my folks on my lapel

It's Christmas time again.

Anyone who knows me knows how much I love this season. It's in my blood. I was born to it (Dad was Santa). I was raised in it (Mom made every Christmas wonderful). I'm happily a lifelong citizen of its spirit.

The first Christmas season without Dad, I thought I was holding up pretty well. Like I've said, memories of him are almost universally good, and the joy I feel around Christmas is indefatigable. I went about my business of shopping and wrapping and listening to my supersized playlist of holiday music on loop with light and love in my heart. And then around midnight on Christmas eve, I started to cry. And I didn't stop for two hours.

This is my first Christmas without Dad and Mom. And although Mom's Alzheimer's had long since quelled her holiday zeal, she still reveled in the pretty lights and snow and, most of all, family gathering.

Years ago (actually, many decades ago), Mom crocheted Santa pins for everyone. Every member of the family had one. Then, friends received them. Soon, they were sold at St. Luke's to raise money for the church. Then, Mom set up a craft table wherever Dad was selling his wood carved birds, and she sold the Santa pins along with other knitted goodies. I suspect there are several hundred siblings to my pin roaming the Northeastern U.S. I've worn mine every day of the holiday season every year since I was a kid. At one point recently, I glanced down at it and realized that it is a perfect encapsulation of both of my parents at the holidays. And that makes me happy and truly grateful to have been blessed with such wonderful parents.

Merry Christmas.

my backwards grief

Grief is a funny thing. Mom died two months ago, Dad two years and two months ago. In my day-to-day life, thoughts of them arise regularly. These memories range from the time immediately before their deaths to the farthest edge of my childhood horizons. Most times, my brain seems ever reasonable in its reaction. Almost Spock-like on the emotive scale. The same is true when Mom & Dad come up in conversation. I can easily talk about them -- about nearly every aspect of them -- without becoming sad. In fact, so many stories are happy that laughter isn't out of the question.

I've wondered if maybe my ability to grieve correctly is broken. I mean, Mom's only been gone a few weeks. Shouldn't sadness be the norm for me at this time? Why am I able to go about living my life with any modicum of cheer in my smile and sunshine in my heart? Am I doing it wrong?

My friend, Maria, is originally from Croatia. Even though she's lived in the U.S. for many years now, her family still follows Croatian custom closely. When her father died, it was expected that she would mourn for three years. Three years of wearing a black scarf. Three years of not attending any social events like weddings. Three years lamenting the loss.

My Mom had been gone three days, and I was back at my office. Three months will pass, and I'll have Christmas decorations adorning my home when I invite family and friends in for a holiday party. I can barely imagine how well I'll be three years from now.

Yet, I do have grief. And without fail, it catches me by surprise. It's when I'm just strolling along living my life, and an unexpected reminder pops up. Tonight, it was this note above - the message on the back of a photograph of my brother when he was an infant. Dad had written, "Little Gerry... He will hate us for this... ." Seeing Dad's handwriting pushed me off a cliff and into an ocean of grief. Even though what he wrote was funny! How does this make sense?

I always loved my father's handwriting. It was artistic, graceful, individual, carefree. It may as well have been a picture of his soul. I still have letters he wrote to me when I was in college and after I'd moved to Seattle. Some of them barely say anything at all. "Enclosed are photos of some of the latest bird carvings." "The grandkids are getting big." "We can't wait to see you at Christmas." But the elegant, sweeping script written with pen and ink was beautiful and unique. More importantly, he was beautiful and unique. And tonight, I miss him so painfully that I'm nearly drowning in tears.

Why this reaction? Why now? It's been more than two years? Shouldn't big sadness like this be reserved for Mom moments because she's so recently departed? Shouldn't Dad moments be more reserved reflections because I've had a couple more years to adjust to the idea that he's gone?

