How to Enjoy the Holidays (and save your sanity)

I know, that sounds contrary to what most of us anticipate about Christmas and celebrating a new year, but I have my reasons. There is far too much stress around most holidays.

For those who have recently had their hearts broken, lost someone dear to them, lost a job, seen a financial decline or anything else that puts a damper on their mood, listen-up. You are hardly alone and you can get through this.

Every one of us has certain expectations about what should happen during the coming weeks. Traditions must be adhered to, and should not be altered in any way. Forget the nutmeg in the eggnog always consumed after church on Christmas Eve -- blasphemy!

Menus for certain meals are written in stone and heaven forbid the cook forgets to serve Grandma’s rutabaga casserole even though everyone hates it! And cookies . . .? Well, lets just say there can never be too many varieties. Even if she/he who must mix, roll-out, cut, bake and decorate stopped enjoying that activity years ago, the cookie jar (if not several) must be filled to brimming with beautifully decorated, delicious cookies in several varieties -- it’s tradition!

Timing is also crucial to the success of the Christmas celebration. If someone wants to sleep in on Christmas morning; forget it, especially if there are children in the house. If they sleep at all, they’re always up before the sun chomping at the bit to dive into all their gifts. [When I was little “Santa” would leave our stockings outside our bedroom doors in hopes of occupying us until breakfast hours later. While grabbing them from the hall floor, we tried to stifle the stupid bells on them, but usually gave ourselves away to a light-sleeping parent.]

The person who is probably the most stressed during Christmas is the one who does most of the cooking. I, for one, never have been good at timing dishes to be done at the same time. It also seems that meat and poultry have a mysterious and arbitrary way of deciding when they will reach the correct serving temperature. Can’t tell you how many times everyone has been seated at the festively decorated table, candles lit, hungry as bears waiting for the main course to reach serving temperature. Other carefully prepared dishes sit cooling or warming (remember, there’s always a Jell-O mold) until they lose some of their appeal.

I won’t even touch on the fact that children are seldom satisfied with the gifts others have so thoughtfully made or purchased for them. That and the fact that during the course of the day, often the boxes gifts came in become more interesting than what they contained.

No, the way to survive and perhaps enjoy the holidays is to go into them with absolutely no expectations.

Being pleasantly surprised when things go well is so much better for one’s soul than being disappointed or frustrated when inevitable glitches happen.

If the top layer of the Jell-O mold slides off when being removed from its mold onto it’s special platter, so what -- it will still taste good. Dump it into a bowl and add a spoon.

If the old family dog loses control while everyone is opening their gifts on the family room floor, turn your grimace into a patient smile, grab the paper towels and mop it up, knowing that s/he is excited, too.

If you aren’t gifted with that special something, get over it and keep your disappointment to yourself. Buy it for yourself if it’s that important to you.

If someone has too much to drink at dinner and turns rude or lewd, in advance, ask someone to gently escort the offender into another room to keep watch over a special candle set out just for that purpose. It becomes his/her responsibility to make sure it doesn’t burn down to low. [I’m sure you can come up with something better to handle these difficult situations.]

Last, but not least, ask the cook/host specifically what you can do to ease their burden during the day. Don’t push if you’re told everything is in hand, but look for opportunities to help like picking up discarded paper napkins, empty glasses/punch cups.

Distracting tired, bored, hungry, angry, whiny children can be a huge gift to everyone. If you know there will be children where you’re spending Christmas day, try to think of simple activities to do with them. Even loops of string can keep them busy if you know how to teach them to make a cat’s cradle and all those other funky shapes with string.

Gratitude for others’ efforts to please you are always best expressed at the time, followed up in writing -- on actual paper in your handwriting. Getting a piece of mail other than a bill or advertisement is special. It doesn’t cost more than a couple of dollars and a couple of minutes to make a lasting impression.

Holidays are about family ties which can be mixed blessings. Relatives may not be your favorite people but we make the effort because we share history and roots. And, thankfully, we gather for just a few hours, right?

