Happy Ether

There is a big, unopened box that's been propped up by my desk for some months, labeled "Blick Art Materials." Most Christmas seasons, that would be full of children's art supplies for some mighty-cute elfin people that I love. My go-to gifts have always been paper, pencils, and Playmobil sets. This fall, I got a few not-so-subtle hints that they were getting bored of always getting Playmobil (how is that possible? I want some for myself!) It's happening. They're getting older. Some of them are obsessed with Transformers now, so I just googled until I found one for each of the older kids. When they arrived with the Amazon man, I was astonished how such a tiny figure could cost that much. Can't wait to see them get transformed. Everything's wrapped and getting put into Papa's truck this afternoon. We're headed to our Daniel and Jessica's house down the road. They recently moved out of our camper, into the house they've been building for the last three years on ten acres. What a happy day, to enjoy their new home and to celebrate the birth of our Savior with our family gathered around. I've kept things fairly simple this year, with my bum ankle and all, and didn't even have to hurry around this morning since we're not having everybody over today. It's kind of sad but I'm trying to not think about it. The empty nest is a dicey transaction and grippingly tragic until the grandchildren show up, and then it's the best thing since sliced bread, fireworks or pretty much anything else. I spent the whole of last evening in the same spot for the Slate annual Christmas Eve party, getting snuggles from one grandchild to the next. There's not enough money in the world or prestige or careers or toys that can top the golden thread that runs between us. It's more than I deserve.

But back to the Blick box. 2024 has been a dire year for many Realtors, what with higher interest rates, political uncertainty and low inventory. I had planned on retiring but didn't, and had almost the perfect mix of listings and sales, handing one off and then picking another up one behind the other. My flute stayed extremely busy -- from an Italian concert tour, to a busy ensemble calendar, to church, to side gigs. Practice is essential, in this kind of environment. Music is creative, but it's more about math, counting, practicing, coordinating than it is about floating over there in la-la land like some might think. I have to hunker down and use the things I have. The discipline is good for my brain.

But I have missed the paint. The sketchpad. The clean wall prepped for a mural. Our grandchildren huddle up in my studio with paper and watercolors, so cute in their little aprons and easels, but I have drifted in my own doings. I get lofty ideas about re-opening my Etsy shop and spending weeks at a time creating art, but the reality is that I seem to require deadlines and accountability to get literally anything done. So I signed up for an art class, yes I did. This will help everyone, including those cutie pies that land here often. We'll all dally around with the pencils and paint, and see what conspires. 2025 -- we're hunkering down in the ether!   

Advents of All Kinds

Every year at Christmastime, without fail, I feel the wind rushing by my face as the calendar pages riffle like some sort of makeshift fan. It helps that shopping is easier now. Click-click-click and I've got the Amazon truck whizzing by every other day. But we are all so much more distracted, what with phones and devices and Netflix. Our collective ADHD has spread like wildfire and all the clicks are just making the merry-go-round go faster.  

This year, we have had our own Advent going on, in addition to the traditional Christmas watch for the Christ Child. Our daughter, like her mother and grandmother before her, was late with delivering her baby, nigh on three weeks past-due. Diva that I am, had four flute performances looming. I put out prayer flags to all my friends and even people that weren't my friends...pleading with God to let me not miss anything. I didn't want to leave anyone in the lurch when my part wasn't covered. Because I sure as shootin' wasn't going to miss the birth of my 13th grandchild. She scooted on in there, in between event #2 and #3, praise the Lord, beautiful and serene as a kitten. She looks just like her beatific Mama.  

The excitement was mostly over, when we made our way to church last night for Event #3. A calm and a hush fell over the auditorium, where little children and not-so-little children played various instruments for the prelude. Then their choir lined up front. A lone little boy sang out, as only pre-pubescent boys can. The pure, singular sound hung sweetly in the air. As the night progressed with the choir, carols and Scripture-reading, everything began to crystallize into one of those times where all at once, things made sense and the clock stood still for a bit while we contemplated the nobler, higher things. It was a grand pause, the knowing of goodness and light suspended in time. We rush and plan, run to and fro, but these are the nuggets that make it worth it all. 

There's still another nine days before we haul all the gifts around for our annual goings-on. I might  make a Sam's run, cook a few things, call an old friend or two. But I think I already found Christmas and it's snugged up right here under the ribs.     

Santa Baby...

I was born an animal whisperer. I've had pets of every stripe since I was very young. The cats, dogs, snakes and mice all looked me deep in the eyes and we connected. I can walk by an animal and make eye contact and they try to to follow me home. To this day, I am grateful for my Mama, because she didn't have any inclination towards furry things, but she tolerated my animals and also made sure they got fed. Then I had kids, the perfect solution to feeding chores. When Ken and I got married and our children began to get pets, I had to hold back, so that they'd bond to the kids instead of me. I didn't make this happen, it just is.  

