Last Day of the Year

It started with the loss of days. Days become weeks. I've lost a week. Maybe more. I suppose the time isn't lost...it's just expired. It has slowly, stealthy slipped away. Now here we are on the last day of 2017. At this point in the calendar, it's fair to say that whatever was left undone, unmet, unmended, untended will stay as such. The good and comforting thing is that 2018 presents itself as a blank slate. Unfortunately, we are not. We come with baggage. I always always overpack.

Every year at this time I choose a word for the next year, or a word chooses me. My word for last year was peace and there were many moments of beatitude and tranquility. I would have appreciated more, but the thing is that the word that speaks to me is something I want more of in my life. Thanks to Mick Jagger we all know that we can't always get what we want and only sometimes when we try do we get what we need. I try.

Words are incredibly powerful. They carry intentions, and therefore, immeasurable weight. They also connect, cut, elevate, alleviate, enlighten, disgrace, demean and mend. One of the first things we teach our children is to use their words, yet so often we misuse our own. We leave things unsaid, we say things we don't mean, we put our feet in our mouths, we lash out, we lie. 

My word for 2018 is courage. I really had no other choice. I'm going to need it as I forge ahead and figure things out at a time when I'm feeling vulnerable, porous and fragile. So peace is passing the baton to good old grit, and grit is gearing up for an exciting new year. Grit's the guy for the job.

Tonight we'll ring in the new year with friends. Friends who are more like family and thus, cherished. We have too much food, a signature cocktail and, of course, champagne, and games. It will be a good night. I'm wishing all of you who stop by here a good year. And thank you for reading my words because without you they wouldn't hold as much weight.

Grateful Friday

Today I give thanks for...

Today is the last day of school before winter break. I resisted my alarm when it rang this morning. I resisted my alarm 3 times. I'm generally a single snooze girl. That tells you everything you need to know.

Except that I was in the middle of a dream about my mom. We were looking for a duplex to buy together. The plan was that I would live on the top and she would live on the ground floor. I thought to myself that it was a good idea because when she dies, I would be able to rent out her half. It sounds macabre, but it wasn't because she was still alive.

Yesterday was the first day of winter. It was temperate though. Mike and I went for a walk and I was warm enough in a sweatshirt. I'm one of those rare fools that loves winter and yet I'm not complaining. I know the cold and snow will set in and soon.

That means it was also the solstice and the shortest day of the year. Darkness was on my mind all day. So was light. We know one because we know the other. Always I hear these Adrienne Rich words...We are moving towards the solstice and there is still so much here I do not understand. This sentence moves through me like my own pulse. These words essential and always present.

The morning sky. 

Just before sunrise.

During.

No call from the radiologist. No news is good news.

I had an eye exam yesterday. It went as expected. I need glasses. Farsighted. The eye doctor was quick to reassure me that most people my age would be very happy with my vision even as it is changing and not for the better. I appreciated his attempt at somehow recognizing that deterioration even when minor and mostly correctable, is major. 

Lily was a trooper getting her braces on this week. I'm not sure what it says about me as a mother that I chose to put her through this 5 days before Christmas. In my defense, I did take her to Culvers for a milk shake post appointment, and I made a pot of chicken soup with the veggies cut real small and the meat shredded so finely just for her.

 Before...

and after. Still smiling. Forever smiling.

Not just good for the soul.

Ted and I went out mid-week to finish his shopping and share a pizza. I had a good time. He told me that he liked coming to Lisa's with me more than with his friends. Before I could feel all sentimental, he made mention of the fact that I eat less pizza thus leaving plenty of leftovers for his lunch the next day. I chose to put a happy spin on it...he could just go by himself.

Not very random acts of kindness. I was greeted by a beautiful bouquet when I opened my front door the other morning. My frister left them for me to brighten my day. That they did.

Thank you.

We are almost ready. Ninety percent of the packages are wrapped. We only need to exchange one gift. Yes, already. Two are likely not going to make it until after Christmas, but that's okay. Today we'll hit the grocery store and then we can settle in for the weekend. We're at the point where whatever wasn't bought or baked, will not be bought or baked...this year.

Something tells me we're good.

Feeling the hygge.

There's no place like home.

