What I want for Christmas

It's funny how my Christmas list changes and doesn't change yearly.  What a crazy-awesome year it's been for me. I can't say that all my problems are solved by any means, but the gratitude I feel is immense. I feel a little funny writing a Christmas list. I mean, the season really shouldn't be about this giant greed-fest that it's become. I saw Chris Rock on SNL talking about this very subject; he said (and I'm paraphrasing) that Christmas is supposed to be the celebration of Jesus' birthday, and Jesus was one of the LEAST materialistic people to ever walk the Earth. So HOW did it get to be the season of mad materialism? A HELL of a good question.

Having said that, topping my wish-list this year (as always it seems) is a pony (a horse, actually!). Horses and dogs are the two areas of my life where I can get happily spendy, and I'm largely okay with it. I seem to lack the materialism gene in every other way, so I forgive myself this indiscretion. I was raised by depression-era grandparents, so my philosophy is very much one of "buy the best you can and take care of it". I recently replaced my 30 year old washer/dryer set because I could no longer find parts to repair them. Seriously. As you can imagine, this time of constant 'upgrading' seems like an uber-waste of resources to me, but I digress.

So, aside from the prerequisite pony, what would I like for Christmas? If I could have anything I want (and this IS my list, after all), I would wish that my family could be together for the holidays. It was the one time of the year (and sometimes two) that I was overjoyed to be ensconced in noise and chaos, because it was the loving noise and chaos of my family. I'm so grateful to have had those memories. On the upside, Christmas with my friends (the family I chose) is pretty great too, and I do have that to look forward to.

On a grander scale, I wish we could better see the humanity in each other. I think it begins by eliminating the sponsored-brainwashing of the media, and coming from a heart-centered place. Yeah, the individual is important, but without the support of each other it's a pretty lonely place to be. Together we can make HUGE things happen. We're starting to see that, and as the light begins to shine on ugly things once hidden, we can collectively make things better for ourselves and each other.

I wish that when I tuck myself into my warm bed at night, I could do so knowing that everyone has a warm bed. That I didn't have to know that, on a cold night, someone is sleeping in a tent because they have nowhere else to go. I wish that when I sat down to a good meal, I could do so knowing that nobody else is going hungry. We have been both homeless AND hungry. The lie is that people do it to themselves. The truth is that sometimes, people need help. Do you want to believe the lie, or show compassion? I wish I had the voice and the resources to do something tangible for those who can't do for themselves. I'll get there.

I wish that all domestic animals would be in the hands of competent and knowledgeable caregivers.  I wish that none of them would be given as Christmas gifts, nothing more than a trinket among many other trinkets. They deserve a special homecoming all their own.

I wish that children could become human beings before they 'plugged in', that school was an enriching experience, that the education of the soul was at least as relevant as the education of the mind. I wish that children could be grounded in the world, with dirty hands and pink cheeks from playing in the fresh air. We are beings of the earth, and as such the value of of fresh air and the outdoors will never be obsolete.

So, I guess I don't want anything outrageous or unreasonable then ;-) And if you can't give me one of those things, I'd also really like an L.L. Bean gift card :-) In any case, I wish you all a wonderful, magical holiday, whatever you celebrate this time of year. I wish you good health, happiness, fulfillment of dreams, ambitions and wishes. Thank you all for being a part of my journey!

I leave you with my favorite Christmas song:

Games I Don't Play

Photo: www.facebook.com/kristelsmartsbooks

My daughter wants me to date. Okay, if I'm being perfectly honest, I've even been lectured by people who barely know me about how important it is to "find that person". I get it, I hear it, but I guess I'm not sure how to fulfill that wish for them. I'm happy alone, genuinely happy. I think I used to believe in the importance of that other person too, once upon a time, but years and experiences change a person. Even so, I'd be open to the idea if I could find a human being who was looking for a human being, to relate as human beings. I'm an Aquarius. That doesn't just make me odd, it means that friendship is the most important thing to me. It means if someone can't connect with me on a mental level and be my friend, it just doesn't work. Astrology aside, that really IS the magic formula for me. And brains are HOT. Seriously.

