New Year's Resulutions. . . .Revisited

Oh, how foolish we can be sometimes. . .believing in things that really aren't there and daring to dream ridiculous visions. I thought I had the courage and the hope to make some resolutions this year. I thought I would dare to make a plan. I thought that looking forward wouldn't be so scary anymore. I thought wrong.

There will be no resolutions. I will take life day by day. . . .maybe hour by hour. I will be grateful for each one of those hours and days, but I will expect nothing beyond that. I learned that lesson again, today. I will try to remember it and not step out of what "I" have become.

There will be no more posts here, I suppose. . . .at least for a while. No computer to use as an outlet to the great wherever or whatever that is out there.

It has been fun and uplifting and cathartic, while it lasted.

In Memory of a Remarkable Friend. . . .

Sad news greeted me today, as I learned that my daughter and son-in-law had made the agonizing decision to have their beloved pet, Samantha, put to sleep. It was not just agonizing, but caring, compassionate, and courageous. . .but oh, so very hard.

It feels somehow wrong to call Sammy a pet -- even a beloved one. She was so very much more than that. For fourteen years, she has been a member of the family. She was my grand-doggy. She was their four-legged child who taught them about love, commitment, patience, reward, and loyalty. She was an awesome dog, but her health had failed and she was in terrible suffering for these past several months. When she could no longer hold herself up to eat from her dish or to take care of her needs, you could see the agony and humiliation she felt. She was beautiful and loving and loyal. And she will be forever missed.

I found the following poem, while searching for words to express the loss of Samantha, and I think it would have been her prayer. I hope these words give comfort to Valerie, Heath, and Duncan, and will keep Samantha in our hearts. She was a good and loyal companion. . .and so very much more.

A Dog's Prayer
Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.
Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me do.
Speak to me often, for your voice is the world's sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.
When it is cold and wet, please take me inside... for I am now a domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements... and I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth... though had you no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in all the land... for you are my god... and I am your devoted worshiper.
Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food, that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life, should your life be in danger.
And, beloved master, should the Great Master see fit to deprive me of my health or sight, do not turn me away from you. Rather hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the merciful boon of eternal rest...and I will leave you knowing with the last breath I drew, my fate was ever safest in your hands.

NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS. . . .

Traditionally, this is the time of year when people take a few moments to reflect back on the path they've traveled for the last 12 months, take stock of where they are in their lives, and set goals for where they would like to be. Traditionally, this is the time of year for making "New Year's Resolutions". Traditionally, I don't participate in that ritual. Never have, for some reason.

This year, I think I will break with my tradition and set out a few specific goals that I hope to achieve during 2008. Nothing major or world-changing. Just things that I want or need to do for myself. . . for my life. Some people may laugh at the thought of this. Others may scoff. Still, some may recognize that it's an act of courage for me to look forward and make a plan. It's a demonstration of 'hope' for my life. Something I have been afraid to hope for or think of in a very, very long time.

So, I will spend the next couple of days reflecting upon where I am (literally and figuratively) and where I want to be. When I have come up with a plan -- whether made up of baby steps or leaps of faith -- I will share those 'resolutions' here.

Wish me luck. . . .and stay tuned!

4,883 Days And Counting. . . .

Today was/is my Mother's birthday. I miss her. I have missed her for each of the 4,883 days since she passed away. At her funeral service, a dear friend of hers came up to me and said that "As long as you're alive, your Mother will never be gone. You're the image of her." What a compliment that was. Not because I looked like my Mother -- who I think was beautiful and graceful and elegant, which I am not -- but because she was a remarkable woman, and I admired her.

She made the most delicious spaghetti I've ever eaten. Try as I might, I've never been able to duplicate that taste. Everyone who had the pleasure to sit at her table when she made this signature dish remembers it fondly!She told me once that it was because she stuck her finger in the pot, and I'd never get my sauce to taste the same! She was right, though I still try.

When we were young children, our Mother made most of our clothes. She was a gifted seamstress and I can only dream of having her talent with a needle and thread! When a special occasion arose, she would literally make a new dress overnight, and it was always something special and charming and amazing. I don't know how she did it. I wish I knew.

And, she was a highly taltented craftswoman, as well, making intricately detailed dollhouses, which she furnished with lovingly handmade furniture, accessories, and decor. She created little fantasy worlds within those balsa-wood walls!

When it came to sports or games, my Mother was nearly obsessed! She loved her Atlanta Braves, the Dallas Cowboys (back when Roger Staubach -- a good family friend -- led the team), Olympic events of all descriptions, board games, card games, and Scrabble. We played Scrabble on the night she died. Even then, she not only beat us all, but she corrected the score along the way!

In the springtime, my Mother would grow the most magnificent flowers. She always had something colorful in bloom! And she decorated our home for every holiday, in the most spectacular ways! Even snowmen were special for my Mother. . .taking the form of the Incredible Hulk or some other unique design.