December Days

My favorite time of these December days is early morning when the house is quiet after the morning rush. Ted scarfs down his breakfast in 3 to 5 minutes and gets picked up first by about 7 o'clock. Shortly after Mike and Lily leave, but not before she changes her outfit 2 to 4 times. I switch from lemon water to coffee. I turn off the news and turn on the carols. I've been relying on Alexa these days, but she's ornery so today I went in search of my favorite CDs. It's a good choice. I've been missing so many of my favorites like Sarah McLachlan's Wintersong, Grover Washington Junior's Breath of Heaven and Natalie King Cole's The Holly and the Ivy. I clean up the kitchen mess left from making breakfasts and lunches.

These December days, I often set right in making another mess. It's not uncommon for me to bake a batch of Christmas cookies first thing to add to the dwindling stash. They disappear as they're delivered to friends and neighbors, and I need to make a few more trays to share so I'm not ready for a short supply. This week I baked off my gingerbread and snuck in a delicious batch of Mexican wedding cakes. The line-up is fairly set from year to year, but I usually try to throw in a few surprises. The south of the border sweets were one, but they're sort of addicting and so I presume they'll be added to the annual roster. The gingerbread makes a gazillion boys, houses and snowflakes, but they're an acquired taste. I still make them because if you love them, you love them. I love them, and especially with a cup of coffee. Cookies and coffee is quintessential December days.

While I wait for my cookies to come out of the oven, I often sit down to read or write. Peanut takes this as his cue to cuddle and usually hones right in on my lap before any productive input or output can occur. He's hard to resist or reject so I concede. I sit and stare at the tree making mental note of lonely branches and obscured ornaments, but before long I'm far away either in the distant past or the near future and that's my prompt to return. This month has been about living in the moment for me. December is always a time to be.here.now, but this year I need and want this more than ever. Needing what you want is quite a powerful place to be.

I am trying to do something for myself every single day. Monday it was a walk with a friend followed by coffee and then happy hour. She returned to pick up the tray of cookies she left behind just in time for a glass of wine and it was perfect. Yesterday, I went for an overdue mammogram. Folks I received the reminder card, I scheduled an appointment and then I kept the appointment. I have unbelievable doctor/hospital anxiety since losing my mom so this is huge. Tonight I have a shopping/pizza date with Ted and tomorrow I have an appointment for an eye exam. I'm taking care of myself. For the record, It's not all self-indulgence, singing All I Want For Christmas, or raiding the cookie tins either.

I almost finished my shopping yesterday. The key to finishing is just to stay out of malls, and I know this. I also know I'm so over shopping so hopefully I'll resist the seasonal gravitational pull to buy more more more. Truthfully, I was dreading another retail round yesterday, but it was productive and even enjoyable. The clerks were all so friendly not in an overbearing way, but just helpful and patient and relatable. The stores were busy, but I didn't feel stressed or annoyed. I wasn't bothered by the woman in front of me who had to try every coupon for the best deal, or the guy who stopped dead in his tracks in front of me to take a phone call, or the girl who skipped me in line at the cafe. I'm feeling more empathetic and understanding these December days. Tis' the season of goodwill after all. We hear this...we know this. This year I'm feeling it too. Feeling what you know is potent.

I'm trying to wrap a few things every day. I despise wrapping even more than shopping. I'm thankful I've stockpiled boxes because so many stores aren't offering them, and those that are send you off with flimsy impostors. I know people who wrap gifts like works of art. I'm not one of them. In fact, this year I limited myself to 5 roles of new wrap and no new ribbon. I'm determined to use what we have. I have two helpers: Tigger and red wine. Mike will jump in toward the end of the week. I leave everything over-sized and oddly-shaped for his patient care. While I was wrapping yesterday evening, I had a memory from my childhood. It made me smile. My aunts in their 20s would breeze into my Grandma's house and sneak into a back bedroom already late to the party to wrap their gifts last minute. There were years the Christmas wrap was gone and newspaper had to suffice. There were never any ribbons or bows, but they were always my favorite gifts. The presents I pleaded to open first.