What's the difference between a friend and a boyfriend? Think about that for a minute; think about the difference between how a person would relate to one vs. the other. It would take a man bordering on magical (Yes, magical. That's exactly right.) to get that difference and even more so to find it appealing. I'm not saying friendship as in a platonic sort of friend-zone friendship, I mean a relationship based on two people actually liking each other as equals, respecting each other, on a human level. It doesn't sound like much, maybe, especially to folks who are happily enmeshed, but for me that connection has been as illusive as Bigfoot. And hey, at least Bigfoot leaves footprints and such to allude to his existence.

I'll admit that growing up in rural Vermont is enough to leave anyone jaded in the dating department. It can be a place where scantily-clad women draped over motorcycles (gross) are actually considered an appealing choice. I have actually had someone say to me "You're pretty, you don't need to be smart" and they were sure it was a compliment. I suppose in a land of cave-dwellers it might be, but in the world where I live (which, admittedly, is somewhere between Shangri-La and Middle Earth most days) it is disrespectful, marginalizing and attempts to diminish the light that dwells within us all regardless of gender. And therein lies the other half of the problem: The way I want to be seen also tends to be the same filter I look through when I see others. I don't even want to begin to tell you how much "bad" has resulted from that situation. It's one thing to strive to always see people as their best incarnation of self, quite another to do so with reckless and hopeful abandon, and a lack of common sense. Yeah, I'm over that. I take full responsibility for my part in the resultant issues there, but will admit to a learned-reluctance to engage because of it. And I haven't seen the need. I also have zero-tolerance far all things patriarchal and misogynistic. And why wouldn't I? I have had to do EVERYTHING alone, and now I'm going to let someone step in and direct how I live my life why? Some guys really frown on that, but they aren't the ones who are for me, anyway. So now we have what? A magical and very secure guy? Hmm.

I'm on a trajectory. I have this very clear picture of where I want to go and I'm working very hard to get there. Do I even have the energy to date anyone? I don't know. The right person could be worth the distraction. But I don't have the energy for games, or for the nonsense I've already dealt with. I'm not going to fight with someone to be who I am, and I'm not going to apologize either. The right person would understand that being an important part of my world does not necessitate monopolizing my time and attention. He would also know that I like shiny things, but that a really neat rock collected from a river just for me would mean more to me than something polished and expensive. That I prefer the joyful, upturned faces of sturdy sunflowers to the ephemeral and exotic beauty of orchids. My favorite sounds are of wind through the trees, the rolling of a river and the steady sound of hoofbeats on a dirt road. The moon and the stars are more beautiful than any city skyline; and silence, long and comfortable, can be the most meaningful form of communication.

I know exactly what you're thinking: I should probably just look for Bigfoot. Hey, you never know. Bigfoot might actually find me :-)

Fiber and Middle Age

Photo: infographiclist.com

Well, it happened. One of the most awesome songs by one of my favorite bands was used in a commercial. For FIBER. Well okay, for Fiber One cookies, but still. I know all about how advertisers work, how they choose songs and images to appeal to a target market. It can only mean one thing: MY generation is now the generation that needs fiber. Maybe I'm being silly (not unusual), but it seems MUCH too soon. I mean, I'm not an AARP member yet or anything (not that they aren't already starting to send me emails. *Sigh*).

Once upon a time, the Scorpions were considered edgy and bad*** (and in my opinion they still are), as were we leather-clad fans who liked to listen to their music at ear-shock decibels. Yes, I AM deaf as a post as a result of all my loud music and years of dancing in front of the speakers at my friends' gigs. But it was SO worth it.

I remember when I first got the single that they are using in the commercial (Rock You Like a Hurricane). Actually, my grandmother bought it for me at Ames store in Newport, Vermont. She saw the record (yes, a little 45) and saw that it was new. She knew I loved the band so she bought it for me. Nothing got past my grandmother, not even my raunchy taste in music ;-) I spent the rest of the afternoon laying on my bedroom floor with my head between my ginormous speakers (back then, bigger was better. Mine were about 3'x2', and about 1' deep), listening to the song over and over again until it was time to go feed my horses. Bliss!

