The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

imagesIt’s that time of year again, folks. The season of losing my mind.

As you are all aware, Christmas season starts earlier and earlier every year. It used to be that we were happy if it didn’t start until after Thanksgiving. Nowadays we’re happy if it doesn’t start until after Halloween. Pretty soon it will be 4th of July.

I’m not going to complain about Christmas season starting earlier. I’ll leave that to others. I, for one, am in the camp of enjoying Christmas music earlier. Heck, I would enjoy it all year long if I could (without people thinking I’m nuts). And Bill and I experience our holiday season a bit differently than most. Because we leave for AZ on Christmas Day, we really celebrate the holiday – at least the secular holiday – the few days before Christmas. I spend Christmas Eve Day every year being the Grinch; that is, I’m taking down my Christmas trees. For that reason, I always put them up on Thanksgiving Day. It gives me a chance to have the grandkids help me decorate my Angel Tree.

It used to be that if I had my Christmas shopping finished by December 14 (my birthday), I was deeply satisfied. I always posted my Christmas cards that day as well. Now, of course, the Christmas card ship has sailed, at least for me. I haven’t sent cards in years, and only get a few as a result, mostly pictures of my great nieces and nephews, which I love. Christmas cards are for the young and not cynical. If I DID send out Christmas cards, they would say Merry Christmas and not Happy Holidays. So there.

Because I have been seeing the Christmas ads for several weeks now, I have been FREAKING OUT because I hadn’t started my shopping. I couldn’t shop in AZ, because then I would just have had to bring the gifts home. So I sat down at my computer yesterday, and began my shopping.

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, I am one of those who does nearly all of my shopping by computer. Last year I’m pretty sure I did it all via one dot com or another. And it is my hope that I can do that this year as well. I’m not agoraphobic, or even terribly antisocial. I just hate looking for parking places. I don’t know the technical term for a parking-place-looking phobia.

Yesterday Bill and I went to Costco after church to get some things for Thanksgiving. You know, Thanksgiving. That holiday that falls the day before Black Friday. Anyhoo, I needed to get some peanut oil in which to fry one of our turkeys. (We will have two, lest Court’s first attempt ever at turkey frying is a horrible fail. In the past, we have eaten at Dave and Jll’s, but they are scattering this year, leaving us floundering and trying to figure out how to replicate their always-delicious fried turkey.) Well, it hadn’t occurred to me that other people might be at Costco buying their turkeys and other accoutrements for Thanksgiving. Not just “other people.” EVERY OTHER PERSON IN SOUTHEAST DENVER.

“It probably isn’t a good idea to go to Costco right after church,” I told Bill.

“You mean because of all of the cussing and negative thoughts?” Bill asked me pointedly.

Yep. Because of that.

Well, there’s a bit of snow on the ground here and Christmas music is playing on our easy listening station. So in my mind, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Now I just have to go check on my Thanksgiving turkeys.

Saturday Smile: See Ya’ Real Soon

Our quick trip to open up the house in AZ in preparation for our winter stay is at its end. Tomorrow we fly back to Denver. The truth is that we really didn’t have a lot of “opening up” to do since Jen was out a few weeks ago and she did most of the “opening up” activities. But this fall trip gives us the opportunity to bring out our car and some of the larger items we need, and to kind of get settled. Once we get back here on Christmas Day, we kind of hit the ground running for a bit. Christmas, New Year’s, birthdays, you name it, we have it late in December and early January.

Though we were here a little over three weeks, it seems like we didn’t see a lot of people. The reason? Well, they have lives. Go figure. My brother worked out of town for part of our trip. Bec was in Israel for a bit, and is now recovering from ear surgery. Nieces and nephews are scrambling about, getting their own kids to school and practice and lessons and such. There will be time when we come back.

But we squeezed in one last thing last night, taking the opportunity for one of my very favorite activities in AZ: watching the sun set from my brother’s back patio with an ice cold martini in my hand……

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Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: The Gilded Years

searchBased on a true story, The Gilded Years, by Karin Tanabe is the story of a woman who is set to graduate from Vassar College, one of the most influential women’s colleges in the country, in the final years of the 19th Century. While women college graduates were not a dime a dozen in 1897, Anita Hemmings has a particular secret. She is, in fact, African American, and during that sad period of U.S. history, Black women were not permitted to attend this exclusive school.