Every birthday and Christmas I ever experienced as a child, I had one request: a horse. I drew scads of pictures of them, dreamed about galloping alongside any car that I happened to be traveling in. Our neighbors had several in the pasture behind our house. They were not tended to much, just roaming free. I'd join one of their daughters and would ride pell-mell over the fields, bare-backed and ridiculous. I was scared to death of them, and I believe they knew it. Every time I got the chance to be on the back of a horse, it usually ended with some sort of event...getting bucked off, reared-up-on, or scraped off under low-hanging trees. Even though I have Dr. Doolittle leanings with most animals, apparently I'm not a horse whisperer. I never did obtain a horse, though not for lack of pleading. When the time came for us to actually be able to get one, where we had five acres (we fenced it and everything), my passions had drifted to my handsome husband, four darling kids, and piles of Golden Retrievers and kitties. There were also lots of chickens, gerbils, lizards and life to be lived as well as school to be had. Now our nest is empty and my tendons aren't holding up so well. Maybe the Lord will have one waiting for me in heaven, though hopefully not too soon...

The best Christmas present I ever got was Zoe, my very own Aussie puppy, no sharing with kids or siblings. I still adore Ken for that. It was 2012 and my first winter without a house full of children. We had just moved to downtown Villa Rica into our amazing Victorian house, with beautiful things to look at every day but no dog. There were two crazy barn kitties we had brought with us but they were preoccupied with all the chipmunks and critters living under the house. To this day, I have no clue how they survived a move from the country into a busy corner in town. Occasionally, I'd see traffic stopped and Peter lounging in the middle of the street. He lived another ten years before dying of old age. Matilda is sixteen and still leaving me eviscerated baby squirrels on the front stoop. She's now an indoor-outdoor cat, who waits at the door when it's time to go to the potty. Smartest cat I've ever seen. I lost Zoe some five years ago, then adopted precious Sadie, a retired Aussie show dog, whom we lost a few months ago. My heart might be buried in the front yard.

I told Ken he needs to hit another one out of the park. Maybe another kitty, that doesn't have to be walked of a cold morning or sweltering evening and we can pop out quickly for a camper run. I've got my eye on a Pixiebob (yes, it's a thing) that needs me to rescue it. Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat...  

 

I Had An Epiphany

I started decorating the family Christmas tree a very long time ago, when I was a teenager. There's an art to it, more instinct than training. When we got married and Ken brought home our first tiny tree, I hand-made all the ornaments and strung popcorn and cranberries. It was just scrumptious. Over the years it became somewhat of an obsession -- bigger, better, fuller. And always a real tree, that was especially Ken's wish. I began decorating for other people as well, usually for pay. I'd try to do my own first, so I wouldn't be burned out from putting up everybody else's. By Christmas, our trees would be crispy-dry, ready for the fireplace. But I'd let them hang on at least until January 6, when they say the Wise Men visited Jesus. 

When we moved to Villa Rica in 2012, my nest was emptied out except for one child and she was away at college. Our three sons were married, with their own trees in their own houses. I thought I needed something more to do, so persuaded the arts committee to have a tour of homes. I figured it would give me incentive to decorate and also help us get to know people in our sweet town. I put a post on Facebook, asking for tree donations. Next thing you know, I've got five of them, all artificial, to Ken's horror. We had a rip-roaring time on the tour, and our house was filled with all manner of trees. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. I tried to keep up the multiple-tree thing for years, but grandchildren, the wind ensemble, and real estate began encroaching more and more into my life. I was still decorating for other people, but began to pull back on it a bit, keeping just one of my clients. I gradually receded on the amount of trees in my own house. But I may have become a bit of a diva about all of it, along the way.  

Then came 2024 and the year of post-menopausal, dried-out tendons. Two meniscus tears in my left knee called for surgery, but physical therapy somehow kept me away from the knife. I was feeling pretty good about things when our wind ensemble played across Italy in June, averaging about 25,000 steps a day on this less-than-fit body. I came home with two tears in my left Achilles tendon, all swelled up like a goose egg. Months of physio, medications, one giant boot and a lot of griping, then Christmas decided to show up. My one decorating client called. I wailed about my inability to currently climb a ladder. Close to thirty years, been hauling it up there to her big, gorgeous house. But this year, I am Galadriel (Lord of the Rings): "I must diminish and go into the west..." So here I sit, in the west, staring at my four walls with ice and red-light therapy on my still-pitiful Achilles. They say it needs surgery, but I've heard that before. 

When I took down my decor last year, I noticed that my trees were all becoming decrepit, strowing spent needles all over the house. So when Ken and I cleaned out the barn in the spring, I put all of them out at the curb. You can get rid of pretty much everything that way, when you live in town. Within minutes, they were all gone. All of them. Since I needed a new one, my daughter-in-love said that Home Depot had a tree that had gone viral and that I should try to get one. It's called the "Grand Duchess." Isn't that my name? It was beautiful, looked like a real tree, and was not terribly expensive. I got on a waiting list and checked every day. Months went by with no luck. But one fortunate day I was in the store and found three of them. I quickly got Papa to load one up. Somebody said it was November, so my daughter put it up for me and turned on the lights. It was all true. It looks like it's real, has the most beautiful twinkles I've ever seen on a tree, and it's nine feet tall. 

I got a grandchild over here to help me decorate. We pulled some things out of the barn, but decided to leave my tree as it was, with just the lights on. I ain't fit for no ladder. We gussied up the mantle with greenery, lights, some big nutcrackers and  23 (count 'em) stockings. There's a big wreath on the front door and I'm calling it a day. Normally, my tree is barely visible underneath all the trimmings. But I'm feeling really, really good. The diva is taking a holiday. All the presents are bought, the tree is twinkling and we're all still breathing, for the moment. I stopped and thought about why we're doing this - about a manger, a Lamb, redemption. It might not be about the decorations at all...