Labor of Love Day: Nookie Time, Snoring, and Really Close Family Weddings

I am a bellydancer, and my spy novel writing partner, Holmes, is a man with experience in intelligence and covert operations. Together, we are The Romance Doctors. As representatives of romantic archetypes, we are Romance Authorities and have the right to dispense Valentine’s Day whenever, wherever, and to whomever we see fit. Last week, we announced an upcoming Valentine’s Day to be held on Labor Day, which will now be called Labor of Love Day. We invited you to send us your questions so that we might help you enjoy the romance of the season. Last week, we solved your hussy conundrums. This week, we take a look at nookie time, snoring, and really close family weddings.

image from gardenerisgone.com

Jenny Hansen asks, “What are the most successful ways to get in nookie time when you have a child under 4? Help!”

Bayard:

My hubby and I recently celebrated 17 years of marital bliss. We attribute 15 of those years – the years since we’ve had children – to an arcane practice that is deeply rooted our Southern/Midwestern blood. It is a practice that is often considered abusive these days, particularly by children, but I will hold hard and fast to my belief that it makes all the difference for a marriage. And if Mommy and Daddy aren’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

That arcane, abusive practice is something we call “bedtime.” From the time our children were ten months old, bedtime was 8 p.m. If the kids weren’t tired, so what? They could be awake in their beds. It certainly didn’t hurt them to have a bit of down time. Eventually, they’d get bored and go to sleep.

The rule was that they went down at 8 and, except for bathroom runs, stayed in their rooms until 6 a.m. Over time, that slipped back to 8:30 p.m., and now, in their teens, they voluntarily go to bed around 10 during the week because they’re tired. But now that they’re teens, we can just go in our room and lock our door. Trust me. They know they don’t want to know.

I’m guessing you don’t already have that 8 p.m. bedtime so it could take a bit of effort at first. I recommend that, at 7:45 p.m. sharp, you give a bath, read a book, sing a song, or whatever it is you do that signals it’s time to sleep. Then put him or her to bed and walk out. No one gets to follow. And leave a sippy cup of water in the room so they have no excuse to come out for a drink. If screaming ensues, and you know he/she is physically unharmed, put in your earplugs and ride it out. Fits are no fun without an audience.

Remember, sleep is a habit, and with kids, twice of anything is a habit. Become unapologetic bedtime fascists, as is your parental right, and I bet that you’ll have some nice, quiet nookie time every evening within a week or two. I honestly don’t think my hubby and I could have survived without it.

image from life123.com

Your other option is that you could invite Holmes and his wife to come babysit for you while you rent a hotel room.

Please let me know how it goes. :)

Holmes:

Sorry Jenny, my wife and I no longer have young children so we are a bit busy attending to something more important than your celibacy at the moment, and I haven’t time to answer you. . . . Hahahahaha. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

Ok. My wife went shopping so I can answer you before she gets home to this quiet house full of comfortable furniture.

If you join an Eskimo tribe you can just do whatever you do without regard to who is in the igloo with you two. Apparently, that works all right in Eskimo culture.

On the serious side, psychologists say that it is best to let children know at a young age that Mom and Dad need to spend time alone with the bedroom door locked. When the toddler wants to know why, you explain that moms and dads need to have time outs together to help them behave better and help them be better moms and dads. They can understand mom and dad needing a hug because they need hugs as well. Then, you need to both agree on priorities and not waste time.

One trick that my wife and I used was to never let the kids use a TV except when we needed first aid. We would then pop in a Magic School Bus video or something similar. Since it was not available to them all day long, they tried not to waste their opportunity by engaging mom or dad. Dumbo and that crazy Ms. Frizzle will forever be my heroes.

Keep him or her busy and active to suit your schedules. To the degree that it is practical, don’t encourage naps except at times when you two can use their naptime meaningfully. Disconnect the phone. You are there, he is there, and the baby is safely asleep. Everyone else can get in line and might or might not get a call back. All friends and family must understand that unannounced visits are forbidden. That reminds me, I still haven’t reconnected our doorbell. I probably should. . . . Nah, I’ll leave it like it is.

My wife and I were very lucky in that my father was available, and his priority in life was playing with his grandchildren. If you have someone trustworthy who wants to be with the baby, use the time wisely. The seemingly nice lady next door, that family that you met at church last month, or the aunt with three adult children in rehab are not candidates for being alone with your children.

If you have a trustworthy sibling with children nearby, do kid swap times. You and hubby get all the kids for a play session for a few hours then they get all the kids for a few hours.

Have Piper and her husband visit and take the kids out all day.

I hope that helps. If not, enjoy that kid, because you won’t be having another one of him or her.

Susie Lindau asks, “What do you do when you have been happily married for 24 years and your husband begins to snore so loud that the dogs start barking at the neighbor’s house?”

Bayard:

That’s a tough one, Susie. Not to be insensitive, but it was tough to quit laughing long enough to answer your question. I’m guessing the crux of the problem is that all of this ruckus is keeping you awake. My only question is, are the dogs keeping you awake, or is your husband?