"Chocoholic" would be an apt description of my Mother, as well! Whether it was chocolate covered cherries, bridge mix, Tasty Cake cupcakes, brownies, or any other form of chocolate, she would enjoy it with gusto!!! The grandchildren all learned about fudgesicles-before-dinner from their Grandma. That, and jumping in puddles with their new Easter shoes! She loved having fun!

Water fights that ran throughout the house; food fights with mashed potatoes and orange marmalade; dancing on the coffee table to "Your Mama Don't Dance and Your Daddy Don't Rock 'n Roll"; driving endlessly, going on a 'lost' just to spend some time together; watching "Jeopardy"; camping; summers at Beverly Beach; wrecking our 1957 Ford stationwagon on the George Washington Parkway; hunting for the perfect Christmas tree; hearing her sing; holding her hand as she passed from this life. These are the things I remember.

She was a remarkable woman. . . .way ahead of her time. She was part Lucy Ricardo and part Lauren Bacall. She could make you laugh until your heart felt free, and she could stop you cold in your tracks with a single glare! And she was in her happiest element when being a Grandma! Oh, how she adored her grandchildren. . . .each and every one in a special and loving way! She wanted to live to see her first great-grandchild born. She missed it by such a short while. That generation will be cheated, somehow. They will only know her through their parents and the stories and the pictures and the love that passes to them.
I miss my Mother today, and wish that I could bake her a chocolate cake and sing "Happy Birthday" just one more time. I'd gladly lose at Scrabble. I'd like to hear her laugh.
I miss my Mother, but I remember her so dearly that I know she will always be with me, somehow. As long as I am living, my Mother won't be far.

Life Lessons. . . .

Thanks to a dear friend, who keeps in touch through emails, I was reminded of a lot of wisdom spoken by our mutual 'hero', Maya Angelou. Thought I would pass these nuggets along for all who might be inspired by them.

"I've learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow."

"I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights."

"I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life."

"I've learned that making a "living" is not the same thing as "making a life."

"I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance."

"I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw some things back."

"I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision."

"I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one."

"I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back."

"I've learned that I still have a lot to learn."

"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."

Princess Reality Check. . . . .

Two-by-Two. . . . .

Everything I need to know about life, I learned from Noah 's Ark

One : Don't miss the boat.

Two : Remember that we are all in the same boat.

Three : Plan ahead. It wasn't raining when Noah built the Ark.

Four : Stay fit. When you're 600 years old, someone may ask you to do something really big.

Five : Don't listen to critics; just get on with the job that needs to be done.

Six : Build your future on high ground.

Seven : For safety's sake, travel in pairs.

Eight : Speed isn't always an advantage. The snails were on board with the cheetahs.

Nine : When you're stressed, float a while.

Ten : Remember, the Ark was built by amateurs; the Titanic by professionals.

I BELIEVE. . . .

Here it is, Christmas eve, when all the world's children should be heading to bed with happy thoughts and hope in their hearts, because Santa will be coming tonight! Why, you can even track his progress on any one of a dozen websites, from http://www.noradsanta.org/ to http://www.santaclaus.net/ to http://www.liftoff.msfc.nasa.gov/, among others. Clearly, today's children must require proof that he exists. If it's on the internet -- supported by huge government agencies and major network news organizations -- then it must, indeed, be true.

How very sad for today's children. For me, I will continue to believe in Santa because my heart tells me to. Because my great Uncle Carl was one of his 'helpers', at Macy's. Because long, long ago, a little girl wrote a letter and received the best answer I've ever known for that eternal question. . . ."Is there really a Santa Claus?"

I will leave it up to you to decide. Merry Christmas to all!

Click here to seethe newspaper clipping

"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old. "Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. "Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.' "Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?"VIRGINIA O'HANLON."115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET.

"VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

If only in my dreams. . . .

PUTTNG THE HO HO HO BACK IN MY HOLIDAYS. . .

Given the way the first half of my day went, this posting could have been about yet another discouraging diagnosis, or a disappointing turn of events, or my depressing lack of the traditional holiday trimmings, but -- thanks to a very special surprise -- I am delighted to say that I received a giant booster-shot of Christmas spirit and a full dose of 'happy'!!!

Evidently, Santa is taking a little R & R on the Gulf coast of Florida, this week, in preparation for his big night. Through the miracle of kindness (and a little help from the post office), he enlisted my sister Judy, and her significant other/lifelong friend/guardian angel David, and they sent me the most wonderful box of goodies and smiles! There were some heat-and-serve turkey dinners, cranberry sauce, lots of exciting snacking treats, a special little Christmas tree, an adorable stuffed buddy, a puzzle book, some personal items, and LOTS OF CHOCOLATE!!! It was like a Christmas stocking in a box!!!

"Thank you" won't cover what I feel in my heart, but they are the only words I can say. "Thank you" to Judy, to David, and to my daughter's, to my family, and to my friends. I have much to feel grateful for. . . .and a spoonful of 'happy' to enjoy!!!

Amen. . . .

Disclaimer: The following post is not meant to offend anyone, of any faith or following. Having been married to a non-practicing Catholic (twice, actually), I simply found this funny. Hope you can appreciate the humor in it, too!


