December 31, 2008


Driving home from my parent's house on Christmas night the kids kept commenting that this was 'the best Christmas ever.'
And I wholeheartedly agree.

The 24th and 25th were not among some of my better days. The 24th I was only able to be up and off the couch for a short amount of time. The 25th was more manageable. I was so thankful that we could spend the afternoon and evening with my parents and my brother and his family. We spent a lot of time laughing and eating really great food and did I mention we laughed..a lot. Even though I had to spend a large part of the day either lying down or trying to move as little as possible in order to keep my symptoms manageable, I really had an awesome time. Yet, by days end, my neuropathy pain was sky high and I had difficulty walking.

However, living with Lyme has taught me that my happiness cannot be dependent on my circumstance or how well I feel or don't feel. Life is fraught with many challenges, and these do not cease to exist on Christmas.
We must simply make a choice to not let it govern our outlook.

We choose to make it what it is.
It was the best Christmas ever.

Yes, life can throw us a curve ball, things can go sideways, upside down, and backwards, and plans may never quite go as planned. Life is not perfect. Far from it, in fact. But it is in the imperfection that we find the most meaning. And in the midst of it all, blessings can abound. Dreams can come true, wishes can be granted and hopes fulfilled. Precious moments spent with loved ones can be cherished. And laughter and merriment can reign supreme.

All of these things combined made this the best Christmas on record.
Yes, it was the best Christmas ever.

December 30, 2008


Every Christmas there is the one gift that seems to steal the show. The one gift that has been dreamed of, hoped for and endlessly wished for. The one toy you would have begged, borrowed or stole for. Over the past couple of years, there has been one toy in particular that my boys have yearned for... An XBOX 360.

They have schemed and devised all sorts of entrepreneurial plans to help them obtain this most coveted of possessions. Somehow they have always come up just shy of their mark. And it has remained just out of their reach.

Before Christmas, I was having the proverbial 'what are you getting the kids for Christmas' chat with a girlfriend. I told her about the boys and their XBOX dreams and how Graham and I were trying to figure out a way to make that happen.

Several weeks later, I was driving home from one of my detox appointments, when my friend called to tell me that they wanted to make the boys dream happen for them. I nearly drove off the road I was crying so hard. I just couldn't understand why they would want to do this for our family. She laughed and told me her husband understood gaming. When she had told him about how much our boys wanted an XBOX, his immediate response had been, "An xbox for a boy isn't a want, it's a need!"

It wasn't long after that conversation that several top secret boxes made their way under our tree. A generous gift from this dear friend and her husband who decided to do for our boys what we could not.

Of course, Graham and I knew what the packages contained. These boxes contained the one gift that our boys have dreamed of, hoped for, wished for over and over again for the past couple of years. We were giddy with excitement for them and all manner of scheming went into how best to wrap them order to maximize optimal delight and shock on Christmas morning.

We could barely contain our excitement at the thought of the boys opening them on Christmas morning. Anticipating an exuberant, jubilant, over the top, rip roaring emotional response, we made sure that the video camera was posed to record every jubilant moment.

However, we grossly under anticipated the shock factor.

Of course, part of that had to do with them being totally confused - thanks to our carefully planned and orchestrated opening scheme....

We told them who the packages were from as we handed them over.

The first boxes they opened contained the xbox games and a controller.

After a moment of awkward silence, Taylor put on a brave face and said,

"I guess they don't know that we don't have an xbox."

Feigning total ignorance, we suggested that maybe they should open the accompanying package.
And then we sat back and waited for the granddaddy of all freak outs to occur.

They ripped into the package to reveal, drumroll please, the XBOX 360!

No thunderous response occurred.
They were so beyond surprised to receive the gift that they never, ever expected to get in a million years that they were shocked into total silence.
And I mean complete and utter silence.
And completely dumbstruck.

As in they could not believe their eyes dumbstruck.

It was so completely unexpected that it took them awhile to clue in.
An XBOX 360...THEIR XBOX 360!

Once the shock wore off and the exclamations of "I can't believe it!" and "Is this really real?!" died down, they got down to the business of gaming.

Serious gaming.
And it has been furiously going on ever since.

I had no idea how advanced gaming systems had gotten. I mean I am not so clueless as to think they hadn't somehow advanced from the Atari Ping Pong of my childhood however I had no idea the extent.

And I certainly had no idea that you can play 'live'. Taylor is now hooked up live...meaning he can talk and compete against his friends from around the city.

It's so crazy. And yes, I'm a little behind the times. At least I finally understand what all the fuss is about now!

