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“I have decided to stick to love…Hate is too great a burden to bear.”

December 15, 2012

Unfathomable events like yesterday happen far too frequently. That the victims were small children is beyond comprehension.

I have always believed in the innate goodness of mankind though I also know evil exists. It is just something I have never understood. At the very least, people deserve to be treated with kindness and respect. It doesn’t take much. Sometimes a smile is more than enough.

Christmas is the time for family, for going home, for being together and for celebrating those traditions which connect the family over time, through generations. A pall of sadness has fallen over Christmas. How do you celebrate a season wrapped in love after yesterday? I guess maybe you love each other more.

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“Christmas is a season for kindling the fire for hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart.”

December 14, 2012

This morning the lawns were white with frost and the cars windows would have needed scrapping. I walked across the lawn to get my papers so I could hear the crunch, that wonderful sound a freezing night brings to the morning. I could see my breath.

This room is such a mess my sensibilities are distressed. Every spare space is filled with wrapping paper, boxes, tags and presents. They are my next week’s projects. Today is sending packages and making goodies for sister as I’ll see her tomorrow. I’ll bring her favorite fudge, a recipe from a long ago friend of my mother’s, and date-nut bread, my grandmother’s recipe. The traditions continue!

When I bought my house, I didn’t have much money. My mortgage was half my month’s salary. Everything I bought was a necessity, nothing frivolous, including furniture for a while. I had a desk, a TV and a studio couch in this room and some pots and pans for the kitchen. I ate, slept and watched TV here in the den. The rest of the house was pretty empty. That first Christmas I bought a small tree. My mother gave me some ornaments, and I bought a couple of strings of lights. One night I went about making paper garlands out of construction paper. I cut the paper into strips then the strips into smaller strips. I used tape to connect the small strips to one another. There were four garlands, each a different length with the shortest at the top and the longest at the bottom. They were perfect on the tree, being colorful and making the tree more festive and hiding the lack of ornaments. I used those garlands for a lot of years. One Christmas a few years later I was sitting in the living looking at the tree, a taller one with more decorations, when I heard a strange sound from the tree, and then I heard another. I investigated and found my garlands were breaking apart. The tape had yellowed and lost its ability to hold the strips together. I grabbed my favorite tool, my stapler, and used it to keep the garlands together. It worked.

A year later when I was bringing out my tubs of decorations, I noticed the garlands had just about completely fallen apart, and, for the first time, I noticed how faded the colors had become. It didn’t matter to me, though, as I still hung the smallest of the garlands on the tree that Christmas. I still have that garland.

 

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“Christmas is a box of tree ornaments that have become part of the family.”

December 13, 2012

No disaster to report this morning. The tree is still standing, the outside lights were lit last night and all seems well with my part of the world, knock on wood I suppose. The day is a bit dreary, but I don’t mind. My to-do Christmas list is moving right along on track. Last night I wrapped the Colorado gifts and today I do the dreaded grocery shopping, mostly for Christmas baking. The last item on my must do now list is sending off those gifts; that’s for tomorrow.

I have colored lights outside, but I have white lights in the windows. Most houses have them now and many also have the white lights on their bushes and trees. When I was a kid, I never saw white lights as decorations except maybe one or two bulbs as part of a string on a tree.

Every year my dad put lights on the bushes in front of our house. The strings were filled with those huge colored bulbs you never see any more, the ones which burned so hot. In our windows were plastic white candles. They were so light-weight my mother had to tape them to the windowsills so they wouldn’t fall. The bulbs made them top-heavy. Mostly those bulbs were orange though the candelabra in the picture window had a variety of colors. When it got close to dark, we’d each run to a window and turn the bulb to get it to light. That was the only way to turn the bulbs on and off. My mother used those same window candles all of her life. When I’d visit at Christmas, I’d go from window to window to turn them on. Just before going upstairs to bed, I’d turn off the bulbs. They were always hot to the touch.

My tree has bubble lights given to me by my friends. They start perking really quickly. The ones on the tree when I was growing up seemed to take forever to perk. We’d sit in front of the tree watching them. Each of us wanted to be the first to find the bubbles. The winner would yell and point. Those were my favorite lights.

For my tree, I’m not one for designer decorations or bows of different colors or themes though that last one might be fun. I decorate with favorite ornaments. Some are from my childhood, others were hand-made by me and my mother, many came from trips, and this year I added new ones from Ghana: the really old treasures my friend gave me and a beaded star I bought in Accra. Some of my ornaments are sort of ugly, but I always put those in the front. I have a soft spot in my heart for them. I take my time decorating the tree. My ornaments are treasures, repositories of my memories, and sometimes I just sit and hold a special one in my hand and let the memories flood my heart.

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“I’ve learned that you can tell a lot a person by the way he or she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas lights.”