This information is for Catholics only. It must not be divulged to non-Catholics. The less they know about our rituals and code words, the better off they are.
AMEN: The only part of a prayer that everyone knows.
BULLETIN: Your receipt for attending Mass.
CHOIR: A group of people whose singing allows the rest of the Parish to lip-sync.
HOLY WATER: A liquid whose chemical formula is H2OLY.
HYMN: A song of praise usually sung in a key three octaves higher than that of the congregation's range.
RECESSIONAL HYMN: The last song at Mass often sung a little more quietly, since most of the people have already left.
INCENSE: Holy Smoke!
JESUITS: An order of priests known for their ability to find colleges with good basketball teams.
JONAH: The original "Jaws" story.
JUSTICE: When kids have kids of their own.
KYRIE ELEISON: The only Greek words most Catholics can recognize besides gyros & baklava.
MAGI: The most famous trio to attend a baby shower.
MANGER: Where Mary gave birth to Jesus because Joseph wasn't covered by an HMO. (The Bible's way of showing us that holiday travel has always been rough.)
PEW: A medieval torture device still found in Catholic churches.
PROCESSION: The ceremonial formation at the beginning of Mass, consisting of altar servers, the celebrant, and late parishioners looking for seats.
RECESSIONAL: The ceremonial procession at the conclusion of Mass led by parishioners trying to beat the crowd to the parking lot.
RELICS: People who've gone to Mass for so long, they actually know when to sit, kneel, and stand.
TEN COMMANDMENTS: The most important Top Ten list not given by David Letterman.
USHERS: The only people in the parish who don't know the seating capacity of a pew.

On Being A Captive Audience. . . .

Sometimes, it is difficult to describe a person with just a single word. Today, I met someone for whom a one-word definition seemed most appropriate: motormouth. As in "Noun 1. motormouth - someone who talks incessantly."

While waiting for a friend to finish a business appointment in town, I found myself stuck in the car with a young man of some remarkable talent. Ought to be in the "Guinness Book of World Records" really, since he never came up for air for nearly two hours!! Nearly two hours of his chattering stream-of-consciousness which ran the gamut from his doctor's appointment (which was why he was with us), to his home life (which was more than I ever needed to know), to his experiences with a bully in elementary school (which was decades ago and bore no relevance to any other part of the monologue), to his many appearances on television (???), and on and on and on. There was actually never a pause long enough for me to even attempt to speak. . . .or to escape!

He must have sensed that my mind was starting to wander occasionally, because there were amazingly well-timed pats on the shoulder or exaggerated gestures at those very moments, bringing me back into his verbal world. When I saw our friend emerge from the office building, I have to confess to a small rush of relief and joy, knowing that we would soon be on the road with nothing more than the roar of an untuned engine to fill my ears! Something unexpected happened, though. . .

During the half-hour drive 'home', I actually had time to reflect a little on all that I had just heard. Maybe I had been too hasty in my judgment of this fellow passenger. Was he feeling so comfortable in my company that he wanted me to know him better and be a part of his world? Was he just very lonely, and glad to have another person to talk to about the things that make up his history and dreams? Did I mistake enthusiasm for boastfulness? Was he asking for a friend and not just a listening post? Had I assumed all the cliche things and missed the fun of those two hours?

When we arrived at our destination, I gave him a hug and said that I hoped I'd see him again sometime. He smiled a real smile. He was just a young man who probably missed his mother.

Christmas Rocks. . . .

With a "hat tip" to fellow blogger Donutbuzz, I'd like to offer up some things about Christmas that really rock. . . .

1. Egg nog rocks.
2. Chugging egg nog straight out of the carton really rocks.
3. Pepperidge Farm™ Gingerman cookies rock. (Eating an entire package in one sitting rocks more than chugging egg nog straight out of the carton--unless you’re chugging your egg nog out of the carton while you’re eating your Pepperidge Farm™ Gingerman.)
4. The old-fashioned street decorations that used to hang on the lights in downtown, in the 1970s, still rock even though they’re probably in some land fill in New Jersey by now.
5. The Snow Miser and his song rock. The Heat Miser doesn’t rock, nor does his song, because it’s too depressing.

6. Watching your child (or grandchild) perform in their first Christmas pageant rocks.
7. The bigger the Christmas decorations, the more they rock.
8. Oh, I almost forgot: The Abominable Snowman from the Rudolph cartoon rocks until Hermie takes out all his teeth.
9. Charlie Brown’s Christmas rocks. Of course.
10. Twenty-four hours of "A Christmas Story" rocks.

11. Stockings filled with "Archie" comic books, green olives, and new toothbrushes really rock!
12. Fresh-baked cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning (or any other morning) rock.
13. Having the Christmas spirit all year long, whether you celebrate Christmas or not, ROCKS!

So what 'rocks' your Christmas?

Pocket Aces and a Royal Flush!

