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“Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering ‘it will be happier’…”

December 31, 2013

A dusting of snow was the surprise this morning. I first noticed it on the tree branches outside my bedroom window. The weatherman must have been so intent on the Thursday-Friday storm he forgot to mention this dusting, probably too little to notice.

It is cold. We have no sun for the third day in a row, and I’m beginning to forget what it looks like. All I see is a foreboding sky with dark, bare branches silhouetted against it. 

I intent to stay inside all day today. Yesterday I did a couple of errands so I’m all set. Warmth and comfort are all I seek. I have a book to keep me occupied and laundry to do if I feel any need to be industrious, but the laundry has been sitting in plain sight a couple of days so that’s not likely. I am in my coziest clothes, the coffee is freshly brewed and the larder is sufficient. 

I have no plans for tonight. When I was younger, I always celebrated on New Year’s Eve, usually at a party with a few friends. A couple of times I went to First Night in Boston and once in Reading, a town north of Boston. More than not, though, I just stayed home. My mother always called to wish me a Happy New Year. 

I don’t make resolutions. I used to but was horrific at keeping them. Now I just hope that every new year is better than the last and that I stay healthy and happy. That seems to be more than enough. 

I wish you all the happiest of new year’s and thanks for hanging around for another year!

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“In skating over thin ice, our safety is in our speed.”

December 30, 2013

Monday means breakfast at the diner. My diner is a small place with only 12 or so booths and some stools at the counter. A few regulars were there and the owners are always at the front of the house doing whatever needs to be done. They greet all the regulars and stop at the booths to chat a bit. It wasn’t too busy when I first arrived but all the booths were taken by the time I left.

The morning is cold. Yesterday throughout the day and night we had torrential rain and late last night the wind began to roar. I imagined the pine trees bending and swaying with loud creaks of protest, and when I let Gracie out this morning, I noticed a few branches, smaller ones, had fallen in the backyard. My outside Christmas lights died around 8, and the back dog lights blinked on and off for a long while. For my neighbors’ sake, I kept hoping the lights would stop blinking. They did and the yard went dark. This morning I turned on the timer for the outside lights, and nothing tripped so I guess all is well.

When I was a kid, I didn’t know anyone who traveled during Christmas vacation, and I didn’t know anyone who skied. Both of those would have been far too expensive for our family and for my neighbors. We had sleds and ice skates, and they provided winter amusement. My friends and I would skate at the swamp or on the rink at the park. That rink was put up every winter and taken down in the spring. The small building at the rink had wooden planks for seats, and we’d put our shoes, tied together, underneath the planks. The building was always warmed by a pot-bellied stove. One man worked there, and he was in charge of keeping the stove going. The skating was free, provided for by the town. I’d skate until my feet hurt.

Sometimes my mother would give us bus fare and entrance money for the MDC rink over the line in Medford, the next town. We had to walk up-town to catch the bus as it was really to far to walk. On Saturdays and school vacations, the bus was filled with skaters. The MDC rink had two fenced-in skating circles and a building with lots of seating and a refreshment stand. We’d skate a while then take a break in the warmth of the building then go back outside for more skating. We’d be there most of the day. I remember taking off my skates and how strange my feet felt. It was as if they had forgotten how to walk. We’d buy a hot chocolate then go outside and wait for the bus. I remember standing on the sidewalk and looking down the street hoping to see it coming our way. We were cold and tired and more than ready to go home.

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“I dont hate it he thought, panting in the cold air, the iron New England dark; I dont. I dont! I dont hate it! I dont hate it!”

December 29, 2013

Today is dreary with a damp cold that seeps to my bones. It is dump day for Gracie and me, and we’re going to Agway where dogs are welcome, even Gracie who jumps on the counter to say hello.

Days like today make me want to be lazy. When the sun is out, even in the dead of winter, it seems a sin to waste all that light so I go out for a ride or to do a couple of errands. It may still be cold but sunlight gives me an interest in the day. Today is more of a sit around and read day, but I’m stuck doing those errands. My new book, the Stephen King, will sit unopened for a while longer.