Graham and I have spent the remainder of the holidays listening to the laughter and bravado that accompanies boys in all their gaming glory. We are so thrilled for them. And so grateful to our friends.

And it's a good thing the xbox was the last present the boys opened... as I suspect there would still be unopened presents sitting under the tree if it had been the first!

December 29, 2008


Ahh, Christmas! 'Tis the season for creating and preserving precious memories!
It is also the one time a year that everyone observes time honored traditions and endures other subtle forms of torture!

Traditional Goertzen Christmas Eve paraphenalia

...A Blow torch and Jammies

We have several time honored traditions that have become a part of our Christmas celebrations.
Some we remember the origins of and others have somehow just evolved over time and no one can pinpoint exactly when they began or why. As the years go by and the kids get older, the implementation of some of our more juvenile traditions are met with some eye rolling and guffawing, yet at the heart of it, they are actually insistent on us keeping them.

In our family, traditions come in many shapes and forms. Some are just plain old silly and funny; some involve stalking a fat man in a red suit; some include small, nocturnal rodents; some are scrumptiously sinful; some are just downright embarrassing. And some are meaningful and sentimental while others are rather torturous affairs to endure. But all are what create the precious memories that we carry with us as the years melt away. Here's just a few of our tried and true traditions.

We always kick off the Christmas season by watching the Tim Allen Santa Clause movies.

Every Christmas Eve we attend a special candlelit Christmas Eve service at our church. This year I was not well enough to attend...however that disappointment was tempered by the knowledge that most of Canada was housebound too albeit due to the copious amount of snow that plunged our world into a blustery white wonderland.

After church, we always return home to feast on mile high nachos, play games and open Christmas Eve Jammies. I'm not sure where the nachos evolved from nor how or when we discovered that Taylor is the maestro of nacho building. Believe me, you haven't had nachos until you've had Taylor's...however, one must be prepared to wait, and wait, and wait, and wait for them. Apparently perfection takes awhile. That's our nacho chefs excuse anyway!

I have opened Christmas Eve Jammies for as long as I can remember. It is a tradition I have carried over from my childhood and continued with my children.

Somehow the opening of Christmas Eve Jammies has evolved into a 'themed event' over the years. Every year I try and do a 'pajama theme'. Several years ago, I bought all the guys Superman PJs. Last year every one got Jammies with skulls - somewhat morbid now that I think about it! This year I decided everyone could use a good old pair of 'old fashioned' jammies - the 2 pieced, button up, Grandpa kind.

Looking hot, Grandpa!

I buy for the kids and Graham. Graham buys for me. I like an element of surprise and so I keep the theme top secret. Not even Graham knows -which means that my jammies don't generally 'match' the rest of the family...however, my husband picks out the best pajamma's in the world! And I wouldn't want his creativity hemmed in by a theme, and quite frankly, trying to buy themed pjs for me would probably completely stress him out. After all, most years we have to wait to open our Christmas Eve jammies while he quickly wraps mine up at the eleventh hour!

Our shame on us tradition is our yuletide log. The one we take a blow torch to in order to light. Truly shameful when you learn that our yuletide log is ceramic and our fireplace is gas.

We use our fireplace exactly twice a year. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
And every single Christmas Eve, while Graham, with Taylor assisting, spend a good 45 minutes trying to light our fireplace,

I nervously barricade myself behind the couch and call out a variety of helpful suggestions,
"Really, it's okay. We don't need a fire." or "I don't think this is a very good idea."

Eventually, they are successful in setting our yuletide log ablaze. Of course not before each of us has at some point during the harrowing saga pointed out the obvious...

"We have to remember to figure this out BEFORE Christmas Eve."
Somehow we never remember.

A number of years ago, due to the magic of the internet, we were able to stalk, er, I mean track Santa on Christmas Eve. I can still vividly remember the wonder of the whole Santa phenom from my childhood. It's kinda sad when that bubble is burst. But it is wonderful to re-live the magic and wonder once again through the eyes of your children. Through the Santa tracker we have gotten much enjoyment from watching the kids excitement as they monitor him on line.

However, by last year, the novelty of it had kind of worn off. Taylor still believed (lol) however Parker was skeptical and Avery was still too young to be overly impressed. So I was pretty excited to discover the newest internet Santa magic. The Portable North Pole from which Santa sent you a personalized message. Taylor and Parker were duly impressed and 'oohh'd and ah'd. Avery just quietly watched. A little too quietly actually. After watching, I excitedly asked her what she thought.
Without moving, she turned her big blue eyes on me and quietly whispered,

"That made me a little nervous."

