So, It's Christmas.

Tweet I'm not quite sure how it happened, but Christmas is indeed this weekend. I must have been sucked into a time warp this year because SERIOUSLY HOW IS IT CHRISTMAS???

I have to say, I've been delighted lately that people have wound up on my blog searching for my antique Victorian Wal-Mart Christmas village. It's one of my favorite decorations. 

My daughter set the table with our Christmas dishes. She's such a sweetheart. The only time the table has been set in the last 3 years was because of her. 

We made gingerbread people. And I'm such a good mom, I sat on my hands and let the Spawn do what they wanted instead of trying to recreate the beautiful creation on the box. 

And we got a real tree this year! Fortunately the kids wanted to decorate it, because I was exhausted after wrangling that thing into it's stand. Serious, do you know how much real trees weigh? Then it left a massive trail of needles after I dragged it into the house. Totally worth it though.

What? The lights are out on the bottom half? SHUT UP.

And here is the Spawn's Christmas picture. I always order pictures and never send out cards, so here ya go. 

From the Not Blessed Family to yours, I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season. 

For Donna

Tweet This post is sponsored by The American Cancer Society.

You guys know I'm not too crazy about sponsored posts or product reviews. I don't like having to say what someone else wants just for money or free items. I'm sure I would if Mike's Hard Lemonade contacted me, or some other cool company (Disneyland? Hello?), but the opportunity just hasn't come along.

Until I saw this. The American Cancer Society is asking for help to get their message out- and how could I refuse? And when I read about this topic, I thought of Donna.

I don't know Donna- I've never met her, and I never will. Sweet Donna's life was lost to an agressive brain tumor, and I only know her beautiful story because her mom (Mary Tyler Mom) shared it on-line. In honor of Children's Cancer Awareness Month (back in September), she wrote a post every day about Donna's 31 months of treatment. I read them all. I cried, many times. It was heart wrenching- but I couldn't stop. I had to- for Donna.

So today, I dedicate this post to Donna and all of the children worldwide who fight this terrible disease. I can't imagine anything worse than losing a child- I can't imagine anything more impossible than eloquently sharing that story on-line with others. For all of the Donnas in the world, please watch this video. Sweet Donna, you don't know how much I wished you could have had more birthdays.

Atheists Are Not Ruining Christmas

Tweet So, let me tell you my friends, straight from the horse's mouth (did I just call myself a horse?): I am an atheist,and I am not trying to ruin your Christmas. My computer didn't even burst into flames when I wrote that.

On Facebook and Twitter lately, the anti-atheist sentiment has been making the rounds. I know you've seen them- rants about how people are trying to take the Christ out of CHRISTmas. Complaints about how stores can't say "Merry Christmas" anymore. An urge to take a stand against the godless heathens who are ruining the season.

Not Blessed Mama is here to tell you that Atheists Don't Hate Christmas. You can have Christ all you want. I would never presume to tell you otherwise. I don't give a crap if a store says Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy Hanukkah or Happy Kwanzaa. It makes no difference to me. AT ALL. I would also never be so rude as to post a status complaining about your religious preferences, but that's a whole different story.

As a matter of fact, I love the Christmas season. I love trees and lights and cookies and presents and yummy food and making my loved ones happy.  And no, I don't participate in the religious side of Christmas- but that is no one's business but mine. Just like anyone else's choice to celebrate Christ is their business.

I know I am always imploring you to think about the children (the children! think of the children!) but this season I have a different request: Won't anyone think of the atheists? Leave atheists alone this Christmas. I promise I'll do the same for you.

Ligers: Do Not F*** With Them

Tweet This post has been stewing in my brain for a while. I tried to kill it, but it was too strong (duh- it's about ligers). The following blog post contains graphic language. Readers be advised.


The other night, in an effort to postpone bedtime, my oldest Spawn asked me what the largest cat in the world was. He meant housecat, but what popped up in my Google images was Hercules- the Liger.

Isn't he gorgeous? Soft, beautiful, majestic. Don't you just wanna go snuggle him?

And sit on him?

And take glamour shots with him?

Wtf is going on here?

Well, I have bad news. This is a public service announcement from Not Blessed Mama, and it feels kind of ridiculous that I even have to say it:

Do not fuck with ligers.

Please, please, someone tell me why these people are dragging a liger around like a goddamn golden retriever on a leash. I know that people train lions and tigers. Do I think it's a good idea? Um, no (related: see Sea World and killer whales). What I think is even LESS of a good idea is dragging around a monster, mammoth, freak of nature hybrid cat. These damn things can grow up to around a thousand pounds and ten feet long! 

Do you know what that liger is thinking? "I'm bored. I'm bored. I want to eat you. And you. I'm bored. I'll eat those children. I'm bored. Oh, milk. I'm bored. I'm gonna chomp on your head." And that's pretty much it. Please, please, you crazy lunatics: do not fuck with ligers. They're not a dog. If you want a dog, I will personally bring you a dog. Keep it away from your liger, because your liger will bite it in half and call it an appetizer. 

And now that I think about it, I feel like I maybe should just tell mankind in general: stop fucking around with massive wild animal predators that are bigger than you and like eating flesh. Again, not quite sure why I have to say this, but apparently it needs to be said. You're welcome. it's what I do.