Tag: Christmas

Soul Sunday

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Sundays are devoted to poetry on the blog. Here are what other people have said about poetry:

+”Poetry is the one place where people can speak their original human mind. It is the outlet for people to say in public, what is known in private.” – Alan Ginsberg

+”Poetry is the mother tongue of the human race.” -Johann Georg Hamann

+”I consider myself a poet first and a musician second. I live like a poet and I’ll die like a poet.” – Bob Dylan

Here is my poem for today: (How about you? Do you have a poem to share today, even if just with yourself?)

Little Thing

Yesterday we got you.

You are tiny.

The smallest we have ever had.

We laughed. You are dwarfed in your space.

But you’re beautiful. You’re powerful.

You’ll make us focus on what matters most.

You’ll make us whittle it all down,

To the fondest, most meaningful memories of our lives.

You’re not a theatrical display.

You are an unpresuming extension of our hearts.

How lovely are your branches.

Our little Christmas tree.

Small Stuff

When I let someone in traffic and they don’t wave, I picture myself using their guest soaps. – @a_simpl_man (Twitter)

This morning, this tweet literally made me laugh out loud, in recognition of myself – in more ways than one. I always find myself getting into a little tiz when someone doesn’t acknowledge my various small acts of kindness and consideration. But then I start admonishing myself that “I should do good, just for the sake of doing good, not for the appreciation and the pat on the back.” And then I spend more time thinking about how I really spend way too much thinking about situations like these, anyway. “For goodness sake, just let the guy come on to the road, and move on. Life is too short to waste time on overthinking about teeny perceived slights, by strangers. Grow up already!” Sometimes I honestly even waste my time spending it on the question, “Did the person I let on to the road, actually wave a thank you to me, and I somehow missed it because we were at a bad angle to each other?” Seriously. I can be that neurotic.

On the other hand, when someone lets me into traffic, I become almost frantic about making sure that they see my “wave of thankfulness.” I want to make sure that they see my gratefulness, so I become this crazy caricature of myself, waving like a maniacal buffoon. Sometimes I even stick my hands outside the window or through the sunroof, to make sure that the driver sees my symbol of gratitude and acknowledgement that I see them as one of the kind and thoughtful and patient people, that in my mind, makes this world a better place. Then, I imagine that the driver who lets me into traffic is thinking, “Calm down lady. It’s not like I bought you a new car. Take a chill pill.” And then once again, I get mad at myself for spending way too much time overthinking inconsequential happenings in my daily life, such as these.

This tweet also gave me a giggle about guest soaps. I grew up with guest soaps in every single bathroom of our house. And we knew NEVER to use those guest soaps, nor the fancy towels arranged pertly, by the ornate soaps. That would have been a deathwish. Those guest soaps sat there in their designated dishes, until they were infused with dust, stuck to the dish like they were super-glued onto the dish, and their once vibrant colors, faded to dingy dullness. These guest soap molds would start coming undone by time and by air, to the point that a soap which was once an intricate, detailed, lovely, expensive mermaid, was now nothing more than an oddly shaped lump that would more easily pass for maybe a hint of a manatee (and soon, even that became a stretch of the imagination).

I personally have Christmas guest soaps that I have owned for more than two decades. I put these soaps out in our powder room, every single year in an intricate Spode Christmas china soap dish. These soaps are clear glycerin with words like “Joy” and “Merry” infused inside of them. Last year I noticed that the clear glycerin has turned more into a muddled, dirty, grayish brown. These guest soaps have become so unsavory, that of course, now, no one would ever even dream of actually using the soaps, for sanitary purposes. (what an oxymoron) Still, I’m attached to these gaudy Christmas guest soaps. I contemplated it, but I just couldn’t throw them away last year. I will unpack the guest soaps again this year, and I will put them in the Spode dish, and all will feel right in my world this holiday season.

The other odd thing about fancy guest soaps is that they almost look edible, like fancy chocolates. When I was a kid, these soaps were scarily tempting to put into my mouth, to try and eat them. (It’s kind of like when you were a kid and no one could convince you that the Hershey cocoa powder would not, at all, taste like delicious hot cocoa packets. I think I had to learn that lesson more than once as a kid. I was a slower learner, in these ways of life.)

So, I just realized that I have spent about 40 more minutes of my life contemplating minutiae. And that’s okay. Just like waving or not waving to polite strangers, or using guest soaps or not using guest soaps, does not totally matter in the bigger scheme of things, it sometimes feels good to spend some time on “the small stuff.” Still, at the same time, it’s good to remember Richard Carlson’s famous, important, poignant line, “Don’t sweat the small stuff and it’s all small stuff.”

