Hi friends! Don’t be offended. It’s Monday-Funday. I honestly love seeing kids in the neighborhood, and there isn’t snow in these parts where I live, but I couldn’t help but laugh at this meme. I grew up in Pennsylvania where there was plenty of snow. Our bus stop was at the corner lot and we would all gather on the neighbor’s tiny front porch to stay warm until the bus came. Every early morning during the winter, we would all be huddled up on those sweet people’s front porch, until one of us would dare to leave the porch and start a snowball fight. And they never said a peep about it. These neighbors were older. They didn’t have young children. I don’t even know if I knew their names, but here I am writing about their kindness, over forty years later. Kindness counts. Have a great day!
Good morning, dear friends and readers. On Sundays, I devote this blog to poetry. I either write a poem, or I share a poem, and I strongly encourage you to share your poems in my Comments section. Poems have a way of broadening thought and deepening emotion, like no other form of writing can do. Today, I share two poems written by other people. The first poem, “Cranky Old Man”, is attributed to an Australian man, named David Griffith. David was living in a nursing home and this poem was found by his nurses, in his things, after he died. It has since been shared widely around the world. Thank you, to my dear friend, who shared it with me this week. The second poem, I found on Twitter. I am at the age when a lot of people who I know, are on their second marriages, and I thought that the poem was sweet and romantic and hopeful, for those relationships, especially. Have a restful, rejuvenating, reinvigorating, and restorative end of your weekend, as we enter into the holiday season. See you, tomorrow, my dear friends and readers.
Pat (Our “Elf on the Shelf” – on an aside, Pat is named Pat because Pat is gender fluid. Some years Pat is a girl elf and some years Pat is a boy elf. It all depends if Pat wears the skirt or not, on any particular year. Also, sometimes Pat wears a skirt when Pat is a boy elf and that is perfectly okay, too.)
Pat – So, we need to talk about my retirement options.
Me – (under my breath) – Oh thank you, God.
Pat – Your kids are aging out of this little tradition of ours. In fact, I’d say they aged out a few years ago, but I get it, the youngest kids hang on to their childhoods for dear life. They think that their parents may fall apart if they don’t. That’s a heavy weight for the youngest children to bear. And let’s be honest, you’ve been a tad lackadaisical with your part of the bargain, lady, the last few years. Last Christmastime, I think that you moved me twice, the whole damn season, and the second time that you moved me, was only to put me into my box, so I that could fry up in the attic, like a pathetic little chicken nugget, for whole other year. I need a change of scenery, ya know? I need a cool off period.
Me – (giddy underneath my cool exterior) Pat, I understand. I totally appreciate what you have brought to our holiday fun, but everything has its season. Pat, truly I understand, and I support your decision, 100 percent. I mean that, Pat, from the very depths of my heart. I REALLY mean it.
Pat – You know, lady, I don’t think that you did fully appreciate me and my efforts, all of these years. You constantly cursed about me. You’d wake up in a panic, in the middle of the night, grab me roughly and then you would just throw me awkwardly in some other space. Sometimes I’d end up on one of the dogs’ jaws of death, wondering if that smelly, gross, nasty dog toy basket, was going to be my next home, along with the legless, earless bunny (probably a former Easter Bunny, but we’ll never know).
Me – (with some forced effort) Oh come on, Pat, we had a lot of fun. Pat! Now Pat, we got really creative with some of your “spots.” You had some great photo opportunity poses over the years. We even took you on some of our trips.
Pat – (ignoring me, eyes gazing into the distant horizon) I’m one of the originals, you know. I was born in 2004, the same year which your wonderful daughter was born. We grew up together. We spent every Christmas together and she prided herself in looking for me, and finding me, before she even sat down to her bowl of Lucky Charms, every single December morning, year after year after year.
Me – I know, Pat. It was definitely cute to watch. She would get so excited to find you. Even the older boys would get in on the fun. It really did add a little extra magic (extra work and stress, too, let’s not forget, or try to sugar coat the situation), but you definitely did add some extra magic to the holiday season. Thank you, Pat, really.
Pat – Okay, well, I already live in Florida, so we’ve got the retirement place to live already figured out. I’ll take my pension in candy canes. I like those Sour Patch Kid flavored ones.
Me – (thinking to myself, hmmm, so that explains where all of the Sour Patch candy canes went) Okay, Pat. So this will be your last year then, with the family? Then you will be moving on, for good?
Pat – WTF?! No, lady. I’m talking NOW. Sayonara. This has been a stressful year as it is – I don’t think that I could take another year of work, precariously dangling from your chandelier, by a thread (literally) and then, practically melting my precious little plastic face, from the heat. I’m not into artificial lighting anymore. I’m headed to the beach.
