The Funny Grandson hoped for snow during his vacation in Rhode Island.
Two days after Christmas, that’s exactly what he received.
His grandfather taught him how to shovel snow and scrape snow off the decks.
The four guys stayed outside all morning. I think the FG has the biggest smile. He even threw a snowball at his dad.
It will be 80 degrees in Austin, Texas today. A long way from New England…
Molly Moo Cow entered the Fisher Price world in 1972, the same year as our oldest son, Ben, was born. He latched onto Molly while sitting in the shopping cart at Toys ‘R Us close to his first birthday and fell in love. We’ve all experienced those moments in a store when our toddler refuses to hand over something for the cashier to ring up and starts crying as if he’s caught in the conveyor belt.
I have saved her for over fifty years. Every time I purge more “stuff”, I set Molly Moo Cow aside. I can’t bear to see her go.
I retrieved her from storage during the holidays and presented her to my son, who was baffled by my excitement. He remembered her, he said, but he might have said that to be kind.
It didn’t matter. She still means a lot to me, and “Moo” was one of Ben’s first words.
On the other hand, last weekend Banjo Man showed me something he had saved from Ben’s childhood. Banjo Man is deeply sentimental and saves many, many things.
Do you know what this disgusting thing is?
It’s Ben’s pacifier.
And totally disgusting.
They say that “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure”, but this is going too far.
I made him throw it in the garbage.
I didn’t send out cards this year. I made cookies instead. Dozens and dozens of all different kinds of cookies and it was great fun.
This afternoon we decorated some of the sugar cookies. They look pretty good, don’t they?
I have an enormous platter of frosted cookies along with this one. There are cookies everywhere. My kitchen island is covered with cookies in boxes, in Tupperware, on platters and plates.
It is truly a sight to behold.
We took a walk on the beach after we decorated cookies.
We were the only ones there. Yes, it was cold. Yes, it was windy. But definitely beautiful.
The gumbo is reheating, a new batch of rice is cooking on the stove and there is a ham in the oven. We are definitely a relaxed bunch now that the Texans have arrived. Nancy decorated cookies until it was time for her to go to work at 3 PM, but she will return in the morning for Christmas breakfast and the opening of presents.
We are joyous.
This Christmas is a gift in so many ways.
So instead of mailing you a fun Christmas card complete with a family photograph, I am sending you a Merry Christmas wish from here, on the blog.
I dearly hope it is a happy, peaceful and healthy year ahead for all you.
Wednesday Banjo Man, daughter Nancy and I headed off to the Farmer’s Daughter garden center to find the perfect Christmas tree.
We each had different definitions of “perfect”, so I declared, “It’s too big” many, many times as we trudged through mud, battled wind, wrapped our scarves tighter around our necks, and examined trees.
Sometimes they didn’t believe me, so I whipped out my tape measures (I brought two, one fabric and one metal) to prove that the tree was indeed too wide for the corner space in our living room.
The tree would have to be skinny. SKINNY, I repeated often. And finally…success!
Yes, this looks too skinny. But check this out:
Our first live tree in decades is now tucked in the corner of the living room. What looked a bit scrawny in the tree lot now looks perfect.
Presents are tucked underneath it now. More ornaments have been placed. Banjo Man is cheerfully watering it twice a day. No needles have dropped.
Our Christmas-at-home joy continues.
Son Will flies in tonight. The Funny Grandson and his parents fly in tomorrow. Amber and the FG battled the flu last week, but are okay now. Will had “something” for a day. And so far Ben is fine. Texas has been hit hard with the flu bug, so I worried our family Christmas together wasn’t going to happen.
So far so good.
I have been obsessed with baking cookies. Every time I tell myself “No more”, I really don’t mean it.
Until today. Today I am determined to store the baking sheets, the cooling racks, the Costco-sized bottle of pure vanilla extract in the cabinets.
