Embrace The Suck

I'm dreaming of a low-key Christmas. Just like the ones I never had. I've been overwhelmed by the holidays for years. Call me Scrooge, but a white Christmas only means one thing - shoveling the driveway. I started looking at Christmas from a different point of view, when my children were young. At first, it's fun to be the adult at Christmas.  Like a magician who can change a silk scarf into dove, transforming my living room into a winter wonderland strewn with lights and filled with presents made me feel all powerful. But as the children grew and expected more, my super powers lagged. Erma Bombeck once wrote "There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child." Being an adult at Christmas is hard work. Hard work makes it difficult to see the magic and feel the wonder. One Christmas when my children were young and my then-husband had worked them into a let's-see-who-has-the-most-presents-under-the-tree-frenzy ...

I've watched a lot of Lifetime and Hallmark channel movies recently. In almost everyone, a miracle takes place and everyone lives happily ever after.  Christmas time is the season of miracles from the  baby born in  Bethlehem to a fat man that drops down chimneys, a singing snowman that become real, or a red-nosed reindeer flying through the night sky dragging a present filled sleigh. I believe each of us needs to have a something to believe in.  Life can get pretty darn hard without hope. And that's what miracles are - the manifestation of hope. We hear more about miracles in December because, let's face it, that's what sells Hallmark cards and wrapping paper. But what about the everyday miracles that happen right under our noses and we hardly notice anymore. Like the sound of a baby laughing, or babies in general. Like rainbows, and singing birds, and tulips. Like new hearts in old bodies, stroke victims recovering beyond all odds and then writing a book abo...

Sweetie asked me this morning about the ghost of Christmas(s) past that has me longing to be a child again. Before I could form an answer, my eyes started leaking. I could feel that little girl inside me longing for those days. There are only a few gifts that stand out in my memory - a baby doll and a cradle, my first pair of real stockings (with a garter belt - ooh lala), and a cedar lined hope chest. It's the feelings I recall most, that I long for. The anticipation. The excitement  of waking up on Christmas morning wearing pajamas we'd been allowed to open the night before. The self absorbed delight wrapped in pretty paper, oblivious to the tired red-rimmed eyes of my parents who had only gotten a few hours sleep. The sense of family (think Norman Rockwell here even though we were far from it) that hovered in the room where our stockings were hung. An afternoon spent playing with new toys, or feeling more grown up. My grandparents coming for dinner. Again, oblivious to my...

Johnson and I walk around the block every night with two of the slowest, nosiest, untrained walking dogs on the planet. Forget that the American Fox Hound just won top prize at a big dog show. Whatever fox hound DNA  Suzi has in her bloodline means only that she has to sniff every blade of grass she passes. Christmas decorations are already up. Inflatable Santas and twinkling lights. I was kind of considering not putting up any decorations. The idea of bringing down all the boxes, then going through them, and taking them back upstairs, only to reverse the process in a few weeks makes me tired just thinking about it. Yesterday Sweetie and I came home from visiting some old people and lo and behold there was not one but two wreaths all lit up and hanging on the front of the house. And Johnson had brought down all the boxes. I never even got a chance to declare this a No Decoration holiday. Johnson is an enigma to me. He swears like a sailor, has a shorter fuse than me, is very op...

I seriously thought I was back in the blogging mood when I got on the subject of light. I see now the last time I actually posted something - as opposed to thinking about posting something - was Nov. 13th. So here I sit at the end of the first day in December, look at how packed full the days ahead are and wonder where blogging  kind of writing will occur.  It's clear that my writing muse packed her bags for an extended vacation on a tropical island. I think she is taking long strolls on deserted beaches, swimming in crystal blue seas, sleeping with her windows open, the better to hear the waves as they lap against the shore. She's probably drinking rum drinks with little umbrellas, learning how to sway her hips to the beat of native drums, wearing flowers in her hair, and bright colored muu muus. I hope she comes back rested and full of stories. In the mean time I'm sewing bears. I love how sometimes the things I do just feel right. That's the way I feel about making...

