Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

“Year’s end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us.”

December 30, 2014

No mistake about it. Winter has us in its clutches. It’s darn cold now and will go even lower tonight, to 19˚. The Christmas warmth must have been a gift from Mother Nature who is back to her old self again. As for me, I have to go out for an hour or so then I’m hurrying home to get cozy, nestle under the afghan and read. The laundry will sit in the hall another day.

This is the lame duck time of the year. Christmas is over and it’s not yet the new year. I guess it’s the week of reading new books and eating Christmas cookies. The weeks before Christmas were busy. There was baking, wrapping and decorating. The cards had to be addressed and they and the packages had to be sent. Every day had a bit of frantic about it. Christmas Day was making dinner then everything was over; everything was finished. I believe I heard a collective sigh of relief.

New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day demand no preparation. My days of partying, wearing conical hats and blowing noise makers are over. I have no need to join the revelers. In my younger days, I would have been at a party with a drink in hand and a silly hat on my head. Now I’ll be home wearing my pajamas. If I have the celebratory spirit, I can still wear a funny hat and have a drink in my hand. I will definitely watch the Times Square ball fall and I’ll yell Happy New Year.

I remember when I was little, I wanted to be awake for the New Year. My parents agreed, but only because they knew I’d never make it. Midnight was way beyond my usual bedtime. I sat on the couch wearing my hat and holding my noisemaker which I was not allowed to blow because the noise was driving my father crazy. I drank ginger ale and felt adult. I also fell asleep and missed wishing every one a Happy New Year.

I made no resolutions. I liked last year, and I’m happy. I am content with who I am.

“Winter is a time of promise because there is so little to do — or because you can now and then permit yourself the luxury of thinking so.”

December 29, 2014

I no longer consider myself a loller. Yesterday I went out and did my errands and even brought my laundry downstairs, but I admit it got no further and still sits in the hall waiting for its final journey. I am in no hurry to move it. I just keep adding to it. Doing laundry demands a particular mood or a frantic need for specific clothes like underwear. Maybe tomorrow I keep telling myself.

It’s chilly today. We have sun and a blue sky, but it is pleasing only to the eye, best seen from the warm house through a window.

Getting ready then celebrating Christmas made for an exciting week. It was filled with anticipation and neither Christmas Eve nor Christmas Day disappointed. Now, however, there is a lull. I don’t even have a dance card. I take naps. I still light the Christmas tree every night, but its days are numbered. Soon the house will be boring, bereft of light and color, a perfect reflection of winter.

The ocean in winter looks dark and foreboding. The beach is sometimes so windy and bone chillingly cold you fear you’ll never get warm. The car heater on high makes your fingers tingle as they start to feel again. Your feet seem to take a bit longer, but taking off your shoes and putting your feet by the heater helps. Soon enough hands and feet are back to normal, and it is time to lower the blasting heat and move along.

I always hope no one comes to my door on a winter’s afternoon. I am never dressed for company. Even now I’m in my winter uniform. I’m wearing a sweatshirt, a Celtics sweatshirt, my around the house pants and a pair of new slippers. I haven’t even brushed my hair, but I don’t care. I am comfy and happy, and I’m thinking that’s all that counts.

“One thing’s sure. Inspector Clay is dead. Murdered. And somebody’s responsible.”

December 28, 2014

The rain is back, but it’s a light rain, a tolerable rain. The day is warmer than expected. Gracie and I are going to the dump later. I also need to hit the store for a few essentials like cream for my coffee and bread. Gracie has only one can of dog food left so I’ll stop at Agway. I am not in an errand mood.

Decorating the house for Christmas is fun, filled with anticipation and memories of Christmases past. Cherished ornaments take their places in the front of the tree, and I move them around until they are just right. The tree is most beautiful at night with its lights brightening the room and reflecting in window panes. Soon enough, though, it will be time to take down Christmas. I usually do it all in one day as I don’t want remnants of Christmas hanging around, too much regret at its passing. Once I’m finished and Christmas is back in the cellar the rooms look bland. The only lights which stay all year are in the windows and in the kitchen where the shell lights and the pepper bunch light up the whole corner. After New Year’s is take down day.