If the dogs are keeping you awake, talk to your neighbors and politely ask them to keep the dogs inside at night. If they refuse, call the police. Don’t worry that it’s your husband’s raucous concerto that gets them going in the first place. Barking dogs are a police matter. Snoring is not. So your neighbors can’t call the police on your husband in return. At least not for that.

image from dogtopics.com

If it’s your husband keeping you awake, I find a sharp jab to the ribs with an elbow often prompts my husband to roll over, and usually the snoring stops. Also, some Breathe Right strips might help him out at night. They have worked for other people I know.

You know, from your description of loud snoring and barking dogs, I’m getting the impression that you and I might be neighbors. . . . Hmmm. . . . Please email me and lets sort this out before you call the police on those dogs.

Holmes:

Wait until the neighbors are asleep then use a crossbow on the dogs. If you’re squeamish about crossbows, just wake him up and politely demand sex every time he snores. He might not quit snoring, but it will bother you a lot less.

Have your husband checked by a doctor. He may have sleep apnea or other issues. He may not be getting enough oxygen at night. Often times the problem can be cured. The sooner he talks to his doctor about it the better.

And David Walker had a question for us that comes up surprisingly often in the Ozarks, and in several oil-laden desert countries. “A friend from Arkansas wants to know which side of the aisle the grandparents should sit on when he and his cousin get married.”

Bayard:

I have the perfect solution for that delicate issue. They should simply get married at the local Waffle House.

image from Waffle House Wedding

Holmes:

Well David, if your pal needs outside help over something that trivial, he’s probably not ready for marriage. Even cousins need a certain amount of maturity to make a relationship last. Tell him to sample a few more cousins before he inks the deal. Maybe he’ll work up the nerve to date a few people that don’t have his grandparents.

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We sincerely appreciate all of your questions, and we will continue answering them until we have spread all of the requested romantic cheer. Keep in mind that Labor of Love day is this coming Monday. Take a moment to show your loved ones you care with a Labor of Love, because, after all, love is something that we do.

What advice do you have for Jenny, Susie, and David? What are your questions for The Romance Doctors?

Piper Bayard–The Pale Writer of the Apocalypse

Holmes–Student of Sex, C4, and Hollow Points

image from Waffle House Wedding

It’s a Dad Life

Today, I encouraged Holmes to forget about the blog and enjoy his family. He’s the kind of dad who spends time fixing the air conditioner, gardening with his wife, and playing video games with his children, nieces, and nephews when he isn’t teaching them shooting and martial arts. And, most importantly, he has the essential ingredient every true father has. He is loyal to his family.

Today I honor my husband, my son, Holmes, and every loyal father, husband, brother, son, uncle, nephew, cousin, and friend. Thank you for giving women and children men they can believe in in this world of shifting sands. Women may be the heart of the home, but you are its cornerstone.

Happy Father’s Day

Piper Bayard–The Pale Writer of the Apocalypse

Holiday Survival with Bayard & Holmes, Dec. 30

I’m a pragmatic author/belly dancer who looks for the win/win situation every time. My writing partner, Holmes, is a man with experience in intelligence and covert operations who believes most issues can be solved with sex, C4, or hollow points. For the month of December, we’re dedicated to alleviating your holiday stress by helping you solve your dilemmas. 

Secret agent and belly dancer. Not us. Click here for the From Russia with Love belly dance scene.

Let’s see what’s on your minds this week. . . .

Mr. Mims asks, “What to do about a crazy family and a sort of girlfriend?”

Bayard:  You’re in luck because when it comes to crazy family, I’ve got a crazy in every flavor. There’s grandpa’s third wife who wails like a mourner at an Arabic funeral when she feels ignored. And let’s not forget Uncle Fred. He goes on a bender and chases Momma with a pitchfork because she painted smiley faces on his matchbox cars when they were five. I even have Cousin Gordon who walked down the street naked because he was dancing with the Red People. Yep. When it comes to crazy, I know what I’m talking about. That’s why I carry a 9mm Sig Sauer P239. Be assured, it’s win/win. You fulfill your family obligations, and you can be relatively certain your ”Uncle Fred” won’t be stabbing you at the dinner table. Just be sure to practice responsible gun control and learn to aim before the family gathering. 

Sig Sauer P239. Don’t leave go home without it.

And as for the sort of girlfriend, the only men I know with “sort of” girlfriends are “sort of” boyfriends. Pray tell, Mr. Mims, what are your intentions toward this young lady?  Perhaps you should ante up. You’ll win some or learn some, and that’s win/win.

Holmes:  Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and if not, you’ll still be glad you’re gone. Find a better girlfriend and spend less time with the family.

Our reader, Ellie, writes, “My brother-in-law asked for peace on earth. Is there any way Holmes can work that out for me by Christmas?

Bayard:  Well, Holmes’ wife tells me that he inspires her to see God at least a dozen times a week, but I don’t think she means he’s been given divine authority. But since I always look for a win/win, I wrote to President Obama and asked him to dismiss Hillary Clinton and make Holmes his new Secretary of State. I have reason to think the president has Hillary packing right now because he sent me a very personal email in response. ”Thank you for sharing your concern. Please be assured that I am concerned about your concern, and my administration is addressing your concern immediately.” Suppose he’ll be my Facebook friend, now?

Holmes:  Thanks. I needed a good joke for the holiday season. If I could arrange world peace, I certainly would. I’ve lowered my expectations over the decades, though, and I’m now happy to have peace in my neighborhood.