It has been great fun. Every morning another tempting cookie recipe would appear on the home page of my computer. Ah, those algorithm’s…
The jam-filled thumbprint cookies were not my finest moment. But they taste good.
The peppermint pink-frosted sugar cookies are a little crazy looking, but Banjo Man ate three and declared them to be delicious.
In the freezer are sugar cookies waiting to be decorated by the Funny Grandson, who assures me he is not too old for the Christmas Eve tradition. There are candy cane cookies and shortbreads, white chocolate brownies (gluten free for my little friend Sam), along with gluten-free shortbreads and sugar cookies waiting to be drizzled with chocolate.
Oh, there is a cranberry cake. And two frozen (store bought) pies waiting to be baked when folks get hungry.
Can you tell I’m excited for the Texans to arrive?
Daughter Nancy baked cupcakes for my birthday, which we celebrated last night. They are gorgeous and delicious and I just ate another one with my coffee this morning.
I love cupcakes.
Birthday dinners, birthday lunches…oh, how I am being spoiled this year!
Not to mention the beautiful cards. Yes, I am definitely being spoiled. And it’s great fun.
This was to be the last day of our porch-stairs-deck building project, but it is too cold for the guys to work outside installing the railings. A few days from now it will warm up and I’m glad they’re waiting for the temperature to rise. We have twelve days before the Texans begin to arrive and there is no hurry. This latest “polar vortex” event will end soon enough.
Banjo Man is determined to have a real Christmas tree this year, so we may take a ride to a local tree farm to see what’s available before we buy one next Wednesday. We haven’t had a live tree for over two decades, but I remember how the needles started falling off three days after putting the thing up.
I’m not a fan. But Banjo Man is determined this is the year.
I will keep you posted. After all, what could go wrong?
According to an article in the Westerly Sun today: “More than a dozen cold-stunned turtles from the New England Aquarium, all in need of rehabilitation before a safe return to the ocean — their natural habitat — have arrived at Mystic Aquarium.
Sea turtles migrate to the area during the warm summer months but struggle when temperatures drop rapidly. As cold-blooded animals, their core body temperature is directly influenced by the environment. When their body temperature drops, they lose the ability to swim, feed and navigate, often washing up on beaches or in coastal marshes in a seemingly lifeless state.
Four species of sea turtles are affected: Kemp’s ridley, loggerhead, green, and leatherback. Among them, Kemp’s ridley, the smallest and most endangered, is the most commonly stranded species. Each year, hundreds, and sometimes more than 1,000, turtles strand in the region. The number of stranded turtles is increasing, likely due to climate change-related impacts, the aquarium said.”
I’m feeling a little cold-stunned myself.
Last night, as we were cozy on the couch waiting for Hell’s Kitchen to start, Banjo Man announced that outside it was 4 degrees (wind chill temperature).
The heavy sherpa-lined blanket covered the bed shortly after. Clearly winter was here and it was time to bring out the big guns. This morning was even colder. And gray. And windy.
It’s winter, it’s December, I get it. But am I mentally ready?
No.
Are you?
I used to love polishing my silverplate flatware. For over twenty-five years I’ve enjoyed making everything pretty and shiny and ready for company and the holidays and parties.
I own two sets of twelve place settings of vintage silverplate. And I’ve given a lot of parties.
But…yesterday afternoon I was polishing dessert forks. They looked gorgeous. But when it was time to work on the dinner forks, I just couldn’t bear it. I was done with polishing. I was done with old forks and knives and spoons.
Done, done, done.
I tossed my silver wipe (a nice product, by the way) in the trash and headed to the office. To the computer. To Amazon. To order flatware, a set for 12, something that could be delivered to my door before Thanksgiving. I found something that looked simple, a pattern that was the closest I could find to my flatware from 1970, Oneida Paul Revere (?). Of course that’s no longer available. But even if it wasn’t the perfect pattern my polish-free flatware would be delivered today and not Friday.
