Tuesday, December 31, 2013


A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar

The Christmas tree is decorated! I had it up for one week. Just one week and Scrooge had the nerve Saturday to ask if I was saving the tree to decorate next year. Scrooge would be Mr. D.

It boils down to a matter of time.

Time is a powerful word.

I don’t remember a time I haven’t gone through ornaments and remembered the kids, all the towns we’ve lived in and many friends and family. Each time I get more nostalgic.

I hung a ragtag Santa and Christmas tree Jenny made. Santa is glued and little bits of stuffing sticking here and there. The tree was hand sewn and cotton pooches out everywhere.

Josh’s funniest contributions are six cookie dough ornaments that are not Christmas colors. He was six, in Cub Scouts and that was not what he wanted to do. The troop leader apologized for the mess and I told her they weren’t a mess, they were memories.

If either or both of the kids are here they look for these ornaments and others that are parts of their childhood.

Favorites are hung side-by-side like the little brass tricycle hanging just above a small brass baby buggy representing the first Christmas brother welcomed little sister to the tree.

I have Elvis decorations. I know I know. I’m sure if there were Bob Wills’ decorations hubby would have those. I’d even buy them for him. Maybe.

Mice, woodchoppers, and Santa’s – homemade and bought – are not so artfully gracing our little tree.

I stood back admiring half the lights blinking, the other half not; the angel topper lopsided and crooked bows.

It was beautiful.

Yes, time is a powerful word.

Time can pass so slowly one wonders if the kids will ever grow up and leave.

Time then comes to remind you those babes are gone.

They’re busy making memories with their children.

Times spent creating the memories this tree made are well worth the exhaustion I remember feeling while doing this year after year on a much larger tree.

The kids tell stories of inviting friends, making sugar cookies, decorations and mom was sitting right in the middle of them having more fun than they. Dad would come home and admire the goodies and try to ignore the mess.

Christmas is about family and sharing.

Time spent together.

It’s a time to reflect, laugh, and teach the true meaning of Christmas.

Make memories.

Take that time.

It passes.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Guns Up!

A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar

Football is back.

The first thing Mr. D said to me this morning was “Why didn’t you remind me the Cowboys were playing last night?”

I am glad football season is approaching because I love college football and everything that goes with that, but I quit watching pro football years ago when their jewelry became heavier than the football.

Not to mention their less than stellar games played outside the football stadium.

Mr. D has remained faithful to the Cowboys even though that quarterback can be half way decent throughout the season and then drop the ball literally and physically “if” they make it to the playoffs.

Even my Wes Welker couldn’t help the guy.

Now that I have made Cowboy fans everywhere angry and got a chuckle from those who don’t like them – let’s talk Big 12.

I am so excited I can’t stand it!

We haven’t bought season tickets in three years (if you keep up with Texas Tech you will understand I was protesting the lousy coach we got dumped on us). Mr. D never quite felt that sting quite as badly, but by the time that coach got up and walked out even he was saying as an armchair quarterback position he was more accurately calling plays.

We have a young coach who is a former Red Raider. When I hear he is too young at 33, I point out Darrell Royal was 32 when he took over the Longhorns and the rest is history. I know football has changed a lot since then, but hey, I’m optimistic.

Not only did he coach the Heisman Trophy winner last year at A&M he is quite easy on the eyes.

This is where the guys roll their eyes and the ladies perk interest.

He has a five o’clock shadow (Mr. D thinks he needs to shave); wears Oakley’s, and let’s just say he’d be good competition for George Strait’s Wrangler ads.

Mr. D asks, “But can he coach?” Why is he always negative? Of course he knows he can coach and is as excited as I about getting back into that stadium. He just can’t understand how and why I can balance the game with the looks of the coach.

He even asked me if I bought the season tickets to look at the coach or for football.

The answer to that is yes.

What is his point anyway?
Guns Up!


A Dollar's Worth

By Alisa Dollar

Last week I flew to Phoenix to watch oldest grandchild graduate high school. I don't think I will ever understand flight paths. I flew from Lubbock to Austin to Phoenix. Mr. D thinks I scheduled it on purpose because he calls me Pathfinder.

I was to leave at 6:40 p.m. but because of the horrible tornado in Oklahoma, it was 9:40 to finally arrive in Phoenix at 2:30 a.m. their time.

Needless to say there were some very tired, irritated and cranky travelers along the way having been stranded for hours in places many had not planned on doing anything but touch ground.

One of which was Lubbock.

Realizing the South Plains of Texas is an acquired taste, I will readily admit I had to get used to the sky touching the ground even within the city limits. However, it's been my home for most of my adult life.

When finally boarding there was a group of noisy people behind me who were saying loudly how happy they were to get out of this place, it was awful, the airport was awful, the town was boring and the last for best, it was ugly and they wanted to get home.

I've learned in my life to choose battles and when I turned to look at the group of partiers I instantly chose this one.

After staring them down I said, "Just think. You could be in Oklahoma digging through rubble. Poor you. You're stuck in Lubbock."

Needless to say I rained on their parade and hopefully I helped them remember that home truly is where a heart might be.

Memorial Day was just ahead and I couldn't help but think of men and women who gave their lives for this country and then the ravages left in my neighboring state of those who in an instant lost so much.

It's a hard concept to grasp especially since I've not experienced either firsthand.  I can only be reverent to those who have even if it's only being patient for hours of delayed flights.

Elizabeth played the national anthem with two other saxophonists to open their high school graduation ceremony which would begin a new venture into adulthood.

One could hear a pin drop because of its haunting beauty.

Her very proud nana shed tears of joy at the sound which consolidated all of what I felt about home to definition.

We are the home of the brave.