We aren’t just helping out people with their holiday stress, but animals, too. Sarcastic Sam, the sexy, poptart-loving, blogger Twitter ferret, has a double header for us this week.

  • What should I do with all of the invites from the ladies? There’s only so much of me to go around.

Bayard: I can certainly see how a sexy ferret might be overwhelmed this time of year. I recommend the Golden Rule of Flirting to handle this one. Always say yes; never say when. That way, you keep the ladies happy knowing they are all special to you, and you’ll able to pace out your social engagements so that you can still get in your naps and blueberry poptarts. It’s win/win.

Holmes: For a very reasonable fee, I’ll handle them for you.

  • Is it fair for me to accept all of these gifts? After all, I am the sexiest ferret alive.

Bayard: Of course, it’s fair. All’s fair in war and gifting. In fact, this is a wonderful opportunity to spread holiday cheer. It’s said that it’s more blessed to give than to receive so every time you accept a gift, a little bell rings in heaven and that gift giver is blessed. . . . Or is it that the gift giver gets his wings? . . . Anyway, you’re spreading holiday cheer. Just be sure to show them plenty of excitement, and keep a list so you don’t re-gift the same things back to them next year. Besides, anyone who sends unsolicited gifts to an unidentified ferret deserves to be parted with her cash. It’s win/win.

Holmes: No. I think you should forward them to me.

A sincere thank you to everyone who sent in questions for Bayard & Holmes Holiday Survival this month. We are delighted that we could help ease your tensions and we hope you’re all having a happy holiday. Watch for more Bayard & Holmes in 2011 as we review movies, green up the military industrial complex while saving the USPS, and offer our assistance with your matters of romance.

Please be sure to comment and nominate your deserving, over-grasping celebrity, politician, or sports figure who missed his or her calling as a hands-on TSA agent for our 2010 Bayard and Holmes Honorary TSA Agent Award. We’ll be taking nominations through January 13. We’d also love to hear how your TSA patdowns are going. :)

All the best to all of you for a Happy New Year!

Piper Bayard–The Pale Writer of the Apocalypse

Holmes–Student of sex, C4, and hollow points

Little boy and little girl playing at computer. This is us.

Looking Back the Morning After

The last week of the year is a lot like the morning after a wild night. It’s full of reflection. . . . Wow, that dance was fun! . . . Oh, man, that fight sucked. . . . Uhmm. I don’t really remember that part. Do I owe anyone an apology? . . . But looking back is a necessary part of moving forward, at least if you’re consciously choosing your path. Since I’m usually devoted to consciousness, I’m looking back on the year, including my social media year.

In the spring, I went to the DFW Writers Conference as an aspiring writer, a belly dancer, and a recovering attorney, and I returned home as a guinea pig.

Kristen Lamb is an author/editor/social marketing maven who was at the conference and knew a clueless test case when she met one. (That would be me.) With her book, We Are Not Alone: The Writer’s Guide to Social Media, and enough honey treats, she coaxed me into the world of blogging, Twitter, and Facebook. (I wrote all about it for her blog in The Guinea Pig Diaries. Bweep, bweep.)

I didn’t believe it when I first started blogging, but I quickly found that one voice really can change the world. After I ran If Not Religion, What? about how gender disparity is the true source of jihad, China took notice and is now reconsidering its One Child Rule. Who knew I would have so many Chinese readers after only four blogs? Now, I’m just waiting for that massive immigration of Latinas to the Middle East that I proposed in How Latinas Can End Jihad and Save us from Apocalypse. Maybe I should see if my spy novel writing partner, Holmes,* can arrange to have some flyers dropped over Ecuador? Because let’s face it, folks, a little more Shakira in the world can only make it a better place.

After blogging came Facebook. When I first entered that world where all of the compartmentalized segments of decades converge, I wondered in a blog if it was more like a trip to Costco, or a trip to outer space?  I actually have an answer now. Facebook is like being dead. Everyone I’ve ever known from any time in my life seems to be ending up here eventually. Not only that, people I hadn’t spoken to in decades and barely knew anyway greeted me like I was a long lost friend. Real long lost friends said even better things to me, and long lost enemies were willing to set things aside because, after all, it takes a long time to make old friends. Shoot, Facebook is such a nice place, I don’t even know half my “friends.” So all in all, I’d say social media is as friendly as a funeral.

I got to do sociological experiments, too. Those are always fun because I get to mess with people’s minds and call it science. I found that, when it comes to holiday greetings, people generally welcome anything they perceive as the equivalent of Happy Water Buffalo Day. I think next year, I’ll expand on that experiment by wishing people a Happy Prestidigitation. That sounds religious in a Latiny sort of way, and almost no one knows what it means.

Little girl wishing baby water buffalo a Happy Water Buffalo Day

Just so we’re all on the same page, prestidigitation means performing magic tricks with the hands or showing deceitful cleverness. I had to look that one up, so that’s something else I’ve learned this year.