I don't get this grief thing.

grateful

The power at both our store and our home was only out for about 12 hours. Although we had to battle the incredibly loud fire system alarm that buzzes continuously when the power is out, call the building manager down at midnight to shut it off, sleep through an increasingly chilly night, and work full days without benefit of hot showers, we survived unscathed. There are still hundreds of thousands of people without power two full days after the storm. I feel so bad for them, and for everyone who lost trees, vehicles, roofs, and more in this monster storm.

appreciative

The last two winters were hard. For '07-'08, the first year we were in New Hampshire, it was the second snowiest winter on record. In '08-'09, it wasn't much better with blizzards Every. Single. Weekend. This year, however, has been refreshingly less brutal. At least, in our little band of the region. Other New Englanders have been digging out as much as usual. And we have still had more than a few bitterly cold and/or windy days. But in the grand scheme of things, I'm finding myself regularly happy by things like not needing to wear boots for a couple weeks at a time. And so I thought I should offer up my gratitude to The Universe, Mother Nature, and the blogosphere.

By the way, this photo is one I actually took myself. LAST winter when we lived in The Shoebox. This was the sidewalk in front of the house after a blizzard. Don't miss it.

boo

Nearly a year. And why now? Because tonight, I experienced the famous straw as never before. Tonight, my favorite lamp was the straw, and I was the camel's back: We broke nearly simultaneously.

There was no reason for me to react the way I did. As disappointed as I was that the lamp broke, and as frustrated as I was about the circumstances that led it to break, and as panicked as I was about all the broken glass, none of those things -- even in concert with each other -- was enough to prompt the full-on tantrum/meltdown that ensued.

Ted was bewildered, concerned... a bit scared. The wife he's known for so many years usually maintains a freakishly even keel. And tonight, she suddenly hit rough seas and near-about capsized!

He tried to calm me down, but was unsuccessful. The cats rapidly made themselves scarce, which was good because they avoided the millions of shards. And in the middle of this wildly disproportionate fit, I found myself wondering why I was pitching it, why there was no OFF button. And so I, too, was something of a witness to the whole episode.

Didn't last long -- a couple minutes, after which, I regained my composure and set about to vacuuming up the bits too small to pick up by hand (Ted got all the big pieces while I was morphing into a crazed puddle). It was an arduous task to be sure. The lamp had truly shattered.

It's done now, and I've since found several places online where I can get replacement shades. So now life goes on. Right? I've folded laundry, chatted about my day with my husband, checked email, read the news, and written a blog entry. Is it necessary for me to analyze all the pieces of straw in my life? Is that the only way to keep my back from breaking again the next time a fly buzzes by and inadvertently adds a speck of straw dust? There are many pieces of straw these days. And my back hurts enough that it's tempting to openly list and/or complain about them (though I might contend that the list itself would be a complaint). This strays way outside my usual optimism, and although it may explain tonight, I know better than to go there. It's time to climb up the slope, not slide down it.

So, let's talk about something more upbeat. Holidays! Here's a great Thanksgiving poem:

"Yam" by Bruce Guernsey

The potato that ate all its carrots,
can see in the dark like a mole,

its eyes the scars

from centuries of shovels, tines.

May spelled backwards

because it hates the light,

pawing its way, paddling along,

there in the catacombs.

Love it. And then there's Christmas.



I'm not ready for Christmas in any way. Some gifts have been procured. But when my hard drive crashed, it ate my list. That means I have to start from scratch as to who gets what and how much budget is left for everyone, and therefore how much more shopping needs to be done. I'm braving Black Friday with my sister and my Christmas Club money. But I'm not appropriately prepared for it. At a time in the process when I'm typically done or close to it. And I'm still trying to imagine Christmas without my own personal Santa -- Dad.

Oops. Just slipped down a bit. I should call it a night, an entry, a year, and get some sleep. Maybe I'll blog again next August.

gratitude

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.


Cartoon blatantly stolen from Meet-shell's blog.

community and family

I have loved Extreme Makeover: Home Edition from the first episode. I admit, it was my obsession with Trading Spaces that brought me to it in the first place. That said, I've been hooked ever since (and not just because Ty Pennington regularly unbuttons or removes his shirt!). Tonight's episode featured the Voisine family in New Hampshire, and so I was vested a bit more for a couple reasons.

First, Granite State pride! Second, a family who lives next door to my brother was nominated and was one of the final few families to be considered. Third, my niece, Caitlin, was one of the blue-shirted volunteers who helped with the project last fall.

In addition to watching the show itself, the local ABC affiliate created a one hour special called "Extreme Makeover: New Hampshire Builds a Dream." It highlighted the community angle, and was very interesting to watch. The actual EM:HE show was two hours long. All in all, it was wonderful to watch and left me needing only one thing (c'mon, click the link!).