Sleep has become a precious, rare commodity in my present situation, so I pass the hours writing, researching on the web for no particular purpose, and playing on-line poker (for 'play money', of course)! Texas Hold 'Em, to be exact. Now, I had never even seen a complete game of hold 'em until a few months ago, and clearly had no concept of all the strategy and mathematical calculation required to really progress in the game. Luck plays a part, too -- and, Lord knows, I have none of that -- but I pretty much depend upon figuring up the odds and trying to key into the style of the other players at the table. Not that I've become some kind of a poker whiz or anything. . . .far from it. . . .but tonight was different. Tonight, the planets must have been aligned or there was an angel on my shoulder or maybe my brain was just firing on all cylinders for a change because tonight was incredible!!!

Against all reason, I played in two 90-person tournaments tonight and WON BOTH TIMES!! Generally, if I can make it to the final table, with the last 9 players standing, I'll do my little mental 'happy dance' and consider the game a success, so this was a real memorable night for me! And, to top it off, I got the first royal flush that I've ever had. . . .ten, jack, queen, king, and ace of hearts. . . .and won a pot that held almost 15,000 chips!! What a tickle that gave me!

Isn't it strange, what becomes important in our lives, when other things are no longer there? Never would I have imagined myself writing a blog, caring about whether Wickipedia got an entry right, or playing poker on a computer, but here I am. . . .three o'clock in the morning, and I'm so excited over that win that I can't sleep. . . .even if I could.

Wishing I Could Hug My Grandson. . .

It's the week before Christmas, and things should be in a happy whirl for my older daughter, her husband, and their precious little son. It's his very first Christmas, and he'll be celebrating his first birthday on New Year's eve, so there should be joy abounding. Unfortunately, that's not exactly the case.

Like most young couples who have recently relocated to a new city, new jobs, a new home, and welcomed a new baby, they've been doing a lot of belt-tightening and penny-counting over the past two years. Like most young couples, they would love to indulge their most adorable child with all of the toys, books, clothes, and other goodies that seem to define 'Merry Christmas' in today's world. Like most young couples, that can't be so, and they have worked diligently at taking what extra few dollars they could and spending them wisely, so that their child could have a happy and memorable first Christmas and birthday.

Unfortunately, it is also the time of year when colds are circulating; the flu is rearing it's ugly head; and germs are thriving on every surface imaginable. Since my daughter has to take her son to work with her every day, he is often exposed to a lot more germs, weather extremes, etc., and it was just a matter of time before they were hit by some random bacteria or another. And, hit they have been. . .with not one but two ear infections! Oh, how I wish that I was there to hug my grandson and soothe his suffering. How I wish that I was there to help my daughter and give her rest. But I am not, and cannot be.

Christmas toys will go back to the store now, so that doctor's visits and prescriptions can be paid for. He's only one year old, so he really won't remember those parts of Christmas and his birthday that he 'missed'. He will have mommy and daddy and his two happy dogs, and he'll feel better soon. My daughter and son-in-law will miss something, though, and that makes me sad. Until you are a parent yourself, you really can't understand how important it becomes to you that certain milestone moments live up to your expectations and hopes. While they both know that presents don't define an occasion nor measure love, there is a special, magical feeling they'll miss out on this year. God willing, they will have many, many years of magic yet to come, but I still ache for them this year.

I hope it snows for Christmas. It makes things brighter and happier and gives us all an excuse to act like a kid again. With healthy ears and his fever gone, my grandson could celebrate a super-special Christmas with his mom, his dad, and his 'gogs', making snow angels! I will wish for that.

Taking Care of Santa . . . .

The week before Christmas was always a remarkably busy time in our costume shop (second only to Halloween week), with church pageants, school productions, community parades, holiday parties, and the big guy himself: Santa, with a cadre of assorted elves to accompany him. We would have rental Santa costumes, beards, and wigs coming and going from morning until night. . . .and it was great fun! Keeping all that red velvet or plush, white fur, and beard/wig hair clean and in perfect condition was an enormous challenge!

For any of you readers who may work in costumes -- or who are fortunate enough to have your own Santa ensemble -- I though I'd offer a few tried and true tips for keeping things looking like new, no matter how many tykes climbed upon your knee this year!

If the jacket, pants and hat are washable (as most well-made ones are nowadays), you will get excellent results if you follow these simple instructions: Turn the suit inside out and machine wash, in cold water, on gentle cycle, using 1/2 cup of Suave shampoo with built-in conditioner mixed with 1/2 cup of ground black pepper. (Now, I realize that this sounds a bit crazy, but I have experimented with more solutions than I care to remember, and this really works! The shampoo/conditioner will keep the velvet/plush and fur trim from matting up and will leave the suit as soft as a child's favorite stuffed toy. The pepper will keep any of the red from 'bleeding' onto the white fur.) While still inside out, place the suit into the dryer, with 3-4 fabric softener sheets, and dry on medium setting for 20 minutes. Remove suit from dryer and hang to finish air drying. If necessary, use a hairbrush to give the white fur a little extra 'fluff' after completely dry. Never, never, never store your suit in a plastic bag! If you need to keep it hidden, just cover it with a clean sheet and keep it at the back of your closet.