So . . . . Relax. Don’t worry if you cannot get everything done that you think you “should” do. Do what you can, get enough sleep and remember that no one is perfect, including you.

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas

Christmas this year will be unlike any I've every had.  Only for the second time, Mom is traveling to the Midwest to spend the holiday with my three sibs out there.  Because of my recalcitrant back, Spouse and I will not be driving to Solomons to enjoy the day with my sister and her clan.

I used to go all out for Christmas.  Buying and decorating a live Christmas tree, stringing lights along our balcony railing, baking way too many cookies and, my favorite task: wrapping gifts.  This year, I've done all my shopping online and can still enjoy wrapping gifts, but the rest has gone by the wayside.

Growing up in northern Illinois, we were pretty sure we'd have snow on Christmas Day.  Sometimes it would start falling on the drive home from the midnight church service.  A very nice touch.  Here, in D.C. today, it's 60 degrees with no snow in sight for the foreseeable future.  Sooooo, I'm posting  pics from Snowmageddon a few years ago.  Of course, it didn't happen during Christmas, but it was beautiful just the same.

For those of you who love snow as much as I do, I hope you have some for Christmas and someone else to shovel/plow it.  For those of you who do not like snow, move to Central America!

Happy Winter, Y'all!!
 

Still alive but slow to recover

For my enormous cadre of devoted fans, I wanted to let you know I'm still alive and will return to my blog as soon as I can.

Went into the hospital October 3rd for a pretty straightforward surgical procedure to end my sciatica pain.  Should have been there 2 or 3 nights.  My body had other ideas.  Pneumonia was a better diagnosis than the suspected pulmonary embolisms that made me short of breath following surgery.  Still, I wouldn't wish it on anyone.  And, as everyone knows, there is no sleeping while in the hospital.  Between breathing treatments, blood checks and your standard vital signs checks, there simply isn't time for anything but occasional cat naps.

Eight days later with technicolored arms and hands from numerous "pokes" (most unsuccessfull) I'm back home.  There is always a price to pay for getting one's wish.  Mine was to leave the hospital a few days early.  My payment is having legs and feet that look like they belong to the Pillsbury Dough Boy.  Having had back surgery, I can't very well hoist them above my heart to bring down the swelling.

But. . . . .

The good news is that Spouse just came home from a run to Trader Joe's to pick up two of my favorite things:  Morello Cherries and Petite Palmieres.   Feast Time!!

Has CNN abandoned its moral compass?

It seems now, more than ever, CNN is all about getting the scoop without regard for possible consequences.  The network certainly is not unique in how it goes after the big news.  Still, I had believed CNN was somehow a little more professional and even-handed than other networks.

I was so wrong.

Within hours of the cold-blooded murders of four American embassy personnel in Libya, CNN managed to find a personal journal belonging to Ambassador Chris Stevens.  I'm sure CNN staff were not the only ones rooting through the rubble for whatever they could turn into news.  Right away they knew they had fodder for several day's worth of sensational stories.  [I can picture the guy who found it stuffing it under his shirt to prevent anyone else from seeing it.]

Would it have been appropriate to turn the journal over to authorities or immediately arrange to have it returned to Stevens' family?  Of course.  Instead, they copied it and shared it with their CNN colleagues.  Several hours later, it occurred to someone that perhaps the ambassador's family might want to know what had been found.

Scruples and ethics are too often ignored these days.  Because of the ability to spread news within seconds of an event, considering the consequences of such precipitate action is left until it is too late to discern a mistake or a reason it would have been better to withhold certain information.

It's bad enough when reporters stick cameras and microphones in survivors' faces to ask how they felt following a tragedy or terrifying event.  Using the personal musings and observations of another without permission is just plain depraved and unforgivable.  The ambassador no doubt intended to keep his journal private.  Being that he couldn't speak for himself, CNN's trespass is even worse.