And we were cool, I swear! We still are, dammit. Back then we actually were too busy DOING things to take pictures of ourselves (though we did look amazing;-). We had very little on the TV, no cell phones, no computers. We left the house and spent lots of time with our friends. Okay, sometimes the things we would get up to were naughty (like my sister setting someone on fire in a pile of leaves, but I digress...), but it was all genuine. There just wasn't the duality of who you were verses your online persona. We lacked the apparent narcissism of today's online world. Not a bad thing. It was a challenging thing to overcome when I first started needing to market myself over social media, but I'm still REALLY grateful that there aren't hundreds of posed pictures of me making weird faces posted all over the place.

From a musical standpoint, people HAD to have talent. I miss that. Everybody played instruments, everybody sang. It was all REAL, and so...organic. You could go to a concert and hear the abilities of the musicians coming through (and often get one hell of a contact high, but that's a whole n'other story). I like some of today's music, but not much. I feel like my mother when she used to say "That's AWFUL, turn that noise DOWN!" But of course, every generation has their music, and it's something that will always speak to them and bring them back to 'that' place. Now, my music is being used to sell me fiber. It was sort of inevitable, really. But it's still a great song, and hey, COOKIES!

Christmas List (post 100!)

Norman Rockwell

So, this isn't going to be my best Christmas ever. I miss my family, we just got hit with an ice storm, my daughter and I have the flu and my ex is trying to shoe-horn a last-minute person into our "family dinner" at Kotos. I have usually spent hours making gifts and ornaments to send to family members, and am enjoying the knowledge that they are done and sent by now, but not this year. Have I mentioned we've had the flu? Nothing is done. I just spent the last 20 minutes or so walking/sliding/falling down the same 20 feet of sidewalk with an under-exercised (98 pound!) dog trying get him to "do his business" before I coughed both my lungs free from my chest, ejecting them forcefully onto the icy sidewalk. So no, not the best Christmas ever.

But so what? Christmas isn't our only chance to be happy, to get it right. Through this understanding, I've reached a level of acceptance and even the ability to laugh at what a monumental mess things are this year. It has freed me from any and all expectations, and I'm going to call it "The Blessing of Freedom from Expectations" and turn it into a good thing instead of the real f***arow that it has actually become. Come on guys, this couldn't have gone more pear-shaped if I had planned it! It really IS kinda funny.

How would things be if my Christmas wishes were granted?

First of all, my parents would be here. I would have a house to host the festivities and I would have spent the last few days enjoying their company, making cookies, drinking hot chocolate and the like. I think it goes without saying that my daughter and I wouldn't have the flu. Our dogs would take themselves out into their yard, where they could get their frolic on without taking down any people. My gifts would all be sent, and I would be really excited to hear about what folks thought of them. My tree would be surrounded by gifts for the loved ones enjoying Christmas at home.

Dinner would be a fun meal cooked with love by those of us who were sitting down to enjoy it. My ex would still be there, but would have some social perceptiveness. Christmas would be a day to look forward to, not a day to grin and bear it and remember my manners (my new mantra; be polite, remember your manners).

Gifts for me would be simple: a gift card to my favorite clothing store or book store. A Vermont Teddy Bear (silly, REALLY silly, but I've always wanted one. This one, actually, with honey colored fur and blue jammies). A pair of LL Bean Wicked Good slippers. And you know, a pony. Some things never change :-)

But there are days that come after Christmas too, and in fact, endless possibilities to make good things happen all year round. The flu is going away, and the ice storm is behind us already. There's a start. I can do this. WE can do this. Please refer to my previous post about gratitude, because it's still true.

I hope everyone has a blessed and wonderful holiday, and that at least one wish comes true for you this season!

Grateful

Photo: en.wikipedia.org

Yes, I know the photo is of "grapefruit" and has nothing whatsoever to do with being "grateful", but it's a device. "Grateful" is one of those words I habitually misspell (I want it to be "greatful", which is like "grateful", but with aspirations) and the word "grapefruit" is how I remember to spell it correctly. Just work with me here. Trust me, it's a good device, and furthermore I couldn't find a single photo of "grateful". But I digress...