December 11, 2012

It really poured last night. The rain pounded the doors and windows. I got soaked. How did I get soaked you ask? Well, it was Christmas disaster number 2: the saga of the front outside lights. They didn’t light last night. The side and back were bright with color, but the front was dark. I put my sweatshirt hood up and went to the outside outlet. The timer wasn’t on; the outlet was dead. I reset it, plugged in the timer and the lights went on. It was a miracle. I got back into the house and turned around just in time to see the lights go out. I went outside and did it all over again to no avail. The outlet had gotten wet despite the cover. What to do? What to do? I took the timer out back and plugged it in an outlet on the deck. The timer still didn’t work. Did it short out I wondered? I came back inside to find out my kitchen lights didn’t work. I went downstairs to the circuit box and flipped switches. While down there, I brought up another timer and the longest extension cord in the world. I pluggedthe cord into a living room outlet, passed it behind a table so it wouldn’t be on the floor where I would definitely trip on it and fall then I took it out the front door and behind the bushes to the cords. I plugged the cords into the new timer then the timer to the world’s longest extension cord running out the front door. Everything worked. The only problem was the front door wouldn’t close over the cord so I left it ajar. At this point my sweatshirt was soaked and so were the hems of my pants and my shoes. I know I could have avoided everything and stayed inside, but I just couldn’t take half a lit house. Before I went to bed, I went outside and unplugged the extension, rolled it up as I went and brought it inside the house so I could shut the door. Today I’m hoping the outlet has dried.

I am going to decorate my tree today. Yesterday I slid it close to its resting spot but left room in the back so I can put the lights on without a struggle. Okay, without a struggle? Who am I kidding? I know that somehow something will go wrong. One year, after I’d put on all the lights, they all blew out. That was the year of the dark tree. Others years the trees fell; those were the years of the crooked trees. Another year the tree I’d bought to support the girls’ track team starting dropping needles at an alarming rate. That was the year of no tree.

Despite it all, I love Christmas. I love having a tree and sitting and just looking at it. I love Christmas carols and sugar cookies shaped liked snowmen. Today I’m going to decorate my tree, and despite everything, I am still an optimist. I have the highest hopes.

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“Gee, do they still make wooden Christmas trees?”

December 10, 2012

Last night it started raining and it has yet to stop. I find rain a bit dismal this time of year as I always think of Christmas as snow time. Maybe it’s the carols that have me hoping for an inch or two or Santa’s sleigh or how pretty the snow looks. I remember looking out the window and seeing snow falling and yelling in excitement for everyone to come and see.

Today I’m bringing you the story of my Christmas tree. I bought it yesterday, and it is beautiful, shorter than usual but just as full. I went to Hart Farm, and that wasn’t easy. You can no longer get there from here. The bridge right before Hart’s is closed for repair so that means going all the way around on Route 28, my least favorite road, but Gracie and I made the trek anyway. Walking among the Christmas trees made it all worthwhile. The smell was wonderful, and I found 2 trees, either of which could grace my living room. The man who works there is a former student, and I asked which of the trees he’d choose. One, he said, would shed its needles quickly but the other would keep them. It was an easy choice; of course, the price was hefty on the second one, but I bought it anyway, and I also bought a centerpiece of boxwood. The tree was put in my trunk and all the way home I had to hear the beep, beep, beep, the incessant beep of my car telling me the trunk was open. Did you notice it was all the way home, the long way.

I got home and tried to get the tree out of the trunk. It was stuck, but I yanked and pulled and got it out, leaned it against the car then decided to attach the new tree stand before bringing the tree inside the house. I bought the new tree stand anticipating a smaller tree. The stand fit but wouldn’t go up the trunk far enough so the tree could have water. Two nubs of branches were in the way. I cursed as I took the stand off and then went down the cellar to get the other tree stand, the stand easy enough for one person to use. I attached the bottom of the stand to the trunk then carried the tree into the house. No, carry is wrong. I lifted and stopped, lifted and stopped because of the weight of the tree. A few times the tree wouldn’t move; I couldn’t lift it. I finally figured out that’s what happens when you step on lower branches. At last the tree made it to the living room. Three low branches were broken, stepped on too many times. I lifted the tree, put in into the stand then moved it around until it was straight. I pushed in the pedal which secures the tree in place then got the funnel with the long tube. That’s new this year. It for watering the tree so I don’t have to crawl on my stomach to give it water. I hid the tube in the branches then sat on the couch to fill the funnel with water when all of a sudden the tree started to lean. I thought it would fall so I grabbed it. The funnel filled with water angled when the tree leaned and spilled water all over the floor and all over me. I cursed, cleaned up the mess and was about ready to turn this tree into a yule log but decided to try again. I went down the cellar to get a dry sweatshirt and the directions for the tree stand. Ah, the directions, why didn’t she get them in the first place. She didn’t get them because she thought she remembered how to use the stand. Wrong!