I didn’t just get in touch with old friends, I made new friends, as well. One of my favorites is Rea Fraser, a lady documenting her life as an outsider in Algeciras, Spain, with her camera. Everything from cute babies to matadors. (Btw, does anyone actually know what that matador bulge is? I mean, that’s just not anatomically possible.) Check her out at Not So Spanish. I also met Jessica Bern, a lady who consistently makes me laugh with her “good, clean . . . ‘ish’ fun” at Bernthis.com. And I met a Andi, a woman who writes with genuine depth and beauty about her personal journey through the apocalypse of losing her home to a fire at Burning Down the House.

I think the best thing about the year in blog, though, has been the chance to perform some real public service. Holmes and I saw the Most Wonderful Time of the Year becoming a pain in the ass for those around us, and we wanted to offer our peace and joy services as a belly dancer and a spook through Holiday Survival with Bayard & Holmes. And are we glad we did! We’ve had the chance to help people with everything from disposing of their husband’s junk trash to kidnapping pesky in-laws and enjoying TSA patdowns. Warms my heart to bring such holiday cheer to the downtrodden.

Secret agent and belly dancer. Not us.

All in all, the writer-to-author guinea pig fur is receding, and I’m transforming back into a human to start the new year. I could probably find some reliable psychic to tell me what will happen next year. . . . I’m guessing she would predict my post-apocalyptic novel, Seeds, will be wildly successful in the marketplace, my house will stay perpetually clean, and my children will turn into perfect angels. . . . I mean, that’s what psychics are paid to say, right? But do I really want to know? Or do I want to be surprised by the ride? Hmm. Life. The Ultimate Adventure. Nah. I’ll definitely save my money and take it as it comes.

How has 2010 treated you? What are you proud of? What do you plan to change in the coming year?

All the best to all of you for a Happy New Year of being who you want to be.

Piper Bayard—The Pale Writer of the Apocalypse

“Don’t stall. Don’t commiserate. Pray boldly. . . . The battle is still in front of you.” – Holmes

*Holmes is a man with experience in intelligence and covert operations.

Holiday Survival with Bayard & Holmes, Dec. 23

I’m a pragmatic author/belly dancer who looks for the win/win situation every time. My writing partner, Holmes, is a man with experience in intelligence and covert operations who believes most issues can be solved with sex, C4, or hollow points. For the month of December, we’re answering your Holiday Survival questions.

Secret agent dancing with beautiful woman. Not us. Click here for that hot tango from True Lies.

Let’s see what’s on your minds this week. . . .

Our reader, Alex, asks, “I’ve heard a lot about the new TSA patdown procedures, but I really don’t want the radiation exposure of the scanners. I’m worried. At fourteen, I’m a virgin, and I don’t want to change that in an airport in public.”

I think Holmes sums up both of our reactions to this question quite well. “Avoid the radiation by all means. We shouldn’t be irradiating our citizens. Situations like this make me long for the good old Cold War. At least back then, the government knew who we were supposed to irradiate, and we weren’t planning to offer those SOB’s any patdown options.”

We realize this is a subject that causes great stress for many travelers, and our entire goal is to alleviate your holiday concerns. So we just spent the better part of our evening sipping 10-yr-old Guinda* (recently smuggled in from Spain) and discussing some creative methods of reducing your stress and lightening up the travel season for you and all your fellow travelers. Along with discussing other grave matters of national security, of course.

American taxpayers have paid Chertoff and his pals a pretty penny for all this new scanning equipment, and since it’s unlikely to do anything to enhance national security, we need to get some return on our tax investment. We say let’s recoup this investment with entertainment value. Let’s put the fun back in travelling.

We’ll start by livening the holiday travel season for these beleaguered TSA employees. After all, how would you feel if your boss was Janet Napolitano, suspected calorically-enhanced twin sister of Janet Reno? We’re offering these suggestions to help you make your TSA Patdown fun for you and memorable for your TSA agent. Let’s fill America’s airports with laughter and joy this holiday season. It’s win/win.

Ways to have Fun with Your TSA Patdown

  1. Pretend to relax and enjoy it. In fact, moan loudly with pleasure. After all, lots of folks enjoy a good groping. Be sure to cry out with passion to let your TSA agents know how much you appreciate their security technique. When it’s all done, compliment them. Let them know this was your first time, and that it was everything you had dreamed of. Click here for Meg Ryan’s example from When Harry Met Sally
  2. For men, wear a kilt with no underwear. When they get to your genitals, have a bouquet of flowers pop out of your cod purse with the music, “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga. Then, in your best Mike Myers Scottish accent, exclaim, “Ah, Laddie, ye give such good grroope!”
  3. If you’re traveling with a church group, you should all cry out, “Hallelujah, the rapture is coming!” and start speaking in tongues.
  4. Educate the TSA agent to the benefits of becoming an Amway salesman and refuse to move on until you have finished with your sales pitch.
  5. If you are a melanin-gifted traveler, and you’re being groped by a melanin-challenged TSA agent, burst out singing Perry Como’s “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” with the broadest smile you can muster.
  6. Pretend you don’t speak English. Whatever translator they bring you, pretend you don’t speak that language, either.
  7. Tell your TSA agent that if her groping inspires an out-of-body experience, you will reward her with a kiss and a phone call tomorrow.

If the TSA fails to offer you a complimentary groping and attempts to re-route you through a metal detector, remind them loudly that you paid full fare for this ticket and you are every bit as entitled to one free groping as any other traveler would be.