My other favorite time of these December days is when everyone is home again. I'm back in the kitchen starting dinner and watching the news. Peanut is keeping me company from his stool. The kids are doing homework and Mike is relaxing. The house is as loud as it was quiet when they all left earlier and after a day of peace, I'm ready for commotion and camaraderie. Lately we've been retiring after dinner to the living room to play HQ. Teddy is all about trivia these days. We linger beside the tree after we lose, which doesn't take long. Eventually though, everyone goes their separate ways to watch something, or Snapchat someone. I've been staying put in the twinkly-lit room reflecting on the beauty of these December days and my sparkly life.

weekending

i'm having a bit of trouble with these weekending posts.

the days are sort of fluid for me right now.

this morning i woke in the dark and couldn't remember if i needed to rise before the sun.

i had no clue what the day was.

then my alarm blared and i knew it was a school day.

the last tuesday of the year.

this weekend i spent a good deal of time preparing for christmas.

it's a week away now so it's time to finish shopping and to start wrapping.

i shopped with my aunt friday, the family saturday and lily my shopping queen on sunday.

the four of us went out to tackle the kids' lists.

we made real progress.

then we headed to cozy windmill beach for dinner.

i feel very lucky that we have had so much family time these december weekends.

ted only complained a little that we high jacked another one of his saturday nights.

my brother bribed him with fireworks and bada bing pizza while the rest of us enjoyed enchiladas.

the next morning we were present to celebrate gaudete sunday.

i left mass feeling more joyful and always wanting to hit pause right about this time each year.

ted is loving the new order of sunday mornings.

since he has no class, he joins us for breakfast.

i rather love it too.

then we didn't see him again until dinner.

but i'm not complaining.

it was another fine few days.

scenes from the weekend...

Grateful Friday on Saturday

Today I give thanks for...

Spending yesterday shopping with my aunt. We both made progress and had fun in the process.

Although my rule is that we don't buy things for ourselves during the month of December, my aunt and I stopped in this Moroccan shop and were wowed by these beautiful Egyptian glass ornaments. We each picked one out and now we have a memory of our festive afternoon.

A family date night last Saturday. We attended 4:30 mass and then we went out for an early dinner.We could not agree on a restaurant, and then when we did there was a ridiculously long wait, but we ended up having a delicious meal at a local place.

Lily's report card. It was impressive especially given the hard hard work she had to put into math and science this semester.

One of my favorite childhood memories is of my dad telling bedtime stories. He's a patient storyteller. He would get into character, take his time and I hung on his every word. His best retelling was The Man With The Golden Arm. I'm sure I heard the story dozens of times, but every telling felt like the first. Now that's the sign of an accomplished narrator. I was captivated in the moment not thinking about what I already knew or what came next.

Even when my attempt to brine our pork chops failed, my family still ate them without complaint and with lots of homemade applesauce. 

I didn't botch the batch of gingerbread or the Oreo balls though.

Fred. He may be fizzling out, but we're still having a bit of fun with him.

Peanut pretty in pink in his favorite spot.

Tigger in one of his favorite spots.

How sweet they are...and entertaining too.

Tell Me A Story

I had a date last night. Well, a girl's night out. Jess and I met for appetizers at a favorite happy hour place. Wings and wine totally hit the spot. Then we made our way to the museum for our first Story Slam. The night's theme was tradition and seasonally apropos. Neither one of us threw our names in the hat. Yes, there's a hat. I actually told my story in the car on the way to meet Jess. It was a good one, but I know Li Bien needs more practice and polishing. It was too long, there were too many pauses and the moral of the story was a little more heavy-handed than necessary, but it had good bones and that's a start.

The crowd was warm and welcoming on the bitter night for those brave enough to get on stage. There were nine storytellers. I liked a few more than others, yet they all had their strengths and unique appeal. A couple were more confessional in tone while others were comedic. A few had elements of both revelation and farce. Dangerous Santa won, but others could have. In fact, they all did. They were all winners for having the courage to get up there and connect us with their honesty, their vulnerability, their candor.

That's what stories do. They bring us together in the same way they have for ages. We listen and learn that the differences that separate or distinguish us are nothing compared to all the ties that bind. To be a good human is to come with an open heart and mind to understand, empathize, celebrate and support. We smile, we shake our heads in affirmation, we laugh, we cry. We say I hear you and Me too and You're not alone. It's a beautiful thing...a gift to hear and be heard...a blessing to share your story.