I love the syfy channel, and I love comically bad movies, but sometimes my suspension of disbelief just can’t fight the absurdity. Cars chase running people who stay in the middle of the road. Veering toward a sidewalk between parked cars is never given a thought. Standing and watching a car flying right at you in a storm is common. The next shot is always the car and a body underneath it. Storms and strange prehistoric creatures bring out the silliness more than most plot details. A creature appears. Some idiot standing in a field stays there and the next thing is he is being flown away with his legs dangling from the creature’s mouth, sort of a take-out dinner. As for me, I admit I watch anyway. I really do love the absurdity.

“Games lubricate the body and mind.”

December 27, 2014

Okay, yesterday I was a woman of my word. I didn’t even get dressed. Most of the day I lolled. Today I need to get my laundry out of the dryer where it has sat for at least a week then I can do another laundry which will also probably sit for a week. I woke up at 10:20 this morning because I didn’t go to bed until three. I just wasn’t tired. Mostly I watched Doctor Who and then finished my book.

Winter sunlight is muted and seldom warm but still welcomed. It is here again today with its frame of blue. I was out on the deck to stop a barking Gracie, and though it isn’t as warm as it has been, it is still warm for late December. Gracie has been out most of the morning enjoying the yard. She has yet to take her morning nap, a most unusual occurrence.

One of favorite Christmas presents was my bike. I was around nine or ten. When I came downstairs Christmas morning, I saw it beside the tree leaning on its kickstand. I knew it was mine, not my brother’s, because it was a girl’s bike. I remember that was the Christmas of no snow, and on Christmas morning I was glad. I’d get to ride my bike. When I took it outside for the first time on the day after Christmas, my mother took a picture of me standing beside the bike holding it by the handlebars. I have the biggest grin on my face. I remember how proud I was riding my new bike.

Every year we’d get a new game. On Christmas day, after dinner and seeing family, we’d set up the new game by the tree, lie on the rug and play. If we didn’t know the game one or the other of my parents read and explained the directions as we went along.

I give my friends a new game every year, my way of keeping the tradition alive. It’s getting more and more difficult finding real put your hands on the pieces games instead of video games, but I usually am lucky to find a couple.

I love game nights, our weekly get-togethers. We have appetizers and drinks. We have moaning and cursing. Sarcasm rules the evening. Someone is always dubbed the loser with finger L on forehead. Sorry and Phase 10 are the usual games. Phase 10 is civilized. Sorry never is and never has been. That’s the fun of it.

“Scatter joy!”

December 26, 2014

The day after Christmas needs a name. In England it is Boxing day. Here I’m thinking it’s stay in cozy clothes, lie on the couch and read or watch TV, eat wonderful leftovers, nap and ooh and awe again at the Christmas presents under the tree day.

I slept late this morning, a perfect start to a lazy day. After all the festivities of the last two days, I am exhausted.

We had a wonderful Christmas Day. We opened presents and stockings, ate dinner then Clare read us a Christmas book; it’s one of our traditions. This year it was about a Christmas tree in the forest decorated by animals like Deer, Bird and Bear. I got lots of presents including a Doctor Who sweatshirt with the Tardus on the front and two pairs of slippers. I go through slippers quickly so two pairs are perfect. I’m wearing a new pair now.

Last night the living room was lovely. The tree was lit as were small strings of lights in corners of the room. The tree skirt my mother made for me was covered in opened presents on display. In the dining room I set the table with special plates and with the napkins my mother had made as a Christmas present to me. My friends didn’t want to use them. They switched to paper. My mother would have chuckled and insisted they be used. Small flowers in gold and red vases were the centerpiece. A few Santas stood guard on the red and green table runner. In the corner the ugly tree was lit as were the candles on the table. The room was perfect for Christmas dinner.