On another note, I visited my parents earlier today. A long-time friend of theirs had mailed them some stuff she uncovered while organizing a few decades of recreation-related memorabilia. In addition to three pictures of my parents from 1974 (nice tie, Dad!), there was an editorial from my hometown newspaper. It is dated July 25, 1963. This may bore you to tears, but I am fascinated. So I shall transcribe.

"Man With a Challenge" by Dan A. O'Connell (Editor)

Gerald Cox, 29, earnest and affable, college-trained in the new but necessary skill of Recreation Director, arrived this week to take charge of our town's recreational needs on a full-time basis. It would be the understatement of the year to say merely that the job offers a tremendous challenge. The new Director undoubtedly knows all the basic theories, concepts, and techniques of this pioneer science. He has the advantage of practical experience in the field and has compiled an impressive record of accomplishment in other places. His future here looks good, but unless the people of this community are prepared to pitch in and help, the young man and his program are certain to come a-cropper.

Ours is a progressive town, aware of tremendous change in the making, and conscious of a need to adjust with the times to survive their impact. This awareness and consciousness has been evident for several years. Almost everyone agreed that "something should be done," but nothing ever was, mainly because no one seemed to know exactly what, when, where or how. The problem came to a head this year when people woke up to the fact that so-called juvenile delinquency spawns on adult neglect and community callousness. As a result, the annual Town Meeting in March faced up to the problem, created a Recreation Commission and authorized the employment of a qualified, full-time Recreation Director.

Although the Town Meeting action was unanimous, it should not be assumed that everyone in town has "seen the light" or goes along with the proposition, regardless of the recorded unanimity. Beneath the facade of Twentieth Century trappings and adornment, the town remains an old-fashioned New England community, fiercely and ruggedly individualistic, with inherent distrust of governmental intrusions of its early American way of life. Considerable "selling" of the need to bend with the times, when survival is of the essence, remains to be done. Young Mr. Cox has been given the ball and will be expected to streak down the field to a series of impressive touchdowns. He is on his own and will be required to make the runs without a protective wall of interference. We who wish him well can only shout encouragement from the sidelines and try to set in proper perspective the comment of curbstone quarter-backs.

It would be doing the young man no favor at this stage of the game to promise him clear sailing ahead and no hidden shoals to wreck his programs and shatter his dreams. The plain fact of the matter is that Directed Recreation Programs and Supervised Facilities have long been considered new-fangled hokum by many good citizens who persist in living in the past and refuse to believe that the wide open spaces of youth no longer exist, or are rapidly disappearing under the impact of expanding "metropolitanism." They belong to generations which have accepted and enjoyed the pleasures of modern living without considering the price that youngsters and generations unborn will have to pay. It is only human nature to assume that the whole world revolves about one's own axis. The selfishness is instinctive and unwitting.

There is a great deal of misunderstanding and misconception about the business of Directed Recreation, a terrible inclination to dismiss it as "coddling" or boondoggling" or "time-passing." Nothing could be farther from the truth! A dynamic and intelligent program of directed and supervised recreation for all ages is not a luxury or a convenience, but a civic necessity. There is much more to Gerald Cox's new job than supervising youthful athletics, encouraging arts and crafts, or baby-sitting while children play. He will be responsible for seeing that tragic mistakes do not recur in the future. Our generation is harassed by the spectacle of youngsters playing in the streets because a callous older generation has taken away their pasture playgrounds to turn a fast buck. Civilization is cursed by teen-agers loafing on street-corners because society gives them nowhere else to go and nothing else to do.

Young Mr. Cox has a man-sized job staring him in the face, and a good place to start is at the beginning. He should take immediate steps to prevent a bad situation from coming immeasurably worse by having a heart-to-heart talk with the Planning and Zoning authorities. It is not enough that new real estate sub-divisions be required to provide adequate road, water, and sewerage facilities: there should be sufficient land set aside for playground areas to keep the kids off the street in an age of increasing transport speed. Next, he should try to conserve and improve and expand the playground and park area still extant in our town. They certainly do not inspire civic pride at the present time. He cannot insist, but he should suggest that the uncommitted sector of the Alexander Estate be preserved, as the good Doctor wished, for recreation, not speculation.