These days after Christmas are for winding down, for enjoying a bit of quiet. The tree is still lit casting its glow on the walls and even on the cat lying below it. I sit and read in the living room where I can still enjoy the aroma of the pine and watch the bubble lights. My gifts are opened and under the tree. I’ll put them away in the next couple of days. A few need to be hung on the walls so I’ll walk around with them until I find the right spots. My new DVD player needs to be connected so I’ll give that a try hoping the directions are written for the electronically challenged. My sister gave me an old bride and groom cake topper for another one of my collections. The bride has material around her skirt which is a bit different from most. She also gave me four really ugly elves with cardboard tops and pine cone bodies. I love them in their ugliness. My sister shops at an antique warehouse for me. She finds neat stuff. I also got a really old red tin for my kitchen and a Mammy note holder from the 1940’s. It is not at all PC. Something Red Sox is always one of my presents so she gave me a red B sweatshirt, a color I didn’t have. It will be fun going through my gifts again.

Well, time to get dressed and face the elements.

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“Adulthood is accretive by nature, a thing which arrives in ragged stages and uneven overlaps.”

December 28, 2013

I collect hats. They hang from nails on the bottoms or tops of the bookshelves, which one depends on your orientation. I tend to think they hang from the bottom shelves. My friend gave me two new hats for Christmas. One is your basic black perfect for almost any occasion. The other is white fur with ear flaps and a red Soviet hammer and sickle pin on the front. I figure red is not an accident. It is now my favorite hat.

Today is warmer than yesterday. Gracie has been in and out all morning. She is my temperature gauge. The longer she is out, the warmer the weather.

When I was a kid, relatives trying to make conversation sometimes asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I figured it was just one of those polite questions asked right after concerns about my health and before I was dismissed, the pleasantries being finished. The health I could answer, but what I wanted to be was elusive. I answered cowgirl once in my Dale Evans phase, but I didn’t actually think I’d ride a horse and work on a ranch. Lois Lane was about the most interesting woman on TV back then. She was a reporter but not just any reporter. She was dedicated to getting the news no matter what. Lois often found herself in trouble but Superman always saved her, and her story made front page. Reporter was a possibility. I never imagined myself in pearls, short heels and a dress so being a Mrs. Cleaver or a Mrs. Stone was out of the running. I read a book from the library about Nellie Bly, and she became my heroine. I wanted to be Nellie Bly. Not only was she a reporter but also a world traveler and a muckraker. She taught me to disregard boundaries: I can do anything.

I went to college, the first in my family to attend. It pushed the boundaries, but I didn’t think of it that way. I just figured it would give me time to work out what I wanted to be when I grew up.

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“A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.”

December 27, 2013

Yesterday was an odd day. I never did get dressed, but I wasn’t a sloth either. I did a variety of chores. Al the bird feeders were filled, the laundry was brought up, folded and put away, the camel’s head was glued back as was the zebra’s ear. Paw prints were cleaned off the kitchen floor, and the litter boxes were emptied and refilled. It was a banner day. The funny event was when I pulled out the barrel with the bird seed in it from underneath the grill cover on the deck. A chipmunk jumped out and ran by me as if his life depended on it. The chipmunk scared me as much as I had scared him.

Last night the house was ablaze with color. The tree lights were on in both rooms as was the wooden star, a plastic Santa, shell lights, the red pepper clump in the kitchen and the snowflake night-light in the bathroom. The house looked so lovely.

I remember the tree after Christmas with the toys still underneath it. My brother and I would sit by it and play one of our new games while my sisters played dolls. New sleds had to wait for snow but new bikes could be ridden despite the cold. The excitement of counting the days and waiting and hoping was gone, but we had all these new toys, and I always had new books so we were glad. I remember sitting in bed and being cozy and warm and reading a new Trixie Belden. The day passed almost unnoticed.

If we had snow, we’d be outside sledding on the hill behind our house or making snow forts. We older kids would sled down our street if it still had a layer of snow. That was the best ride of them all. It was a huge hill. From the top, you could barely see the bottom. I’d be wearing snow pants, my winter jacket, boots, a hat and mittens. When I walked, my snow pants made a swishing noise. My mittens would get clumps of ice attached to them, and snow found its way into my boots.

I was always freezing when I finally went into the house. I had to go through the cellar and hang up my wet clothes on the laundry lines. My skin was always beet red from the cold. I’d run upstairs to my room and put on warm pajamas and my slippers then I’d sit in front of the radiator to get warm. It was always the best day.

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“Christmas is doing a little something extra nice for someone.”

December 25, 2013

The morning is freezing cold. A dusting fell overnight but not enough to call this a white Christmas. The diner was filled this morning.  There was even a line.  My friend gave me two hats for my collection as my Christmas presents. One is a simple black hat perfect for a day in the city or even a funeral. The second came from Russia and is made of white fur. It is the sort of hat I remember seeing soldiers wear but far fancier. It has ear flaps. When I put it on, people smiled and the booths near us chatted with us. It is, without question, a conversation starter.

