Merry Christmas!

Since last Christmas?  Let’s see…the pipes burst like three times.  Practically the whole of my plumbing has been replaced, which I’m hoping will get me through this winter, since I broke up with my plumber.

Ending it with Rogor turned out to be an extremely good call: he was arrested early in November and no one has seen/heard hide nor hair since.  That’s what happens to an alcoholic in recovery who doesn’t clean up his wreckage.  I have no pity for him; I’ve found out too much since June.  So that part of my life is over, and I count myself fortunate to have emerged relatively unscathed.  I hope for this to be the last mention I need to make of it.

I grew my first eggplant this last summer.  It was the only thing in my garden that grew, and it didn’t mature until Nov.  But they were so pretty!  Everybody around here had problems with their gardens.  It was a strange growing year.  I’m thinking there’s just way too much shade in my yard.  When my trees are fully leafed, they cover nearly the whole thing.  So I think I’ll roto-till the front of my lot, outside the fence (I’m actually hoping to hire a teenager to do it).  I’m planning on chopping the crape myrtles to the ground; they’re really just big weeds.  They’re the only shade in that area.  I’m not worried about fencing it.  We don’t seem to have problems with vandalism here.

I celebrated nine years of sobriety on October 14, if anyone besides me is counting.  God is so good.

I’ve added two critters to the family.  One is an extremely handsome iguana named Donatello (pic attached for those with e-mail).  The other is a human named Jim.  Jim lives on my couch as of last week; before that he didn’t live anywhere.  I don’t know much about him, but he strikes me as being a decent person who just needs a hand up.  The dogs like him, and he keeps them from being alone all day.  He’s waiting on an interview with WalMart now; I’m keeping my fingers crossed for him.  He’s been out of work for months—finding a job anywhere has become a miraculous accomplishment.

I’m still at WalMart.  I like it.  My stress level is pretty much gone (I worry about money a lot, but try to leave that with God).  I get lots of exercise, and have learned of some herbs and dietary changes that help with the nerve pain.  I think if I keep going the way I am, I’ll be able to crochet again soon.

I think I still want to teach.  It keeps changing.  What doesn’t change is the grade.  I have a full-time job with benefits now; I have time to be picky.  I will hold out for first grade, that much I know for sure.  I’m an okay teacher in other grades.  In first grade I’m a good teacher.  That’s where my heart is, and that’s where I want to be.  The whole point in becoming a teacher was to be able to spend the rest of my working life doing something I love.  I’d certainly make more money, and it would be nice to not be scared all the time, but I don’t want that to be my whole reason behind teaching.

I don’t have any news, really.  Nothing happens in my life (and I like it that way).  I’m happy and grateful just to wake up in my home with my pets and have another day in which to grow and become closer with God.  I have all I need, I guess.  I’ll be spending Christmas with my Texas family.  I have no money for gifts this year, but they don’t mind.  I’ll provide dessert; Lenny says I make the best pecan pie he’s ever had (and in Texas, pecans are free—they’re lying all over the ground).  It’s funny how, as I go on with my life, the outer trappings mean less and less to me.  You can’t tell it’s Christmas by looking around my house.  I remember when I’d be sure I would die without a tree.  Today I have one—it’s in the shed.  If I needed it, I’d put it up, but this year I just don’t need it.  What Christ did for me is forever in my heart.  Christmas Eve service is at 6:00 on Wednesday, and I’ll be there.  And I don’t care if no one knows or can agree on the exact date or year.  He was born.

I wish you love, warmth, roofs over your heads, healthy relatives, plenty of food and quiet minds.

Love,

jesse