The food was delicious. Contrary to current wisdom, I always cook new recipes for special dinners. It is the only time I get a chance to spread my culinary wings. The first thing I tasted was the corn pudding, and it was amazing. The mashed potatoes came close to perfection. The pork was out of this world. The poor carrots, though, had to be saved as I had forgotten they were cooking and some burned. Luckily there were still enough carrots.

After the reading, my friends left. I sat in the living room for a while taking joy in the lights and shadows. I find every Christmas remarkable.

“Christmas time! That man must be a misanthrope indeed, in whose breast something like a jovial feeling is not roused— in whose mind some pleasant associations are not awakened— by the recurrence of

December 25, 2014

Merry Christmas!

I woke up to a dark, rainy day yet again, but I remembered right away it was Christmas, and the day got brighter. Both trees are lit and both look beautiful. The one in the living room, the real tree, is still surrounded by presents I haven’t yet opened. That will come next, when I finish here. I find my restraint remarkable.

Christmas Eve was great fun. We drank egg nog and ate appetizers but mostly we worked on our gingerbread houses. We each had a kit with house parts and some candies for decoration. Clare added different candies and off we went. The frosting was sticky and my fingers were covered. Some bits fell on the floor as the frosting hardened quickly. This year, while the walls of the houses were drying, we decorated. We laughed when colored round candies hit the floor, bounced and then rolled, and there were several. Gum drops, we found out, needed lots of frosting. We landscaped. The last step was for us to attach the roof parts. We each had two pieces. Mine caused the walls to collapse, a construction set back, but I added icing and reconnected the house. It dried, and I gingerly added the roof, and it stuck. The three of us created masterpieces. They are the best houses yet.

When I was a kid, the first look at the tree on Christmas morning was jaw dropping. It was lit and surrounded by presents. It always looked brighter and taller on Christmas morning. I had to stand just a second on the stairs to marvel then I went to my spot, my special present spot under the tree. We each had one, and it never changed over all the years.

We’d take turns opening up a gift so could watch each other open. The stockings were the only exception. There we were on our own though neat stuff was held up for everybody to see. Stockings always had neat stuff. My mother was a stocking maven.

We’d play a while then go to church for Christmas mass. Because my parents went at midnight, my brother and I walked and went together. Mostly we went to early masses which were quick and had no sermon. It was just the old ladies and us.

Dinner was always a roast of some kind, usually roast beef, which we didn’t have often. Mashed potatoes and gravy were a necessity. Only the vegetables could change from year to year. After dinner we did whatever. Mostly we played near the tree. Sometimes I’d start a new book. For supper we had hot roast beef sandwiches covered in gravy. My mother always toasted the bread first.

We went to bed early on Christmas, exhausted by the festivities of the day. It was always a special day filled with surprises.

I love Christmas still and take joy out of finding neat stuff, the kind you hold up to show, for bags and stockings. Speaking of bags and stockings, I’m done here. Merry Christmas!

“Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time.”

December 24, 2014

It’s raining, and it’s 50˚, but none of that matters. It’s Christmas Eve. When I was a kid, it was the longest day of the year. The clock never seemed to move. I remember begging my mother to let me go to bed around six or seven. Tired had nothing to do with it. I was filled with anticipation, and I remember believing sleeping the night away was the quickest way to get to morning and to Santa’s surprises. It, of course, was always the one night I could never get to sleep. I remember having conversations with my brother down the hall while both of us were still in bed in our own rooms. Periodically my mother would yell up the stairs for us to stop talking so we could go to sleep. I used to wonder why she didn’t realize sleep was far away on Christmas Eve. Hers was a silly request.

Every year my mother put a few presents under the tree. Every year my sister Moe poked tiny holes in each present to see what was there. It was during these hole poking days she developed an aptitude for guessing exactly what each wrapped present was. Holes were no longer necessary. One Christmas is legendary. She was going to a Christmas party with Rod, my brother-in-law, and had nothing to wear. She felt a few presents from my parents and found her outfit, felt a few more and found new earrings to match her dress. She called to thank my mother who then became the tale bearer of my sister’s latest Christmas miracle.

We could open one present on Christmas Eve, but we never got to pick the present. We always had to open the pajamas. New pajamas were part of our Christmas tradition.

