Merry Christmas

It is Christmas Eve. The packages are wrapped and under the tree. I am tired and heading to bed. I am the only 47 year old woman I know who still receives a package on Christmas Eve addressed to me from Santa. New pajamas are found inside each year. Thank you, Santa.

Winter Picnics

Fall has gone by in a flash; although, it has been long. You know what I mean. Stress will do that. Time can be changed by the way we are living it. Halloween begins our Fall fun and we were surprised to find ourselves out collecting candy with girls in short sleeved shirts and decorating barefoot. Costumes were not covered with parkas and everyone had a wonderful time.


Thanksgiving brought different weather. There was ice on this morning.


The view from my baking kitchen shows it had cooled somewhat. 24 hours prior to the picture we had golf ball sized hail and a tornado warning. This is Missouri weather. She changes her mind and her weather at will.


Thanksgiving was different. We were not to be home for supper.



We whipped up pies and crispy crust treats.


Instead of my usual, tiny little stars, I cut out shooting stars.


We had a lot of wishing to do and needed plenty of opportunities to do so. I wish, I wish, I wish for Dad to walk, to move, to come home. I wished as hard as the stars were sweet.


I packed up a few games to encourage some fun and some brain power. With the baskets full, we headed for the hospital cafeteria.


We gathered. There were only a few of us, but more showed up to see Dad. He was upstairs. It all felt strange, but we tried hard to make it work for LibbyLu and Dan.




The food looked a bit different and so did the table settings, but the flavors were there, we were there and we were where we all wanted and needed to be.



Thanksgiving may have been a picnic this year and may have been away from home, but none of that mattered. It was as good as we could make it and it was best because we were together.

I am making a list this morning. This is a list for our Christmas Picnic.

This Cracks Me Up

After dropping LibbyLu at school this morning, I swung by to pick up our Santa Pass. I hit the Krispy Kreme on the way home for some power Christmas getting ready energy food. Shame on me. I will probably pass out by noon when this sugar high wears off.

Bring it on!

We have been so busy living life that the blog is a bit behind. We are not ready for Christmas, but are winging it with a grateful heart and smiles. We are blessed to have us. I am selective in decorations this year and am working to brighten the house a bit. This morning I pulled out the aprons and linens. Just a few, mind you.

Random Thoughts While Watching The Eclipse With Kelly

With everything going on, we questioned the wisdom of staying up late for the eclipse. We're glad we did. I promised our 12-year-old that I would get up with her at 2:30 to watch it. Kelly said that's the kind of thing her dad would do, which is one of the nicest things she's said to me. We couldn't rouse the sleeping girl, so she will regret that in the morning.


Space is really big, but it seems pretty well managed. To space, one little moon on one little planet is no big deal, but was exciting for us. It was pleasant just being out there with Kelly and Carrie, my wife and daughter. It is too bad the others could not be here.


Kelly had the funniest line: "This is great, but why do these things always have to happen at night?"


In Earth's shadow, the moon appears three-dimensional, rather than a flat disk, like something you could reach up and grab.


Several cars drove by as we watched. What is going on in their lives that they can't or won't take two minutes to look up? Do they know what they are missing? Are there miracles around me that I miss out on because I'm too busy?


The last time this happened, a lunar eclipse on the winter solstice, was 1683 or something like that, and the next one will be in 2094. I have mixed feelings: no matter what I do or don't do, it won't matter. In 84 years, it's coming again, whether I am a good dad or not, a good husband or not, a good employee or not, whether I recycle or not. I hope I'm not the only one who feels inadequate, inconsequential compared to the movement of planets. But I am ultimately comforted by the regularity of the process, by the security of it. The Earth, the moon, the stars, yes, they are in constant flux, but the timetable is so vast that it seems solid to me, so it feels safe. Like Kelly, it is something I can count on.


Our children could see the next one in 2094, and our grandchildren probably will. We can't change the planet's rush through space, but we can touch our children, our grandchildren, our great grandchildren, nudge them in directions they could go. Will we leave a big enough shadow for them to see?

John

picture from chicago_can

It is just a bit past mid-night and the grading is complete.

Wait. Wait. Click.

Dad continues to improve. His sense of humor is in tact, even though we all know there are times when this is a cover. The feeding tube has been replaced by a PEG. At the time this decision was made, it seemed a set back, but as we move forward and Dad's swallow has begun to improve without the feeding tube in the way, we realize the decision for the PEG was a good one.

Dad will not be home for Christmas. This is the first time in my 47 years and I know the first time in the nearly 50 years Mom and Dad have been married that we will not all be home for Christmas. We will make it work. I promised Mom.

As far as Christmases go, we are pretty darn flexible people. You have to be when you have a family as interesting as ours.

Sometime around my parents' 25th wedding anniversary, Dad moved from working the graveyard shift to working swing shift. Dad earned just a bit more working all night and that was needed for some time. It would be much later before Dad earned enough seniority to fill a rarely open day shift slot. When we were young, Dad often worked the 11pm - 8am shift on Christmas Eve. It seemed normal to us, but we were kids and not always excited about what might seem normal. It was hard to sleep in so late on Christmas morning. We were excited. We would try to peek. We would wake mom while trying to not be too quiet.

Dad would arrive home smelling like planes and trains. I remember he wore overalls while he worked on helicopters and a navy blue mechanic's uniform for train work. I never remember his hand being greasy or black grease under his nails, but that must have been the way his hands were at times. I think he did his best to wash away the work when he was home with us.