I think next year we'll just stick to our basic stalking technique.

Our jokes on you tradition revolves around my husband and me. Surprise. Surprise. Our first married Christmas, Graham really made a huge fuss over one particular tv commercial. Whenever the ad for Terry's Chocolate Orange came on he would go on and on and on about how good they were! And then he'd mutter something about it being too bad they only sell them in the US. I took note and searched high and lo before finding one in Canada. I was so impressed with myself and excited to surprise him with this delectable delight he so expressely exclaimed over! Imagine my delight when he broke into the biggest grin upon opening it on Christmas morning. Feeling incredibly pleased with myself, I proudly exclaimed,
"I found you a Terry's orange. Isn't that awesome! Don't you just love me?"

To which came his reply,
"You thought I was serious?"

Apparently all his overexagerated fuss over it had nothing to do with some sort of outrageous craving but was his rendition of total sarcasm and mocking of the corny commmercials. And the fact that he thought the orange and chocolate combination actually sounded really gross!

Every year he gets a terry's orange...Every year, I make him eat it. All of it! Box and all!

Our most recently implemented tradition revolves around the newest addition to our family. Walter, our family hamster. Yes. I admit. I am a slave to our pleasantly plump furriest family member. Somehow he has managed to steal my heart and in the process has managed to snag my stocking!

This year Santa brought Walter hamster donuts and a fluffy duvet to cozy up in.

Among the more torturous of our traditions is the long and leisurely brunch we insist on feeding the kids BEFORE they open their gifts. Okay, we're not completely cruel, we do allow them to open their stockings before breakfast but not of course, before we make coffee. Fresh coffee. As in have to freshly grind the beans, filter the water and milk the cow fresh. Hey, they're lucky we don't insist on using a french press.

Then once mom and dad are nicely caffeinated we can move on to the delight of stocking'd surprises. Which generally include some sort of tongue in cheek addition in somebody's stocking. This year Taylor got "BOSS" and "ATTITUDE" cologne samplers.

After stockings, the kids endure the only 8 course, gourmet breakfast that is ever made for them. A special part of that breakfast is Pilsbury Cinammon buns. I grew up having those on Christmas morning.

Of course, to balance out the immense sugar rush, we throw in a wopping collection of fat and protein. Sausage, bacon, eggs, fruit, oatmeal.

During breakfast, we always read the Christmas story and spend some time reflecting on the true meaning of Christmas. We desire that this is not just be a going through the motions type of tradition. So once the story is read, we require the kids to each write a short essay about the meaning of Christmas. Truly kidding but I'm thinking it might be a good one to implement for next year.
But as the kids get older, it is truly neat to see how hearing the account of the most amazing miracle ever recorded impacts them differently each year.

Finally probably the most loudly protested and painfully endured tradition of all is the dreaded family photo. The prim and proper, primped and beguiling smiles hide what has really gone on behind the scenes... it is almost a guarantee that before we are done, someone will have cried, someone will have gotten huffy, kids will have been bribed, badgered and bullied, and everyone will have yelled

"Take the stupid picture already!"

We broke from tradition this year.
Forget prim and proper.
Behold world, the Goertzen's in all their bed clothed glory!

December 22, 2008


I have been brought to tears many times over this amazing Christmas season.

I am amazed at how God provides for us.
How despite paying out close to 3 grand a month in out of pocket expenses for my medical fight, there our Christmas presents under our tree, food in our pantry, a roof over our heads, and joy in our hearts...all due to the generosity of others. We have an immense sense of gratitude for those of you who have been a part of God's miraculous provision in our lives.

We are overwhelmed and humbled by it. When I consider that so many of you are faced with your own trials and tribulations, yet have chosen to reach out despite your own pain, to bless our family, it makes me cry. We recognize and acknowledge that each of you carries pain that is unique to you and your journey. Many of you have shared your own stories and struggles with us and they have touched our hearts.

You are in our hearts and minds and prayers this Christmas season.

I think of my cousin serving in the Sudan and for his wife and family back home. I wonder how they all do it.
What kind of courage it must take to serve and the courage it must take to be left behind. We have a new found respect for them and for our troops as our eldest son is preparing to enter the military in a year and a half. He has the goal of becoming an air force pilot which will require a 9 year commitment of military service. We are fearful for him yet incredibly proud of him and this which he feels is his calling in life.