As always this time of year, I'm struggling to maintain a cheerful demeanor.  I love the season, but it's incredibly painful too. Last year was okay because our mom visited from Florida between Thanksgiving and Christmas and it really took the sting out of it, but it's back to the crushing longing for home and family this year. Oh, I have a place to live. But a place to live and home are two very different things. If you don't know the difference, you can consider yourself a very lucky individual. I haven't been "home" for a very, very long time. No visit from the parental units this year, so it's back to Koto's for a Japanese Christmas for us.

Okay, well, this can go one of two ways: I can succumb and just melt into a pile of gelatinous goo until after the new year (tempting!), or I can take a long hard look at all of the things the past year has given me, the pretty terrific people in my life, and the things I have to look forward to, none of which are dependent on having a magical holiday. I think I'll take what's behind door #2.

I've had a pretty incredible year. I had my book published, at long last. The way it happened was pretty cool too; the right opportunity came up at exactly the moment I was ready to go. How often does that happen? And the feedback has been pretty awesome! I think most writers have moments of doubt. I know I had more than a few days of thinking that everything I wrote that day was useless garbage. Most often, the next day it all seemed okay, but in the moment I was convinced that every word sucked. The reviews have been pretty great too. So far, so good, and if I get a bad review I can handle it because of all the great ones I have to fall back on. I even had my picture in the local paper, which was a pretty neat experience too :-)

The thing I am most grateful for though (and considering what an anti-social being I am it may come as a shock) is all the people who have supported me and buoyed me to where I am now. I have a long way to go yet, and it's my own initiative that I need to rely on for that, but I am overwhelmed by how many people supported me through this journey thus far: friends, family (mostly) and even complete strangers have been there, promoting, encouraging, buying my book, liking my fan page, and generally just being THERE. It's meant the world to me, and I'm still in awe. I've become very used to "Little Red Hen-ing" it (please note there is no political nonsense implied by this statement) for the most part and with rare exception, so the overwhelming support and positive feedback has been...just wow.

THAT will be my focus. Yup, I'm still going to feel sad. But I'm so grateful to have had (and to have) people in my life who were/are so amazing that it hurts this badly to miss them. I am grateful to have hope for the future, to know what "home" really means, and know that someday in the not-too-distant future I will finally be able to put down roots again and feel like I'm home. It's what I'm working my derriere off for!

So THANK YOU, dear folks, for helping this lumpy, middle-aged Weeble along her path. My gratitude is sincerely eternal:-)

On that mushy note, I leave you with a mushy video (I've become a video embedding MACHINE). It's a song that makes me cry because it reminds me so much of my dear grandfather and his wonderful tenor voice, but it's a good memory, and it means Christmas to me:

Facetubeinstatwit#$%-what?!

Photo: www.theguardian.com

I don't usually feel old or outdated. My daughter would happily tell you I'm like a dinosaur, but from a personal perspective I don't feel much different than I did when I was twenty. With one exception: All the tech-stuff baffles me.

Let's be clear here; I am a reasonably intelligent person who is capable of learning new skills and integrating them into my life. The fact that I have this blog that I almost know how to use correctly AND I'm accessing it through a computer I sort of can make work is proof of that. But it isn't easy for me, or comfortable. And now I'm really trying to utilize social media to promote my book, and it's creating quite a stir within my psyche. I feel like I'm trying to learn a new language, and in a way that's almost exactly what I'm doing. Historically, my language-learning hasn't gone so well. I used to know a fair bit of French (of the Canadian variety. I grew up on the border.) but forgot most of what I knew just by moving a couple of hours south and never hearing/using it. I tried to learn Russian for a minute, but couldn't retain any type of motivation so I put it aside and didn't go back to it. Not the most excellent track record. But this "new language" is about marketing and survival in a technological world. It's a language that the kids innately know, and when new things crop up they assimilate them at an astounding rate. I may not feel like a dinosaur, but I suppose in some ways that I am.