I hope Santa was good to all of you, and I wish you the Merriest of Christmas Days.

A light shall shine upon us this day: for the Lord is born to us: and He shall be called Wonderful, God, the Prince of Peace, the Father of the world to come: of whose reign there shall be no end.

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“Fall on your knees. Oh hear the angel voices. Oh night divine, oh night, when Christ was born.”

December 24, 2013

I’ve been watching Cozi TV, all in B&W. Yesterday it was Captain Gallant of the Foreign Legion, a program from 1955. Cuffy went out on his own to find the caravan carrying the tree and his presents. Captain Gallant, Fuzzy and the men, all volunteers, went after him. He was, of course, found. His uncle, Captain Gallant, said Christmas was more than a tree and presents and then told Cuffy all about the first Christmas and how Joseph and Mary had ridden across the desert just as the legionnaires had. We saw Joseph pulling the donkey with Mary riding on it across dune hills. The three Wise Men were also riding camels across the sand. Today I saw Robin Hood save a boy’s goose from being Christmas dinner and the Lone Ranger and Tonto finding a boy’s father in time for him to go home for Christmas. Both were from 1955. Right now I’m joining Ozzie, Harriet, David and Ricky for Christmas in 1952. These are wonderfully innocent and fun to watch. I can imagine myself sitting in front of the TV, far too close for my mother’s comfort, and watching all these programs and getting excited for Christmas.

Christmas Eve was always the longest day for us. We had to last until bedtime then we could sleep away the night while Santa made his rounds. We’d beg to go to bed early, as early as after dinner, but my mother kept us up until our usual bedtimes. Even then we had a difficult time falling asleep. We’d talk down the hall from bedroom to bedroom until finally we’d drift away.

One Christmas Eve day my mother once sent me to the white store, called that to differentiate it from the red store a bit down the street. She wanted something as mundane as bread. I remember riding down the grass hill in front of our house and thinking my mother didn’t get it. How could she send me to do an errand on Christmas Eve? Magical days aren’t for errands.

A TV station from New Hampshire had Santa Clause on every night starting a few weeks before Christmas. He’d read a letter or two, tell some stories and sometimes read a book. On Christmas Eve, he’d talk about how the sleigh was being filled right that minute and that he’d soon be on his way. He’d take our leave with great ceremony and tell us he’d be by our houses later and we’d best be asleep. With a wave he was off on his rounds.

On Christmas Eve, we’d open our new pajamas and slippers. The slippers were sock slippers with leather soles. I still have a pair I got for Christmas a couple of years ago, and they keep my feet toasty warm. We’d leave out milk and cookies for Santa then hang our stockings from the oldest down to the youngest on the bannister then we’d drag ourselves up to bed hardly able to wait until morning. I don’t remember sugar plums in my dreams, but I have to think those were the best dreams.

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“For centuries men have kept an appointment with Christmas. Christmas means fellowship, feasting, giving and receiving, a time of good cheer, home.”

December 23, 2013

The day is warm but rainy and dreary. The temperature, though, is due for a radical change: from the 50’s of this morning to the 30’s tonight. I just hope the roads don’t freeze. The paper even mentioned the possibility of snow. If I were a little kid, I’ll keep checking out the window hoping to see flakes falling. It was always fun to be the first to yell. “It’s snowing!”

Last night Gracie was barking her intruder bark, and I could hear frantic knocking on my front door. I jumped out of bed and stood in the hall but heard nothing. I turned and saw Gracie asleep on the bed. I realized I had been dreaming so I rejoined Gracie and went back to sleep.

Yesterday I wrapped again and am down to two unwrapped presents. I like this leisurely approach. Tonight I’ll finish up and put away all the paper and tags until next year. My presents, from my two sisters, are in the living room. Some are under the trees and others are arranged in front of the table, an arrangement being a genetic trait. I remember Christmas mornings and coming downstairs and my first look through the bannister. The tree was always lit, and the presents were arranged in front of it. My brother’s gifts were to the left then came mine then each of my two sisters’ gifts. Santa never wrapped our gifts. That made sense to me as I doubted he and the elves had time. They were too busy making the gifts. Games were upright in front. One year my brother’s new bike was in the kitchen, a surprise. He was sent to get matches and did so in the dark and didn’t even see his bike. My parents sent him back and told him to turn on the light. I remember his yelp at seeing his bike. We’d each sit in front of our spots and check out our gifts one by one. We’d show my parents who would act surprised. I don’t remember ever being disappointed.