To clean and restyle the traditional white beard and wig, fill a large dishpan or sink with hot tap water and add a good squirt of Santa's best-kept-secret: Suave shampoo with built-in conditioner. Place the beard and wig into the shampoo bath and swish them around well, but don't really agitate them or you'll get awful tangles! If there are candycane stains or other trouble spots, just put a few drops of the shampoo on the area and work in well with your fingertips. Let them soak for at least 30 minutes. Rinse under a running faucet (the bathtub faucet works best, since it has a stronger flow) until water runs clear. But, you're not done just yet! Fill your clean dishpan or sink with warm water and add 1 teaspoon of bluing, making sure not to get any on your hands or clothing. (Bluing can be found in most grocery store detergent aisles, but you may have to ask someone to help you find it.) After the bluing is fully dispersed in the water, give the beard and wig a good 10 minute soak, then rinse again under a running faucet. Gently squeeze excess water from the beard and wig, but do not wring or twist, as you'll break the fibers and end up with frizzy hair! Hang overnight, to dry. To re-style and put the shine back in your Santa hair, use a wide bristle vent brush and gently brush out the wig and the beard, then give a light spray of Oil Sheen. (This product can be found in most discount stores, beauty supply stores, etc. and is used to spray on hair that is particularly brittle or lacking in shine. A little goes a long way, so be frugal with it.) You will be amazed at how lustrous your Santa hair will be! Again, never, never, never store your wig and beard in plastic! Place in a paper bag to keep fresh until next year!

I hope this helps some of you and that all of Santa's helpers will have a very, very Merry Christmas this year!

Memories. . . .

When I was a child -- many, many decades ago -- my grandparents lived in New York City, and we would

visit them a couple of times each year. Of course, some of the happiest visits were over the Christmas holidays! Not just because my Grandfather, Alfred, called me his 'secret pal' and hid treasures for me in his grand, elaborately carved desk. Not because of the presents and the sweets to eat or even because we'd sometimes get to miss a few days of school. Mostly, my happy New York holiday memories are of seeing the city virtually ablaze with the most beautiful, colorful, sparkling lights! They reflected off of the snow (or in the wet pavement), and made the whole city seem like a fairyland to me!

Here in my old age, I sometimes can't remember what I did two hours ago, but I can intimately recall our visits to Nana and Alfred's home in New York. Oddly, I can even remember the address. . . .99 Metropolitan Oval. I can close my eyes and smell the slightly acrid air that hung in the downstairs hallway of their high-rise apartment building, emanating from the incinerators which were so common back then. I can taste the ice cream bar we'd always get when we walked to the Good Humor store, and I can somehow feel the weight of the Sunday papers we would buy at the corner newsstand. Nana used real butter. I remember that, too, so fondly.

It's strange, the things we store in our mind's memory bank. Sometimes I can't remember what I had for lunch today, but those happy times at Christmas are with me forever.

Mystery. . . .

Been trying to access my blog since last night, but just keep getting 'error' messages. Hmmmmm. (Finally got to it through a link with another friendly blogger.) It wouldn't concern me so much, except that my yahoo email account was recently hacked into, so I'm just a little suspicious that there may be someone with unsavory motives trying to alter or block my words.

What a shame it is that privacy has become such a difficult commodity to protect. Someone happens upon your drivers license and, boom, your identity can be compromised. Just knowing your mother's maiden name or your father's place of birth can give unscrupulous characters access to all phases of your life. Even your birth date needs to be guarded anymore.

What a shame it is that people lead little lives with nothing more to do than to make sport out of complicating the lives of others.

Hopefully, I'll be back on-line soon. . . .randomly ranting.

*** UPDATE *** It is now 3:15 in the afternoon, and still no resolution to the mystery. The only way to access my blog, at this point, is directly through a link. Hopefully, those who really want/need to take a peek at it will be able to. It's not crucial -- because my thoughts and wonderings are certainly not vital to any segment of the world besides myself -- but it sure is disappointing to know that there are people out there who would do something like this. Happy holidays y'all!!!

***UPDATE*** It is now 10:08 p.m., and still no resolution to the mystery. Haven't heard back from Google/Blogspot either. Hmmmmmm.

********UPDATE******* MYSTERY SOLVED!!!!! Thanks to a very nice young man, named Dave, I am up and running again. Thank you for your persistence and insight, Dave! Don't know who/how certain settings were altered, but we're back and I'm happy!!!

A Little Chuckle About Political Correctness. . . .

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director

TO: ALL EMPLOYEES

DATE: December 2

RE: Christmas Party
I'm happy to inform you that the company Christmas Party will take place on December 23, starting at noon in the private function room at the Grill House. There will be a cash bar and plenty of drinks! We'll have a small band playing traditional carols... Feel free to sing along.And don't be surprised if our CEO shows up dressed as Santa Claus! A Christmas tree will be lit at 1:00 pm. Exchange of gifts among employees can be done at that time, However, no gift should be over $10.00 to make the giving of gifts easy for everyone's pockets. This gathering is only for employees!
A special announcement will be made by our CEO at that time!
Merry Christmas to you and your family.