Don’t worry, Alex, after your grope, you’ll still be a virgin, but if they offer the free cavity search, definitely turn them down. And remember, you’re in good hands with TSA.

In honor of those hard-groping TSA agents, we’re holding the Bayard & Holmes Honorary TSA Agent Contest. We are asking you, dear readers, to nominate your favorite over-grasping politician, celebrity, or sports figure who missed his or her true calling as a TSA Agent to become our Bayard & Holmes 2010 Honorary TSA Agent. Who will it be? Bill Clinton? Jesse James? Tony Parker? Please tell us in the comments section why your nominee is the hands-on best candidate for this prestigious award, but no naughty-naughty. This is a PG-13 blog, after all. Extra credit will be given for original and creative expression. 

We’ll be taking nominations until January 13, 2011, and we’ll announce the winner on January 27th. You and your award-winning nominee will receive symbolic matching prizes that will probably be cheaper than the Dancing with the Stars plastic disco ball. We’re not sure what those will be yet. We need to sip a bit more Guinda to find out, but we suspect it will have something to do with festive latex gloves.

Thank you so much for your holiday survival questions, everyone! We’ll be sure to answer all of them before the end of the year, so please keep them coming. 

All the best to all of you for a blessed week, however you celebrate.

Piper Bayard—The Pale Writer of the Apocalypse, and

Holmes—Student of Sex, C4, and Hollow Points

*Guinda is a traditional Spanish drink made from cherries. It will give you a serious case of the warm-fuzzies.

Added this on so that all of you who want a White Christmas can have one, no matter where you live. :)

To Merry or Not to Merry?

Ok. I’ll just say it. I’m a Merry Christmas person. I say, “Merry Christmas.” It’s my culture.

To be clear, my religion is Baseball. My Holy Days are known as the World Series. They start in late October, and they are made more holy when the ordained priests of my order, the Yankees, are playing. I hope some day to make a pilgrimmage with my writing partner, Holmes, to The Cathedral in the Bronx to attend a ceremony in person, both for the religious experience and to write The Canter-Bronxy Tales.

The Cathedral in the Bronx at Christmas

To me, Christmas is about the Spirit of Giving. The generosity and mercy that light hope in hearts during the darkest time of the year. I know Muslims, Jews, and Wiccans who have Christmas trees and wish people Merry Christmas because to them, as to me, generosity and mercy have no religion. For us, it’s just part of our Western cultural tradition. 

I find it painfully ironic that there are as many non-Christians campaigning to make Jesus ”the reason for the season” as there are Christians. So when I became embroiled in a Merry Christmas-Happy Holidays discussion at my daughter’s school the other day, it inspired me to perform my own little sociological experiment. (Watch out. She’s messing with people again.) Here’s how it went down. . . .

Five people were  standing in the front office of my daughter’s middle school when the school counselor said, ”Happy Holidays.”

I smiled and returned a hearty, ”Merry Christmas.” Three people relaxed, smiled back, and returned the traditional greeting.

In a friendly, educational tone, as is appropriate at a school, the counselor informed me, “Not everyone celebrates Christmas.”

Really? Duh. 

This got me to thinking. . . . If I were a member of an indigenous culture that worshipped water buffalo, and I wished Merry Christmas objectors a Happy Water Buffalo Day, would they inform me that they don’t worship water buffalo? Or would they recognize that I am blessing them with good will and the best of intentions in the manner of my people?

Little Girl wishing baby water buffalo a Happy Water Buffalo Day

To answer this question, I decided I would spend a day greeting people with religious good wishes that were not of Christian origin, just to see what they would do. There are no water buffalo in the Rockies so in honor of my Wiccan friends who have a holy day tomorrow, I went around town wishing people a Happy Solstice as I ran my errands. I didn’t mutter it. I didn’t pick and choose who I said it to. I smiled, looked everyone in the eye, and spoke with confidence, just as I would have said Merry Christmas in the middle of a tent revival. This is what I found with my limited sampling of approximately 17 people. . . .

  • All but two looked at me like I was a talking frog. 
  • The two who didn’t were people who know me. . . . Hmm. Why weren’t they surprised?
  • Most women recovered, smiled back, and said, ”Thank you,” or “You, too.”
  • Men alone also recovered and said, “Thank you.”
  • Men in groups continued staring as if I was a talking frog and said nothing. . . . Hmm. Waiting for an Alpha to act, I suppose. 
  • And the school counselor? She stopped, pointed her finger at me, smiled, and said, “Thank you.” The next day, she even returned my daughter’s Happy Solstice with a Happy Solstice of her own. (Yes, I had to bribe my daughter to do this.)

Interestingly, not one single person became offended or informed me that they do not celebrate the Solstice.

The Beautiful Darkness. The Celebration of Light. Stonehenge

This little experiment led my mind to literal meanings. (Quick, call her 12-Step sponsor. She put on her attorney hat.) Christmas originated as “Christ’s Mass” so shouldn’t it be a purely Catholic holiday? Also, “holidays” means, literally, “holy days,” so isn’t Happy Holidays just as objectionable as Merry Christmas? I mean, if I’m implying that everyone I speak to is or should be a Christian when I say Merry Christmas, which I’m not, by the way, am I not also implying that everyone does or should have holy days when I wish them Happy Holidays? You see, taken literally, Christmas is something Protestants don’t celebrate at all, and Happy Holidays is no more “culturally sensitive” than Merry Christmas.