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“Christmas makes me schmaltzy. I’m proud to be level-headed, even a little tough most of the time. But once a year I like to believe that peace on earth may be possible and calories don’t count.”

December 22, 2013

Another early morning for me-this time it was 4 AM. I tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t so I decided to read then finally I just came downstairs lured by the thoughts of fresh coffee. When I let Miss Gracie out, I was amazed at how warm it is, 58˚ right now.

Okay, I admit that some, okay many, of the Christmas movies are far too sweet, but I tend to watch them anyway. I am a sucker for all things Christmas. At this time of the morning though the choices are quite limited, mostly repeats of repeats. I couldn’t find anything on regular TV so I checked On Demand and found some Christmas movies I’ve never seen and suspect I never will. The first, Santa’s Slay, is about the devil’s son forced to be nice and give out gifts for a thousand years. The thousand years, though, are up. The other holiday offerings were no better. The Santa Claus killer is awakened from a coma and stalks a clairvoyant blind woman on Christmas Eve or Silent Night 5 ( 3 & 4 are also available) when, “A creepy toy maker and his son are spending their days and nights constructing a series of ever more horrible booby-trapped toys, each one designed to kill whoever plays with them.” Ho Ho Ho and Merry Christmas!

Switching gears:

My mother gave us an Advent calendar every year, and each December morning we’d open a new door. For Christmas Eve, the picture was always a small manger scene. The rest of the days varied and were mostly toys or symbols of Christmas like angels or a tree. Each opened door got us closer and closer to Christmas, and we got more and more excited. My mother would tell us how many days until Santa’s visit, but we’d count the unopened doors to make the days real to us. I still buy Advent calendars for my sisters, my friend and me. This morning I opened the door to find a filled Christmas stocking. I counted only two unopened doors left until Santa.

Around this close to Christmas, we starting driving my mother crazy. School was out, the weather was often too cold to play outside and the wrapped gifts under the tree were almost too much for us to bear. The gifts were squeezed, pawed and shaken. Each had that small hidden hole made by my sister, and we all had correctly identified our new pajamas, destined to be opened on Christmas Eve. With nothing to do, we’d start the teasing which usually led to yelling and a push or two. When we were young, the mere mention of Santa stopped us in our tracks. When we were older, my mother would threaten to ship us outside if we didn’t stop. The cold was an incentive to behave.

It was Christmas time which taught me patience.

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“One of the most glorious messes in the world is the mess created in the living room on Christmas day. Don’t clean it up too quickly.”

December 21, 2013

Bedtime was around 1:30, and now I’m up, and it’s still dark. My newspapers aren’t even here yet, but I’ve had my first cup of coffee, always the best way to start a day. My trees are lit in the living room. That was the first thing I did.

Nothing is on my agenda for today except maybe laundry, kind of makes me look forward to the day. As if…

The house was warm when I woke up, 66˚, even though the thermostat was set at 62˚for nighttime. When I let Gracie out, I found outside also unexpectedly warm, especially for a dark morning in December. Yesterday the high was 54˚ so I did a couple of errands so I could enjoy the day. I bought dinner, and it was delicious: steak kabobs with peppers and onions and roasted rosemary potato wedges. For dessert I had a couple of peanut butter balls my sister had made from my mother’s recipe. They are a Christmas tradition. My mother would make a huge batch and freeze some of them so in February she’d surprise us by bringing them out for dessert. They never lasted too long at Christmas or in February.

When I was in elementary school, the church fair was always a week or two before Christmas. It was in the auditorium at the town hall, a short walk from school. Fair day was always a half-day. At dismissal we’d walk in twos, class by class, with the nuns accompanying us. Once at the town hall we were free. The Christmas fair was a huge occasion, and my mother always gave us money to shop and to buy lunch, usually hot dogs. I remember the best table in the fair was the kids’ table. It was the place to Christmas shop as it was filled with inexpensive gifts for us to buy for our families. I’d walk round and round the table picking up and putting down gifts always trying to find just the right presents. After I did, I’d hand them to the woman behind the counter, somebody’s mother as the fair was run by the mother’s club. She’d bag them, collect my money then hand the precious bags to me. That usually signaled the end of the fair for me. I’d walk home with my gifts and hide them in my room, usually under the bed or in the closet. I’d take them out of their secret hiding place several times to check on them until finally I’d wrap them. I made sure to use lots of paper and tape. I was always so proud of those gifts.

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