“So powerful is the light of unity that it can illuminate the whole earth.” Unity -- Baha'u'llah Stolen  Borrowed from my friend Po's FB page. Merry ME

If it's always darkest before the dawn, let me just ask when is the goddam sun going to come out?

I suppose it goes without saying that the magic of light would be ho-hum without the reality of darkness. Without light, darkness would be everlasting Like winter and spring. War and peace. Death and life. Love and loss. Today I've had some of each. My writing group met. As always, the friendship can't help fill our section of Panera with laughter and light. But even the laughter couldn't hide the pain in Diane's eyes. You can reach out touch her grief. I want my old life back, her mother told her. Well, I want mine back too, Diane responded. Knowing there was no going back. She's yet to find her new life. She will. The light will shine in her world again. Maybe not as brightly as with her beloved Wally. Maybe not as soon as she'd like. This is her winter. Her time to hunker down, fight against the cold on days that grow dark at 5 pm. Marilyn is facing some real physical and financial hardships right now. Never a good mix. Yesterday a beam of ligh...

 I saw on FB today that Wholly Jeanne and her mother were in a Christmas store. While her mom looked at decorations, Jeanne danced to Christmas songs. Hmmm, I thought to myself, maybe I'm not rushing the season after all. I'm embarrassed to admit I've committed what some true blue (or green as the case may be) Grinches might consider a Christmas sin. I've been listening to Christmas music, before Thanksgiving or Black Friday when the Christmas hype is ramped up over night. Well, technically Christmas stuff has been up in the stores since Halloween, July if you count Joann Fabric, but I'm still way ahead of my normal Christmas music calendar. I know, you're thinking "what's up with that?" Christmas is the time of year that turns Merry ME decidedly un-merry. Sometimes you get a tune in your head and can't stop hearing it. I've got a whole CD in my head. It all started when I was browsing Amazon for some kid's music. Not sure how I...

[Ed. Note: The fact that I have written what could be broken down to 4 shorts posts instead of one long one is not lost on me. I considered changing it all around, but due to operator error I've already had to type this more times that I wanted to.  If you don't want to read it all at once, feel free to break it up into segments. And you'll think to yourself, wow, Merry Me is really on a roll after taking so much time off. me] I haven't blogged in awhile. Guess I just haven't had much to say.   I thought signing up for NaBloPoMo. Then I realized the first 2 days of November were already behind me. Oh well. Here I am. I'm thinking about Light. Today I sat under a big ol' Sycamore tree, at a "Church without Walls. Most of the people were what some might called the marginalized - the kind of people, I imagine, that came to hear what Jesus had to say.  The service was held in a parking lot near the part of town where the  homeless hang out before the s...

As weekends go, this one was whirlwind. I've discovered it's hard to relax in just a couple of days. One  has to unwind, and unhook (something I thought I'd never have to do) and get comfortable to relax. Maybe it can be done in 2 weeks instead of 2 days. I was constantly aware of my "rich" surroundings. More so than the ambiance. I'm not used to an affluent lifestyle. I found people watching almost as much fun as at an airport. I noticed lots more children than I expected. Only one appeared to be particularly out of sorts.   a wedding procession take place, which always conjures up thoughts of hope and promise. I was impressed that the bride and her maids were able to walk down a short flight of steps, and across a swath of grass in high heels, carrying flowers, looking ahead and not down.  a lone bagpiper on the manicured green lawn behind the "Lodge." I guess he was entertaining the porch sitters - the kind you'd expect to see on a so...

