Posted on December 7, 2005
It’s the first snow of the year; and, at the rate the little flakes are coming down, we’re almost guaranteed a white Christmas even though we’re eighteen days away. I’ve shoveled our front walk three times in the last six hours, and – if this keeps up – I won’t be able to back my little Neon out of the garage in the morning. But I’m not complaining.
I am one of those people who like snow. I enjoy shoveling, making snow angels, and generally watching how everything turns white. Snow brings some brightness to the days around here, given the sun goes into hiding and the sky is a pewter gray most of the time.
Sure, snow can be a bother; but I just hunker down and stay home. Of course, I work from home, so I don’t have to worry about commuting anywhere. But I also use snow as a reason to hibernate more (See December 2 for more on this.) and enjoy indoor activities. I read, light a fire in the fireplace, play piano, write, even clean house. I certainly can’t weed or plant flowers in this kind of weather.
It’s as if I’m snowed in and have become almost comatose. It’s a great feeling, because nobody can disturb my snowy reverie. Then when it abates, I’m ready to sally forth, to get out there and reconnect with the world at large.
The only time I don’t like snow is when it disrupts my traveling plans. For instance, we are scheduled to be in Ft. Lauderdale on January 7 for a cruise. If we are stuck at O’Hare International Airport in Chicago instead because of snowy weather, I will not be a happy camper. In fact, I’ll be so unhappy that we’re starting out 24 hours in advance to make sure we are on board the ship at the appointed time and also to make sure I’m all smiles.
Until then, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
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Posted on December 6, 2005
Last night Earl and I began decorating our Christmas tree. I wasn’t in the mood at all this year; in fact, I was willing to forego the whole thing. But Earl loves Christmas and he wouldn’t accept such a lack of holiday spirit.
“Well,” I said, “if you want a tree and all that goes with it, then will you help me put up the decorations?” He nodded. “You promise?” I said. He nodded again.
So Sunday I dragged the tree up from the crawlspace, and last night we started decorating it. There’s a pattern to tree decorating; first the tree must be placed in the stand, then the skirt is added. Next come the lights and after that the ornaments and tinsel, if you want it. (We are not tinsel people.)
It’s time consuming to do it alone, but extra hands make for lighter work; and I must say Earl pitched in readily. We agreed to work for an hour, and in that time we got all the lights on and checked the train set for problems. Tonight we’ll do another hour. It may take us a while to get everything in shape, but both of us agreed it was a most pleasant way to spend a wintry hour.
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Posted on December 5, 2005
Earl and I are on the Atkins Diet, the one where you can eat anything you want as long as it isn’t milk, bread, pasta, potatoes, fruit, or desserts. We’ve done this before to more or less success; and, although I think this particular diet isn’t healthy at all, we’re on it until December 23.
The one thing Atkins has going for it is quick weight loss and no hunger pangs. On Atkins you can eat any amount you want of various foods – mostly fat laden foods – such as steak, shrimp, chicken, and avocado. Whenever you have a hunger pang, you just raid the pantry.
I won’t go into the detailed explanation of why the renowned Dr. Atkins thinks this works. What I notice most is that when you go off the diet, you tend to gain back poundage when you start adding pasta, potatoes, or bread to your diet. So Atkins is a quick weight loss thing. A temporary gotta-get-into-that-tuxedo thing.
I think the way to use Atkins is to jump-start a diet program, maybe using it for a couple weeks. You won’t lose any appetite, but you will lose weight. And this is a motivating factor in continuing the boring regimen of any diet. Then you can move from Atkins into a calorie-counter diet to begin limiting your actual intake. The bleu cheese and the avocado will go, but you’ll get to have juice and potatoes again.
In the old days, dieting was dieting. You simply had to eat less and, to feel satiated, you ate what was called “rabbit food.” It wasn’t satisfying, but it did finally fill you up without going over the daily caloric intake allowed. Nowadays, it’s all about making it easy so people stick with it. Atkins, Weight Watchers, the Zone, any of them – they may not say it, but the common element is stick-to-it-ivness. We just have to grit our teeth and do it.
And that’s how Earl and I are taking up the challenge for the coming weeks.
