All about Mistletoe

European mistletoe attached to a silver birch 

Before I begin, I must give credit for this blog to a friend of mine. She gave me an interesting tidbit of mistletoe information, and I was hooked. She suggested this article, and it is dedicated to her. Thanks, Leslie.

Everyone knows that mistletoe is hung at Christmas time. It is easy to recognize its shiny leaves and small white berries. Can you recognise mistletoe in nature? Mistletoe is that clump of green leaves left in a tree in wintertime. Although it is not attached to any soil, the mistletoe stays green year around. It is actually a hemi-parasitic plant that feeds off the water and mineral nutrients of the various host trees. It is considered semi parasitic because it is capable of photosynthesis.

The name mistletoe is believed to have it’s roots in the terms mistel tan. These are Anglo Saxon for dung (mistel) and twig (tan), literally “dung on a twig”. This, actually, makes perfect sense, because mistletoe is spread from tree to tree by bird droppings. Oh, it is also quite poisonous. So how did something that grows out of bird poop become the symbol of kissing and young love at Christmas time?

The tradition of kissing under the mistletoe is believed to have its roots in a Norse myth. The Norse goddess, Frigga, had a son named Baldur. When Baldur was born, she had all living and nonliving things swear an oath not to harm Baldur. Frigga overlooked the small mistletoe plant. Years later, one of the other Norse gods, Loki, used the mistletoe plant to kill Baldur. When Baldur died, all vegetation died with him bringing winter into the world. Frigga, declared the mistletoe would no longer be used for death, but for love. She ordered that anyone meeting under the mistletoe would celebrate love and rebirth by kissing.

In Scandinavia, it was custom for two enemies to call a truce until the next day if they met under the mistletoe. At this point, kissing under the mistletoe is lost in the mist of time.  That is until 1820, when Washington Irving described it in “The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon”, as part of the 12 days of Christmas festivities.

So that is my story of the mistletoe. If you have a different one, please share in the comments section. Thanks for reading.

Yes, Virgina. There WAS a Santa Clause.

I was walking into my local gas station yesterday morning. To my right was a white van with an older gentleman standing there getting his keys out. He was a little taller than me with a full white beard and a head of white hair. He was dressed in jeans, a sweater and a jacket. Nothing to write home about.
To my left was a dad with a little girl around three. She had black hair and was very full of energy. As the door to the store opened, I heard the little girl squeal. I turned to see what the commotion was. The little girl was running up the elderly man, saying "hi, Santa, hi". I stifled a little grin, and watched a very flustered elderly man and dad attempt to make the best of a very strange situation. They both did admirably well. The elderly man was a sweetheart and the dad smiled a great big thank you. After "Santa" left, the little girl was still jumping up and down, so excited about seeing Santa at the gas station.
This scene stayed with me through out the weekend. As I was contemplating it, I thought about the Walmat incident from earlier in the week, where Walmart had taken down the decorated Christmas Trees. A rumor circulated it was because someone had complained.  According to Walmart, no one had complained. It was a way of helping local communities by donating the trees to local schools. That may be true, this time. But what happens if someone does complain? Would they take them down then?
We are told in business and retail establishments, we must say Happy Holidays to keep from offending someone. Now, I am not interested in offending people but I have the right to say Merry Christmas. I am not offended by people celebrating Hanukkah or any of the other holidays in December, why should me celebrating Christmas offend them? We are so close to losing the Christ part of Christmas because it offends people. What happens if we lose all of Christmas because someone was offended?
Yes, Virginia, there was a Santa Clause. We use to tell stories about him bringing presents to all the good little girls and boys. Oh, yes and on that same day, we celebrated our Savior's birth, whose gift was eternal life to all who believed, good or bad.

I must not be good at this...

Well, it has been exactly two weeks since my last post.  My goal was to post every couple of days or so.
Oh, we humans, we have such lofty dreams.
Of course when I started this blog, I thought it would be months, if ever, before someone would pay me to write.  Two weeks later, I am working on three different freelance websites and staying busy.  Now don't get me wrong, they will hire anyone to write for them and the pay is better at McDonalds (it is per click or per word pay) but I am loving every minute of it.
My question is how does someone who never thought about being a writer, find herself in a position of wanting to write whenever she can?  How does that happen?
Maybe I was abducted by writing aliens.

PS, for my facebook friends, I know you will tire of seeing me posting links to my articles and posts.  I sincerely apologize to those who do.  I hope though some of you will be entertained and find something interesting.