But, enough of telling young Mr. Cox what he should do. Even more important than a good idea in a typical New England town is the psychology of convincing people to go along. The people of this town are not Hicks and Yokels, but highly intelligent and surprisingly well read, far more so than their city slicker cousins. They resent being fast-talked, high pressured, or peddled a bill of goods. They are set in their ways, but not obstinate, and like Abraham Lincoln, will do the right as God gives them to see the right. Don't try to talk above them, or at them, but to them, man-to-man. Do this, Mr. Cox, and you'll do okay! Do otherwise, and you're a dead duck!

Many bright young brains, in the course of history, have come to town with the idea of re-making it in their own image, only to fall on their faces, and crawl away into oblivion. Many of them had good ideas, but the wrong approach. We are New Englanders and New Hampshiremen; we don't want to be made over; we relish ourselves the way God made us! All we ask of Mr. Cox or anyone is to help make us better and help us better utilize the facilities and natural wealth with which Divine Providence has endowed us. If Mr. Cox dedicates himself exclusively to doing his job well, he can certainly count on the cooperation and support of the vast majority of our townspeople. Nice to have you aboard, "Gerry"... and Good Luck!

Post-script.

My Dad was the town's Parks and Recreation Director for 28 years until his retirement. In that time, he created, implemented, and oversaw countless recreational and athletic programs, led the conversion of an old school into a community center, built a permanent staff of full-time, part-time, and volunteer recreation staff, and lobbied long and hard (and usually successfully) to save and create parks. It was he who protected the Alexander Estate mentioned in this article. That land is the ski hill I mentioned last week. My Dad rocks.

the answer

The number of questions I have asked in the last couple months is incalculable. I've wondered and doubted and worried, considering possible outcomes and repeating them countless times. The truth is that the answer has been amongst my ruminations the whole time. I just didn't recognize it as the right answer until last night. When I did, it felt like I had been released from inevitability. I thought about blogging at that moment -- to revel in my discovery, share my exuberance, quote a Queen song.

I decided to file our taxes instead.

Anyway, it was too late to talk with Ted about it: he was already asleep. So, when he headed out for work at 5:30 this morning, despite my mere 3½ hours of sleep, I bounded out of bed, became instantly focused, and followed him through the house and out to the garage, telling him every detail. He must have thought I was sleepwalking. I wasn't. I was so energized, I almost stayed awake. But I decided it made more sense to get a full night's sleep. A decision made easy by my discovery of the answer. I slept incredibly well, and woke up (again) energized by the thoughts of my next steps.

It's still scary. Don't get me wrong. I've been through major life decisions in the past, and my experience has been that the longest and most excruciating part of them is the constant contemplation leading up to the decision. Everything that follows -- as uncertain as it may be -- eventually leads to the right direction.

So, most of all, I'm relieved to have made the decision. Now, I'm also excited, nervous, petrified, and excited. Did I say that twice? The second time is for maybe being able to actually reveal all this mystery here on sanguinary blue. It may come sooner than I ever thought it would.

grateful

This time last year, I'd started a day-long blogging spree interspersed with simultaneous Thanksgiving and Christmas preparation and other chores. This year, there will only be one blog entry -- this one. There will still be chores, although they will be largely centered on today's holiday only.

As he has done in previous years, Ted is working. So I am left to my own devices. I'm going to endeavor another traditional family recipe -- Kris Kringle cookies. It's been years since I've made them, but I do remember that they're a ton of work. So, I should wrap up the miscellaneous internet chatter and get cracking.

In the spirit of both the holiday and my recent spate of counting, I'd like to share this New York Times editorial. It's written by comedian/actor/musician Rick Moranis. Happy Thanksgiving.

My Days Are Numbered
By RICK MORANIS

The average American home now has more television sets than people ... according to Nielsen Media Research. There are 2.73 TV sets in the typical home and 2.55 people, the researchers said. — The Associated Press, Sept. 21.

I HAVE two kids. Both are away at college.

I have five television sets. (I like to think of them as a set of five televisions.) I have two DVR boxes, three DVD players, two VHS machines and four stereos.

I have nineteen remote controls, mostly in one drawer.

I have three computers, four printers and two non-working faxes.

I have three phone lines, three cell phones and two answering machines.

I have no messages.

I have forty-six cookbooks.

I have sixty-eight takeout menus from four restaurants.

I have one hundred and sixteen soy sauce packets.