But she was so bright and so determined to attend Vassar that she took advantage of her light skin and, with the approval of her family and the people in her community, she successfully passed herself off as Caucasian.

She is successful at staying under the radar until her final year, when she is given a new roommate, Lottie Taylor, the daughter of a wealthy New York City industrialist in the ilk of the Astors and the Rockefellers. Lottie is rich, spoiled, bright, and lots of fun. Despite her family’s warnings, Anita gets carried away, caught up in the entertaining life Lottie offers. Anita even goes as far as getting romantically involved with one of Lottie’s friends, the white son of a Chicago millionaire.

Soon, Anita’s carefully planned life begins to unravel, and she is faced with the possibility of being forbidden to complete her college career and graduate from Vassar.

There is no question that the historical facts are fascinating. Anita Hemming’s story was compelling and the reader can’t help but be furious that an intelligent – brilliant, really – woman in 1897 couldn’t attend a major university because of the color of her skin. I felt, however, that much of the book drifted away from the important story, and very often I felt as though I was reading a beach novel featuring the crazy antics of a couple of college students. Lots and lots of time was spent talking about the nonacademic activities. Interesting as the activities might have been, I would have liked a bit more meat about racism and sexism in the late 1900s and less about taking carriage rides in Central Park and the beautiful clothes that Anita borrowed from Lottie.

I sound harsh, and the fact of the matter is that I would recommend the book, with the caveat that it is a bit more of a light read than a serious analysis of a troubling time in our history. Having said that, I loved reading about New York City during the so-called gilded years, and I feel like Tanabe’s characters were realistic and interesting. I actually found Lottie’s character to be more compelling than Anita’s. It says a lot about an author’s writing when the reader can actually sort of like a character who ends up being pretty unlikable.

I think The Gilded Years would provide fodder for some discussion of the history of African American women in our country.

Here is link to the book.

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Thursday Thoughts

The Doctor’s Calling
This has been an unusual week for me and several others in my family. My sister Bec had surgery day before yesterday on her ear. She has had ongoing problems with her ear, including partial deafness and constant ringing. Most problematic for her, however, is that the ear was completely open from a previous surgery, preventing her from being able to go into the water. In fact, showering was complicated, involving cotton balls, many cotton balls. So while the surgery won’t restore her hearing or stop the ringing, the doctor hopes it will allow her to go into water without worry. Yay. She could  snorkel once again. Keep your fingers crossed and throw in a prayer or two.

The other health event that took place was that Monday, my 4-year-old grandson Micah (of dance fame in last Saturday’s Smile) put a rock into his mouth while playing outdoors at his preschool. He swallowed the rock, which proceeded to get stuck, at which time he was choking and couldn’t breathe. While coughing and struggling to breathe, he aspirated the rock into a lung. Quick-thinking school personnel immediately called 911 and he was taken to the hospital in Montpelier, VT, where they live. It was quickly determined that he would need surgery, so he eventually he was transported by ambulance to a hospital in Burlington, VT, where he underwent surgery involving a scope that went into his lung through his nose.

Micah in the ambulance to Burlington, VT.

Micah in the ambulance to Burlington, VT.

After numerous tries, the fabulous doctors were successful, and pulled a ONE CENTEMETER rock from his lung.

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He spent the night in the hospital as he recovered from his general anesthesia, and happily went home the next day.

Getting a ride to the car from his Mom as he leaves the hospital on Tuesday.

Getting a ride to the car from his Mom as he leaves the hospital on Tuesday.

This was scary, of course, but the most sobering thing around all of this is that had this event taken place a hundred year ago, he probably wouldn’t have survived. God is good, and Micah told his mama firmly, “I won’t put any more rocks in my mouth.” Good idea Micah.

Helping Hands
bill-and-kaiya-nov-2012
I stumbled upon this photo this week. The photo was taken exactly four years ago and features Bill putting together something or other from IKEA, and he is being assisted by then-4-year-old Kaiya. The picture (which is pretty crappy in quality) is a poignant one for me for a couple of reasons. At the time the photo was taken, Bill’s Parkinson’s was serious enough that he had reached the point that he had effectively lost his small motor skills, preventing him from doing things like picking up tiny screws. Well, IKEA = tiny screws. I took the photo because he had asked Kaiya if she would help him, and she was handing him the small screws so that he could screw them in. I still cry when I think about it. I remember that it made me so happy that my husband didn’t let a little thing like Parkinson’s disease stop him from doing what he wanted to do. He would just ask for help, and frequently did. But it also reminded me that just a few months after that photo was taken, Bill was put on a new (for him) regime of medications that were truly miraculously life-transforming for him. Almost immediately, he regained his small motor skills, and many other of the effects of the disease were alleviated as well. He continues to do very well under this medication regime. I am so grateful to live at a time where there are medications available that have literally added productive years to his life. Just like with Micah, if he had been diagnosed 100 years ago, this would not have been the case. I am a very grateful woman this week.