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Posted on December 4, 2005
As of today, our household is back to normal; normal being what it looked like before our remodeling projects began two months ago. I’ve found all my clothes and they are neatly arranged in our new closet. We’ve polished and rehung all the artwork we took down; and the cleaning ladies come on Tuesday to shine everything before Christmas decorating begins in earnest.
In putting our home back in shape, I am struck with how much stuff Earl and I have accumulated in the relatively short time we’ve lived in this house. It’s scary. Take luggage, for instance. Earl and I both subscribe to the carry-on approach to luggage. You can change planes, get through lines faster, and never worry about whether your clothes will arrive at your vacation destination two days late because they detoured to Sioux City.
But before we adopted this approach, Earl had acquired a bevy of big bags, a heavy bevy at that. None are on rollers (another innovation we like), all need to be checked because of their size, and all are like aging dinosaurs. Nevertheless, we still have a closet full of them.
Then there’s workout gear. We have outfits that haven’t seen the light of day since who knows when. And ACE bandages, although the last time they were used was in 1995 when I broke my leg.
We have innumerable magazine subscriptions, which means the magazines themselves show up regularly. My policy is when the stack of them gets high enough beside the couch to resemble a small endtable, I start tossing from the bottom. We have jackets not just for each season, but for each month of the year. And shoes too. And artwork that isn’t displayed.
I have lived in about thirty different homes and usually keep my stuff to a minimum, because moving it all becomes tiring. So by training, I’m not a packrat; however, my mate certainly is. I think the only way he would pare down would be if we moved, but then why would we have endured remodeling the bathrooms?
I guess the dinosaur luggage stays for now.
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Posted on December 3, 2005
For years, I tried to be politically correct and theologically sensitive around this time of year. In the waning days that I sent cards, they were holiday greetings. When I was in charge of the company’s annual party, the word ‘Christmas’ was struck from the invitation. I even used Hanukkah wrapping paper for my Jewish friends.
This year, Hanukkah coincides exactly with Christmas Day, while the African-American and Pan-African holiday known as Kwanzaa begins December 26. I suppose it’s as good a time as any to maintain a neutral holiday greeting to all.
On the other hand, I understand some Christians feel discriminated against with the sanitizing of Merry Christmas into something that offends no one, but also has little personalized meaning. Bill O’Reilly has gotten into the fray, supporting these particular Christians and mentioning retails stores by name that have switched their advertising to Holiday Sales, rather than the more limiting Christmas Sales. Personally, Mr. O’Reilly, I would hope you had better things to do with your airtime.
But here’s the shocker. I’m changing my mind about all this political correctness and returning to wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas. No, I’m not a beleaguered Christian, but I’ve decided that Christmas is the religious tradition I’ve celebrated for years, regardless of what I called it in public.
I’m proud to celebrate Christmas, and I am certain those with different religious traditions are equally proud. So I hope anyone who celebrates Hanukkah or Kwanzaa will respond to my Merry Christmas with their appropriate greeting instead of worrying about upsetting me. I think if we all offered our own greetings and accepted others’ with the same graciousness, regardless of the religion involved, the world would be a better place. And just as politically correct.
Posted on December 2, 2005
I think bears have the right idea. They hibernate through the winter, living off the fat of their bodies while they sleep away. I’m not saying I want to sleep for months on end, but right now I do want to withdraw from the world at large.
I don’t want to hear about how we’re winning or losing the war in Iraq. I don’t want to watch the daily stock market. And I especially don’t want to learn of local gossip.
Given my preoccupation with getting my house back in order from our remodeling project and then getting it ready for the Christmas holiday, I haven’t had much time to study current events anyway. World War III could have been declared and I would be oblivious. I wonder if I would be better off too.
Sometimes I feel guilty for not keeping up, for not knowing what’s happening out there. But for the most part, I feel entitled. The outside world is like a soap opera; not a lot of significance occurs in any given day. So you can tune in a week from now and probably get the gist of things. In fact, you might be better off doing so, even if you miss the day-to-day minutiae. And that’s what a lot of it is.
Snow fell today, enough to cover our walks and suggest I get out the shovel. But I didn’t. Instead, I reveled in the fact that it was icy out; and, therefore, I didn’t need to venture forth. Nor would anyone saunter up our walkway. So I burrowed further, writing and working and generally hibernating. It was wonderful.