Dad was never, and still isn't, too particular about coffee. If it looks like coffee, smells even slightly like coffee and can be warmed in the microwave, he will drink it. We are not alike in this way. I am a coffee snob. Dad would need a cup of coffee and a cigarette when he arrived home Christmas morning and when we just about thought we would die from waiting, he would get out the camera and tripod to capture the annual walk down the hall and be surprised to see what Santa brought picture.

In our minds, we waited hours. My children have it good.

This Christmas will be a little more quiet, but a lot more special. Home for the holidays will be wherever we are with Papa. He is our gift this year. What could be better than that. Don't worry Dad, I will take the pictures.

Help Me Save the Tree

With all that has been going on here in our neck of the woods, I seem to be struggling with a little holiday get up and go. I have a little bit of shopping done, no planning, and a bit of worrying - which is quite normal for me.

Our big challenge this year is the Christmas tree. We have a tall tree which is usually adorned with amazing, glittery, sweet sentimental treasures that represent 47 Christmases. My mother would buy each of us an ornament each year and when we left home we each took our ornaments with us to start our own traditions. I have carried on and bought a few extra, okay a very few extra along the way. I hesitate to put the tree up, with these ornaments, with a cute, fun and giggly sixteen month old in the house. She is a spunky little thing just learning the concept of the word no. It can be a trial and I don't think either one of us is ready or steady enough to handle the pressure of small sparkly, shiny, sweet temptations just hanging from every little branch of a big green tree in the corner.

So, what should I do? I do not feel slighted in the least to make a change for this year. But, I do want the change to be memorable in a good way rather than remembered as the year Mom chose to Grinch the Christmas tree.


Do you have any ideas? Oh, please help me figure this out and post a comment. Thank you so much.

Have you seen this?

I just hate it when I can't find something. I own this sweet notebook. It was a gift from my mother. I keep my crochet and knit notes here and it has been missing since the the move in May. This makes finishing this...


difficult. Send me good find vibes, please. Sigh.

Cast List Posted

Besides costuming and teaching we again have thespians in the family for this year's production. Grace will play Emily and LibbyLu will play Rebecca. The girls have moved into speaking roles. They feel important and want me to pick the scripts up today, now, right this second.


They are very excited!

Guilt

Dad's swallow is not coming back as quickly as we hoped and Dad had surgery today to insert a PEG. His throat will feel better now.

We are looking at a December 17 release date. Dad is not ready to come home, so we are wandering, like zombies, in and out of skilled nursing facilities hoping to find one that will work. None are good enough. All are full of old people. This is a revelation to me. When did my parents get old? I am not convinced they are and don't have to be.

I feel guilt when I eat.

I feel guilt when I walk.

I feel guild when I laugh.

I feel guilt when I plan something fun, and doing it is even worse.

From My Inbox

from BHG

Our Town, Springfield

Script is chosen and auditions began this evening. I am amazed by the talent and the dedication. Our students, staff, and faculty are amazing. Break a leg everyone. Call backs are Wednesday.

Morning edit....both girls are very excited to find their names on the callback list. Sigh.

Shopping

I love shopping at Pier One during the holidays. The store is often full of things I love and love to give.

from Cuisine Kathleen

Holiday Pottery

*Unable to locate the name of the artist.

John and I got away for a bit of Christmas shopping this evening. We love shopping for others and spend much of the time walking three feet above the floor with excitement. For years, I have been searching for Christmas dishes. I wanted something I could collect, not a seasonal set where pieces would not be replacable. I have considered this.


And, this.


So far, nothing has tugged at my heart until this evening when I stumbled across this plate at Marshall's. What do you think?

Stroke to Rehab - Life Goes On

Life goes on no matter how that life may look, no matter what gets in the way, no matter what leads us to another path it goes on.

Dad is in rehab. He looks a teeny, tiny, itty, bit, better each and every day. He ever so slightly moves his left foot. He is so tired, so weak. He does not move his left arm or hand, but his facial muscles on the left side look better. He still has a feeding tube and we all have a stroke class this afternoon. I don't know what that is, but I will be there.

My sweet brother Dan is up to his usual. Most days are good, some are not. We all spent a good deal of time together this past weekend and that helped. We gauge Dan's days by the number of phone calls we receive. Not too many yesterday. He helps Mom. She told me that when he was staying with her over the weekend, she entered the living room to find that Dan had poured her a cold drink and flipped on the cooking channel. Go, Dan!

The rest of us are hanging in there. John continues to be husband of the year, but now he is so with a cold. Get better, sweetheart. I have gone back to work. This is tough, but 150 essays, one and a half week of classes, and finals before I am done. Finals week also means I am not ready for Christmas. I am not sure how that is going to even play out. I think about it a bit but I am not stressed. We take it one day at a time.

For some time now we have been considering an educational move for our daughter LibbyLu. She is pretty, smart, and embraces being a bit nerdy, odd, different. She has been teased some at school. Her school is tough, but offers the IB program and we thought this would be a good fit for her. After a year and a half, we have decided that this is not the case. There is a fair amount of violence at this school and I worry about her and now she worries about herself. She has said she must be careful who she talks to at times, who she hangs with, and who she knows. This is not how it should be. She came home this week afraid enough to trade her unique look in for school uniforms. We will be picking up extra work and LibbyLu is headed to a private school. I will write more about this later. I will write about her old school and how, as a public educator, this breaks my heart. Her brain is too important to waste on other peoples' bad behavior.