Kind of makes you wonder what ”Merry Christmas” really means in modern society. Please help me out here. What does “Merry Christmas” mean to you? Is it a cultural expression or a religious one? 

For extra credit, I’m challenging you brave readers to walk through your town today wishing people a Happy Solstice, since the 21st is, after all, the Winter Solstice. In fact, it’s not just the Solstice, it’s the Solstice with a full lunar eclipse. (Click here for info.) Then, please let me know what you discover about the people around you and how they respond to your warm wishes of the season.

Oh, . . . And I learned one more thing with my little experiment. My son might actually be able to die of embarrassment because of things his mother does in public. (Nope. Couldn’t bribe him.) :)

If you’d like a simple way to celebrate the Spirit of Giving, Andi, who lost her home in the Four Mile Canyon fire in Boulder in September, is asking for Christmas cards for her little dog, Nellie, to cheer them on their journey through their post-apocalyptic world. Andi writes about The Poetry of Loss at her blog, Burning Down the House. To send a card to Nellie and Andi, please address it to Princess Nellie; c/o Chautauqua Main Office; 900 Baseline Road; Boulder, CO  80302.

All the best to all of you for a Merry Christmas, Happy Holiday, Happy Solstice, a Peaceful, Joyful Season, or just a really nice day.

Piper Bayard–The Pale Writer of the Apocalypse

“You only have to do one thing to be friends with me. Be nice.” — Holmes

 

Holiday Survival with Bayard and Holmes, Dec. 16

Through the month of December, my writing partner, Holmes, and I are offering solutions and advice for your holiday dilemmas. I’m a pragmatic author/belly dancer who tries to reach a win/win result every time, and Holmes is a man with experience in intelligence and covert operations who thinks 90% of life’s problems can be solved with sex, C4, or hollow points. Together, we are spreading cheer and relieving the tension of the holidays.

Secret agent and dancer. Not us. (Click here for that very funny clip from Get Smart.)

Let’s see what’s on your minds this week. . . .

Mr. Leboykin writes, “Every year I like to visit the nativity scene with friends and family at a Catholic church next to our old town plaza. . . . A small band of knotty-haired, ragamuffin THC storage units likes to set up in the gazebo in the public park next to the church and beat loudly on drums without any hint of an attempt at “music.” . . . Ninety-nine percent of the people in old town seem angry at these crack heads. How can I rid these malodorous vermin from the innocent lives of my neighbors and from my Christmas without going to jail for the holidays?”

Bayard:  Thank you for such a colorful question. I think the key to a win/win solution with this is to remember that holidays are about family. This is an opportunity to create festive memories for your children that will last a lifetime. Give them large soft drinks and send them over to play in the gazebo with the drummers. Tell them that if they just happen to trip and pour their drinks all over the drum heads, they should run like hell to the back of the church, where you will pick them up and take them for ice cream. Reassure your kids that stoned people can’t run fast enough to catch them. In the end, your kids are happy with their ice cream, you’ve made some cherished family memories, and you’ve spread cheer to the 99% of the people in the plaza who prefer Silent Night to The Little Stoned Drummer Boy. Win/win.

Old Town Prague at Christmas

Holmes:  Organize people from 6 or more different addresses in the neighborhood to send a concerted letter of complaint to the mayor’s office politely insisting that the criminal drummers not be allowed to interfere with the holiday festivities. To an elected official, six addresses of voters complaining is an election crisis. Given the choice between making a phone call to the police or pissing off six or more households of voters, the mayor will act in his or her own self interest and make that call. The alternative is to hire street people to urinate on the drummers, which is more fun and creates jobs for the unemployed. If that isn’t spreading holiday cheer, I don’t know what is.

Indeed! No job is a bad job in this economy. . . . Moving along, Tammy writes, “A ‘friend’ has been making excuses not to go to her significant others’ parents’ houses for the holidays for the last few years. This year, the jig is up. Any advice on how to bow out yet again with an in-law-induced-guilt-trip proof excuse?

Bayard:  This is a wonderful opportunity to spread some holiday cheer. Visit your local hospital with flowers and toys for the Children’s Ward, and make sure your in-laws know about it in advance. That evening, have your significant other tell them you accidentally wandered into the room of a patient with Ebola Virus, and now you are quarantined. Rest assured that HEPAA laws prevent the hospital from confirming or denying your presence. This way, sick children get some holiday cheer, you get out of yet another year of in-laws, and they feel sorry for you, to boot. Win/win any way you slice it.

Holmes:  Find some sympathetic, unemployed Cuban political refugees and have them kidnap your in-laws for Christmas. Claim disappointment when the dinner is cancelled. You could arrange to have them “rescued” after Christmas and keep the ransom, as well. Just be warned that the FBI is very good with kidnapping cases, and there’s a good chance you would go to jail, but then you’d have your excuse for next year, too.

Two for one. How about that? . . .  Another reader, Ms. Rosenblum, asks, “How do I get my husband to put up Christmas lights?”