Over the past several weeks, I have spoken with several of my fellow lymies - all of their stories break my heart.
I think of the friends who will ache to hold the children they have lost. Or others who will face their first Christmas without a loved one by their side.I think of Sumit, our World Vision son in India. I wonder what Christmas will hold for Sumit and his family.

I think of the countless others of you who will face this season with a bittersweet mixture of joy and pain.
I find myself chagrined to admit the times that I am overwhelmed by despair, hopelessness, or feel forgotten or alone. Or that my journey is too much to bear. The reality is that I am blessed. Our family has been the recipients of untold blessings raining down on us through the snowy skies of the heavens. We are humbled and grateful that both friends and strangers alike have chosen to bless us. And as inadequate as it feels to say, I say

Thank You.

Thank you for your generous gifts of love, prayer and both financial and emotional support

Thank you for choosing to be part of God's miraculous provision in our lives this year and this Christmas Season.

For far after the gifts have been opened and the food consumed,
our family will carry the blessings of this season with us for a lifetime. We will remember and carry with us the knowledge that even in the midst of darkness....blessings can abound in the most exquisite and miraculous of ways.

Yes, Christmas makes me cry.
I cry tears of thankfulness.
I cry tears of hope.
I cry tears of joy.

Please watch
Christmas makes me cry

December 21, 2008


I am house bound today.
But not because of the snow.
Nope. I'm more or less unable to get out of bed again.

A nasty flare in my symptoms has left me with disproportionately swollen hands and feet. I have nerve and bone pain that is earth shattering. As in "I am desperate to crawl out of my skin" type of pain.

I'm not exactly sure what is the cause of my flare up other than speculating with an educated guess. This disease cycles with symptoms intensifying every 4 weeks. This is my 'flare week'. When I am on treatment these flares are called herxes and are far worse to endure and my symptoms are far more exacerbated than when not on meds. I am hopeful this flare will be shorter and not as long as usual given that I am currently still on a drug holiday from my IV treatment.

I am hoping, praying, dreaming of a herx-free Christmas!

I had my monthly phone appointment with Dr H this week. I was fully prepared to be told that my drug holiday was effectively over. In fact, I rather expected him to very loudly and very forcefully tell me to get my butt back on IV. However, I got a pleasant surprise.

Surprise, surprise, my drug holiday has been Dr H's recommendation!!

Could have knocked me over with one of the feather's from my chicken coop!

Dr H is very pleased and relieved with the progress I am making on this detox regimen. Did I mention he mentioned he's relieved...over and over?

His relief was palpable.
"I am so relieved that your body is handling the effects of detox. I'm actually really relieved and totally shocked. After how sick you became this fall, I fully expected that I was going to have to hospitalize you in order to detox you."

I had an appointment with DR A after my appointment with Dr H and he too admitted that he had been very concerned that another hospitalization was more likely than not. He's relieved that I am responding to detox in a non-death defying sort of way too.
Phew! Me too.
In fact I think there are a whole whack of us relieved that my body is better handling the effects of detoxing this time around.

Thankfully, this time around, I am remaining semi-functional in my detox dysfunction. Currently I am averaging about 3 'good' days a week. This is in vast contrast to this past fall when I was essentially bedridden for 6 weeks straight. However, detox is still no picnic in the park. And it is moving at the excruciatingly slow pace of a snail.
My lymph system is incredibly sluggish. It took 8 lymph drainage massage sessions before my system even started to budge. My therapist kept commenting on how I respond the exact opposite of any other patient she has ever had.

Welcome to my world.
I am a medical anomaly of abnormalities!

Most folks are exhausted after lymph massage, I come out feeling high.
Most folks lose weight, I swelled up like a balloon and gained 12 lbs.
Most folks find relief from joint pain, I leave my massages so gimped up, I can barely walk.
Most folks consistently improve with each session. I, on the other hand, am only consistently inconsistent.
One week, I'm lumpy and bumpy. The next, I'm boggy and puffy. Currently, I'm mushy and spongy. (Thank you to my therapist for providing me with these very technical terms!)
Most folks find massage relaxing, I shake and quake and cringe.

Yes, I am probably the only person in the world who does not find massage a blissful experience.

Dr H has extended my drug holiday until Jan 10...provided that I continue with his prescribed detox protocal. He would like me to continue with the detox regimen until my body is able to efficiently detox, either on its own or with the continued support of the therapies I am currently undergoing.