In the True Spirit of the Season

I was up a minute before my alarm rang...6:59 on the dot. I set my alarm on a Sunday morning because as I've confessed here over and over ad nauseam, I love the certain solitude of early mornings. I'm no longer a night person. There. I said it. Last night I struggled to stay awake for a movie. I lost. Then I literally couldn't read the last page and a half of a story I started. I also set my alarm because I had things to finish.

One of those things is a very important batch of chicken noodle soup. It's important because I plan to deliver it today to my new friend Martha. Martha is 89 years old and she lives in her own home. She's lived there for 58 years. She lives alone now and has for quite some time. Not surprising, she's lonely. She's also sick with a virus. We met Martha yesterday when we visited her to deliver a poinsettia from the church and some cookies from our kitchen. She was so touched and grateful for the visit, the goodies and the guys' snow shoveling. The thing is though, she touched each of us with her vulnerability and strength. I can't stop thinking about her. When I asked if she needed any groceries, you'd have thought I gave her a winning lottery ticket, but of course, she doesn't want money. I got the sense that it's been a long time since she's received a kind or thoughtful gesture. A single tear rolled down her cheek. That tear broke my heart. It broke my heart wide open. She was a little embarrassed. It's clear she was a stoic, saucy woman in her day. She reminded me so much of my Grandma Rose and Aunt Helen so maybe Teddy is right: I'm attached.

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Martha was happy to see me this morning and especially excited about the soup and the hot Polish ham and rolls I picked up on my way. I almost walked by the bakery when I saw the tour bus outside and the wall to wall people inside, but I had a hunch that she might appreciate this Sunday treat. I'm glad I waited because I was right. She had the cookie tin washed and waiting for me and lit up when I suggested I fill it again. I cannot believe she ate them all, but maybe. She wanted to pay me, but I told her that wasn't necessary. She asked me why I was being so kind to her. I told her that I was quite sure in her 89 years she'd been kind to many people. She accepted. I accepted her hug.

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Sometimes the best gifts we give aren't flashy or expensive. They aren't limited in number or on back-order. They don't need batteries or come with lengthy manuals. They come from the heart and they multiply miraculously. They remind us that smiles and hugs are free and kindness begets kindness. The most valuable gifts lift up the giver as well as the receiver. These are the kinds of gifts I want to give.

Grateful Friday

Today I give thanks for...

Witnessing night give way to day. Being awake and alive to see the moon in the west pass the torch to the sun in the east.

These photos were taken just minutes apart this morning. 

I say, "There shall be showers of blessing." Ezekiel 34:26

Today it's snow showers. The sky is heavy, the air is cold, yet I am warm and light.

Ted for waking me up last night after I fell asleep on the couch and insisting I go to bed. He came down after brushing his teeth to rouse me a second time using my own words to convince me that I'd have a better night's sleep in my own bed. 

I did a little more baking yesterday. I hadn't exactly planned to. I was procrastinating other things. It's okay...tis' the season. It was a bit of a cluster you know what. I added a cup of butter instead of a stick to a recipe essentially doubling it so I had to run to the store for more peanut butter. Then I started another batch only to discover I needed more graham crackers so I went back again. We are all stocked up on Buckeyes and Pecan Pralines. And after 35 years plus of making these simple 4 ingredient favorites, I finally tweaked and perfected the process.

Family Jeopardy matches before dinner.

Cookies and coffee in Christmas mugs for breakfast. It's a December thing.

Fred. He's another December thing. Lily isn't too interested in him this year. I didn't really think she would be, but I wasn't sure. He's another vestige of childhood so hard to let go.

A stack of holiday movies waiting for me at the library. Yep, December thing.

Cat company. I am being completely candid about the fact that without my two guys, I'd be lonely home alone all day.

This sexy beast beef. Okay...it's really not at all sexy. In fact, unless it's properly seasoned, seared and then cooked low and slow, it's tough and chewy and tasteless. But my guy nailed it even when he was feeling under the weather and not able to enjoy it.

Advent. I find myself going to church this time of year not because I have to or need to, but because I want to. Amen.