To be fair, I grew up in a very different environment. I was born in 1969, I was a child in the 70's, a teenager in the 80's. I also grew up in a small town in rural Vermont, so however behind the times were, my part of the world was even more so. I remember being really stoked because we had a color TV with three channels. I remember how awesome it was to have our own, private phone line (vs a party line). I remember telephones with dials, the long, twisted cord that held the receiver to the body of the phone (which was screwed into the wall.) and fighting over it because there was only one in the house. There was no such thing as an answering machine. People were home to answer or they weren't. There was no call waiting, just a busy signal. I remember in the 80's when VCR's first came out. The idea of being able to watch a movie in your own home was mindblowing. You could rent a VCR with your evening movies. They were really expensive so very few households had their own. There was also something called "Beta" that was like a smaller VCR tape, but they didn't last long. I remember playing "Pong" and "Pac-man" on my uber-modern Atari video game. The first portable phones were enormous car-phones that only the very important and the very wealthy had. They were sort of a status symbol, and I only ever saw them on TV. They were big, blocky things with antennas. When I was older and took my first computer course, the discs were actually floppy and what we were learning was MS DOS. I'm telling you, the world was an entirely different place.

It was sort of a trade off I suppose. I miss people actually looking into each others faces when they talk. Now, everybody always walks with their heads down because they are looking at their phones. Manners and people-skills have completely disappeared. THAT feels like a real loss. Nobody really connects anymore, but I've kind of gone off on a tangent I hadn't intended to go on.

Connecting in today's world means being proficient with all the social-media options available. And it's not enough to be proficient with just one. You have to be able to navigate most of them, AND make them talk to each other to reach the maximum number of people. YEAH for how small the world has become as a result of all the new ways there are to connect, but woe to those of us who struggle with the logistics! I think I sort of did it though. I figured out how to post this blog on Twitter and have it automatically post on my fan page on Facebook. I like the fan page idea, because it gives me a place for my shameless self-promotion without bombarding my friends who may not give a rat's furry behind about my book. Cool Beans :-) But I realize that the small bit that I've managed is just that; the tip of the iceberg. There is much left for me to tackle, and I feel like a tyrannosaur trying to do it with my ineffective, tiny arms.

 Don't worry about me though. I'll figure it out :-)

Morgan Horses and Making Due

Photo: Jane Kennedy O'Neil

When I'm stressed out I like to think of 'other' things; things that are far removed from all that's worrisome. I think about horses a lot. I always have. In one form or another, horses have been a bastion of strength and protection against the intrusion of life's occasional unpleasantness. There's something about a horse that makes us more than we are. They offer us their friendship (if we allow them to) and lend us their power and speed. There's something in the spirit, the soul of a horse, that connects with the soul of a human being in a way that is unique and special. When I feel cursed with the absence of this connection, I need to remind myself what a blessing it is to know such a bond and to have the capacity to experience it so fully. I don't have a horse right now, but I will again. It's not something I hope for, but something I know on a soul level. My connection with horses is my connection to the 'real' world, the source of my strength and my greatest passion. People like me don't thrive without horses.

I'm filling my horseless days ruminating about my next horse. Who will he be? What do I want to do? It is natural for me to immediately assume I will look for a dressage horse, and that would be fine. But the idea of spending all or most of my time in an arena makes my insides feel restless and squirmy. Yes, I would like to do some showing. I didn't get to do nearly enough of it as a child. There's still an itch there. But I also fantasize about dirt roads, corn fields, miles of trails through the woods. I remember seeing the world through pointed ears, an explosion of fall color, the soothing, rhythmic sound of my horse's footfalls, the sharp aroma of leaves and refreshing fall air. I'll never get tired of that, and as a child that is what I loved the most. My sister was always right there too, a ready riding buddy who shared my enthusiasm. Our farrier used to comment on the wear of our horses' shoes; they could never be reset because the daily mileage had worn them so thin. We would ride in all weather, getting caught in the rain more than a time or two. We rode bareback as a matter of habit; youth is fearless with an effortless balance and agility. Back then I had a Morgan.