After Jan 10, I will re-start on my IV treatment. I will be going back on my old friend IV Rocephin and adding in a new IV med, either IV Azithromyacin or IV Clindamyacin. (We'll be going with which ever one is the cheaper of the two)

I have some anxiety about starting up the IV meds after being on holiday so long. However, DR H has assured me that my response and herxing will be less severe. He believes that the intensity of my herxes over the last couple of months, have had more to do with my high level of neurotoxins than it being the result of high levels of bacteria dying off.
Dr H believes that I became so violently ill when we started detox earlier this fall because we were still maintaining a hardcore bug killing regime. He surmises that my body is not able to handle both detox and bug killing together. At the time, my lymphatic system was too clogged up to effectively eliminate toxins from my body. The more bugs we kill, the more toxins they release. Because those toxins were not being expelled, they remained trapped in my body where they had nothing bettter to do but wreak constant havoc. He assures me, that once we get my lymphatic system moving, my herxing will be more manageable once I re-start IV.

DR H explained that Lyme is a battle that needs to be fought on 5 different fronts.

1. Bad Ass Bug Killing (his words, not mine!)
2. Tartgeting Biofilms
3. Decreasing Bio/Neurotoxins
4. Regulating Immune System
5. Supporting Impaired Physiology

As long as we are working on 2-3 of these at a time, then we are still fighting Lyme and not losing a lot of ground in the overall fight. Of course hard core bug killing is the top priority. It is the fastest way from point A to point B. However, expelling those nasty critters from my body is equally important. Which currently makes detoxing our top priority.

Hence, my drug holiday has been stayed.
And so I am hoping, praying, dreaming of a herx-free Christmas.

December 19, 2008


We had a harrowing Christmas Break-in at our home today.

Fortunately the intruder was my husband.

My husband is less than impressed that he was forced to burglarize his own home.

I don't blame him. Lyme has once again turned his life upside down. A bad flare in the neurological component of my Lyme forced him into a momentary life of high risk crime.

Cue the James Bond theme song now.

Unfortunately, the only chance he had at gaining access into our home was through our bedroom window before he would have to resort to breaking something expensive.

Oh, and our bedroom resides on the third story of our home.

Risking life and limb, Graham was forced to scale the slippery, snowy siding of our home to reach his point of entry between the slats of our mini blinds.

Now that he has safely survived his harrowing Christmas break-in, I must admit something. Secretly, I am actually rather impressed with myself. I have skill. Think about it. It takes skill to lock yourself out of a house that has a front door with a dead bolt.

Exactly how does one lock oneself out of a house that has to be locked from the OUTSIDE with a KEY?

Gee, if I knew the answer to that, we wouldn't have found ourselves in the predicament we did.

I have been been somewhat aware that I am currently somewhat spacey. Of course, the degree of severity somewhat eluded me until today. However, there have been several circumstances that have provided ample hints that should have clued me into the fact that I am not currently operating with a full deck.

For example, lately my blogs tend to be riddled with red lines. They actually take more time to edit then they do to write. My computer actually emits smoke each time I engage the spell check application.

Then there are the incredulous looks my kids get when I ask them what they'd like to eat or to get something from the fridge. I have been rather perplexed as to why these most mundane of questions somehow elicit puzzled looks and gales of laughter.

My confusion is short-lived, when between giggles they respond,
"Mom you just called the fridge an orange."
"Really, thanks but no thanks, we'd rather not eat a garburator for lunch."

So really, should it be any surprise that I somehow managed to lock us all out of the house this morning?

Oh, what my family suffers because of my lame lyme brain.

After our morning excitement, I needed to take Taylor to an appointment. You can imagine his apprehension at having me be the one to drive him there.

On the drive there, he kept reminding me that
"Green means GO!"
"Red means STOP!"
"Mom, do you remember that stop is spelled S-T-O-P?"

I thought he was just being cheeky until I glanced over and noticed his brow was beaded with sweat and he was rather pale. At least he'll maybe have some empathy for us and how we we feel whenever he's the one behind the wheel.

So that's the kind of week it's been in the Goertzen household.

Earlier this week, Graham asked me how I thought I was doing neurologically...
I think he has his answer.

He's married to a super duper space cadet.