The Things That Remain

It's snowing! Just sweet and soft flurries to start the day. I slept for 10 hours last night. I cannot explain my exhaustion, or perhaps I can and don't want to. Anyway, the cats are cozy, the carols are ringing and I'm sitting here writing and singing.

When I left off yesterday, I was heading to my middle school for Lily's basketball game. The Bulls versus the Whippets now better known as the Junior Greyhounds. I asked Ted to join me and he said yes. Just about gave me a heart attack, but then he started asking annoying questions in an annoyed tone like how long will it be and where is it and well, you get the idea. One step forward, another step back. Nevertheless, I think he enjoyed it. I did.  His sister sure appreciated it.

As we approached, I saw myself on the very last time I set foot in this school. Spring 1983, 8th grade graduation. I'm flanked by Megan and Jenny. We have on matching dresses. They're different shades of purple, but the exact same style: drop-waisted mini numbers. One of my parents took a picture of us outside before the ceremony. They didn't know if they got a good one before the days of digital photography, but they did. It captured us then, there.

Before the game started I left Ted in the gym and took a little tour of the school. It hasn't changed, but then there is only so much you can do with a landlocked circular building. I stood in the center of the pit. It's sort of the heart of the school. It was filled with tables, but that's not how I remember it. I remember when it was transformed into a dance floor several much-anticipated Friday nights a year. I could almost see myself dancing to Stairway to Heaven. It was a long song so it was important to dance it with your number one crush, or the guy you were going steady with or wanted to date next. We were serial daters back then. A deep romance could be derailed by an innocent game of spin the bottle, a three way call, an intercepted note. 

While I was watching the game, I kept having flashbacks. I could see us lined up for square dancing. We all proclaimed to hate that unit, but secretly we loved it because it involved bodily contact. All those allemandes and promenades. At one point, I convinced myself that the scorekeeper was my old gym teacher, Mrs. McDonald. Then I realized she'd be 75 now and this woman was my age. Time was playing tricks on my mind, going back and forth, standing still.

I texted Jenny a picture and told her I felt like busting into a sideline cheer:

We are the mighty mighty mighty whippets

We ain't bad cuz' we know we're good

We're gonna walk on you like we walk on wood!

That's right!

If I remember correctly, she came up with that one and although we never understood how one walks on wood, we cheered it loud and proud from the sidelines in our Shorewood sweaters. 

Lily had a good game. She had lots of playing time and played more aggressive defense. Coach called her out for her offense too. He pointed out that it may be the last game, but she finally took a shot.

I wonder what she'll remember about this time in her life. These people and places.

Coach was surprised to see Teddy towering over him after only three years. Three years is a lifetime when you're 16. Everything changes so often and quickly when you're a teenager, but there are always things that remain.
  

Years are Minutes

So yesterday I did finally get out of the house. I had a little shopping to do. Don't we all!? It's my goal to purchase at least one gift a day. Yesterday was a good day: I picked up three. Today without leaving home I bought three more. I love Amazon. Mike and I have a shopping day planned Monday, and I have to arrange times to take both Teddy and Lily on sprees. Although he announced last night that he's making his gifts this year. I think he may have been serious, yet I'll be shocked if he actually goes through with it and I'll probably laugh my you know what off if he gives the guys handmade cement planters and plants. This weekend she put her cache of church raffle tickets in bags containing items she thought would make good gifts: diamond earrings for me, Bucks tickets for her Dad and brother, and various gift certificates for various family members. She didn't win. Teddy put all his tickets on a $200 gift certificate for a Brazilian steak house because it had one of the highest values and because there were no tickets in the bag so highest reward and best odds. He planned to sell it for a little less than it was worth. He didn't win either. He always wins this raffle. She's got a soft heart and he has the heart of a capitalist. I love them both.

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When I was in elementary school, my dad's employer held a Secret Santa event every year. It was in the toy department of one of their stores fully stocked for the holidays and decked out too. Think Gimbels in Elf. It was sort of magical to my 7 year-old eyes. Little elves would take us through the pop-up shop and we'd pick out gifts. Most everything was a quarter. I always bought someone this little porcelain hand that had a clip on the index finger for attaching reminders. My brother bought my dad a soap on the rope every year. After we crossed everyone off our list and spent our $5, we got to gorge on Christmas cookies, watch Christmas movies and see Santa.