Instead of polishing stacks of silverware all afternoon, I got comfy on the couch and took a nap. And then I sewed for a while until suppertime.
Around six o’clock this morning the package from Amazon was delivered to my door.
They’ll do.
I’ve kept my pretty dessert forks and my gumbo spoons for special occasions. I’ll use the forks for Thanksgiving desserts.
Once Banjo Man stopped laughing, he was impressed with my life-simplifying decision.
Stay tuned. There could be more.
Here’s a photo of my oldest son Ben’s second birthday. And yes, he went right to the musical instrument. His grandfather was highly amused.
That was 52 years ago, and today Ben celebrates his 53rd birthday.
Where did those years go?
This year he celebrated Halloween at the high school where he teaches US History. My clean cut, conservative son shocked his students with this outfit and fake hair.
Even his fellow faculty members didn’t immediately recognize him.
Happy Birthday, Ben! We are so glad you’re ours.
A year ago today I discovered my cancer had returned. I was now “metastatic”, Stage 4, a patient with dreaded “secondary” cancer.
This awful and terror-filled diagnosis–from two cancerous lymph nodes in my chest– would kick off more tests: a lung biopsy, a full-body PET scan and more. 2019’s breast cancer had spread. Was spreading.
And you know what? A year later I am okay.
I am okay.
Oh, not because the cancer is gone. The reality is that’s not going to happen, but after a very intense year of various treatments, my new oncologist prescribed a treatment I could tolerate. And so…right now I’m doing fine.
A trip to Dana Farber Monday proved it. The tumors are barely growing, which my doctor called “stable.” “Stable” is a very big deal in the cancer world. Last week’s PET scan showed the cancer hadn’t spread. And my doctor confirmed it.
On the way home we stopped to pick up groceries and I bought myself a little cake to celebrate.
Last November was a very, very hard month. December wasn’t much better. And January and February were spent dealing with treatment side effects and being afraid that I was now an invalid. A dying invalid too weak to walk across the living room.
But I’ve learned a few things since then.
First of all, I’m not dead yet. And until that happens, I’m going to live my life with joy and gusto and adventure. My energy returned in August. My baking mojo surfaced two weeks ago. We booked a cruise (from Istanbul to Athens) for April. I am getting ready for once again hosting Thanksgiving. My kids will all be home for Christmas this year. And I’m energetic enough to enjoy it all.
Every day is a gift. I know that sounds trite and overused and makes for pretty memes on Facebook. But…I learned last winter to wake up in the morning and say, “Today I am alive.”
It helped get me through some very bad days.
Secondly, I learned to slow down. Sit down. Look out the windows and watch the boats on the lake. Soak up the mountains. Feel the breeze. Somehow things got done without me doing them. No one starved, Banjo Man took great care of the kitchen and, for the most part, getting together with friends was done in restaurants.
In other words, the world kept on spinning as I put my feet up and read. Or sewed in my little office. Or did nothing. Doing nothing was okay. What a revelation!
And finally, kindness makes all the difference. Highly underrated, yes, but it changes challenging blood tests, scans, treatments, injections and office visits to something tolerable. A smile and a kind word makes a difference, whether you’re in a hospital or the grocery store or simply doing your best to stagger from A to B without bursting into tears.
After learning I was now Stage 4 another huge worry surfaced, one I often sobbed over: would people treat me differently? Would family and friends avoid me because they were sad or scared or didn’t know what to say? Would I be relegated to the social sidelines, declared a terminal invalid who couldn’t possibly participate in fun things?
Of course that didn’t happen. Instead my loved ones and friends treated me the same as always…but with an extra sprinkling of kindness and care and love and thoughtfulness.
It made all the difference to me.
You know who you are.
And at the risk of sounding sappy, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
So…today I am alive. And I am going to eat cake.
Fourth of July
Glen the Banjo Man
LIVE at the Dump
is there any more pie? 