I can still see the tree at 16 Washington Ave. in its usual corner with the wrapped gifts underneath, the ones from my parents and grandparents, the ones with the tiny holes. The lights in the windows seemed especially brilliant on Christmas Eve. TV Santa, the one from New Hampshire we watched every afternoon, wished us a Merry Christmas, waved and left for his big adventure around the world. We hung our stockings on the railing going upstairs. We had no chimney. We watched a Christmas show or two on TV then we went to bed. Eons later we all fell asleep.

Today is still all about tradition. This morning I opened number 24 on my Advent calendar. It is the crèche scene, the same as it always is. This afternoon I will work on tomorrow’s dinner, and tonight my friends and I will build gingerbread houses, eat some appies and have a drink or two. That’s one of our favorite Christmas traditions.

Happy Christmas Eve! I hope you’re all on the good list.

When Tuesday Is Wednesday

December 23, 2014

Usually I take Wednesday off from Coffee but not this week. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I really want to post. Today I have five errands as well as a to-do list so come on back tomorrow!

I am posting music as I don’t want to miss a day. Besides, I figure I owe you something for dropping by to visit.

Enjoy!

Like snowflakes, my Christmas memories gather and dance — each beautiful, unique and too soon gone.

December 22, 2014

Last night it rained. I never heard it so I was surprised to find everything still a bit wet this morning. The sun keeps trying to break through the clouds but hasn’t quite made it. It is a warm day, in the mid 40’s. Today is a baking day for me.

I have a memory of a day much like today, a warm, cloudy day, the day before Christmas. I think I was nine or ten. My mother sent me on an errand to the white store probably for milk or bread, staples we seem to run out of often. I could barely believe she expected me to do a plain, every day errand on Christmas Eve, but she did. I took my bike out of the cellar, walked it around front and then rode down my father’s grassy hill, the one we were never to ride down but the one we always did. I remember riding around the corner, passing the brick house, stopping at the next corner to check for cars then pedaling as fast as I could straight away on the next street and around a corner to the stop at Spring Street to check for cars all the while muttering and   bemoaning my fate. I made that trip to the white store so often I can still see the streets and the houses in my mind’s eye. There were two odd houses. One was the brick house near my street and the other was a ranch squeezed on a small lot among houses built in the 40’s. It always looked out-of-place. I remember putting the package in the front basket of my bike and using one hand to hold it so it wouldn’t bounce out at bumps in the road. My other hand was steering. The ride home that day seemed endless, far longer than the ride to get there. I think it was the bumps and the package and the day before Christmas.

“The light teaches you to convert life into a festive promenade.”

December 21, 2014

The Winter Solstice is official at 6:03 EST tonight, the longest night and the shortest day in the Northern Hemisphere. We are moving back to the light.

It always seemed unfair somehow when darkness came so early. We had the street light curfew so winter afternoons for playing outside were short, and if it was cold or snowy or windy, we sometimes didn’t go out at all. We played games, watched TV, did our homework and read. The afternoons felt endless. Supper always seemed to be late, deeper into the early evening, but it wasn’t. The early darkness fooled us.

Today is the same as yesterday, a grey day, and it’s cold so I’m glad I don’t have to go anywhere. The inside Christmas lights are lit so the house looks bright. Multi-colored lights are my favorites for the tree though I do put a strand of white lights around the trunk, starlights in the middle of the tree. My window lights are white candles, bright white candles, which shine in a circle of light above the bulbs.

It is easy to create beauty this time of year. The tree is in my living room in the same spot it always is. Sometimes I stand at the edge of the room just to look at it. I’m always taken by how lovely it looks, a bit of bias I suspect. My dining room is lit by the window candles and by the small tree in the corner. The table runner is bright red and green. The centerpiece is a tree made of blocks. Each row is a word or phrase spelled out in the blocks. All of them have to do with Christmas. It was once my mother’s. My kitchen has a red pepper bunch of lights and a string of scallop shell lights. I never mind going from room to room to turn them on. Their light is welcome especially tonight.