Demon Bread

I stopped by the Bi-Lo on Ooltewah-Ringgold road last night for a quick pop-in to buy dinner rolls to go with a new recipe I was trying.  As I looked up and down the bread aisle for the little rolls that come in the aluminum tray, I had a moment of fright that they would not have them.  But oh glorious, I finally found them and then had a complete heart attack.  Somebody must think those rolls are made of gold,  $3 something a bag.  I waited to see if any tricks would come forth but the bread just laid there.  I took a deep breath, grabbed two bags and headed toward the check out.  The registered confirmed my suspicion this bread was made by the devil when my total cost was $6.66.  As I was cooking dinner, I ran a math log in my head to determine the cost of the dinner.  I had 2 chicken breasts and pasta in a Cream Parmesan Sauce.  The total main dish cost less than the bread did but that bread is sooooo good.  And I have left overs, hmmm time for a snack.

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Good bye

Today I said goodbye to a lady I have worked with for a wee bit over two years.  Thankfully, she is leaving for a joyous reason; she has chosen to stay home with her children.  I am sure she will be well-blessed during those looong, noisy days with her children. At least those will not start till Thanksgiving Break.

She has already begun planning her time away from the workforce.  She has agreed to be the Girl Scout mom for her girl’s unit.  Oh, what joy that should bring.  Along with bug-ridden camping trips; cookie boxes galore and the scurrying around for craft items.

I remember my days as a stay at home mom and Girl Scout leader.  That is why I am working today.

Just kidding.  I loved the time I had with the girls and would do it again in a heartbeat.  I even enjoyed being a Girl Scout leader and would recommend it for most moms.

I wish her all the luck in the world and am glad she has this opportunity.  I hope she knows we will miss her.

Play Money

I was in the middle of my weekly trek through the bully of the chain stores, Walmart, when my eyes spied the ultimate in ethereal gifts.  The reason I referred to it as an ethereal gift was there was nothing tangible to it.  It was a gift card in the midst of all the other gift cards.  You know the ones.  They allow the receiver to get free food, music or items at a chain store. They are my stand-by for last minute gifts. (I know, I know, I should be more organized).  This one though did not allow the receiver to redeem the card for anything they can actually touch.  The only cost incurred by the company sponsoring the gift card was in the cost of the card.  There is no food to purchase, no royalties to pay, or manufacturing costs.  Yet they were being sold for $20.00 each.

Who was this company, you ask?  It is Zynga, the maker of such great games as Farmville, CafeWorld and Frontierville.  Yes, I can buy all my facebook friends $20.00 worth of farmville cash at Walmart.  Or in other words...I could buy Brad a barn for Christmas.  Mary a pig for her birthday.  My nephew would love a dog and I would not get in trouble for buying it.  It was a fun idea.

I must admit though, I would have a really hard time spending my hard earned money on something so unreal.  You know the money I actually had to sit 9 hours a day in an office to earn?  Hmmm, work 2 hours (roughly)  and I can buy play money for someone to buy a play house.  A little difficult to do.  Of course Zynga must make money somehow.  So, even though it is not for me, if you have a friend that is a hard core gamer then go for it.

Let me know your opinion.  Please.

Squirrel is my name, multi-tasking is my game.

At first I resented the nickname my husband had bestowed on me.  I wanted something sweet and cute.  Instead, I received a name that invoked images of people sitting around a table eating "Smokey Mountain Fried Squirrel" or, even worse, an image of a fuzzy rat with a fluffy tail.  Now don't get me wrong.  I think squirrels can be cute, but they act like they are on crack sometimes.  They run around constantly, scampering to and fro, up and down trees, in and out of the path of cars.  They look as if they are out of control and crazy.

Then it dawned on me.  I do act like a squirrel.  It begins when I arrive home from work.  That mad dash all around the house as if winter was here and I still had nuts to gather. Within a few minutes of my arrival, dinner is on the stove, homework is being done and a load of clothes is washing.  Dinner continues to cook, the dishwasher is unloaded and reloaded while hints and helps to homework float through the air like the sounds of squirrel's chattering.  I realized that the nickname Squirrel is a compliment and an acknowledgment of my role as caretaker in our home.

As this realization was scampering through my brain, it began to dig up an acorn of a thought that had been buried deep in the yard of my brain.  Didn't I hear somewhere that multitasking makes you stupid?  Yes, a quick look at Google confirmed it.  Sue Shellenbarger reported in the Wall Street Journal (2/27/2003), scientific studies have shown multitasking can make you less efficient and forgetful, http://online.wsj.com/article/SB1046286576946413103.html.

Well, there you have it.  Squirrel is my name; multitasking is my game.  Now where did I hide those chocolate covered peanuts?

No squirrels were harmed (or eaten) in the making of this blog.

By the way, for those of you who enjoy a tasty squirrel on occasion you can find the recipe to "Smokey Mountain Fried Squirrel" on Astray.com. http://www.astray.com/recipes/?show=Smokey%20mountain%20fried%20squirrel