I have three hundred and eighty-two dishes, bowls, cups, saucers, mugs and glasses.

I eat over the sink.

I have five sinks, two with a view.

I try to keep a positive view.

I have two refrigerators.

It’s very hard to count ice cubes.

I have thirty-nine pairs of golf, tennis, squash, running, walking, hiking, casual and formal shoes, ice skates and rollerblades.

I’m wearing slippers.

I have forty-one 37-cent stamps.

I have no 2-cent stamps.

I read three dailies, four weeklies, five monthlies and no annual reports.

I have five hundred and six CD, cassette, vinyl and eight-track recordings.

I listen to the same radio station all day.

I have twenty-six sets of linen for four regular, three foldout and two inflatable beds.

I don’t like having houseguests.

I have one hundred and eighty-four thousand frequent flier miles on six airlines, three of which no longer exist.

I have “101 Dalmatians” on tape.

I have fourteen digital clocks flashing relatively similar times.

I have twenty-two minutes to listen to the news.

I have nine armchairs from which I can be critical.

I have a laundry list of things that need cleaning.

I have lost more than one thousand golf balls.

I am missing thirty-seven umbrellas.

I have over four hundred yards of dental floss.

I have a lot of time on my hands.

I have two kids coming home for Thanksgiving.

thanksgiving day, part 5

What a day! And it's not over yet! As predicted, my list was vastly optimistic, and with only minor exceptions, I've been busy all day. I only just finished the stockings an hour ago. But they're done, tied up neatly, bundled by family, marked, and lined up on the dining room floor. Next year, I'm scaling back.

Right.

Here's the rest of the list as of now (with several additions).

• Finish assembling stockings and pack up by family (continuation)
• Make lunch for Ted
• Rehang shower curtains
• Have lunch
• Watch half of Ocean's Twelve
• Take nap
• Finish assembling stockings and pack up by family (finally completed)
• Prepare turkey and get it into oven
• Call brother whose family is hosting Mom & Dad for Thanksgiving dinner, chat with niece
• Call Mom & Dad, who'd already left brother's house and were back home
• Blog

The turkey's been in for about half of the time it will take to cook. So, I must head back to the kitchen and commence preparation of the trimmings. Stuffing, squash, yams, peas with pearl onions (for me), corn (for Ted), and wheat rolls require prep and cooking. Baby carrots, cranberry jelly, and green olives with pimentos need only be allocated into serving dishes. Apple pie will go into the oven when turkey comes out of it.

Thank thee, oh Lord, for these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thine bounty. Grace said many times in my life, not just on Thanksgiving. I am thankful for the wonderful meal. For the treasures found and wrapped up for kids, mid-afternoon naps, and partially accomplished 'to do' lists. For a short work day tomorrow, and Saturday off to finish the list. I am not thankful for a temperamental blog editor who shall remain nameless as it repeatedly adds formatting that I don't want! But I'll forgive it. In the spirit of the day. Finally, I'm thankful to write my last Thanksgiving Day update for 2006. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel so moved by the fabulousness of our supper that I'll return to write some more. But tomorrow. Not today.

thanksgiving day, part 4

Man, these stockings are killin' me! But I'm betting it's less pain than that endured by the people who were underneath the street light that broke off during the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. How terrible for them. A bit of a damper for the viewing audience. It's tough to be filled with holiday spirit when something like that happens.

So, I focus on my list.

• Finish assembling stockings and pack up by family (almost done)
• Investigate how to cook turkey (Explanation below)
• Watch Macy's parade
• Blog

I just have to add the candy to about half of the stockings and wrap them up, and I'll be done. Seriously, my back hurts from this assembly line work. It gives me a tremendous appreciation for people who work 40 hours a week on an assembly line. I don't know how they do it.

OK, so I've never actually cooked a turkey myself in my life. There have only been about three occasions where I was called upon to make Thanksgiving dinner, and in each case, I resorted to a turkey breast. This year, we ended up with a half turkey on the ribs. It can be stuffed and everything! More complicated than I want to get. So, I had to read the instructions that came with it to see what type of preparation I have to do, and how long it will take to cook. I'm all set now.