Ciao.

The Way of the Lord

jerusalem-churchI studied bible history from the time I was 5 years old and a kindergartner at St. Bonaventure Catholic Elementary School. I have heard over and over all of the stories of Jesus’ life on earth – from birth until his death at age 33 (well, except for that large period of life that is missing from the scriptures). But I never actually gave much thought to visiting the Holy Land, particularly after it got more and more dangerous.

Little thought, that is, until taking a bible study class a couple of years ago, and listening to the teacher talk about her trips to Israel when she was able to spend time where Jesus was born and lived his short life. “I could hardly breathe, she told us. “I couldn’t believe I was visiting the places where Jesus actually lived and did his work.” I knew it was some place I’d like to visit some day.

So when my sister Bec decided she was going to the Holy Land as part of a tour sponsored by a Catholic priest – in fact, the pastor at All Saints Catholic Church where Bill and I attend Mass each Sunday when we are in AZ – I was ecstatic that she was going to have that opportunity. One of the things that was important to her was that she go with a Christian group that would make visiting the holy places actually a holy experience, and this fit the bill.

Bec travel days were packed with the opportunity to see the history of the Jews in the Old Testament as well as the important places in Christ’s life. They visited the cave in Bethlehem at which it is believed that Mary gave birth to her precious baby. She saw the field where the angels sang glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, good will towards men. Her group went to Cana to see the city where Jesus performed his first miracle at the behest of his mother.  She saw the places where Jesus taught and rested and ate meals with his friends – and even raised one of his friends from the dead. She walked the path that Jesus himself walked as he carried the cross to the place where he would be murdered – Mount Calvary. She witnessed where he died, where he was buried, and where he rose from the dead three days later.

All of this was amazing, she admits. Imagine walking the same path that Jesus walked. Still, those events took place over 2,000 years ago, so clearly it was unlikely that she was looking at the actual stones on which Jesus sat. Nevertheless, she was able to get a really clear picture in her mind of the places we read about every week in the gospel.

As she walked the path to Mount Calvary, she – along with three others – carried a wooden cross, similar (though not as large) as the one Jesus himself carried. As she walked, she said at first she was bothered by all of the talking and the noise around her, wanting to quietly experience Jesus’ passion.

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“But I reminded myself that the day Jesus carried the cross, it wasn’t quiet,” she said. “In fact, there was noise all around him. People crying. People jeering. The noise of the city.” After that realization, the experience became more meaningful for her.

“I couldn’t believe how close together some of those towns were,” she said. “It became really clear to me why Jesus’ apostles kept saying ‘Are you sure you want to go there? That’s reeeeeeeally close to Jerusalem, and you don’t have a lot of fans in Jerusalem, if you’ll recall.’”

In fact, a lot of the geography hit a note with Bec. In addition to being struck by the nearness of the places Jesus visited, other geographical conditions took her by surprise. Mount Tabor, for example, which is the mountain upon which Jesus took John and Peter and James, and he becomes radiant with light, and Moses and Elijah appear.

“It is REALLY STEEP!” Bec said. “This excursion was not just a simple ‘let’s take a quick walk up to the top of this mountain.’ It was a serious hike.”

The locations of many of these historical and religious events are apocryphal, of course, since Jesus lived thousands of years ago. And yet, it is believed by most historians that the locations are pretty accurate. It wasn’t that long after Jesus rose from the dead – no more than a few hundred years – that people began thinking, hmmmm, perhaps we should mark these spots in some way. And it was the original members of the Catholic Church (the ancestors of Jesus’ original followers) who were responsible for building the churches that indicate the locations.

This is a grotto located below the church where the Holy Family is thought to have lived.

This is a grotto located below the church where the Holy Family is thought to have lived in Nazareth.