Patty
______________________________________________________________

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director

TO: All Employees

DATE: December 3

RE: Holiday Party
In no way was yesterday's memo intended to exclude our Jewish employees. We recognize that Chanukah is an important holiday, which often coincides with Christmas, though unfortunately not this year.
However, from now on we're calling it our "Holiday Party". The same policy applies to any other employees who are not Christians or those still celebrating Reconciliation Day. There will be no Christmas tree present.No Christmas carols sung. We will have other types of music for your enjoyment. Happy now?
Happy Holidays to you and your family.

Patty
______________________________________________________________

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director

TO: All Employees

DATE: December 4

RE: Holiday Party

Regarding the note I received from a member of Alcoholics Anonymous requesting a non-drinking table ... you didn't sign your name. I'm happy to accommodate this request, but if I put a sign on a table that reads, "AA Only", you wouldn't be anonymous anymore. How am I supposed to handle this? Somebody?
Forget about the gifts exchange, no gifts exchange are allowed since the union members feel that $10.00 is too much money and executives believe 10.00 is a little chintzy. NO GIFT EXCHANGE WILL BE ALLOWED.

Patty
______________________________________________________________

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director

To: All Employees

DATE: December 7

RE: Holiday Party
What a diverse group we are! I had no idea that December 20 begins the Muslim holy month of Ramadan, which forbids eating and drinking during daylight hours. There goes the party! Seriously, we can appreciate how a luncheon at this time of year does not accommodate our Muslim employees' beliefs. Perhaps the Grill House can hold off on serving your meal until the end of the party- or else package everything for you to take it home in a little foil doggy baggy. Will that work?
Meanwhile, I've arranged for members of Weight Watchers to sit farthest from the dessert buffet and pregnant women will get the table closest to the restrooms.
Gays are allowed to sit with each other. Lesbians do not have to sit with Gay men, each will have their own table. Yes, there will be flower arrangements for the Gay men's table. To the person asking permission to cross dress, no cross dressing allowed though.
We will have booster seats for short people. Low-fat food will be available for those on a diet. We cannot control the salt used in the food we urge those of you with high blood pressure to taste first. There will be fresh fruits as dessert for diabetics; the restaurant cannot supply "No Sugar" desserts. Sorry!
Did I miss anything?!?!?

Patty
______________________________________________________________

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director

TO: All #%&$ing Employees

DATE: December 10

RE: The #$%*!@% Holiday Party
Vegetarians?!?!?!? I've had it with you people!!! We're going to keep this party at the Grill House whether you like it or not, so you can sit quietly at the table furthest from the "grill of death," as you so quaintly put it, and you'll get your #$%^&*! salad bar, including organic tomatoes. But you know, tomatoes have feelings, too. They scream when you slice them. I've heard them scream. I'm hearing them scream right NOW! Have a rotten holiday! Drive drunk and die, you hear me!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!

The Bitch from HELL!!!!!!!!
______________________________________________________________

FROM: Joan Bishop, Acting Human Resources Director

DATE: December 14

RE: Patty Lewis and Holiday Party

I'm sure I speak for all of us in wishing Patty Lewis a speedy recovery and I'll continue to forward your cards to her. In the meantime, management has decided to cancel our Holiday Party and give everyone the afternoon of the 23rd off with full pay.
Happy Holidays!

Wisdom. . . .

"KEEP YOUR FACE TO THE SUNSHINE AND YOU CANNOT SEE THE SHADOW.". . .Helen Keller

Sibling Rivalry

They say that "sisters are different flowers from the same garden," and I believe that is probably the most apt definition that I have ever heard. While they share so many, many traits (sometimes to their consternation!), my daughter's are frequently as different as night and day. . . .as a rose is to a lilac. Both are beautiful and add a special dimension and charm to the garden, but they are distinct and unique as well.

Perhaps their eight year age difference has exacerbated the sibling rivalry between them as they have gotten older. That very thing was what made them so close and bonded when they were young. My youngest seemed to idolize her big sister and wanted to do everything just the way "Sissy" did. And you couldn't have found a better older sister. . .always willing to sit and play with dolls or Candyland, when MTV might have been more to her liking. She passed her love of reading on to my youngest, and for a lot of years that was something that they treasured together.

Then, the dreaded day came when, at the age of 17, my older daughter went away to college. Not just 'away', but 500 miles away. There would be no weekends at home; only holidays and summer break. There would be no more tickle fights and cuddling up on the sofa to read every night. Things changed. At eight years old, my youngest took this as abandonment, and no amount of explaining or cajoling would make her think otherwise. Today, at the age of 25, she still holds onto that bitter feeling and resents her sister for it. It breaks my heart.

