The Holiday Whoop-de-doo

It's that time of year again, when the Costco lot overflows and I park so far away that my watch asks me if we are taking an outdoor walk before I get to the sliding front doors. That time when the New York Times offers op ed pieces entitled "How to Navigate Awkward Holiday Parties" and my compulsion to decorate the house takes precedence over work-related to do's.

At Thanksgiving we had the best possible large-family holiday meal. Fifty of us were comfortable seated in Rob's cousin's beautiful remodeled barn, and the long wall was lined with crockpots on table after table, all conveniently plugged into a row of power strips. (It may have been a Guiness-record number of crock pots!) The food was delicious, and my mother-in-law, Connie, went above and beyond to ensure that we celiac troublemakers had enough menu options. We even had our own mini-crock filled with GF stuffing, and a well-labeled (non-celiacs stay back!) GF, DF apple pie.

Having enjoyed the hustle and bustle of connecting and catching up with a myriad of uncles, cousins, aunts and youngsters, our small party of five now looks forward to a simple Christmas in front of the fire, with Aden's favorite GF/DF sweet potatoes (with marshmallows), our traditional candy apples, and cats on laps during a blissful day of doing nothing.

We've reached the age where only a few presents collect under the tree. (If one present is a phone, the other two will be socks and a Starbucks gift card!) The chatter of multiple conversations will be replaced by hymns and carols on Spotify, and instead of leftovers we will eat our usual Christmas dinner of potstickers and egg rolls.  

Traditions morph and children grow into adults and yet the joy of the season can continue unvarnished - especially if one ignores all news and sets up healthy boundaries on early departure times from aforementioned holiday parties. Cards may be sent into the New Year, friends may visit an unclean house, and the 100-day cough may still linger, but by golly this could be the best holiday ever!

Universal Two by Four

I've been literally and metaphorically off-balance since the election. Half-asleep and fighting depression for the first half of that period and falling all over myself in the second half.  Early last week I fell in the pool while coaching - it was 40 degrees and I was fully clothed for outdoor practice in waterproof shoes and parka when I went in. To their credit, the athletes did not laugh at me - they were horrified. As if I would drown in 3 feet of water ... but the weight of my winter clothes could have been dangerous in the deep end.

Three days after that unique incident, I slipped and fell outside the same outdoor pool and landed solely on the middle finger of my right hand, fracturing the tip and nearly detaching the tendon.  It's my first verified break and it's now splinted for four to six weeks. My acupuncturist said that this middle-finger fracture was hugely symbolic, to which I replied "Do you think??" I am literally walking around giving a red-taped middle finger to the world.

"Accidents are not accidents," she calmly countered. "The universe is trying to tell you something and you were not listening, so it whacked you with a 2 x 4."

 I'm officially now all ears for whatever the universe wants to say . . .  probably "slow down, take care of yourself, try to block out the raging ridiculousness of the current political scandals in Washington."  I'm not entirely sure, and it's difficult to type with this blasted middle finger.

To add to the craziness, Rob is home sick with either Covid, bronchitis or pneumonia. He tested negative for Covid but I don't believe it.  Apparently he wasn't taking care of himself, either, and got hit by his own universal 2 x 4. Lesson to readers: work on self-care and don't ignore the obvious signals - you want to avoid the big universal whacks on the head!

Finite Disappointment, Infinite Hope

"We must accept finite disappointment, but we must never lose infinite hope." - Martin Luther King, Jr 

" "Hope" is the thing with feathers - / That perches in the soul - / And sings the tune without the words - / And never stops - at all -"     - Emily Dickinson

It's difficult to refrain from wailing and railing against the malevolent forces at work, but sound and fury are not helping me. The best advice I've heard in the five days since election results destabilized our country was to express gratitude for the men and women who sought to protect dignity and equality of all people.  We don't do this enough and risk those people feeling alienated and unappreciated.

Inspired, I wrote the following text to my family:

"As we come to the end of this crazy week, I want to say how grateful I am for all of you. For your support of equality for all people, your moral compass, your intelligence and integrity. Most of all, kids, I am grateful for your father, who teaches his sons a masculinity that isn't threatened by women and treats them as equals, and who shows his daughter how to be strong and self-sufficient. You are all worthy of strong and true partners like your father is to me. Let's continue to look out for people who are not as fortunate and realize that a better world for them is a better world for all of us. Love,  Mom."

Hope, I've heard, is not a strategy, but it is a fuel. I don't know and can't predict the future, but I hope that good things (currently hidden in the shadows) await us, and that we can resist hate and anger to work toward achieving those good things. May you all be well, and thank you for your efforts to contribute light, dignity and hope to the world.

Find the Quiet Strength

Last night the American people handed the fox the keys to the hen house.

I was shocked in 2016, moved to rant on this blog, to purchase my tickets to the Women's March in DC and to mobilize in multiple venues.

Now I am simply weighed down with sadness, disappointment, disbelief. That the rights of women to equal pay, health care, dignity are not upheld.... that hateful rhetoric still mobilizes Americans more than aspiration . . . that our democracy is taken for granted. . .I woke up early with drooping spirits, struggling to get started on this day.

No crystal balls available on Amazon, so I can't begin to predict the future. I hope it holds something none of us can foresee, in a positive direction. For now I will try to balance the sorrow with gratitude for my family, my wonderful friends, my state of Colorado which enshrined women's rights to reproductive healthcare in our constitution. I'm grateful for the lack of violence despite violent rhetoric, for the good people in government who must get ready to safeguard democracy. I'm also grateful for the letter my brother, John, wrote to his family. I have included a paragraph below.

"Please remember that throughout history, our nation has faced many challenging moments, and each time it's been the quiet strength of individuals and families like ours - people who care, who stay engaged, and who support each other - that has helped us move forward.  The next generation is watching and learning from us in how we handle this moment. By continuing to model compassion, civic engagement, and resilience, we teach them valuable lessons about democracy that no election can take away. These lessons will far outlast any single administration."

In solidarity,

Laura

Tricks and Treats

 Our Harris / Walz yard sign was vandalized two weeks ago - someone spray-painted a black circle with a line through it on one side. This was vaguely sinister, though ineffective, since we turned the sign around and put the graffiti against our juniper bush. The vandal struck back, removing the sign entirely.  Unbeknownst to one another, my husband and I each ordered new signs and now we have three, two in the yard and one on the corner. Not sure why people feel entitled to remove private property from private property, but in our (otherwise safe) neighborhood they even steal Baby Jesus from the manger across the street, so I'm not surprised.

Not to rush ahead like CostCo and jump seasons . . . on Tuesday I realized that - for the first time since the kids were born - we had no pumpkins. Safeway was all out of pumpkins, so I bought two bags full of colorful gourds the size of pickleball balls, and heaped them in what I hoped was charming disarray on our porch. The next day I noticed that most of the gourds were gone, and I feared our sign vandal, or their cousin. What is this world coming to, I wondered. 

The gourd removal incident was cleared up yesterday when I was folding clothes and gazing out of the glass doors. A skinny squirrel ran by, holding one of my green gourds in his mouth and sprinting for all he was worth to the backyard. I jumped up to apprehend him (through the glass? I wasn't thinking) but he was already gone, with $12 worth of Halloween decor in his back pocket. Better a squirrel than a vandal, I thought, but then again, the vandal is like the squirrel, an irritating small rodent rather than a signifier of a larger threat.

So we're undecorated but ready for Halloween tonight. No costume could be scarier than the situation our country is currently in, but I hope at least for some distraction and a little candy - a treat to go along with our tricks.