Author: kimhaynesjohnson

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Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cake Dip Office Party Day

Today is our office Christmas Party, and I signed up to bring Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cake dip. I have no idea why I did this. 

I have never made or tasted Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cake dip, but the man making it in the video on Facebook swears by it.

So when the shared document came around in email to sign up saying what we would bring, I wrote, “Either Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cake Dip or those chocolate-dipped Vienna sausages with the colorful sprinkles that are all the rage on Tik Tok.” I don’t know why I wrote that, either. Apparently a Tik Tokker figured out a way to stop being asked to bring a finger food to parties and was kind enough to share his secret with the rest of us who don’t do much kitchening.

The good news is that I decided not to make the chocolate covered Vienna sausages but instead to go with the classier dish.

I watched a video on Facebook showing how to make the cake dip. You take a box of the larger size Little Debbie Christmas Tree cakes and reserve one cake, then blend the remaining five together with a block of cream cheese, a teaspoon or two of vanilla, and 1/3 cup of milk. Then, you fold in a regular sized container of Cool Whip, add sprinkles on top, place the reserved tree cake on top, cover, and refrigerate. You serve it with vanilla wafers, pretzels, or whatever you’d like. I have both of those and gingersnaps, but we’re having to settle for all-occasion sprinkles because I forgot the Christmas kind.

We’ll see how the party goes. I’ve heard through the grapevine that there’s fixin’ to be a fight over one particular item when the gift swap game is played – – a coffee mug with Christmas music lyrics personalized with our county’s name.

If we get to see a couple of co-workers wrestling over a coffee mug and all start circling around and chanting fight! fight! fight!, then I’m for sure gonna whip up the chocolate-dipped Vienna sausages next year and maybe bust open a can of whop biscuits, too. 

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The Past, Present, and Future

Seven years before she died, my mother joined one of my daughters and me on a girls’ trip to Dahlonega, Georgia. My college roommate makes it an annual tradition to take her own mother and daughters to start the season of Christmas shopping the weekend before Thanksgiving each year, so we met them there that year, staying with them in their favorite Smith House suite overlooking the Dahlonega square. It was a magical time of welcoming the Christmas spirit, eating great food, playing dominoes and cards, reading, sleeping past 6 a.m., lingering over coffee, and shopping for those on our lists.

I’m so grateful for that time we had together. Mom knew something was different, and she suspected Parkinson’s Disease long before her official diagnosis came. Her right thumb trembled endlessly, and she found she grew weaker and felt increasingly exhausted in her daily routine, even with her normal daily tasks. I was glad our room was close to the town square so that she could go back and rest when she felt too tired to walk.

We were downstairs in one of the gift shops when Mom’s eyes lit up. She’d spotted the sale sign on Willow Tree items. I was curious about what she’d wanted from the selection, so I followed her over to the table, where she stood admiring the Nativity set.

She bought that basic Nativity set as my Christmas gift that year and added to it for the next several years, giving me a new part of the collection each year. At the time, I was thankful, but not nearly as grateful for that gift then as I am today. The memory of our time together lives on, and this is one gift that I truly cherish because it marks our trip and takes me right back to the place where she found the joy of giving this to me and building it over time. When I admire these pieces, she is right here with me. In this Nativity, I see the past, present, and future.

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A Slice of Night: From 1:21 to 3:38 to 4:32 a.m

Photo by Leeloo Thefirst on Pexels.com

It’s 3:38 a.m. and since 1:21, 

a crooner has been singing

on repeat in my ear right through the pillow 

It’s the Holiday Season

So hoop-de-do

And hickory dock

and just exactly at 12 o’clock

He’ll be coming down the chimney

coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney down

And I need this to stop!!! 

Because I need to worry

About the ceiling

And the little piece of plaster that fell 

That Briar tried to replace with

Glue and tape and a broomstick 

On top of a tall ladder but it 

Plunged to the floor and broke

Now we need a spackling job

But there might be moisture 

And we might need a repair

Or black mold might start growing

And take over the whole house

And we would get sick and die

And I need to worry about what might have happened

if he’d fallen off that ladder at his age

And all the whatifs that go with a thing like that 

Like if we want to change where we will be buried because I do NOT want to be buried on the current plan anymore and I asked for my own cemetery way back a year ago in July and it still hasn’t happened and so maybe I’ll get a Christmas cemetery,

I sure hope so,

down by the road under the only hardwoods on this farm, with little iron fence that stays empty until we are all too old to move or talk or breathe anymore, but a cemetery that’s ready at any moment just for the peace of mind

I might be the only woman on the face of this planet who would cry tears of unwept joy opening the gift of a personal cemetery, but I’m dead serious 

I heard a thud and am relieved

It’s a pillow I kicked off the bed and not a dog 

Especially the one who already

Broke a leg before we rescued him

Now he just snuggled closer to me

Those little feet 

Always find the boobs always 

Always always and ouch 

Ouch

He burrows to my feet finally

Thank Goodness

I have the presents but I still need to

Wrap some and remember to get part 2 of the work gift exchange 

And make Little Debbie Christmas tree cake dip – and replace the regular sprinkles with Christmas sprinkles 

And after 2 pairs of Levi’s and a pair of Timberland Boots that I have gotten him again just like for the past at least 8 Christmases 

He says on December 11 before bed

He wants a sound machine because these new fans are too quiet 

They don’t make them like they used to

And I need to gather pine cones for the night tree.

Crisco and birdseeds I already have, and that twine is somewhere maybe even in the toolbox

and I need another newspaper since I used extra newsprint on gift wrapping but now we will for sure need it for the mess after reading the book and honoring the critter tree tradition

And these grandkids will do this. It’s what their father and aunts and I have done since he was little in preK and got the book as a gift from his teacher and it is what I was doing by the driveway when he called to tell me he was planning on popping the question to their mother

this tree we have always done together

But no gingerbread houses, no!! Lord, no! There aren’t enough sprinkles and nerves in this world for that, that’s why I bought them the Lego set last year. They can put that together as their gingerbread house.