Some kind of 'scorekeeper-demon' took hold of my youngest at that time, too, and became her measuring stick for determining whether she was loved 'as much', or spoiled 'as much', or given 'as much' as her older sister. That is a scale which will never be balanced, merely because of the eight years between them. All of the opportunities and benefits and rewards that have been there for the oldest have also been there for the youngest, but it's all been eight years apart. Eight years of "It's not fair that she gets to go to England for a semester," when that same study-abroad opportunity would present itself when the youngest made it to her sophomore year in college, too. Eight years of "It's not fair that she got married and moved a thousand miles away. . .that she has a house. . .that she has two cars. . .that she. . . . .whatever and everything." Rather than enjoying the perks and possibilities of her own life's journey, my dearest younger daughter has lost so much by spending her energies worrying about what her sister has/is/can do. It breaks my heart.

Sadly, things worked out badly for my youngest when I became ill. She had been working with me -- partners with me, really -- in our little costume shop. That was her source of income and a large part of her identity, too, as she truly flourised in all aspects of the business. When I ultimately had to close the business, it not only took away my livelihood and income, but hers as well. With belt-tightening in order, I asked whether she wanted to move back home, because I could no longer help her with rent, food, an income, etc. Understandably, she wanted to keep her independence and chose not to come home. The alternative -- which we thoroughly discussed at the time -- would be for me to put all I owned into storage and go to stay with her, temporarily, until I recovered. Well, she has been our sole support and my personal hero for all these many, many months (which have grown into three years now). She has made me more proud than I could ever express in words; and more grateful than I'll ever be able to show her. That 'scorekeeper-demon' rears it's ugly head every now and again, though, and she can say some pretty hurtful, selfish, uncaring things. . . .most often to her sister. She resents that her big sister hasn't been able to contribute more, financially, and that I've had to complicate only her living situation. It breaks my heart.

It was never meant for me to be a burden to my children. . . . .either of them. That's not the natural order of things. While I probably could go to stay with my older daughter, the reality is that my medical care is here, my lawyers and lawsuit are here, my need is to be here. . .at least for now. Is it fair for my youngest daughter to shoulder the load? No. [Which is, for the most part, why I am no longer living with either of my daughter's.] Is it fair for her to blame and resent her sister because I cannot stay a thousand miles away, with her? No. It breaks my heart more than either of them will ever know.

There are eight years -- and a million light-years of misunderstanding and hurt feelings -- between my two daughter's. If I had died when I probably should have, would they be better friends now? Would they be closer? Would they remember how much they love each other? I don't know, and it breaks my heart.

Sleep Deprivation

I will apologize, in advance, for the way this post may read. There is no guarantee that I will be able to form complete sentences nor complete thoughts. It is nearly 3:00 a.m., and I've been awake since about 6:00 a.m. yesterday.


Lack of sleep. It can do strange things to you. Makes you percieve things in a totally different way. Causes you to feel like your head is floating about 18" above where it's supposed to be. Gives you a blinding headache, dry eyes, and an overall ache that makes you feel like you've been beaten down with a baseball bat.


For the past 9 days, I have averaged about 2 hours of sleep per 24 hour cycle. Back in the 'olden days' (when I had my health and my vitality), I could function at full capacity on such a routine. Not anymore. Can't even think straight.


What's the line from "Hamlet"??? "To sleep, perchance to dream. . . " Well, I don't want to dream. I just want to be in a coma for a while!

******* It is now 5:36 a.m. and still no sleep. . . . . . .Y A W N!!!!!!

Smiles

It's that most wonderful time when all of the great holiday specials show up all over the television! Which Christmas show is your favorite. . . .either animated or live action?

For me, it's Garfield. When he brings the stack of love letters to Grandma, it gets me every time!!!

A Not So Ho Ho Holiday. . . .

Growing up, the weeks leading from Thanksgiving all the way through New Year's Day were filled with excitement, anticipation, decorating, baking, family, friends, and tons of warm memories! As an adult, with a growing family of my own, I always tried to keep those traditions going, hoping to make memories for my children which would be as joyful for them as those I hold so dear.


There have been some 'difficult' holiday seasons, over the years, but most have been wonderful times to remember. Most of those wonderful memories are of the time we spent together. I cherish those times.


This year, however, there will be no special memories I'll want to call upon. There will be no time with my children nor my precious new grandson. There will be no decorations nor home-baked goodies. There will be no wreath or tree. There will be no gifts, cards, visits from neighbors, laughter, songs, nor stockings full of surprises.


This year, I will be alone. . . .living in a faraway place, in a rickety old house trailer, with 'cup-o-noodles' for dinner, and no smiles to share. This year, it'll be hard -- if not impossible -- to look towards Christmas with anything more than dread.


Guess I could crawl under the blanket and cry myelf through the holiday. . . .but that would only make things worse. Instead, I will try my darndest to recall every warm, happy, funny, loving, generous, sparkling memory I have, of all the blessed Christmases I've been so fortunate to have. I will feast on that, and be happy.


My very best wishes to all, for a happy and heartfelt holiday!