I lifted the tree out of the stand, pulled out the pedal as directed, held my foot on it, a step I hadn’t done the first time, and then placed the tree back into the stand and moved it until it was straight then I pushed in the pedal. The tree stayed straight and tall. I stopped cursing.

The tree is sitting in the middle of my living room as I have to move a few small pieces of furniture before it can sit in its rightful place then the decorating will begin. I’m betting the finished tree will make everything worthwhile.

 

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“Christmas is the day that holds all time together.”

December 9, 2012

During The 12 Disasters of Christmas, last night’s syfi channel movie,  there wasn’t a single Fa La La La. Italy and Greece disappeared into the sea. The President was airborne because Washington had been fractured and was a gaping hole though at that point a droll observer might have opined Washington really hadn’t been affected at all. A crazy army general declared himself the leader of the new world and quoted biblical verses as proof but he was electrocuted by lightning bolts, proof he wasn’t. Our hero saved the world by inserting a rod, his birthright, into the head of a moai, one of six which had been buried in the US. The world was righted. I expect The 12 Disasters of Christmas will take its place among the giants of the season: Miracle on 34th Street, It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story and one of my personal favorites, Jack Frost, the killer snowman.

The rain has disappeared and left a cold sunny day, but the rain is due back later today and will stay around until Wednesday.

The dining room and kitchen are pretty well decorated for Christmas. I made several trips from the cellar yesterday hauling decorations upstairs so today I’ll give my back a break, but the living room looks awfully bare. Maybe I need to get and put up my tree. I always think that the best part of decorating.

The tree holds the most memories. Many ornaments have stories attached and some come from places far away in space and time. Ornaments from my childhood hang on the tree. They are glass ones which survived four kids, a dog and a few tree disasters. Some of the paint has worn off in places, but I don’t care. I don’t really notice. Ghana is well represented. Michelle’s old ornaments will be hung on my tree for the first time. They were a precious gift from her. New ornaments from Ghana will join them. Hand-made ornaments are some of my favorites because of the love infused in the making of them. Peter Pan and Captain Hook are on my tree as is Dorothy’s witch. I have a really ugly ornament, a woman dressed in go-go boots and a pink outfit. She sits right in front, right next to the angel with the stringy hair. My tree has beauty and it has whimsy.

I love sitting in the living room looking at the tree bright with lights. Gracie usually joins me on the couch and puts her head on my lap. The two of us just sit there quietly together.

 

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“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”

December 8, 2012

Today is a rainy day but it’s a warm rainy day. I figure I’ll start decorating the house with Christmas. It was going to be tree day but now that’s postponed due to rain. The TV is on, unusual during the day, but Saturday is my science fiction channel movie day. The theme for today is ice and snow disasters. Right now it’s the possibility of a new ice age. All of the polar storms and snowmaggedons are leading to tonight’s wonderful new holiday movie called The 12 Disasters of Christmas, an earlier prediction than the Mayas about the end of the world. I can hardly wait for the festivities.

I know science fiction and fantasy films don’t entertain some people. I figure they, somewhere along the line, outgrew imagination and wonder. They just can’t suspend adulthood long enough to believe. Dragons aren’t real and neither are hobbits or heroes with super powers, but for some of us they are if only for a while, for the length of a book. No one will convince me that Toad doesn’t live in grand Toad Hall or that Bilbo never went on his adventure. I was with both of them. When I was really little, I was with Henny Penny when she thought the sky was falling.

I hope I never outgrow my imagination. I hope the world stays filled with wonder. The starry night sky, a clap of thunder, jagged lightning, fireflies blinking in the yard, falling snow and the sound of the wind still stop me in my tracks. I have to watch or listen, and I always smile. I just can’t help it. Each one is a gift, like some present, some treasure, opened for the first time. The other night it was the moon so bright against the dark sky. Last night it was the sound of the rain on the roof. I even like seeing my breath on a cold morning.

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“Housework is work directly opposed to the possibility of human self-actualization.”

December 7, 2012

The morning has gotten away from me. That usually happens when I sleep-in as I did today. I came downstairs around 9:30 brewed my coffee, got the papers, took my time reading them then did the crosswords puzzles, the knowledge questions and the cryptogram. I definitely dawdled, and I think that’s what I’ll be doing today. It feels right somehow; however, I will do a wash and finally get to my Christmas cards. They’ve been on the table in front of me for a few days. I might even make a dump run, but I won’t get dressed. My flannel cozies, my sweatshirt and slippers will just have to do. Really, who is there to impress at the dump?