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Reading and Writing and Rest

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

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(credit: Rex Masters Twitter)

This made me giggle and completely resonated with me on my Twitter feed today:

“I’m at the age where the only artists I know on music award shows are the lifetime achievement award winners” – Dr. William, Twitter

And this one is the truth:

“When you are overthinking, WRITE. When you are under-thinking, READ.” – Positive Call, Twitter

I would add: “And when you are exhausted from all kinds of thinking, REST.”

This is my current state of being. I need rest. May this be a restful time for all of us. A little rest never hurt anybody.

Friday Presents

Merry Christmas, my dear friends and readers! It is funny to me, that this Christmas has fallen on my favorite day of the week, Friday. Typically I write about three favorite products or stores or songs or websites, etc. that make my material life magical. There is a nice pile of gifts, under the tree from Santa, so hopefully I’ll pick some favorites from that pile, to write about next Friday. Today though, I want to focus on you, because you, my readers, are a major part of one of my most favorite things in this world, my blog. Besides my family and my friends, this blog is probably the most dear thing, to my sweet little loving heart. Through this blog, I have rediscovered my passion for writing, I have found purpose, I have found my voice, and most importantly, I have been validated and “heard” by YOU. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Yesterday, I read the best little story about Weird Al Yankovic’s (the song parody guy) favorite 2020 experience. He said, for as bad as 2020 was for the world, there were real moments of “joy sprinkled in”. Al talked about being a strange, shy, nerdy young boy in the 9th grade, and having a crush on a girl named Patrice, who sat in front of him in math class. He decided to draw a portrait of her, but to keep her off of the scent of his crush, he drew a picture of every single person in that class, and gave it to them (although he said he spent the most of his time and his effort, on hers). No romance ever came of the portrait, but this year, Al saw on his Twitter feed that a woman was claiming to have sat in front of him, in math class, in the 9th grade. He messaged her, asking if her name was Patrice. She said yes. Al then asked if she remembered when he drew everyone’s portrait in the class. Two minutes later, she messaged him the picture of herself that he had drawn many, many years ago. She had kept that lovely, heart-drawn picture, all of these years!!!

People never forget acts of love, acts of courage, acts of kindness, especially when these acts are needed the most. I think a lot about people who have touched my life, especially around this time of year. For some reason, a music teacher I had in elementary school, keeps popping up in my mind. I am sure that she is long gone. A Google search didn’t provide any answers. Anyway, Mrs. Nancy K was probably in her sixties when she taught me in elementary school. Mrs. Nancy K took her job very seriously. Our school’s musical Christmas productions were renowned. She had exacting standards and expected Broadway quality performances from us commonplace kids. Mrs. Nancy K insisted that we stand up straight and proper in our seats at all times (she had an iron rod posture herself). For some reason, I remember how important it was to her, that we pronounce “angels” correctly. “It is NOT anjewels . . .it is An-GELS, enunciate, children, enunciate.” One year I was cast as “a little doll” in one of her Christmas productions. I felt so special. I LOVED being that little doll.

I think that the point of my post is that we give and we receive gifts, to and from each other, all year long, many, many times, and often, these gifts are given quite unconsciously. There are so many people, many of them strangers, who have made a big difference in my days, in my weeks, and often even in my life. You, my readers, are people who have made a tremendous difference in my life. You are a blessing to me. Remember, always, that you are a gift. Your life is a gift to you, and it is a gift to others, not just on Christmas, but all year long. Your very presence is the present you give to the world. There is no better gift that you can give, and you can be, than your most authentic, beautiful self.

Peace in the Middle East

Our male dogs have a tenuous relationship. For most of the time, they get along very well. I recently took a picture of them sleeping together and sent it to the family chat. “Oh look, it’s like peace in the Middle East,” my eldest son quipped.

We have involved a trainer, and things were going swimmingly, for a few weeks. The last big scuffle (which usually involves Ralphie, the big, 83 pound Labrador losing his patience with the puppy antics of Trip, the little brown dog, and then Ralphie completely blowing an over-the-top gasket and Trip, screaming in terror) was on Thanksgiving Day. However, recently, since the boys have been home from college for the holidays, we have already experienced three more kerfuffles with the fluffles. There has been no blood shed, thankfully.

We have come to the conclusion that perhaps extra testosterone from the college boys, excitement for the holidays and more movement and energy in the house, may have something to do with the uptick of skirmishes during holiday times. It’s funny. It often seems that there is no one more excited to have the whole family together, in the house, than our dogs. Having their pack all together, is what our dogs seems to live for and they show their pure joy better than any of us, dancing and jumping with glee when anyone arrives back home. They really put their whole bodies into exposing their joy and happiness. Nothing makes them feel better than being with their family pack.