Me – (feeling a little queasy and dare I say, sad?! in my tummy) – Oh, um, well, Pat, this is a little short notice. Don’t you think? I mean, I, I mean, my daughter (or course, not me, ha ha ha), obviously needs some time to adjust to this news and to this change. I think losing you, Pat, needs some explaining and some contemplation time and some slow acceptance that everyone’s getting older and that traditions change, – you know, all for my daughter, of course (not for me ha ha ha ha ha). Plus, Pat, the virus . . . .
Pat – Don’t pretend like you like me, lady. Don’t pretend like you care. You’re always talking about simplifying your life. Here’s your chance, lady. One more little elf, off of the Christmas to-do list. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you just put out the wreath, and call it a day.
Me – Pat, I do like you. I really like you. I really think that you need to stay on for just ONE more year. For my daughter, of course. One more year, Pat, that’s it.
Pat – I don’t know. The NorthPolicare health benefits are available to me now.
Me – Okay, Pat, enough of this BS. What’s it going to take, Pat? What’s it going to take for you to stay just one more year?!? Have a heart, Pat. Please! Pat, it’s Christmas!
Pat – I don’t know. If stay around, you may never let me leave. I might end up having to entertain your future grandchildren, for Pete’s sake.
Me – Oh, come on, Pat. You know that I don’t like you that much (sometimes, I hardly like you at all). Will a few extra boxes of Sour Patch Kid candy canes help to seal the deal?!
Pat– (sighs dramatically) I suppose so. But only for your daughter’s sake.
Me – Thank you, Pat, thank you! (Also thinking to myself – OMG, what just happened?!? Did I just beg that damn Elf on the Shelf to stay?!? Have I completely lost my mind for good? That stupid Pat sure knows how to play the heart strings, that’s for sure. It must be Christmas magic. I’d better put candy canes on the shopping list, so I don’t forget. Pat’s acting a little bit like an angry South Pole elf. Hmmm, South Pole elves must be real . . . . )
This is a double day bonus! I’ve got a silly, fun post coming up next, but every once in a while, I look at my stats and I see an old post pop up that I haven’t read in a long, long time. I suppose since it is Thanksgiving time, this one is trending. Not to toot my own horn, but this is a good one. It is worth another read:
Hi friends! Hope you had a wonderful day yesterday and I hope you are having fun (and having it safely) today! I honestly have never shopped on Black Friday (in retail stores). I don’t really like crowds and I really don’t like crowds this year, in particular. Still, I love to shop and I know the thrill of a deal, so I hope you all are having a thrilling day. On Fridays, I don’t plunge below the surface. I call it FavoriteThings Friday. I keep it light and fun and material by listing three favorite products, songs, food stuff, etc. that have made my life fun to live and I strongly encourage you, to add your favorites to my Comments section. Please check out previous Fridays for more favorites that could make could gifts for yourself and others. Here are my favorites for today:
Birthdate Candle – One of my most thoughtful, and most organized friends sent me one of these candles for my birthday already (my birthday is in December). She is having surgery and didn’t want to forget. These soy candles fulfill so much of my favorite things in one – good lighting, good scents and astrology. I love it, and I admittedly have been burning mine already (I’m an impatient, fiery Sagittarius). Each of these candles lists the unique qualities of a person born on that particular date. This is a great, fun, unique, personal gift idea.
Interior Chinatown by Charles Yu – This book just won the National Book Award. It is written in such an interesting perspective that I found it to be confusing and compelling, at the same time. The crux of the book, however, is an inside look at the Asian immigrant’s experience, in the United States. If there was ever a year that was screaming for us to look at situations through the eyes of others, this year is it. I learned a lot about my own false assumptions by reading this book. Any book which helps me to grow my perspective and my compassion and keeps my interest, deserves to be a favorite.
Amy’s Green Cleaning Products – I got turned on to Amy’s products when I was at the mountains a couple of weeks ago. I purchased some of her roll-ons and her room sprays at a lovely gift shop, and these are some of the BEST aromatherapy products I have ever used (and I have bought a lot of aromatherapy products over the years). I also put an order in for some of her cleaning products, because I figured if they smell as good as her personal products, I might actually get more incentivized to clean more often. I noticed her online shop is currently closed, but when I called about that fact, they explained that there had been an unexpected death in the family and they would be opening again soon. Give her website a look, in the next couple of weeks. And buy something. Your nose will thank you for it, and your nose always knows.
Happy Thanksgiving, my dear readers. I hope that you know how thankful I am for you. If you don’t know this, please read yesterday’s blog post. It is my “thank you” note to you, and it is filled with sincere love and gratitude from me, to you.