In some case, while it isn’t certain that what they saw was actually touched by Jesus (the jars holding the wine in Cana, for example), what WAS certain was that the jars are LIKE the ones that he would have touched, and from the same time period. There was only one case, Bec says, in which the guide told them that it was historically confirmed that a particular rock was one on which Jesus sat.  It was for this reason that Bec really liked visiting the Jordan River (where Jesus was baptized by St. John the Baptist, and where she and her fellow travelers were sprinkled with the river water and blessed by Fr. Caruso) and the Sea of Galilee, which she was able to wade into and imagine Jesus walking on the water in the distance.

Wading in the Sea of Galilee (left) and standing on the banks of the Jordan River.

As we know, Jerusalem (a spot that was perhaps Bec’s favorite) is an important city for three major religions – Jewish, Christian, and Islam. The complex religious atmosphere was clearly apparent one evening as her group stopped on their way to the Western Wall to observe a bar mitzvah. As they listened to the band playing, joyfully honoring a young Jewish boy coming of age, she said she heard the call to prayer for Muslims in the background. It was a somber reminder that the struggles which have gone on for centuries continue.

When I asked her if she would make the trip again, she said, perhaps, at least to Jerusalem. She is so very glad to have had the opportunity to visit the Holy Land. There is no doubt that each Sunday when she listens to the Gospels – the stories of Jesus’ life – the impact will be profound as she will be able to picture what life looked like as the Gospel was taking place.

Can You Hear Me Now?

cole-kaiya-making-crepes

Cole and Kaiya making crepes. Probably after she couldn’t reach me on my iPad.

My 8-year-old granddaughter Kaiya sent me an instant message Sunday morning. Unfortunately, I was out of the house for a bit, and didn’t get back until after lunch. What’s more, to her everlasting SHOCK, I don’t have an iPhone, so I can’t get the messages she texts me from her iPad unless I am next to my own iPad. Kaiya and Mylee are endlessly stunned that I sometimes don’t pick up when they Facetime, for the same reason.

Anyway, here is what she texted me: Nana, what does TTYL mean (with no question mark because I have learned that NOBODY hip ends text messages with punctuation, and Kaiya is nothing if not hip. It simply isn’t done, except by me, because I was educated in the Catholic school system and would have had to write out I must use proper punctuation. 500 times if I failed to punctuate properly).

Her question took me by surprise, partly because I actually knew the answer. But I wasn’t sure whether she was asking because she didn’t know or if it was simply a test. You know, a Hipness Test.

I’m actually going to go with the first option, because for whatever reason, Kaiya thinks I know a lot. I hope she never learns the truth.

Anyway, TTYL (for those of you who don’t have a 13-year-old granddaughter with her own cell phone) means Talk To You Later. It’s a convenient way to finally end that text message conversation that seems to never reach a conclusion.

I will admit that the first time 13-year-old Addie ended a text message conversation with TTYL, I had to look it up. I could tell that it was the finale, but I didn’t know why. Up until that point, my urban abbreviation lingo was limited to LOL.

Pretty funny, huh?  LOL.

So, literally hours after she had asked the question, I texted back the answer. I never heard another word, so she probably found out some other way. From someone with an iPhone.

For reasons I will never quite understand, my grandkids think I’m high-tech. The joke’s on them. I write a blog, but I have no idea what that word actually means. I own two iPads, but I got one for free when we signed up with Dish Network. What’s more, I generally only use my iPad to read or look at Pinterest or play Majong Solitaire (a game they all think is old-school, but look over my shoulder as I play it and poke the proper tiles without asking me).

Sometimes Bill will be telling me something about my iPad or computer, and I just look at him as if he is speaking Swahili, because he might as well be. Interface? Gigabyte? Peripheral devices? URL?

So see? Really not high tech.

But I guess being high-tech, just like anything else, is relative. I, for example, have a Facebook account while Kaiya’s maternal grandmother doesn’t. The McLains’ other grandmothers have Facebook accounts, but my iPads have Minecraft installed on both. High tech.

And probably most important, since I bought Bill a new iPad for his birthday, we own a total of four iPads. We own so many that we may start using iPads instead of concrete blocks to build bookshelves for our family room.

Not really. TTYL.

I Can’t Live Without a WC

imagesI think Bill is about ready to call Dish Network and see if it’s possible to have HGTV removed from our list of available networks. At this time in my life, having owned our Denver home since 1993, you would think I would have all of that need for home improvement out of my system. But every time I sit down and watch a Flip or Flop, or Fixer Upper, I find new ways in which my home absolutely needs to be, well, LIVABLE, if you take these programs seriously. .