Little did I imagine that being a nanny could to lead to perks that didn't involve baby smiles, lullabies, deep belly laughs, laundry basket rides, and snugly bottle feedings. Sweetie and I have come along on a weekend getaway to Sea Island, GA. Think: Causeway from the mainland - the kind you'd be stuck on if you tried to evacuate in a storm Blue skies and pink sunsets Palm trees, weathered oaks dripping in Spanish moss, nature trails, bike paths,  Gentle rolling waves kissing the beach under a crescent moon, sea oats, and dragon flies Hotel the size of Buckingham palace,  "cottage" the size of Tara A pool that winds around rock outcroppings,  Golf carts to take you where you want to go, uniformed room service attendants, complimentary cheese tray and bottle of wine Patio dining (accompanied by biting sea gnats or carrier flies as Sweetie calls them - the kind that might carry you off if you're not careful), buttermilk coated fried shrimp, Vidalia...

I had kind of a rough morning. Feeling now like a nap to sleep away the ick. Hmmm, I wonder what I've done with the ick cream Tina sent me. First of all, I noticed a little tiny frog right next to Suzi's food bowl. I've notice a couple other frogs who have dried up and gone on to the great frog pond in the sky. I didn't want the same thing to happen to this one.  I tried to cup my hand over him, but this guy had obviously been training to win the Jumping Frog of Calavaras County gold medal. He hopped across the kitchen in two blinks of a frog's eye, with me following on all fours, trying to catch him.  He got himself under a shelf, through a crack and behind the trash can faster than I could crawl to to the same can. Aha! I figured he was cornered and I'd be able to rescue him and win his life long gratitude.  To my great dismay, the little green guy had vanished. He was nowhere to be seen. I'm hoping he ran around me while I was moving the  trash can. If ...

Ed. Note: I thought I posted this a few days ago. Wonder why it didn't happen? Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. William S. Burroughs Yesterday while waiting for the rest of my writing group to gather for our 9:30 meeting, I listened while a tutor helped a student. She explained to him the difference between a question and a statement. He caught on pretty quickly that a question needs an answer. Questions like "Where's your coat?" or "Are you hungry?" are fairly easy to answer. It's the hard life questions I have trouble with. Then along comes Carol with a writing assignment. We are supposed to make a list of 100 questions. Anything from why does Sweetie move things around in the kitchen to why don't we furlough Congress to what does God do when he's on vacation. 100 is a rather daunting number of questions, but given 2 weeks I figured I could do it. As it turns out it is better ...

I thought I'd come home from the mountains all rested and ready to write, write, write. If not the great American novel, at least a daily blog post. I spent most of Sat. trying to fit back in and reclaim my space. I sat in my chair all afternoon working on my final recap of the trip. Here it Tuesday afternoon and I haven't come near the keyboard. I had a heart-breaking, come to Jesus conversation last night, that left both parties feeling kind of raw. The kind where my sadness and anger get all topsy-turvy and I get all dizzy trying to listen, talk, and feel at the same time. Have you ever been swimming in the ocean and been blindsided by a gigantic wave you weren't expecting. Before you know it you're caught up in the roiling see, praying for a foothold so you can get your head above water and take a breath. That's kind of how I was feeling last night. I realized that somewhere in the conversation I started to shut down. That's what I've always done whe...

[Note: I'm writing this from home, but want to keep things in order) It's hard to imagine that things could have gotten better. They did. After dinner we gathered in front of the small, but warm, fire. I slouched in a leather chair. Amy beside me in her chair, Carol F, backed up to the ottoman in front of me. Laura sat near Amy, Leeanne and Louise shared the couch. Carol O. sat center stage on the hearth.  As the founder and facilitator of Chat Noir Writers Circle, she could have shone like the sun, while we, her planets circled around her. Instead, she sat among us, an equal and leader at the same time.  Her brightness enhanced by the light of her friends. Hard to pull off, but not for Carol. Our last night together began with Leeanne, Laura, Amy and both Carol's sharing their vision boards. It  was amazing to see how board reflected its maker's beauty. We noticed how Leeanne's favorite color turquoise, stood out among the pictures and words she chose. A...

