have a safe and happy holiday.




Published December 4, 2013 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I have a confession to make.

I do not like Christmas songs.

I don’t just mean the insipid, co-dependent, soul-robbing Christmas carols. I also do not like the classical Handel’s Messiah. Manheim  Steamroller makes me want to jump off a bridge.  This time of year, I have a limited choice of radio fare. It’s either Happy Christmas song, Tejano Music or Death Metal. (Guess which one is winning these days.)

I’m hoping it will all turn around. But I don’t think so. I’m trying to regain my spirit, but it’s 81 degrees outside and it’s hard to feel like a Jolly Old Elf (or even a tense middle-aged one)

The only thing I have found even remotely entertaining today has been the information about the Spear of Destiny (World’s Worst Stripper Name) or Spear of Longinus. This was the spear that was used to pierce the side of Jesus Christ as he hung on the cross. There’s a rich history about this spear and what has become of it over the years. Some say it is at the tomb of St. Peter. Others say that the Nazi’s have it and took it to Antarctica. Really. That’s a thing. Apparently the Nazi’s, sensing impending doom,because you know, Hitler was acting even more nuts than usual, gathered up all of their cool toys and spirited them away to Antarctica to await the reformation of the Fourth Reich. (Because the previous one was such a hit.)

I gleaned this information from the Audio Book of History Decoded by Brad Meltzer.

When I heard about the Fourth Reich and their hidden goodies (Worst Indiana Jones movie ever.) I said, out loud, ” I thought they went to the moon.” I have no idea why I think that.

It just made me feel jollier than Christmas.

Moles to whack.

Published December 26, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I almost called this “Cursing the random mole.” But sometimes a mole isn’t always a mole.  I didn’t want to leave the impression that I sit around staring into a mirror waiting to pound various skin eruptions into submission.  (There ARE some things that are too crazy for me to do.)

What I was trying to say with the title (Titles are my worse thing, almost as bad as my tendency to parenthesize my tangents.)  is that while there are some topics that become emergent, there are some that just pop out, mole like and to properly whack them back down, I must follow them to their sometimes absurd, but mostly logical conclusion.

I am making myself get back to the normal. It’s not easy, because someone gave all three of my nieces a Furby for Christmas.  It’s not entirely bad, but when they get going (The Furbies, not the nieces) They just don’t shut up until you turn them to face the wall. (This sometimes works with the nieces, but it’s Christmas, and I wouldn’t have the heart to do that.)

So I’m sitting here trying to write, and I can’t focus on a specific topic (Not that this is anything new.)  But I can’t really pick out one topic on which to write.  When I find myself in this situation, I go to XO Jane and cruise the articles. There is always something comment worthy.

Interestingly enough the article I read, one of the It Happened to Me things, was actually something that Katboy and I had talked about. (Not the topic of this particular one, just the concept in general.

The actual article brushed on the topic of the Misery Memoir. In case you are stumped (Not that kind of stump, although if you were a tree, you would probably prefer to read something online and not on paper, because reading something on actual paper would have an Ed Gein-like creepster vibe.)  the Misery Memoir is the “I had a truly heinously awful childhood/trauma/bizarre experience, and here it is in graphic detail. ( I AM IN NO WAY SLAMMING OR CRITICIZING PEOPLE WHO HAVE SURVIVED THESE EVENTS AND WROTE ABOUT THEM, IN FACT, SNAPS TO YOU, SERIOUSLY.)

The most well known of these is A Child Called It, by  Dave  Pelzer.  If you want to a list to consult, Goodreads has a good one featuring several by Cathy Glass.

I have had quite a few interesting things happen to me, but I don’t really know if they are “It Happened to Me” material.  I think a lot of them are more, “It Happened to Me, but so what?”  By the time I get enough perspective on one of the truly bizarre things it feels like it happened to someone else and I start thinking, “Well, that was stupid, so what?”

I think that particular mole is whacked for awhile.  I won’t be surprised if it jumps back out.

My niece is talking about the way different genders approach Kleenex disposal.

I didn’t expect that Mole.

Will new boots help me in the zombie apocalypse and other things I thought about today.

Published November 10, 2012 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I am coveting new boots.

I have a lot of shoes for someone who works at home at least 2 days a week.

But these boots are stone colored.

In the late 80’s I had a pair of white ankle boots that I wore everywhere.

I got married in a pair of white satin molly ringwald-esque ankle boots.

White Boots used to be my thing.

Could these boots be my mid-life crisis?


I had 2 lattes today. One of them had an extra shot, so I had a total of FIVE Shots of espresso today.

I walked to the library for my weekly trip.  I could have run it, but I didn’t want to crash into anything.

Just for fun I requested

Cincuenta sombras de Grey. 

For those of you who are not bilingual, that’s Fifty Shades of Grey in Español.  I figure, I already know that it woofs, but I’m not sure how good my Spanish skills now that I’m out of practice.

I have some things to write for a Christmas show for adults. (I don’t mean pornography, um erotica) It’s a holiday snarkfest and this is the first time I’ve ever written for it.  I really love this particular theatre company, and I consider it an honor to write for them, but I feel a little pressure (from myself of course) to make these pieces as perfect as I can make them.  Katboy is particularly talented with musical satire, so I know I can ask him to help if I need to.

How many of you think I’m going to buy the boots?