This Thanksgiving holiday is going to be strange and different for many people. It’s going to be somewhat sad and reflective for a lot people and that’s okay. Thanksgiving doesn’t require “forced gratitude.” Gratitude brought about by shame is not a good feeling. In fact, it’s not really gratitude, it’s just ugly guilt. “Shame on you, for feeling sad or lonesome or angry or scared or bewildered! You SHOULD feel so happy for all of the good in your life! Don’t you know how good your life is, compared to so many others?!” (that’s just ugly, judgmental yucky stuff, and that kind of thinking doesn’t bring about any kind of genuine feelings of gratefulness. That kind of thinking just tries to add shame and guilt, to a feeling that is so akin to love (gratefulness), that there is absolutely no room for all that negativity in love’s and gratefulness’ purest forms.) Feelings are just feelings, friends. As a dear friend told me one time, “Just because someone else is having a heart attack, doesn’t mean that your broken toe doesn’t hurt.”
And at the same token, there should be no shame in feeling wonderful this Thanksgiving. In fact, there is no shame if you loved this entire year. There is no shame, if 2020 was your best year ever. We all could use some uplifting this year, and someone else’s joy and happiness, does wonders for raising the energy that surrounds all of us. I pray that there are more of you lovers of 2020 out there, than I think there is, in my simple mind.
Honestly, if I had to pick just one beautiful gift, which I feel that I got from this 2020 experience, it was the gift of having to really look for all of the good, in even seemingly bad situations. It is easier to feel deep, genuine gratitude for the people, places and things in your life, when you are faced with the real possibility of losing them. The gift of acute attention to every blessing in my life, was probably the most sacred gift of 2020. Other years, the good in my life was often taken for granted, or maybe even sometimes “expected”, with an air of entitlement. 2020 brought a “humbling” to a lot of us, but with this humbling comes authenticity. And when you are your most authentic, true self, your feelings are deep and they are raw and they are intense, but remember that includes all of the good feelings, too. When you are being your truest, realest, most authentic self, love and gratitude are incredibly wonderful feelings to experience. Dare I say, I am profoundly thankful for my own gratitude this year, because I feel it at depths, I never, ever knew before.
I couldn’t sleep. I am writing this in the wee, wee hours of the night, or perhaps, I am writing this is in the early morning. I’m not sure. I haven’t even looked at the clock. As Thanksgiving is beckoning us, right around the corner, I find myself bathed in gratitude. Our children, the ones who still “live” with us, are all safely tucked into their beds, under our one roof. I know that our eldest son, though grown and far away, is safe and content. We texted each other a few times today. I know that I am loved. I am so fortunate to have cherished family, and friends, and pets, and I have you, my treasured readers. Now, I realize that a lot of my readers are also my known family and friends (whose loyalty I am utterly grateful for – I love you so much. Thank you.), but I also understand that a lot of you, my precious readers, are people who I have never, ever met in my “real” life, yet I treasure you. Know this. I treasure you. I feel so much purpose in writing this blog every single day, and the fact that you actually take precious time out of your days to read my blog, means the world to me. Know this. I treasure that fact. I treasure you.
The seasonal winter holidays are here. In some ways, that is a wonderful thing. In some ways, that it is also a hard thing. With the holidays, comes a lot of nostalgia. Some people love nostalgia. I don’t, really. Nostalgia is something that I can only take in small doses. Some people love to pour over old pictures and videos and memory books. I honestly don’t like to do too much of those activities. My feelings run deep. And Nostalgia is a heady stew of spiced up feelings that proves to be too much for me, when served in heaping bowls. I like spoonfuls of nostalgia, here and there. Spoonfuls or smatterings of nostalgia are enough for me. Otherwise, I mostly try to stay in the moment. I know that the every day moments (the moments, that surprisingly often, end up being the game changer moments in life) will continue to pile up into a big pile of nostalgia in the memory bank of my heart, which I will always be able to spoon off of, whenever needed. Just a smattering, please.
If you are like me, and the holidays are great in some ways, but in other ways, the holidays can be a sensory overload, I promise to be steadfast. I promise to write this blog every single day throughout the holidays, unless I can no longer think, nor write. Even if you don’t like what I write, you can always rely on me. I am a rock in your life. What else is steadfast and loyal in your life? Even if you don’t have steadfast and loyal family, friends and pets, then you definitely have the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and nature, and music, and institutions like clean water and electricity and mail and garbage pick-up, and your place of peace or worship, and your library, and Google and Amazon and Walmart and McDonalds. You have God, and you have the angels. You do. You don’t have to believe it, but you do.