Bayard:  Ah! What an opportunity for marriage enrichment this is. There are only three sentences in the Happy Man Manual. 1) Feed me. 2) Feed my ego. 3) Feed my libido. A happy man is a pliable man so doing any two of these should result in a house so bright you’ll be wearing sunglasses at midnight. Cook your husband his favorite dinner, then get out the ladder and the lights yourself. Struggle with them and ask your husband for help. Make a production of how heavy and awkward the lights are, and climb the ladder slowly. It’s a nice touch if you can quiver a bit, but not so much that he’s suspicious. Then, with feeling, fall off of the second or third rung into his arms. Tell him how strong he is, and how safe you feel with him. This should feed his ego and ignite his primal, protective urges, making him want to climb that ladder and handle the job. He gets two requirements met from his manual, and you get enough Christmas lights to cause airline traffic confusion. Win/win. (Note: If he doesn’t bother catching you, get a better husband.)

Holmes:  That one is too easy. I’m surprised you’re still married, and I don’t know how anything gets done around your house. Tell him you have a fantasy about being violated by a skilled Christmas decorator. We men are really easy. Feel free to use that against us.

We’d love to hear what’s troubling you this holiday season. Please send us your questions, and we will address them in next Thursday’s blog along with the questions that arrived this week. No question is out of bounds, but some of our answers might be.

A sincere thanks to all of you who contributed this week! We love to help people out during this difficult time of year.

Sincere thanks, also, to Kristen Lamb for featuring me as her Guest Blogger today to relate my Diaries of a Guinea Pig. Click here.

All the best to all of you for bright lights and charity.

Piper Bayard–The Pale Writer of the Apocalypse

“Never hit a man with your fist when you can get someone else to hit him with their car.” — Holmes

 

 

Holiday Survival with Bayard & Holmes, Dec 9

Last week, my writing partner, Holmes, and I dedicated ourselves to spreading cheer and relieving the tension of the holidays. We invited you to send your questions for solutions and advice from me, a pragmatic author/belly dancer who tries to reach a win/win result every time, and Holmes, a man with experience in intelligence and covert operations who thinks 90% of life’s problems can be solved with sex, C4, or hollow points.

Belly dancer and secret agent. Not us. (Click on The Man with the Golden Gun for a flashback.)

Let’s take a look at what’s on your minds this season. . . .

From this week’s questions, our reader, Ellie, has a double-header for us.

  • “What do you give to a picky friend who usually has snide remarks about gifts others have given her, yet she always gives you an awesome present every year so she is not to be ignored?”

Bayard:  What an opportunity for both of you! Clearly, she enjoys complaining more than she enjoys the gift so the best gift for her is a reason to complain. And for you? It’s a chance to clean your house. Go through the storage closet and pick out something of your husband’s that you hate. Put it in a plastic grocery sack and tell your friend you’re so sorry, but you didn’t have time to wrap it. This way, she gets the chance to complain, and you get rid of your husband’s trash. (I would call it his ”junk,” but with recent connotations, I think you’ll want to keep that.) Win/win.

Holmes:  Give her the gift of distance.

  • “What to do when you and your 3 yr. old love the tradition of Santa Claus, yet her little friends tell her Santa Claus isn’t real and it’s just stupid?”

Bayard:  Tell her that Santa is the symbol for the spirit of giving, and only people with giving hearts can see him. Say it with confidence, and you’ll sound very wise and like you know something the other mommies don’t. She’ll feel special to have such a smart mommie, unlike her friends, and you’ll have the joy of playing Santa for your child. Win/win.

Holmes: Tell her that Santa likes some children more than others, and that’s why he brings her presents, but not her friends.

In another question, Ms. Newton writes, “When wrapping my presents, do you think I am out of order cellotaping every inch of the paper, therefore making it almost impossible for people to open them?”

Bayard:  Half the fun of giving gifts is unwrapping the packages so why stop there? Put that box inside another box and smother it in cellotape, as well. Then another box, and another, and so on. This is most fun when giving a pocket knife or something else that could have been used to cut through the cellotape bondage, like this perfect gift below. The recipient has the joy of unwrapping your package for at least a half an hour, and you have the joy of watching them. I’ll bet they look funny fighting through all that cellotape. Win/win.

Holmes:  Sounds to me like you don’t really want to give that gift. I think you may need a mild spanking to put you in the holiday spirit. Consult your sex partner immediately.

Well. . . . That should certainly relieve some holiday tension. :)

We’d love to hear what’s troubling you this holiday season. Please send us your questions, and we will address them in next Thursday’s blog. No question is out of bounds, but some of our answers might be. :)

A sincere thanks to all of you who contributed this week! We love to help people out during this difficult time of year.

All the best to all of you for cellotaped packages, and cleaning out your husband’s junk trash.

Piper Bayard–The Pale Writer of the Apocalypse

“Never hit a man with your fist when you can get someone else to hit him with their car.” — Holmes

This isn’t us, either.

Holiday Survival with Bayard & Holmes, Dec. 2

Holidays. Don’t they just make you want to beat someone’s head bloody with a frozen turkey leg? Don’t fear, though. You’ve come to the right place for all of your Holiday Survival needs. 