Yesterday my canned food cabinets got cleaned. Roseana, my cleaning lady, did them. I casually mentioned that if she ever gets the time, the cabinet could use a bit of culling. Roseana loves to organize so she was off and running. When she’d find an expired can, she’d announced it to Lee, her husband, and me. In the way back she hit the mother lode. One can had a 2008 expiration date and it was crowned the winner. A 2009 was the runner-up. Roseana then organized what was left, and I made a shopping list of what I need to replace, things like cornstarch, baking soda and unsweetened cocoa. Lee carried the heavy bags to his car as I would never have been able to hoist them into the containers at the dump. Roseana now has her eye on the cabinet with pots and pans and who knows what else. It will be like an archeological dig. My apple peeler corer is lost somewhere in that cabinet, and I’m hoping it will be unearthed.

The wreath on the gate has battery lights so I have to turn then off before I go to bed, and last night was so cold I could see my breath. It was 33˚.

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“Get the biggest aluminum tree you can find, Charlie Brown, maybe painted pink.”

December 6, 2012

Today is definitely chillier than the last few days, but it’s sunny so I’ll take that and be glad. Gracie and I will be hitting the dump today, her favorite stop of all. It even beats Agway where she gets to shop with me and have a few treats.

My house still needs to be decorated, but I have a Christmas timetable starting tonight with the cards. My second box of cards arrived a couple of days ago so no more excuses. After that I need to buy the tree and then decorate the house. I’m thinking a smaller tree this year, maybe even a couple of small trees. That’s on tap for the weekend.

The Tale of a Mouse is the name of this paragraph. Those of you who are a bit squeamish should move on. For the rest of you, this mouse tale starts a couple of weeks ago when I went down to the cellar to do laundry. The cellar, particularly near the washer, smelled disgusting, and I know a dead something was somewhere down there. I went looking and found nothing. Over time the smell weakened, and I stopped hunting. On Tuesday I decided to bring up all the gifts from downstairs in preparation for wrapping. I grabbed my large plastic tub to fill with the gifts so I would only have to make a single trip. Yup, you guessed it. The mouse had been trapped in the tub where it met its demise. It was disgusting. I opened the cellar door and tossed the remains outside then scrubbed that tub. The results remain: tub -1, mice-0

I know they are perfectly ugly, but I have always wanted a tall aluminum tree with a color wheel. It would never be my only Christmas tree. Nope, my tree has to be real, one that fills the house with the smell of Christmas, but there is something about an aluminum tree which has always attracted me. I just can’t explain it. My sister gave me a small one last year, but it is too small for a color wheel. I didn’t decorate it last year as I didn’t open it until Christmas Day, but this year I’m putting red ornaments on it. I think aluminum and red are a great match. This small one will satisfy me for the meantime, but I’m still on the look-out for its bigger, uglier brother.

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“At Christmas, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ makes me cry in exactly the same places every time, even though I know it’s coming.”

December 4, 2012

Today is warm and beautiful with sun and a lightly clouded sky as its backdrop. The dog and I are going out though we have no destination, but a day like today should never be wasted so we’ll wander until something catches our eyes.

Gifts are on the bed upstairs in the guest room and in the cellar. I’ll start bringing them here to the den so I can spend evenings wrapping. I’m still waiting for one order of cards to come in the mail then I can write out my cards and send them. The tree and the inside decorations are next and then comes the baking. I have a list of what I want to make, and my sisters have put in their requests so I just need to grocery shop. Christmas is on its way.

My family has many Christmas traditions, most from my mother, but some from me. My sister Moe’s kids each got a piñata from me every Christmas starting the year they had turned three. My sister would attach their piñatas to the stair railing, and they’d hang down into the family room. On Christmas Eve, after dinner, it was piñata time. The kids loved opening all of the little presents and by bedtime they were exhausted and would sleep all night into the morning. A few times my sister had to wake them up to let them know Santa had come. My nephew Ryan has a six-year-old. On Christmas Eve his son Ryder will whack at and open a piñata for the third time. His aunt, my niece, carries on the tradition.

My mother used to send us each an Advent calendar, and every morning I’d hunt for the date so I could open the little window. I’d find candles, elves, decorated trees or toys, but I knew on Christmas Eve morning I’d find a manger scene no matter what the Advent calendar looked like. One year I sent my sister’s kids a calendar with chocolate behind each window. My nephew figured out how to open the bottom so all the chocolate would fall out, and he ate every one of them, all 24 pieces. The next year they got the traditional calendar, no more chocolate. After my mother passed away, I started sending one to my sisters every year to keep the tradition going. Last year for the first time I send one from on-line and did the same this year. The calendar is animated with beautiful scenes and lovely music. My friend sent me one, and every morning it is the first thing I do on the computer. I have decorated a tree, made and dressed a snowman and today I watched alpine skiing.  I’m thinking the 24th might just have a manger scene.

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