Rock Piles 'n Scar Tissue

Back before my 'infirmity', I used to love to go hiking with my children. . .with friends. . .and sometimes alone with my thoughts. This photo reminds me of a rock formation atop Roan Mountain, near where I would often hike. It fascinates me how the earth seems to constantly shift, creating new landscapes and pushing what was once level ground into amazing shapes and forms. That is a beautiful act of nature, which I appreciate and enjoy.

Until my 'infirmity', I hadn't realized that scar tissue can grow in much the same way. . . .but it isn't so beautiful and is clearly not appreciated nor enjoyed. The short story version of my 'infirmity' goes something like this. . . .Went into the hospital for what was supposed to be a routine gallbladder removal. Having already been told that the gallbladder was so enlarged and calloused that it would need to be removed by conventional 'open' surgery, I was prepared for a four to six week recovery period. Not so. The selected surgeon repeatedly assured me that he could remove the offending organ by laser/laporascopic surgery instead, resulting in a mere three to four days of down-time. Hmmmm. He proceeded. Things did not go well. A metal clip was inadvertantly left inside, to play havoc with my abdominal region in the weeks to come. My liver was cut, by mistake, further complicating things. My lifelong low blood pressure suddenly became a raging, out of control case of hypertension. And the scar tissue began to grow. . .from the incision sites upward. From the liver to the base of my lung. From the lung to my aorta. And so on and so on and so on.

Now, I carry my own pile of rocks around with me, growing and suffocating all in it's path. Look like the world's oldest pregnant woman. Feel like I have 4 or 5 broken ribs. Can't function. And they can't treat it. The oldest scar tissue cells have surrounded parts of my heart and caused it to calcify. Not a pretty sight, nor a happy prognosis.

There are lawyers now, of course, and a painfully slow legal system which grinds at a snails pace, unconcerned that people's lives lie in the balance.

And, so it goes. I have my own private rock pile to climb. I'm trying.

My Lifelong Inspiration. . . .

Many, many years ago, I ran across a tattered piece of paper, while vising my Grandmother's house, in Pennsylvania. On it, in her carefully elegant handwriting, was the following poem. . .

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick the flowers in other peoples' gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickles for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

. . . . . . . .

For years, I believed that my Grandmother had written that poem. . . .because it speaks of just how I remember her living her life. She was a free spirit; could make me laugh convulsively; was independent, stubborn, and strong; and lived life aways on her own terms. She was who I wanted to be when I grew up.

Of course, I have since come to know that the poem was written by one Jenny Joseph, and not by my dear Grandmother. I still love it. And I still love her, too, some 40+ years after her passing.

I want to be the Grandmother who wears purple and teaches the wonders of mud puddles and chocolate ice cream before dinner. God willing, there are adventures that lie ahead. . . . .!

Grand Children

I've heard it said that "God gives us children so that death doesn't come as such as disappointment," and, I do have to admit that -- from time to time -- over the past 30+ years, I have understood the truth to that saying. For the most part, though, I have found parenting to be the single most fulfilling, inspiring, uplifting, frustrating, and satisfying task of any I've ever pursued! Even when we're disappointed by our children, or when they are disappointed in us, there is always room for the love and the pride and the unconditional acceptance of this person to whom you gave life.

While my daughters are clearly the most blessed aspects of my time here on earth, I do have to confess that there is someone else who has entered our realm and stolen the light in my eyes. . . . .my first grandchild! Never could I have imagined the love and joy this tiny little boy would bring with his birth! He is the reassurance that the world will be a wonderful place and that all of the tomorrow's are worth fighting for! He is a miracle!

I think that's what I've survived all of this for. . . . .to be a Grandmother. What a blessed journey this will be!

My Story. . . . .

I'm an old lady. I've spent a lifetime working hard and trying to 'play by the rules.' I've had at least my share of bumps in the road, yet always managed to keep moving. . . .somehow. Until now. Until my world changed yet again, and I find myself caught in a quagmire of physical infirmity (which limits what I can do) and lawsuit turmoil (which limits what I can do) and emotional drama (which limits what I can do. . .and what I can think or feel). It is a bizarre life that is frustrating, draining, disappointing, and even occasionally inspiring, but all-too-often depressing.

I'm an old lady. The world of computers, emails, and blogs is both new and mystifying to me, yet here I am. I've enjoyed keeping up with a few blogs recently (mostly family members), and thought that this might be a good vehicle for me to put my thoughts out into the universe. Not to vent, because there's no use moaning over things one cannot change. Not to whine, because having a pity party only serves to increase the depression. But to express some of the things that go through my mind and perhaps help clear my head just a little.

So. . . .if there is anyone out there reading this, let me apologize from the outset. Among many other things, I seem to suffer from 'popcorn brain' and random thoughts come and go with no discernable link between them, so this will not likely be an easy, interesting, nor fun blog to keep up with. If you check in once in a while, though, you might find a nugget of wisdom or a musing which could give a lift to your day or open your mind to something new. Who knows? Not me.

I'm an old lady. And I'm putting my thoughts out there. . . . .