I hadn't considered a Morgan again until recently. But why not? My show-trained Morgan was up for everything I was into and well suited for it too. Isn't a Morgan a natural choice? They are beautiful, strong, sensible, versatile, respectful of those who respect them. They have energy to burn and endurance to spare. You get an awful lot of horse for a fairly reasonable amount of money (exceptionally reasonable when compared to the cost of a warmblood) .When I was a child the good Morgan ads read like this: "Morgan for sale, rides and drives, excellent family horse, old (fill in blank) lines". As it turns out, that's still largely true. As a Vermonter, not only are these the 'horses of my people' but they are everywhere. That's kind of awesome. How great it would be to actively seek out the right horse for me as an adult, knowing what I know now and participating in the process. I look forward to that day with anticipation :-)

When I was a child, each horse that I had was a stroke of luck. Each foible was a lesson learned the hard way. I think about how children learn about horses today. How different everything is! I am so grateful for my daughter's experience with Pony Club, and I highly recommend it. Pony Club doesn't just produce pretty riders, but real horse people who know as much about safety and the care of their horse as they do about riding. It seems these days that many children are being taught to ride but know nothing else. They have to have perfect footing in their well-tended arenas, the most fashionable tack and clothing, and a coach at their side for everything they do. I think it's sad. Those children are missing out on a lot. It's hard to have a real relationship with an animal that you don't understand, that you have relegated to nothing more than a competition vehicle. Without that relationship the best part of the experience is lost.

My sister and I didn't take a lot of lessons. The ones we took we paid for ourselves with money we saved from birthdays, Christmas, mowing the occasional lawn. We didn't come from a horsey family so lessons and showing weren't a priority (or at least not a priority to those who held the finances!). We were very fortunate to have the horses at all. After years of begging, we started out with free-leased ponies from a local summer camp. My grandfather had put up a fence and built a barn and run-in, and that's what we had from that point on. After having more free-leased ponies and horses than I can count, my family finally purchased two horses. Kudos to my Mom here; she was a single, non-horsey parent and we had horses. That in and of itself was impressive.

Most of our education was provided by horsey neighbors, working at the summer camp (if we got all the chores done, we could RIDE! Thank you Mom for getting up early to fed us breakfast; thank you Papa for all the rides to the farm!) and a pretty terrific 4-H leader. This same woman helped my Mom find our horses and helped us to get set up with tack. I mentioned that my Mom was not a horsey person. So it is really no surprise that she bought us a saddle (yes, one for us to share) from an ad in the paper for $50. I think we even tried to use it, but it was pretty scary. I think it was a polo saddle, and part of one of the panels was missing. Eventually the torn stirrup leathers went to shoe repair to get sewn back together. This is when our 4-H leader stepped in and helped out :-) It couldn't have been easy to buy our nice tack and it was done piece by piece.

When we took our lessons, my sister and I had to ride to the local park and use an outdoor hockey arena as a riding ring. My sister had her saddle before I had mine (the first saddle just fit her horse better) so the instructor would kindly bring her saddle for me to use during the lesson. We thought nothing of this, it was just the way it was. We eventually participated in horse clinics at the local fairgrounds. I remember my saddle arriving by bus the day before the clinic started. I was SO EXCITED to get my new saddle (I had never had my very own saddle before!). I was beside myself. My wonderful Morgan took all the strangeness of the clinic environment in stride and performed beautifully so I could focus on my riding. All my friends were there, we got to sleep in tack rooms and we were able to focus on nothing but horses for a whole weekend! The clinics were awesome.

We eventually did some showing, but our participation at shows was limited by our lack of transportation. We could often hitch a ride with friends if they were going, but it didn't happen nearly enough for me. It didn't matter to my horse though. His lifestyle had changed completely when he came to live with us. He was living the life of a mere backyard pleasure mount. But when he entered the ring he became a different horse. He knew his job and he strutted his stuff like he had never been away. Perhaps that is one one of the things that fascinates me the most about Morgan horses. Some interpret versatility as an ability to perform in different tack. The truth is, horses aren't terribly mindful about the style of tack we choose for them. It's really only important to us. But the versatility of my Morgan was an adaptability in his performance, an understanding of what is needed in a given moment. This horse who would take me calmly down the trail (and through the occasional frog-pond) knew when and how to 'turn it on'. I always felt so proud of him in those moments, and the smile I wore in the show ring was genuine.