Hard Questions redux

After listening to and reading the politcal banter going on, I went back to a post I wrote during the previous presidential campaigns.  As much as I admire President Obama, I can't say I'm pleased with where we, as a nation, are right now.  I blame it on the concerted obstinancy of both political parties to avoid agreeing on anything.  They can't even agree on tit-for-tat! 

Sadly, the standstill isn't quite that easy to explain because it's not all about politics.  Racism and a class system that should have died when our Constitutiuon and Bill of Rights were written still strongly influence too many Americans.  Social, racial and economic differences are more pronounced, causing bigger and bigger rifts among us.  We seem to be devising our own "divide and conquer" process.

I'm afraid not much as changed since I wrote the following in September 2008.

Do we really want two more self-proclaimed mavericks running the nation in our names? Can good sense trump experience when nothing has been learned from history? Where has all the cash been hiding while Americans go hungry and homeless? Should failed C.E.O.s of failed companies give some back? Should people with a history of "working" all the loop-holes be appointed to the SEC and IRS to help sort out and eliminate the loop-holes? Should there be a limit on Social Security benefits for the wealthiest of the wealthy? Should those who lacked opportunity, education and/or popularity receive larger benefits to help compensate for disparities in their earning power? Will the U.S.A. continue on it's path of eliminating the middle class while increasing the number of poor and consolidating the control of wealth among the few? I admit I don't know the answers. I do hope, however, that greater minds are considering these issues. They are but a few that are crucial to our return to a nation of thriving, fair, and caring people. Our reputation in the world may depend on the answers.

A Random Act of Kindness

Friday appeared to be developing into one of the worst days of my life. Thanks to the kindness of a stranger and, perhaps dumb luck, it turned out to be a blessed day.

For several months, I’ve been suffering with Sciatica .  High doses of meds made only a small dent in the pain. After two steroid injections into my spine, the pain kept getting worse.

Out of desperation I scheduled an urgent appointment with my orthopedist last Friday. New x-rays revealed that my hip is badly damaged and has been the source of new, excruciating pain. Seeing my pain-twisted face, my busy doctor went above and beyond, phoning his friend, my spine and pain specialist to see if he could give me a steroid injection before the long, holiday weekend.

Barely holding back tears, I headed to the parking garage thinking I’d take a chance that the specialist, who hadn’t called back and whose office was just a few blocks away, would see me.

Trying to wield a brand new cane, I stepped into the garage and promptly was hit with another fierce surge of pain that caught me up short. It hurt so much that I started crying in earnest, feeling hopeless.

I would have understood anyone wanting to avoid my “scene”. However, one caring lady heading into the building stopped to offer help. I don’t know about you, but that kind of loving concern, makes me even more emotional. She gently offered me words of comfort and encouragement.

This dear lady, who surely had health concerns of her own, took the time and effort to help me walk to my car and get into it. I was so pained, self-centered and anxious to get to my doctor’s office before he left that I did a shamefully poor job of thanking her. She gave me the strength to get myself to the specialist who, miraculously, was able to treat me when his office staff told me it would be impossible. [I think my mascara-streaked face might have hinted at how desperate I was.]

I will look for opportunities to “pay it forward.” It’s the least I can do. Oh, and the steroid injection hurt like hell but has relieved about 60% of my pain.  I think I’ll live . . . . 

Is it something in the water?

Tom Head is a county judge in Lubbock, Texas.  One might assume that in order to be a judge he must be intelligent, unbiased and fair.  Apparently these characteristics are not required in Lubbock.

Judge Head has announced that, if President Obama is  re-elected that the U.S. will be plunged into another civil war.  The man is convinced that the President is about to sign away American sovereignty to the United Nations.  [Huh?]

He's envisioning a second American revolution although he refers to it as another civil war.  He's preparing for when the U.N. blue helmets invade.  He also claims that he has recruited the local sheriff to back him up when he takes up arms to fight against such a catastrophe.

I find it fascinating that a man in his position could come up with such a hypothesis.  Any American fifth-grader knows that there are three distinct branches in our government, one of which is the legislative branch.  None can unilaterally decide on anything big or small without input from the other two.

