Do you ever find yourself amused (and amazed) by peoples' white trash antics?
Sure you do.
Southern Fried White Trash takes a humorous look at the unbelievable mindset of the national subculture (and Southern specialty) we affectionately refer to as "white trash."

Thursday, December 2, 2010

We’re all given gifts…and shortcomings

This is one of my favorite tru-isms in life. We are all given gifts, strengths, things at which we excel. Just to keep things interesting, we're all given shortcomings, too. I have always tried to teach this principle to my children, never wanting them to compare themselves to others and come away feeling lacking.
God gave me the gift of communicating with written words, and I thank Him for that. I love writing, and I love reading because of this gift. Because He has the consummate sense of humor, He also gave me a rather embarrassing weakness. Well I have many, but one in particular makes me the brunt of many jokes, especially this time of year.
I can't untangle things or open most packaging. That's it. Sounds harmless, but think about it. Every year at this time, my husband hauls down all of our Christmas decorations. Decorating the tree is the responsibility of my daughter and me. Of course, the first thing to be done is stringing lights on the tree- lights that were hastily put away a year ago. We pull them out of the box in one giant, tangled, angry ball. They didn't look like that when we packed them away last year. They looked nicely looped and arranged. Somehow over the past 11 months, the lights have all become one strand of criss-crossed, knotted confusion, and they're laughing at me.
Every year, I promise myself that I will not get frustrated and hand the tangled ball of lights over to my husband to unravel. I handle the ball, turning it over and over to see if there's a loose end that I can magically pull that solves the problem. There never is. I pick at the mess, gouge my fingers down into the middle of it, try to pull it apart with my teeth. Nothing. My heart starts to beat faster, and I begin to sweat. My frustration spikes after about 30 seconds. A minute into the undertaking, and I use the ball of lights as a shotput.
In fact before I met my husband, I simply bought all new Christmas lights – indoor AND outdoor – every year. The first year we were together, he was dumbfounded by the sheer number of strands of twinklers I possessed. Laid end-to-end, they would have encircled the globe dozens of times, blinging up the entire planet for all to enjoy . We have been married 11 years, and this is the first year we've had to go out and buy a couple of strings of lights to replace some that burned out. We can never buy a pre-lit Christmas tree because my friends, if one light or God forbid one strand ever goes out, the entire tree would have to go into the garbage.
Needless to say, my husband ends up untangling all of the lights every year. I sit by looking futile and pointless, but still somehow relieved. Our decorations are always tasteful and beautiful, but only a select few people know the blood, sweat and tears behind them.
And then, it's time to open gifts. Have you ever tried to open an item packaged in that hyper-space melded plastic that's fused at the edges? Too bad they didn't have that material back in the days of the chastity belt.

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