I am thankful to Butterball for making turkey cooking easy. For a job that doesn't require me to stand on my feet all week assembling components over and over. For the phone call I just got from Ted saying that he's coming home from work now... a few hours earlier than expected! For watching giant balloons from the safety of my own home. For Brian Setzer who just has too much fun making music, especially the Christmas kind. For the sunshine intermittently shining on a day that started snowy and cold and blustery. For the fact that my parents, brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews are all with other members of their families to enjoy the festivities.

Must finish the stockings before Ted gets home. We can have lunch together. I'm thankful for that!

thanksgiving day, part 3

I underestimate how much time it takes to assemble 12 "stockings." Way underestimate. But I'm having fun. Listening to the Christmas music and working away on filling these containers with dozens of little gifts and treats. I admit to having gotten completely carried away with stuffers this year. I'm very excited and was briefly tempted to take pictures of the completed packages and post them here. But then I realized that, occasionally, a few of the recipients actually read this blog (hi kids!). And there's no peeking! So, here's my chores list.

• Finish assembling stockings and pack up by family (in progress)

I'm thankful for my wonderful family, and for the chance to spoil the youngest members every now and then. For Christmas music to work to, and the rapidly disappearing first snow outside my window. For Costco, Target, Papyrus, The Rainforest Site, and Pier 1, where many of the tiny treasures were procured. For a business trip that not only allowed me the amazing experience of going to Hawaii, but also gave me the opportunity to find really cool stocking stuffers. For my blue tortoiseshell cat whose nickname is the closest thing to appropriate for this holiday -- Sweetie Baby Kitty Pie, often abbreviated to just "Pie." That's Sadie, by the way.

Back to the assembly.

thanksgiving day, part 2

A couple hours into it, and I've checked the first four items off my list; five if I include this entry.

• Launder bathroom #1 shower curtain and liner
• Drano bathroom #1 shower drain
• Have breakfast
• Laundry
• Blog

I am grateful for a home with heat, running water, and electricity. For cable TV and high speed internet. For a washer and dryer right here that doesn't require me to take clothes and linens outside of our home to clean. For Quaker Oatmeal Strawberries and Mango cereal, skim milk, and orange juice. For Drano -- what practical chemistry! For thick towels, two full bathrooms, and the smell of warm laundry. For four cats who help me with all my chores and remind me to stop once in a while to pet them and hear them purr.

Like I said, completing the entire list today is pumpkin-pie-in-the-sky (much as I love pumpkin pie, we're having apple pie tonight). But I'll give it a shot. Off to the CPGA to assemble stockings. Back in a bit. Here's the next cornucopia. Colorful, isn't it?

thanksgiving day, part 1

Today's list of chores is long.

• Launder bathroom #1 shower curtain and liner
• Drano bathroom #1 shower drain
• Have breakfast
• Laundry
• Blog
• Finish assembling stockings and pack up by family
• Investigate how to cook turkey (I'll explain later)
• Watch Macy's parade
• Blog
• Finish emptying/organizing desk clutter
• Have lunch
• Bring in remaining holiday wrapping paper, storage containers
• Refill kitty litter bucket and bring upstairs
• Call family to say "Happy Thanksgiving!"
• Blog
• Replenish tissues throughout house (all boxes tend to get empty at the same time)
• Scrub bathroom #2 tub
• Wipe down walls, ceilings
• Blog
• Vacuum/mop
• Empty trash
• Make little feast (feastlette? feastella? feastita?)
• Blog
• Enjoy traditional holiday repast with my husband who will, no doubt, be exhausted from this week's work
• Relax
• Watch Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special (in my PJs, just like when I was a kid)
• Blog

There's no way on God's green Earth I'm going to get all this done. But you have to shoot for the moon to at least land among the stars. Happy Thanksgiving. Oh, and today's graphics will all be supplied by Microsoft Clip Art. All various cornucopia. Appropriate for this day that celebrates being grateful for the bounty in life.

reality check

Sometimes, money is tight. It seems like the bills arrive only nanoseconds after the paychecks, and it's easy to wish for more. But sometimes it's important to remember that, despite the tightness, we're incredibly fortunate. This calculator certainly drives that home.