Considering that so many of the current members of the United States Congress seem hell-bent on preventing President Obama from accomplishing anything at all [regardless of the consequences for the American people] Tom Head should be able to see that his fears are completely unfounded.  In fact, he needs to step down from the bench and go quietly with the men in white coats.

Bug Juice

I know -- it sounds disgusting -- like what can happen when one rides a motorcycle without a helmet, while grinning. Not lovely.

Nevertheless, bug juice was what my grandmother called a concoction she kept in her frig at all times. Having been born in 1893, she was raised to waste nothing. She wasn’t a terribly enthusiastic or creative cook, but she did her best.

Getting back to the aforementioned beverage -- essentially, Grammy made a pot of tea, chilled it in a covered pitcher then added whatever fruit juice was on hand. Sometimes it would be the syrup from a can of peaches and/or fruit cocktail. Other times she might add leftover lemonade or orange juice not enough to make a proper serving.

As did and still do many in the Midwest, Grammy favored a Jell-o side dish for lunch or supper. These often included tiny marshmallows and always, some sort of canned fruit and maybe a banana. Mandarin orange juice was a frequent addition to the bug juice pitcher as the fruit went well in lime Jell-o.

During rough economic times, it wouldn‘t hurt to take a few lessons from our foremothers. For them, being frugal was not at all the same as being cheap or chintzy. It was being smart.

Come to think of it, embracing that idea of "waste not want not"would be good for Mother Earth as well as our wallets. Besides, making use of things we’d otherwise just throw away can be satisfying and rewarding. That is, if you can avoid becoming a hoarder. Oy! Now there’s another story . . ..!

Nap Time and Polio

These lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer bring back many personal memories. One involves the overwhelming fear of polio during my early childhood. It would be several more years before the first successful vaccine was developed and distributed.

During the winter of 1952-53, my older brother and I developed mumps. We looked like chipmunks preparing for winter. As goofy as that was, fever and pain made it no fun. Parents viewed it as one more childhood disease to get out of the way while we were still young. If a kid had measles or chickenpox, kids who hadn’t come down with it yet were sent to play with the sick kid in hopes that they, too would catch it and get it over with.

Yeah, I know, intentionally exposing children to diseases sounds like cruel and unusual punishment. In those days, the theory was that children could weather them far better than adults could. Adults sometimes become sterile or died from so-called childhood diseases.

For whatever reason, I developed a case of meningitis along with the mumps. The symptoms were scarily similar to those of infantile paralysis, a.k.a. polio. Being only four at the time, I don’t remember all that much except how worried my parents were and not feeling at all well.

Polio terrorized everybody in those days. President Roosevelt had struggled for years and eventually died from polio. There was no cure or vaccine. Pictures of hospital wards populated by children of all ages confined in bulky iron lungs that forced their paralyzed bodies to breathe were used as threats if children were reluctant to take an afternoon nap. Rest and good nutrition were considered preventive measures. Plenty of sunshine and fresh air were what Dad believed in so I spent many summer afternoons napping on a blanket in the back yard.

We lived outside Chicago with all it’s big city attractions. One particularly enticing destination for every kid was Riverview. It was an enormous amusement park, built in the early 1900s with games and rides that appealed to everyone. Some parents, including mine, saw it as a place seething with unsavory characters and germs, particularly the polio virus. Children everywhere whined and connived in utter frustration only to have their parents stand their ground against visiting this spectacular, maybe naughty place. I will always regret that. It closed the month I went away to college.

I cannot remember how old I was when I was no longer forced to take an afternoon nap. It seemed like forever.  When I complained, Mom would always say I didn’t have to sleep, but I did have to rest so that I wouldn’t catch polio.

While I languished in angry frustration in my room, I could hear the other neighborhood kids continuing to play outside. I always lost the argument that THEY didn’t have to take naps and THEY never got polio! I felt utterly and completely deprived!