We will make cookies. Break and bake sugar cookies with a can of store-bought icing with a tablespoon of Crisco and some cornstarch mixed in with the beaters so the icing will harden and maybe we use the regular sprinkles for that since my granddaughter likes pink, the one who can say she likes pink

I think we can do that and sweep up all the sprinkles 

And I have to be up in an hour getting ready now that it is 4:00 because the conference is an hour away and registration starts at 7:00 so I need to leave here by 6;00 meaning feet on the floor at 5:00 

and help!!! What to wear???

I haven’t even worried about that yet so maybe the gray pants and a black shirt and sweater but my feet will freeze if I can’t wear my regular black boots and they don’t go with those pants and I just don’t want to wear a dress since I have to wear my magnetic work name tag and it looks like it’s lost on a dress so maybe 

….could I get away with jeans? Wouldn’t that just be great to show up in the ripped knee pair? Surely they would take that one picture if I did, the one defining conference picture to go on social media to show all of us working, thinking critically, collaborating, communicating, creating

All the professionals in their pressed slacks and boutique blouses and nametags and me in my ripped jeans and boots and camo shirt and it’s too bad it’s so cold or I could pull out my camo Birkenstocks for that picture and if I were really bold just wear them in the winter with socks to hear Joan Sedita talk about The Writing Rope 

the one supposed to be a random candid where I’m the only one looking straight at the camera like I’m all defiant in my fashion all because I couldn’t sleep and it’s the holiday season 

And hoop-de-do

And hickory dock

And just exactly at 12 o’clock

He’ll be coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney down

Happy holidays

Happy holidays

While the merry bells keep ringing

Happy holidays

to you

It’s the holiday season

And Santa Claus is coming round

The winter snow is white on the ground

And when old Santa gets into town

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

It’s the holiday season

And Santa Claus has got a toy

For every good girl and good little boy

He’s got a great big bundle o’ joy

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

He’s got a big fat pack upon his back

And lots of goodies for you and for me

So leave a peppermint stick for old St. Nick

Hanging on the Christmas tree

It’s the holiday season

So hoop-de-do and hickory dock

And don’t forget to hang up your sock

‘Cause just exactly at 12 o’clock

He’ll be coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney down

Happy holidays

Happy holidays

While the merry bells keep ringing

Happy holidays to you

  • …..and now it’s 4:32
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Festive Gas Pumps

Earlier this week, I watched a Tik Tok video showing a prank a teenage girl played on her father by telling him she was having car trouble and didn’t know why. She said she’d put gas in the car and loved the festive red and green gas pumps the stations were putting out for Christmas like she’d seen on Tik Tok, and that she’d chosen the green one. She knew she wasn’t out of gas.

“You didn’t!” her dad muttered in disbelief, before using a few choice words about staying off of Tik Tok.

When I pulled into the gas station on my way home from a conference yesterday, I chuckled when I saw the pumps. Sure enough – red and green.

I chose the red one.

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Allegiance to Gratitude in Braiding Sweetgrass

Photo by Laura James on Pexels.com

Earlier this week, I blogged about the increasing popularity of rage rooms and the owners who are purchasing vintage glassware, antique dishes, and grandma’s oil lamps to be smashed with baseball bats and golf clubs in controlled settings across the nation. They’re scouring estate sales for the dishes that families have gathered around for the last century or two, purchasing what folks can no longer persuade their children or other relatives to use in their own homes, and wearing helmets with eye protection as it’s all beaten to smithereens behind a concrete wall.

This may seem to some like a violent death of memory and sentiment. It may show disrespect to the items being smashed, from the artistry of the design to the materials used to make these things that have long held presence around tables feeding families or that have held oil to light rooms and keep aglow the faces of loved ones centuries ago.

Perhaps, though, the best chance of life these items have is in their recycling – – a reincarnation, of sorts, for things boxed up in darkness, locked away in storage, held hostage as prisoners of uselessness for decades, like the aging adult’s own version of the Island of Misfit Toys with nowhere to go and nothing to do but wait. A rage room may at first seem in direct opposition to the gratitude factor of thankfulness – but is it really any more offensive than attics full of items without purpose, kept that way by those who should value them most and keep their spirits bright?

As I drove to visit a family member having surgery two states north of me last week, I listened to Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer. The author herself reads the book on Audible, and hearing her voice is almost as pleasant as pausing every few minutes to truly soak in the meaning of her words from a new perspective – – and an important one. Similarly to the way Aldo Leopold reminds us of our duty to be good stewards with a strong land ethic in A Sand County Almanac, Kimmerer reminds us in her chapter “Allegiance to Gratitude” that every single item we eat or use comes at the cost of the life of a plant or animal. As good citizens, we should follow the guidelines for the honorable harvest of consumption, from the wood in our furniture to the food on our plates. Allegiance to gratitude is what begets abundance – not the collecting and storing of items that are not being used, because this disrespects the energy from Mother Earth to produce these things and invokes perceptions of hoarding: get all you can, can all you get, and sit on your can. Taking and using only what is needed is the way to be environmentally responsible for future generations. Having what can be used and fully appreciated cultivates a fuller appreciation of all of our blessings.

Gratitude has been a year-long spotlight word for me – – a goal word. It is fitting that in December, I am reading Kimmerer’s words with a renewed sense of gift giving. This year, we’re practicing a different gift-giving arrangement for my grandchildren. They’ll each receive something they want, something they need, something to wear, and something to read. We’re simplifying, redefining less as more.

We’re cultivating gratitude.