My writing partner, Holmes, and I just happen to be experts on crazy, holiday and otherwise. As for me, an emotionally sensitive pragmatist, I’ve successfully traversed the tarpits of dysfunction,  insanity, and self-help guides to arrive at a relatively functional family and a life free of people who want to make me kill myself with a spork. And Holmes? I’m not at liberty to tell you much about him except that he has experience in intelligence and covert operations; however, I can vouch for him as the most emotionally sophisticated person I know. He contends that 90% of all problems in the world can be solved with sex, C4, or hollow points,* and so far that approach has worked pretty well for him. In other words, between the two of us, we have an answer for every tense holiday situation.

Let’s look at a scenario. . . .

You’re in a packed out mall, you’ve been shopping for hours, and you finally find that perfect ninja ladybug pillowpet fairy that your 6-yr-old has been asking for every day for months. It’s the last one. You fight your way to the register, only to see 20 people in line in front of you, and you have to pick up your daughter from her friend’s house in ten minutes. What do you do?

Bayard:  First, take a deep breath. No babies are dying here. Calculate the nature of the friendship. Do you really want your kid to be welcome at that house again, or do her friend’s parents remind you of The Simpsons? If you care about the connection, call the friend’s parent and ask a favor. Most likely, she values you, too, and will be happy to help you out. If you’re already looking for a graceful way to ditch these peoople, this is a great chance to be thoughtless enough that they won’t want your kid at their house any more. Just show up late with no calls or apologies. Problem solved, and they’re the bad guys to your daughter, not you. Win-win.

Holmes:  Holy $%&! You’re freaking nuts to be in a crowded mall in the first place. Leave the kid at her friend’s and go have sex with your spouse. If you don’t have a spouse, find a friend with benefits, or get cozy with a magazine in your bedroom. Your kid will be a lot better off with a relaxed parent than she would be with a nut job and a ninja pillow.

You know, I have to admit. Holmes might be onto something here.

We’d love it if you’d send us your holiday questions and concerns, and we will address each of them each week in our own special way. Difficult in-laws? Need a perfect gift? Trying to escape it all? Just let us know, and you can get both my emotionally sensitive, pragmatic answer and the “Bond” take on things.  

What stresses you out about the holidays?

All the best to all of you for a stress-free week.

Piper Bayard–The Pale Writer of the Apocalypse

“Don’t stall. Don’t commiserate. Pray boldly. . . . The battle is still in front of you.” — Holmes

*Hollow points are a type of ammunition in which the bullets are hollowed out at the top. This allows the lead to spread as soon as it hits the target, causing a wider area of damage than more traditional, full metal jacket bullets.

Gracefully Surrender the Things of Youth. Not.

Gracefully surrender the things of youth. Those are words from the Desiderata, the wise, enduring text that guides me through life during the baseball off-season. So I cast a fond farewell to binge shopping, biker parties, and road trips to Mexico that had me throwing “souvenirs” out the car window when the border entry station appeared too suddenly on the road, and I let myself mature into a responsible, if eccentric, suburban wife and mother. I was kind of pleased with myself that I was able to make that severe transition into full adulthood, but now I’ve hit another wall. I find I’m expected to surrender my children’s youth, as well, and to that, dear readers, I respond with another quote. “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Son: “Mom, are you serious? You expect me to carve a pumpkin with you this year? I’m in high school.”

Me: “That means you’re freaking out about the impinging responsibilities of adulthood, and you’re more likely to act out if you don’t nurture your inner child.”

Daughter: “OMG! Mom! I’m in the middle of my anime.”

Me: “That’s why Big It made the pause button. I didn’t walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death to give birth to you two to have you crap out on holidays. Now, grab a pumpkin.”

We’ve gone through this at every “to do” holiday ever since we became the House of Adolescent Angst.

Me at Easter: “What do you mean you can’t find the last egg? You helped me hide them last night.”

Me at New Year’s: “Of course you have to eat your black-eyed peas. You don’t want to starve this year, do you?”

Me at Christmas: “You’re bigger than Santa? So what. Let him sit on your lap, but I’m getting my picture.”

What can I say? I even get them up for meteor showers.

Now, before you give up on me as being more insane than eccentric, let me tell you how these forced holiday activities turned out. We had a belly laugh about how my son was scared of pumpkin guts when he was five, and the kids are both lovingly tending their carvings on our porch. We found the Easter egg in May and had a rip-roarin’ time shooting it with our airsoft pistols in the back yard. The kids haven’t gone hungry so far this year, knock wood, and the picture with Santa on my son’s lap? It’s already a classic for both us and “Santa.”

I suppose I’m going to have to let the kids go their own ways eventually, but until then, the Christmas party is coming up fast. I think I’ll get my son to be Santa this year. Rage on!

What part of youth are you unwilling to gracefully surrender?

More fun Halloween sites:

  1. Kristen Lamb’s Blog, Halloween–Time to Take Out the (Trailer) Trash
  2. College Candy, An Ode to Halloween
  3. Stuff Mom Never Told You, Stuff Mom Never Told You about Motorcycles and Halloween Costumes
  4. Lore Librarian, Halloween Links

Remember to spare a thought for a spook on this First Annual Spook Appreciation Day.

All the best to all of you for a Happy Halloween.

Piper Bayard–The Pale Writer of the Apocalypse

“Don’t stall. Don’t commiserate. Pray boldly. . . . The battle is still in front of you.” — Holmes