The holidays are steadfast. They come every single year, no matter what kind of year it has been for us, personally or communally. There is something to be said for that – there is something to be said for those people, places and things, that you can always rely on to be there, no matter what. Loyalty and steadfastness are beautiful traits. You have given these honorable gifts to me, my loyal and steadfast readers, and thus I give them back to you, with earnest respect and a brimming, grateful heart. I am here for you. Check in here, every single day of the holiday season, and just breathe. Know that you are loved and know that you are appreciated, because you are, by me. You are not alone. Thank you, always, for your presence and your attention. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Do you remember when your grandparents said things that were perhaps a little bit socially incorrect, and what they said made you cringe and groan, but you kind of gave them a little bit of a pass because what they said wasn’t meant to be mean or hateful, and what they had said, came more from the fact that they had been raised in a different era (and also, you absolutely adored your cute, now child-like grandparents)?
It hit me yesterday, that I have passed into that age bracket, where if I am not careful, I could be the cause of the cringes and groans. (another aging milestone – yippee) My friend was relaying a story in our friend group text chat, which I won’t relay because it is not my story to tell, but she was saying the difference in reactions, between she (mild discomfort, but generational understanding) and her daughter (pure outrage) to something that a friend of a friend had said, in playful passing, was nothing short of striking.
The story my friend relayed put me in mind of a conversation I had earlier this week with my youngest son. He is home for the Thanksgiving break and he had seen one of their childhood buddies at the gym. This young man is a brilliant guy and is attending one of the most prestigious law schools in our country. My son relayed that his friend had gotten both of his ears pierced. I must have said something like, “Oh brother! Why would he do that?! Isn’t he in law school?”
To which my son, answered, “Mom, stop being so antiquated.”
I replied, “I am antiquated.” And then I pondered about it. I am antiquated. Facts. I have officially reached the beginning of antiquity. My thoughts and my feelings and my perceptions and my impressions about things, perhaps need some cleaning up and modernizing, I suppose. How much of what I say and what I do and what I think, are actually my true beliefs about things, and how much of this is just mind-swirl, indoctrinated stuff from my childhood, which has always been validated by my similarly raised generation, until the younger generations started into adulthood? Do I really want to become one of those cantankerous old ladies who everyone gives wide berth, but excuses my wackiness for my age? If I do want to become one of those outspoken old coots, I want it to be about things that I do feel strongly about, things which I have really contemplated about from every angle, and things that I know from the deepest parts of my heart and my soul to be timeless and true. I don’t want to ever become so antiquated, that I forget that I can be wrong about things. I can be wrong about a lot of things. I never want to become so antiquated that I become afraid of change. I want to be one of those interesting, intriguing antiques, that is so uniquely cool and so genuinely itself, that it is not just tolerated up in the dusty attic, but the antique makes a major comeback, because there has never been anything quite like it, ever made.
Happy Monday-Fun-day! It’s just too easy to online shop these days, isn’t it? Yesterday, I managed to break a bright red bottle of nail polish on the floor of our recently remodeled laundry room. It splattered everywhere. It looked like a horrific murder scene. My husband had to stop his grilling (a recently reacquainted past passion of his), in order to help me to clean it all up, in a big hurry. It’s moments like these when you realize that you have married the right person. He was really kind and good-natured about the whole fiasco and we got it cleaned up more easily than I had hoped. Partners in crime, for better or for worse.
Good morning, dear friends and readers! My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. I either write a poem or I share a poem that has moved me, written by someone else. I consider this spot to be a little informal poetry workshop café. You have your coffee, I have mine. I share my poem, I hope that you feel comfortable to share yours in my Comments section. Poetry is rule-less, lawless, interesting and fun. I was feeling kind of quirky when I wrote the poem below. That’s what I like about poetry. It lets the moods flow, without explanations or apologies.
Longfellow Light
There was a little girl, who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead,
And when she was good, she was very, very good
(Good to other people, they liked her being very good,
Very, very good at people pleasing, she was.)
And when she was bad, she was horrid.
(This is usually when she became completely fed-up with everyone else,
and their shit, and she then had a tendency to lose her own shit.
And by then, she was horrid.She became absolutely horrid.
Very horrid, really. Very horrid states it mildly.
Honestly, it wasn’t good for her, or for anyone else – it was just horrid.)
Then, one very fine day, the little girl got a brush,
And in a wee blink (and a lot of prayer and therapy),
She turned that little glossy curl,
That one little curl in the middle of her forehead,
Into her beautiful third eye, which was gorgeously
highlighted by very, very long, lovely, curly eyelashes.
And then, when the little girl was being very, very good,
she remembered to be good to herself, too. Very good.
And so when she was good, she was very, very good.