I'm the 48,034,065 richest person on earth! Discover how rich you are! >>

So, I'm glad for everything we have and will celebrate our $2.00 Lotto win (matching THREE numbers out of six!) instead of bemoaning an $11 million Lotto loss. :-)

Man, it's time to go to bed. This late night stuff doesn't help my cold.

update and vent

So, I entered this cryptic title last time and dashed off before I could give a real explanation. I still don't have time to go into all the specifics (and nobody in their right mind would want to read them all). But I need to vent, so here I am for a quick summary of events and a bit of steamletting.

Two weeks ago tomorrow, I was in a car accident. It was an unusual situation and as it happened I was driving my husband's car when it happened. I will not get into the details of the accident. I was then, have been for the past two weeks, and will continue to be for the rest of my life, grateful that neither the passengers in the other car nor I were hurt. I can't speak for their after-effects, but I had naseau for nearly a week afterwards and a spectacular seat belt bruise which, as of right now, is only the faintest bit of shadow.

The car, however, was not so lucky. Hit in the right rear quarter, it spun around about 45 degrees and the bumper went flying across the road to land on the grassy area by the sidewalk. The right rear wheel is no longer perpendicular to the ground, and thus the car is undriveable. It was towed away that morning, and until yesterday, sat in a storage yard awaiting the insurance company appraiser's inspection. The tow truck driver told us he thought that they would total it because of the extent of the damage. However, yesterday morning, I received a call that upon visible inspection, it was, in fact, fixable.

I have no idea why my insurance company would only do a visual inspection when clearly there will be significantly more work to be done under the car. But apparently they're going for the fastest route (although it took them nearly two weeks to get around to the inspection), by writing up an initial report and sending me the first check -- $5100, less our $1000 deductible. He assured me that they would pay the rest once the shop gave a second estimate for the remaining repairs.

When I spoke with the shop, they assured me that this is the way it's done now. They do it all the time. So, I guess I just have to continue to hope for the best.

Over the last week, I'd let myself get relatively laissez-faire about it (whereas the first week, I did a lot of handwringing and general fretting). Most of our conversations this week have centered on replacing the car. So, yesterday's news that it was fixable threw us a little off track. Truth is, we were looking forward to getting rid of it. Oh well.

Anyway, in this new milder mindset, I had managed to not think about the ways this process could go wrong, the most significant of which would involve the other driver. Well, tonight I got a call from the officer on duty, needing me to reiterate my insurance information because it was incorrect on the police report. I was cynical about the veracity of this call (read too many spam emails about scams) and offered instead to call the police station back with it. He asked that I do so within half an hour. I asked him what the problem was, because I had given him my insurance information at the accident. He said that the driver's mother was "making a stink about it."

Here we go.

So, despite the fact that my house is really cold tonight (the largest electric bill we've had in five years has convinced me to turn down the heat) and my fingers are freezing and blue, my face is burning up and red. Putting my hands to my cheeks is temporarily a relief to both, but it's difficult to function in that position for long.

The rest of my cryptic title referred to a trip I took the day of the accident (I had to fly to Chicago for a series of business meetings), the trip home, the immediate immersion into the too-long SuperBowl, and my complete and utter exhaustion after that series of events. Had I been in possession of an only slightly less sturdy constitution, I'd have fainted dead away and been admitted to a "spa." Instead, I went to work at 6:45am Monday morning (with only one car, my husband and I now carpool, changing my work schedule to adapt to his).

To reiterate the good things: Despite the occasional misstep, I still believe that I live a blessed life and I am grateful for every tiny (and little and medium and big and extra large) good thing. My husband was recently promoted, which is great for him. I have a ton of projects at work, which is a good thing even if it's sometimes overwhelming. I have so much. It's frustrating that one out-of-whack-situation can commandeer so much of my attention away from all the good.

The holidays, my two business trips, the accident, and the backlog of work behind me for now, perhaps I can finally dedicate more time and attention to sanguinary blue. Real attention. Creative writing and editing and graphics and links and everything.

a new year

There are so many things for which I'm thankful. My life has been blessed more times than I can count, and I try to remember that and be grateful even if something is presently askew in my life. I am thankful for the vast goodness I encountered in 2004, and for the opportunities that await me in 2005. That said, please help just some of the people in this world who have not been as blessed.

A return to normal blogging will occur in mid-January. Any entries before then will be caused by something spontaneous. Happy new year.

gobble

Ted left for work at 5:30am. I'm sorting through gifts (two nieces and one goddaughter with birthdays before we can start wrapping Christmas gifts), listening to Christmas music, doing laundry, and reorganizing my home office. I've already done my 12 clicks for the day. Later, I'll work on our annual newsletter, put the new holiday tablecloth on the dining room table, and start pulling together dinner ingredients.