Santa was my dad's friend Jerry. I never figured it out until years later when he came to my aunt's to surprise my toddler cousin. He was dressed in the same costume. Jerry has a beard, but it's dark and impossible to disguise, and he's as skinny as a beanpole in the middle of a drought. No amount of padding could hide the fact that he was a bag of bones under the velvet and fur.

The funny thing I remember from that visit was that five-year-old GiGi looked at Santa with a skeptical eye while my 75 year-old Grandpa had a twinkle in his.

That costume is in my basement now and Jerry is in the hospital. Gina'a grown up and Grandpa's gone.

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I came home after shopping and got started baking. My guy needed Christmas cookies for a holiday party at work today. He asked me to just buy some, but I thought it would be so much more special to make some. I ended up cranking out five batches. I made my aunt's Kris Kringles (they taste so much better when she makes them), Lily's favorite Chinese Cookies that I've been making since the 70s, and three new recipes: a potato chip cookie that reminded Jess and I of Pecan Sandies, a chocolate chip cherry chunk cookie that was delicious with a cup of coffee this morning, and a cream cheese cookie that I think the squirrels will enjoy because they eat just about anything. I still have to make Buckeyes and Oreo Balls, which are Teddy's favorites, and the Pecan Pralines Mike likes. I always make a batch of gingerbread because...nostalgia. I imagine I'll add between two and ten other varieties between now and Christmas because...time. I plan to put together tins to take to housebound parishioners when we deliver poinsettias and communion on Saturday morning. Hopefully, none of them have nut allergies or diabetes. If so, they can feed them to their squirrels or neighbors.

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When my brother and I outgrew the annual Secret Santa event, we started baking Christmas cookies as gifts. I got the idea when I came across my Mom's annual Electric Company cookie book. My grandma came up with the idea that we should spend a day in her catering kitchen baking. Never mind that said kitchen was in a Jewish temple. The massive ovens worked just the same and held 5 times as many. It was a brilliant idea because my mom was not a baker and she detested messes. Plus we got to spend time with Grandma Rose.

By the way, my grandma was devoutly Catholic, yet she made the best hamantaschen, latkes and noodle kugel. 

The new cookies I tried are from this year's we Energies cookbook. They still print it. I still get it.

Grandma's gone 10 years tomorrow. This is my ninth Christmas without my Mom.

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Jess called to invite me out for a drink. I'm so tickled that she's using words like festive. It's not always in her lexicon even at this time of year so I wanted to say yes!, but I was covered in flour. She decided to come to Casa Wags instead. We had a most enjoyable and even festive happy hour. We played carols and chatted. Chatted about heavy stuff and light stuff too. Lily and Peanut hung out with us the whole eve. We played some games...had some laughs. Teddy came home from working out and started serenading us. I served her cookies hot out of the oven as an appetizer and a bowl of steamy soup for dinner. It was all good. And happy.

St. Nick visited over night. He filled the stocking for cats and kids. The cats love their 50 cent mice. They played so hard that they're crashed out right now. One cozy in bed and one precariously under the dining room tree. No matter how many times I shoo him off this console table, he sneaks back again. I give up, but heaven help us if he breaks a single one of my mom's ornaments. The kids were pleased with their loot too. He took candy to school and she took some new slime. Lily told me that she loves St. Nick maybe more than Santa. I love it too. there's no pressure and no competition. Every little thing delights because there are just a few favorites. My favorite are the ornaments they get in their stockings each year. They tell the story of their lives: of who they are, what they love, what they did. This year he found a camera and she received a cactus for the tree.

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Our stockings were never roomy enough to fit all the gifts St. Nick left. My Mom had a terrible time keeping surprises. Gifts are surprises. Anything she'd bought for Christmas by December 5th would be waiting for us December 6th. I know I get my tendency to go a little overboard with St. Nick from her, and I'm totally OK with it. So are my kids.

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I'm going to bundle up and get outside for some fresh air. I'll take a break from carols and listen to my book. Then later today I'll go to Lily's last basketball game of the season. It's at my old intermediate school. I haven't been back there in like 35 years. I'm oddly looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to this whole month too even as I am trying to sit with and savor the moments.