What do writers do after an evening of visioning, a few cocktails, a satisfying meal and a hour long critique of a member's novel revisions? A few go to bed. The others stay up sipping on hot cocoa laced with peppermint schnapps, talking about fortune telling, movies, favorite actors and musicals while roasting marshmallows in the moose-enhanced fireplace until 3 in the morning. (I know that's a run-on sentence, of which I have an affinity for, but not as long as one written about a chicken by Robert Olin.) I should have been taking notes. But I was having a hard time keeping up. It became clear to me that my life is devoid of entertainment that can't be found on HGTV. Netflix is a world unto itself where I rarely venture. I can see I've been wasting my time at work watching back seasons of the Tudors. While interesting, it does not provide the same amount of variety the others in the group take for granted.  I had few answers for a) name three men you'd like to b...

"I'm ready to take a nap or go for a walk,"said Carol F. My eye lids were resting at half-staff. I really wanted a short snooze. But I wanted to walk outside more. So I grabbed my sneakers and sweatshirt and headed out. Down the hill we went. Two women in their 60's who are not quite as athletic as the rest of the group. A walk after dinner is about all we manage at home. Perhaps mountain climbing should not have been our first choice. I took note of the Beware of Dog sign, but after that kept focused on walking at a downwards slant without going head over heels. The weeds, Carol pointed out, are the only green things changing color. I  admired the Queen Anne's lace and rock cairns on the side of the road as we talked. It was not long before we came to the realization that a) going downhill means an uphill walk home which could prove problematic, and b)nothing looked familiar. Note to self: most gravel driveways and log cabins look alike on the outside. Droppin...

The day almost started tragically. If I tell you there are 14 stairs between my bed and the bathroom can you guess that it is a rather risky walk at 5:30 in the morning. I did fine until I missed the last step. Had I not been holding on, I would have landed face down on the wooden floor, looking like one of those bear rugs - or moose - or person as the case may be.  The good news is I did my business and made it back upstairs without incident. More awake than I wanted to be at that hour, I kept running stair-falling scenarios through my head. I have a vivid imagination when left alone to think my own thoughts. At the more civilized hour of 9:30 I awoke to Louise saying, "Oh look!" I sat straight up, thinking there may actually be a moose on the porch or something else as incredible. "What?" I yelled over the banister. "It's raining," she exclaimed. "I love the rain." Thinking about it, the sight and sound of the rain was pretty incredib...

Part of Caroline's nap routine includes down time. Ten or 15 minutes before she goes to bed I start getting her used to the idea of going to sleep. I hold her close and read a story or two, then hum a few verses of "Hush Little Baby ..."One of the books I read is Goodnight Moon. The hum of the ceiling fan is like a hypnotist's voice. "You are getting very sleepy." I notice that the house has a kind of "down time" of it's own. The lights have been turned off. The wood creaks a little. Everyone is tucked in. I feel like saying good night. Good night Chats. Good night mooses. Good night rocking chairs. Good night hot tub. Good night smart phone. Good night trees. Good night mountains. Good night stars. Good night moon. Good night computer. May angels watch over you as you sleep, Merry ME P.S. Good night Sweetie. I love you more than all the wood and moose stuff in this cabin. P.S.S. It's just started raining. Rain pouring d...

I couldn't keep my eyes open one minute longer, so I hauled myself up a flight of plank stairs, and fell into that marvelous bed. This time I awoke to the smell of caramelized onions simmering in hearty beef stock. Like one of those zombie-like cartoon characters following a wafting scent of something delicious, I hauled myself down the stairs, remembering this time to duck under the slant of the roof. If this morning was filled with bustling kitchen sounds, the afternoon is filled with quiet. I can hear talking and giggling coming from the loft. Louise is asleep in the west wing. The rest of us sit with books and/or computers on our laps. A phone vibrates, but no ring penetrates the serenity. There is a place in Jacksonville, called Moosehaven. It's where members of the Loyal Order of Moose go to retire. I don't know what retired Moose do, but maybe they spend their days weaving moose rugs, carving moose heads out of logs and painting ceramic moose statues. I've be...