Schmoo is watching the little creatures on the hill outside the office window. Milo is sitting on his desktop afghan, closely watching the printer that annoys him so. And Sadie just chirped from her deskside hammock nap to get some pets.

I must get back to my chores. It will be a busy day. I'm thankful that I have so many things to do for myself, my family and my friends. That in mind, here's some food for thought.

it's not about the feast

I just wrote a grocery list for Thanksgiving dinner. All my life, I have been a participant in someone else's dinner. My Mom made a marvelous feast every year I was growing up and for several more once I was on my own. At some point, the duties shifted to my sister-in-law, with the occasional visit to my sister who has hosted it for the last couple years. I only ever had to bring a side dish or appetizer.

When I lived in Seattle, I never traveled home for this holiday and so I was a guest of my friends' and roommates' families. In 1994, my roommates and I rented a cabin on Orcas Island. It had only cold running water and no bathroom (we had to hike to a central facility), and we packed in all our trimmings to prepare there. We made Cornish game hens instead of a big turkey. I spent my time in the cabin doting on one of the stray cats who wandered the grounds (a giant, solid gray cat we called "Smokestack") and crafting hand-made Christmas cards from hundreds of old cards. Oh, and I did test out the outdoor hot tubs. Definitely an alternative Thanksgiving.

In 1996, I made Thanksgiving dinner for myself and a friend. There were some modifications, the biggest of which was preparing a turkey breast instead of a whole turkey. Despite the theoretically scaled-down nature of the meal, it was still a lot of time and work to put together. And even though it was fabulous, the two most vivid memories of that day were the kitchen sink backing up (and my friend running around town looking for an open store to buy Drano) and me being sick (and therefore not hungry).

For Ted's and my first Thanksgiving together in 1997, I flew to Phoenix and we partook of an enormous holiday dinner in Sedona where a friend of his owns a cliffside inn. We toured the holiday lights and marveled at the snow (even though I knew we were going to be in the mountains, I just don't associate Arizona with snow). The next year, we ate at restaurant in one of Seattle's downtown hotels. The year after that, I had already moved to New England for my new job, and Ted was still in Seattle finishing up his old one. I crashed the dinner of my college roommate, Pam, and her husband, Craig. Ted visited a different Seattle restaurant. Since we settled down in Connecticut, we have had a combination of alternative and traditional Thanksgivings.

In 2000, we spent the holiday with Ted's stepmom, Shirley, and her daughter's family. Although I had obviously met Shirley, Lisa, Bob, Geno and Timmy by then, it was the first time I got to meet Bob's brothers and sisters. So, it was a nice family holiday, while feeling a bit like a get-to-know-you mixer.

The next year, we stayed in Norwalk and dined at the Silvermine Tavern. Although it was a neat setting, the food -- while good -- was a bit restaurant-y. Given that we weren't with family that day, the lack of a familiar feast-type dinner made the day seem like just another day. The next year, we drove to Northern Vermont to stay at a wonderful bed and breakfast that was so remote, it didn't have locks on the doors. Now, that was a spectacular feast. But talking to the family on the phone just seemed weird. And there was the added challenge of notable snowfall almost every day we were there. Last year, we returned to New Hampshire and the Cox family dinner. At the risk of sounding corny, it felt like home. Well, it was my sister's home, so I guess it was! :-)

But this year, I will once again be making that modified Thanksgiving dinner that I first attempted in 1996, this time for Ted and me. Ted's new job requires him to work Friday and Saturday, and it's too far to make the 5-hour drive each way to join my family at my sister's house for one day. So, I made a list. And save a few items that we otherwise never eat (green olives, cranberry jelly, peas with pearl onions), it looks like any other grocery list. And although I had this meal without my family for all those years I was in Seattle, I will miss being with them tomorrow.

Sure, I see them all the time. I saw all of them (except eldest brother, Gerry, who lives in California) a couple weeks ago, and I will see all of them (including Gerry) a couple weeks from now at Christmas. For me, Thanksgiving has always been about sharing those things for which I'm grateful. My family is always at the top of that list.