That's what I need. I need a tough, flashy little fellow who's up for anything. So why not a Morgan? Why not an animal I have a long history and share a kinship with? Why not the 'horse of my people'? It's certainly something worth considering. Thank you for joining me on this trip through memory lane :-)

Merry Christmas

It's Christmas eve and I can't help but reflect on Christmas eves of the past. I remember going to church, listening to an uplifting sermon and hearing beautiful singing. I remember waiting in anticipation at my grandparents' window for the woody-wagon bearing my aunt, uncle and cousins to arrive. I remember eating so many sweets that I felt sick, and then eating some more. It was entirely over-stimulating and awesome. My sister and cousins and I would want desperately to sleep so Christmas morning would arrive more quickly, but we couldn't stop giggling and getting in trouble for it. It was tradition and it seemed then like it always would be.

Of course time marches on and with it some of the magic of childhood is lost. That's life. My daughter is now twenty, and so there is no more childish influence to the holiday...or is there. Sometimes I've thought that my awesome childhood left me unprepared for disappointment and sadness, but now I'm not so sure. I look around at what I have and the people in my life, at the continued loving influence of my family, my wonderful daughter...well, I'm still fortunate.

This year I'll do some traveling to my sister's in a friend's borrowed van (thank you Tommy!!!). We'll over eat, laugh until our stomachs hurt, watch movies and stay up too late. It won't be like it was when we were children, but we have each other (and a small pack of dogs). Our Mom just came to visit too, so we have that to be grateful for. I think if I give it a moment's thought I have to admit that that's pretty darned good.

I wish all of you a Merry Christmas, whatever that means to you. If it means a Happy Hanukkah or Kwanza or Solstice or Holiday...great! Whatever you celebrate I hope you have a wonderful day:-)

The F-Bomb and Christmas Dinner

   I had Christmas dinner at Koto's with family and friends this year. It's a new tradition for us, created in part to minimize the amount of work and mess on Christmas day, but also to take our attention away from those we miss every year. When we were little our traditions were almost written in stone. Our aunt, uncle and cousins would spill out of their station wagon and rush the house filled with smiles and excitement. My uncle always bought the wagon with the wood along the sides, so we would decorate it like a tree when he wasn't looking. There were six of us kids, our mother and grandparents in addition to our aunt and uncle, making us a large and noisy bunch. It was the same happy scene every year.

   We all got older, our grandparents passed away. One by one we each had families of our own and our Christmas tradition gradually became a thing of the past (though I still find myself having to really engage my decorating impulse-control on the rare occasion that I see a woody-wagon). Our Mom moved away, and then it was my sister, daughter and I at Christmas. It sounds crazy, but part of what drives me to reach my financial goals is the desire to have the means to spend more time with my family. But I digress....


   Our Koto's tradition is pleasant in itself. We descend on the grill, a diverse group of family and friends who are like family. Often we find ourselves making connections with the other folks sitting at the grill with us too. It's pretty cool. But one member of our group was going through an especially difficult time this year, and unfortunately this meant that every other word out of his mouth was an expletive of some kind. Keep in mind that this is a good guy and local business-owner, so he has no excuse. After the third or fourth F-Bomb, I finally elbowed him and gave him 'the look'; he got the point.

   I am a champion swear-er, especially after a traumatic event (like hitting my head on a cupboard). I consider it a birthright since I am from Vermont's Northeast Kingdom. In the Kingdom, we don't need to be drunk to punch somebody, and we can swear like champs. Even so, because I had a good upbringing, I have largely grown out of my need to react in a physically inappropriate manner. I now prefer to stun my opponents into submission with my ninja-like mental acuity. It doesn't always work; I try not to take it personally. It's tough to reason with somebody who's best argument is "F*** you".

   In spite of my lack of desire to get into physical altercations, I have retained the characteristic "Potty Mouth" so prevalent in my region. I think having a potty mouth is fine as long as you are 1) not in a public place and 2) not simultaneously smoking a cigarette while pushing a stroller (YUK!)  3) NOT HAVING CHRISTMAS DINNER. It's a respect-thing, you know? There are certain words I will absolutely avoid, anyway. I will not take the Lord's name in vain. I just won't do it. It is so ingrained in me that I cringe when I hear someone else do it. There are so many great words out there that there is really no need to.  A well-placed F-Bomb will get the job done just about every time, especially if you are not a habitual user. I am not opposed to the F-Bomb when the need arises. But at dinner (or in public, period), let's keep it clean.