I’m pretty sure that, at the time, it never crossed my mind that my parents loved me and were constantly concerned for my welfare. Being reasonable was not part of my character back then. All I saw was the injustice of being forced to abandon my playmates in order to take a stupid nap that I didn’t even need.

Shame on you, CNN

As hard as I try, there is no avoiding televised news reports on the slaughter in Wisconsin. Spouse was glued to the television on Sunday waiting to see how it would end.

The local police chief asked the media not to broadcast what they were seeing from their helicopters. Any fool could have figured out that they feared it might reveal police tactics to the murderer. So what do you think CNN did immediately following the live comments from a visibly troubled police chief? Yup, they went right back to broadcasting live from their helicopter flying overhead!

Gee, CNN -- whose side are you on?

If that wasn't bad enough, CNN reporters cornered family members of victims and survivors to ask them "how did you feel . . . ?" Did they expect to hear: "well, gosh and golly, it was pretty cool hearing gunshots and watching people scramble for safety, just like my favorite video game."

I know this is a huge story and of interest and concern to millions of people. Tragedy sells papers and airtime. CNN's tactics in following and reporting on this horrific crime are probably not much different from other news outlets, but theirs are more likely what the rest of the world sees. This sort of fascinated sensationalism makes Americans look stupid and completely tactless.

When tragedy strikes again, I do hope CNN will be more sensitive to human sensibilities and just plain smarter in their methods. Perpetrators often are looking for notariety for themselves and/or their "causes." News media need to consider whether they are aiding and abetting the bad guys before they devote so much time and effort reporting on senseless, brutal crimes.

Honor, honesty, humanity -- where are they?

> The reputations of several have been ruined by the actions of one among them. They closed their, eyes, minds and hearts to his victims in the name of competition, winning and the almighty dollar. The costs will be borne by many, many others who had no hand in the tragic scandal. The ugly stigma is effecting generations.

> Deliberately, systematically and diabolically ignoring the criminal acts of fellow priests against congregants caused years or trauma for scores of victim, many of whom may never fully recover. In a culture that insists sins are forgiven simply by confessing them to another human and reciting scripted words, what else are we to expect?

> Like Pontius Pilot, a Middle Eastern despot symbolically washes his hands of responsibility. Blaming the military for the outright slaughter of civilians -- his own people -- seems to free him from any sense of regret or guilt. His pretty wife enjoys a life of travel, designer clothing, and the best of everything. Meanwhile, women and children all around her are forced from their homes by government terrorists, in the process losing what meager possessions they had and work that barely supported their needs. Constant fear takes a heavy toll on their physical and mental health. Education becomes an afterthought, way behind shelter, sustenance and medical care.

> A mentally unstable young man easily accumulates thousands of rounds of ammunition for several assault rifles in preparation for warfare against innocent, anonymous victims. Not even legitimate hunters need assault rifles to kill deer or birds, or whatever they’re after. So why are they so readily available? Ownership and use of these weapons should be limited to the military.

------------------

The opening ceremony for the Olympics last night was beautiful and exciting. Watching all the athletes wearing broad smiles on healthy bodies gathering in the stadium was inspiring and uplifting. They are there for friendly competitions with fellow athletes from around the world. Somehow, long standing animosities are set aside for the sake of sport.

If only this kind of integrity and sportsmanship was common in daily life.

D.C. Taxicab Drivers

Before you go getting all huffy or think that I believe all D.C. cabbies are crazy and rude -- STOP. That ain’t where I’m comin’ from.

Since 1971 I’ve taken quite a few cab rides in D.C.. Some were less than pleasant. Not that long ago cabs were often really old, rundown cars with sunken back seats, windows that didn’t work, too many air fresheners . . . you get the idea. However, never did I feel unsafe or disrespected. I just figured the drivers couldn’t afford to drive spiffy, newer cars. There were, of course, exceptions.

Even with the old zone system, I never felt I was being ripped-off on a fare. I didn’t necessarily like the amount I had to pay for a short ride that went through two or three zones. [No surprise that Congress set up the zones to suit themselves.]