Still, when there is a change up in the household, the dogs’ regular routine is broken up a little bit. Their sleeping patterns get disrupted. Their walk times change. The dogs end up with a few more “treats” than they typically get, to go along with their regular food. So, as happy as the dogs are to have the family all together to celebrate, their anxiety levels and agitation, seems to lead to snappishness and to spats, more often than usual.

With this understanding about our dogs, we have to come to the expectation that these incidences are more likely to occur, particularly during times when there is more energy and excitement in our household. We have learned to be more cognizant of anticipating when these brouhahas are likely to happen, so that we have behaviors in place, to mitigate the build-up, in order to prevent things from coming to blows. We have found that time-outs for the pups, in their own private spaces (crates), are more frequently needed, when everyone is home for the holidays.

Having lived with dogs almost my entire life, I am always amazed at how much we learn from them. They aren’t so different from us, as we think. They mirror us more often than we realize. Yet, usually their reflection shines a little brighter than ours.

Bradshaw dog quote

Soul Sunday

Good morning, friends and readers. It is Christmas decorating day, here at my household, so I wrote a poem about it. My regular readers know that Sunday is devoted to poetry here at Adulting- Second Half. I consider Sunday to be a “poetry workshop space”, like Santa’s workshop, but we work with words here. Be like a poetry elf, and add your own additions to my Comments section, if you please. Today’s poem that I wrote is more “tongue in cheek” that my usual offerings. It’s just my mood today.

The Day Has Come

Why does decorating for Christmas change every year?

Sometimes it is something that I do, which I love and adore,

Sometimes it is nothing but a big, fat, ugly chore,

Sometimes I question if that ratty angel is starting to look like a whore,

Sometimes I only decorate, so to not seem like a grinch or a bore,

Sometimes the nostalgia rips me apart, right at my very core,

Sometimes I close a box and remind myself that “less is more”,

Sometimes the lights don’t work again, and we have to go to the store,

Sometimes I get competitive, as if our decorations get assigned a score,

Sometimes decorating gets precarious, and I have to yell “Fore!”

When it seems like the tree could fall over, and make a mess on the floor.

But in the end, when complete, the decorations make me revel in AMORE,

For, the feeling of hope and wonder is something that always stays the same.

Loyalty and Steadfastness

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.

25 Inspiring Loyalty Quotes – Design Urge

Monday Fun-Day

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I don’t think that I’ll be getting one of these for the Christmas tree. How about you??

I’m on my last day of my trip in the mountains and I finally had an incredibly good night’s sleep last night. Why does that always happen? Just when your body gets settled into it’s new environment and routine, it is time to leave. 🙁

I have to admit that this is a really good way to do a Monday, however. Have a great day and I great week, my dear friends and readers.

What a Mess!

“One Of The Most Glorious Messes In The World Is The Mess Created In The Living Room On Christmas Day. Don’t Clean It Up Too Quickly.” — Andy Rooney

I’m out here, at my desk. The Christmas Tree is behind me in the foyer. Santa brought a lot of presents and they are all tucked under the tree, just buzzing to be opened. Now that my kids’ ages span 15-23, a little role reversal has happened. My husband and I are up and giddy, waiting for the kids to wake up. We have the dogs in an excited state. Maybe I can get Ralphie to go rouse the kids.

I am thinking of all of you. May all of the good, bright, wonderful things about Christmas be yours today. The pastor last night talked about how darkness and light cannot coexist. When light is let in, darkness disappears. May your Christmas be as light and as bright, as any Christmas that you have ever experienced! Merry, merry Christmas, my readers, my friends, my fellow journeyers! (and excited children at heart – GO HAVE FUN! Stay in the light!!!)

“Were I A Philosopher, I Should Write A Philosophy Of Toys, Showing That Nothing Else In Life Need To Be Taken Seriously, And That Christmas Day In The Company Of Children Is One Of The Few Occasions On Which Men Become Entirely Alive.” — Robert Lynd

Soul Sunday

Poetry workshop day. Please share the love/the feels/the words that try to convey the love/the feels. Here’s mine:

Nostalgia

Giggling about a Sesame Street video with my friends . . . .

When I’m approaching fifty.

Driving past the houses with their Christmas joy on parade . . .

With my son driving the car, this time.

Putting up the ornaments reminding me of people, places and pets . . .

Many, who have long passed on.

Trying to recognize the child’s face from a long ago play group . . .

In the Christmas card picture of a lovely young lady, dressed in a wedding gown.

Trying to find just the right thing to eat . . .

to soothe the funny swirl of feelings, aching around in my insides.

The longing that I am pulled to, yet try to avoid, all at the same time . . . .

Nostalgia.