December 18, 2008


white feathers aplenty, black feathers galore
this is my ode to the fine feathered friends
whose downy plumage I simply adore

Welcome to the Goertzen Christmas Bird Sanctuary
we're a safe haven for birds...or so it would appear
I say welcome, my husband says beware

every Christmas he gripes and complains
what do feathers have to do with Christmas anyway?
he goes on and on in a tirade of rants
i simply can't understand his failure to see their fluffy elegance

He goes on to grumpily wonder aloud
why does my house resemble a chicken coop?
I roll my eyes and cheerfully reply
thankfully these birds will not christen this coop with any poop

from time to time he can be overheard
asking the cheekiest of questions
are those feathered trees or rectal thermometers used on a bird?
i shrug my shoulders and brazenly retort
they're not real chicks nor do they cheep
our feathered decor is simply chic and really cheap
oh joy! i made that tree for a dollar ninety three!

my ability to decorate is slightly impaired
due to a tick that has made me ridiculously sick
enter miss sharon, as she's known to most
my multi talented girlfriend extraordinaire
who shares my affinity for fine feathered decor

this year and last she gave me a gift
cheerfully, magically she transformed my home
gave freely of her time, talents and energy
all the while calling it nothing
yet to me it meant everything
i am touched and blessed
and completely mesmerized by my 'Ginter' Christmas tree
a majestic showstopper of fine feathered splendor

now back to my husband
who is off in a corner grumpily shaking his head
i'm perturbed by his petulant behavior
yet in fairness to him i must admit
he has good reason for his obvious agitation

if you hear the whole story
you will understand his disgruntled irritation
after all, he has quite the bird history
it includes more than one scary story

I'll start with the one that took place one sunday morn
taylor discovered a poor baby starling
it was obviously injured and sadly dying
the boy was completely forlorn
"please can we save the birdy?"
begged our boy to his daddy
my man was sure the poor little bird was beyond repair
a sad lesson to learn for our boy of eleven
harder yet still for his father to teach
"its suffering son" said my man to his boy
"i think it'd be best if we helped expedite it's trip to heaven"

working around the lump in his throat
and with great care and compassion
my man wielded his axe
and prepared to carry out his mission
in one fell swoop, no pun intended
the baby bird he beheaded
unfortunately his thumb went with it

the moment my husband lopped off his thumb
the drama of the death of the bird was forgotten
a panicked call to 911 ensued
an ambulance ride was desperately required

6 weeks of rehab happily saved most of his thumb

not before every nurse, doctor and surgeon alike
laughingly inquired, wanting to know
why he'd used an 8lb axe on a 5 ounce bird

and then i can recall a time several years ago
when we returned from a holiday
to find something amiss
it wasn't long before we discovered
2 little birds living in our gingerbread house
and another had set up roost in Avery's room

it's avery's nursery not a bird aviary
graham yelled at the birds, as if they understood
2 hours later he could be found
running in circles with broom madly waving
the birds were all squawking and flapping and pooping
what a mess
even i was not impressed

i'm sure you've all heard that old saying
'birds of a feather flock together'
this is where my dad enters this story
he stands with my husband in his anti bird solidarity
taking it a step further
he disgustedly states
crows are a societal menace

can't say i blame my dear old dad
for claiming that crows really are bad
for years the poor man has engaged in a war
man vs crow
for reasons we may never know
he has been bullied and ridiculed by more than one crow

he's convinced the black feathered fiends are capable of stalking
dear old dad has a point, i have to agree
the minute he steps outside to go walking
those dastardly crows start cawing evilly
and then over and over again they dive bomb him

for years he's endured their menacing attacks
over and over
we've seen him run for cover

truth be told
his battles are really
a sight to behold
we try not to laugh, it's really not funny
imagine if birds picked on you when you are old

and now i will end with one last story
this one's about a vehicular crow slaughter
but first i must offer a reader beware
for this one is rather quite controversial

recently Graham ran over a crow
he swears it was an accident
reliable witnesses do not agree
more like oopsy accidentally on purpose
comes their adamant decree

he insists he is innocent
that the dumb crow just got in his way
he claims he swerved to miss his prey
yet all who were there were sure beyond reasonable doubt
that no breaks were engaged
in fact, it appears he gunned the engine instead

his guilt was confirmed later that day
when he gleefully exclaimed
dad, i did that for you!

now i hope you understand
the reasons why my husband is jaded
little by little each holiday season
i patiently hope his hostility has faded

i plant words of peace and joy
in the branches of our Christmas tree
hoping to send out subliminal messages
after all its not good for him to be bitter

i know he tries with all his might
to join me in my Christmas decor delight
yesterday surely is proof of this
i came home and was surprised to discover
my IV pole festooned in holiday splendor

now you must excuse me
the kids are all screaming
daddy just ran by and he's wielding his axe
i think a gentle reminder is needed

the birds are not real, dear and honest to goodness, the turkey really is dead