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Posted on December 1, 2005
Enrollment in the new Medicare prescription drug coverage plan began over two weeks ago, and I’m dragging my feet in studying it on Earl’s behalf. The President – I hesitate to say “Our President” – claims “this is the greatest advance for seniors in health care in forty years.” That’s quite an endorsement. At the same time, many seniors are having trouble making sense of the new program.
A gentleman who reads my blog regularly sent me a lengthy and informative email about the state of the Medicare plan. To quote one paragraph that supports senior angst:
“I have a Ph.D., and it’s too complicated to suit me,” said William Q. Beard, 73, a retired chemist in Wichita, Kan., who takes eight prescription drugs, including several heart medicines. “I wonder how the vast majority of beneficiaries will handle this. I fervently wish that members of Congress had to deal with the same health care program we do.”
I suspect Mr. Beard is not alone; in fact, I also suspect my lack of interest is due to the what I imagine will be a drudgery to discover whether Earl should join the new plan now or pay a higher fee to join it later. That’s the sum and substance of what I know his choices to be at this point.
I’ve cut back my working out at the health club to three or four times a week, now that we have showers that work in our home. However while I use the treadmill, I still read something entertaining, informative, or otherwise satisfying. I guess I’ll have to add the Medicare brochure to my list. It will go under the category of “informative.”
I hope.
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Posted on November 30, 2005
The mail really stacked up while we were in Colorado; and, as I sift through it, I’m struck with the variety of catalogs, brochures, bills, and miscellany with either Earl’s or my name attached.
Of course the holiday catalogs come with the season, but I also got a notice from Uncle Sam about how to order my tax forms for 2005. Pulleeze! I’ll deal with Uncle after the first of the year. A large booklet describing the new Medicare prescription drug coverage plan looked just as official as the tax forms, only about three times as thick. I’m not eligible for Medicare yet, but Earl is; and I suspect he’ll hope I’ll read the fine print so he doesn’t have to.
A box of photos that I’d sent a distant cousin, in the hope of never seeing them again, came back. It wasn’t a case of non-delivery; oh no, the cousin labeled them all and returned them. Then there were some postcard-sized promotions, urging me to shop at local stores for an added fifteen percent off on the day after Thanksgiving. Except I was a thousand miles away.
We hadn’t stopped our newspaper, since it’s somewhat of a hassle unless you’re going to be out of town a while, so the previous week’s hot stories – which had probably cooled – waited. And waited. And waited. Since I hardly keep up with the reading material that comes in the door, I make it a policy that if I don’t read the newspaper on the day it arrives, then I move on to the next day. Earl, however, is prone to saving papers indefinitely in the firm belief that most of the paper is topical and not any less relevant a month from now. I suppose the same can be said about the missives from Uncle Sam too.
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Posted on November 28, 2005
We’re home from our Thanksgiving travels, and plunked down into the reality of our remodeling and our discombobulated efforts on various fronts. In one sense, I’m glad to be here; in another, ouch!
There are four weeks minus one day until Christmas, and I’ve made it my personal mantra to have our house completely finished, completely decorated, and completely guest-friendly by December 23. This gives me one extra day to really get ready for houseguests and put out the luminaria, set the table, and check the wine cellar.
I guess reality is what you make it, but for me there’s always the element of perfection. I want things to go well. I want guests to feel comfortable. I want the meal to satisfy.
So that’s why I’m rushing around now, even though December hasn’t actually arrived. I’m organizing the upcoming weeks, planning which week we’ll do our tree, which week I’ll send gifts to recipients, which week we’ll prepare the Christmas Eve dinner, and – quite possibly – which week we’ll collapse and relax.
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Posted on November 27, 2005
We’re heading home. Back through Denver International Airport. Then to Midway International Airport in Chicago. Then to our car and a one hundred mile trip down the road to our house on Derfla Drive.
I must attribute my mother, who died almost ten years ago, to the saying that “It’s great to go, but it’s wonderful to return.” Mother was a gypsy in one sense; she was always ready to travel onward. At the same time, she was always ready to return home, something gypsies took with them but which Mother held as a focal point.
Now Earl and I are somewhere between earth and sky, jetting along and hoping to reach the Chicago Midway Airport gate at the appointed time. Then it’s hiking to our car, paying the parking fee, and then heading East. Hopefully without a snow storm.
We’ve loved being in Denver, but we’ll love being home again too.
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