A Local Living article by Chris Lyford in today’s Washington Post triggered a warm personal memory. Chris wrote about the D.C. Professional Taxicab Drivers Association and in particular, driver John Bugg, a native Washingtonian who has driven a cab here for 55 years. Mr. Bugg easily could have been the driver who transported me on one of the most horrendous days of my life.

It started on a frigid February morning when I was very ill with fever and bronchitis and should have been in bed, not slogging through empty, snow-covered, early-morning streets looking for an ATM. Someone near and dear to me had been falsely arrested and jailed overnight and I needed cash to bail him out.

Having cried through the night, waiting until I could get to him at 7 a.m., I was a haggard mess. The cold air made my eyes water, nose run and made me cough so hard that it nearly took my breath away walking eight blocks to the nearest ATM.

Turning away from the ATM, there were few cars on the street and not one taxi in sight. Minutes went by and hopelessness set in. I just wanted to find a warm hole to crawl into. God must have taken pity on me because about then a taxi stopped near the curb. I crawled over the plowed snow drift and pretty much fell into the front seat, there being another passenger in the back. I was so grateful I wanted to grab and hug the gentle black man at the wheel.

As soon as I’d gotten into the front seat, the driver cranked up the heat to high. He must have felt suffocated from the hot air blowing on him, but he was clearly concerned about me. The passenger in the back didn’t say anything and soon reached his destination. I started weeping in relief and because I felt so lousy. That gentle man did his best to soothe me with kind words and encouragement.

Thirty years ago, there was still stupid awkwardness when it came to the sight of a young white woman alone in a car with an older black man. As far as I was concerned, he had saved my life and sanity. He acted like and even resembled my own grandfather. To this day, I wish I had been better able to express my appreciation.

As if his loving concern hadn’t been enough, he refused payment when he safely delivered me to my destination.

I hope his life has been especially blessed. I know he’s not the only good Samaritan out there, but he’s mine. I’m grateful to Chris Lyford for reminding me about this caring man.

- - - - - -

With so much famine, conflict and turmoil in the world, many more immigrants now drive cabs in D.C.. Striking up conversations with drivers isn’t always easy, but I’ve learned that many have advanced degrees and held important positions in their homelands. Unfortunately, degrees from overseas don’t always translate well for American jobs.

Some are less patient and more anxious about their futures than others which sometimes comes off as rudeness. And, let’s face it, discrimination still distresses many newcomers, especially if they don’t dress Western style or speak with heavy accents.

I wish that judgmental types would remember that many of them left everything and loved ones behind to escape untenable conditions, much as many of my own ancestors did.

I found my "Highlander"!

Since Thanksgiving, I’ve been enjoying medieval Celtic and Scandinavian romance novels. I can’t figure out why it took me so long to “discover” these distracting, lustful fantasies.

Some may consider bodice-rippers lightweight literature. Some are pretty lightweight, focusing way too much on the sexual exploits of their characters. Others, like Laiden’s Daughter provide insights into the history and lifestyles of those ancient times, before the Puritans twisted peoples’ minds.

In my oh so fertile imagination, I conjured up a Highlander that makes reading these stories even more fun. Recently, I saw him -- in the flesh!!! It’s a good thing I didn’t have to talk or walk at that moment -- both would have been impossible after he grinned at me.

Now that my heart has stopped skipping beats and I can breathe normally again I can chuckle over my reaction. Actually, now I’m a little depressed . . . because I do love my husband. Still, I appreciate a gorgeous man when I see one -- especially hot and sweaty from running shirtless on a 100 degree afternoon.

. . . . the dark, curly hair on his perfectly chiseled chest gleamed with moisture trickling toward exotic, forbidden places as his full lips spread into a sensual smile over dangerously straight, white teeth. . . ..
Oh lordy!

. . . the bombs bursting in air . . .

KABOOM!!!

Happy Independence Day 2012!