And, of course, now we have a second home that needs improvement – not to mention a second woman who watches HGTV coming up with decorating ideas – that being my sister Jen who owns our Mesa home with us.

Our shower needs to be enlarged, I tell Bill. My room needs a ceiling fan, she tells him. Our floor needs to be replaced with tile, we both tell him.

He moves outside with a Corona and a cigar, covers his ears with his hands, and hums to himself.

But the show that really has me hooked right now is not a home improvement show. I will sit down and watch House Hunters episodes one after another until my eyeballs look like marble countertops.

And I learn a few things every time I watch the show. The first thing I learn is that Bill should get down on his knees and thank God that he’s not married to some of these women who are looking to buy a new house. The second thing I learn is that there are apparently more men who care a whole lot more about back splashes in the kitchen than I would have ever thought existed. Not just care about them; simply can’t live with a kitchen that has THAT back splash.

But my biggest takeaway when I watch that show is that prospective buyers would have a flipping heart attack if they saw my Denver house. Because LIGHT WOOD ON THE FLOORS (gack), GRANITE COUNTERTOPS INSTEAD OF QUARTZ (gack, gack), CARPET IN THE BEDROOMS (gack, puke, gack), and most heinous, NO WATER CLOSET IN THE MASTER BATH (gack and then faint facedown into the gack).

I’m addicted to that program, but addicted in the same way that you can’t leave a scab alone. It hurts to watch, but I can’t look away.

Here is a very common scenario: Man and woman looking to buy a new house. Man wants a mid-century modern. Woman wants a craftsman built in the late 1880s with lots of vintage touches. Their budget is $100,000. Realtor puts on fake smile and shows them a mid-century modern. Man is happy, except for the back splash. Woman says it’s not as bad as she imagined, but it doesn’t have a swimming pool, it is 400 feet away from the neighborhood of her choice, and the countertops aren’t Italian marble. Realtor grits teeth and then takes them to a craftsman home. Woman is happy, but concerned that the wooden floors aren’t dark enough and that the kitchen isn’t open to the living room. And then she takes a gander at the closets in the upstairs bedrooms and has to sit down because she is horrified that they are so small. And, of course, there’s the whole lack of a water closet and the fact that each of their three little darlings doesn’t have a bathroom of her own, and there’s no room in the back yard for a doggy run and a pool. The realtor — teeth firmly clenched — reminds her that it is Anchorage and that she could probably only use a pool for about 45 minutes one day in July.

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That’s the point when I begin screaming at the television. “You wanted a home built in 1885. Of course the closets are small because Victorians had small closets. And trust me when I tell you that my grandparents didn’t give a tinker’s damn what kind of a back splash there was. And your budget is so low that you can’t even afford a dog house much less a half acre for Fido to run around in.”

And then I go into my kitchen and take a look at my backsplash and begin worrying.

This post linked to the GRAND Social

Saturday Smile: After the Thrill is Gone

No matter which candidate you were supporting in Tuesday’s election, the past few days have been tumultuous at best. So much anger, fear, joy, and uncertainty, as much as I’ve ever seen in my 62 years on earth following a presidential election.

But as President Obama told us on Wednesday following the election, it’s finished. Now is the time to look ahead. As for me, I will be praying for our president-elect, for his family, for the safety of both the president-elect and Secretary Clinton, and for our country.

As things begin to settle down a bit, a couple of things came to my attention over the past few days that made me smile.

First, on the day following the election, our son Dave posted this quote from an unknown author….

A bird sitting on a tree is never afraid of the branch breaking, because her trust is not on the branch but on its own wings.

I’m not entirely sure just what the mysterious author meant, but what I’m taking it to mean, at least as it relates to the past few days, is that you have to have trust in people, but most of all, you have to have trust in yourself. I have heard a lot of angst about what kind of role models for our kids either of the candidates are or would be. The bottom line, as far as I can see, is that we have to rely on ourselves to be the role models for our kids and our grandkids. Always have. Always will. We can’t leave that up to others. We have to model love and forgiveness and honesty and decency and morality; we can’t rely on others. Our kids learn from us.

The second thing I want to share is something that my sister Bec sent me the day after the election. It comes from a Catholic priest, one of whom she greatly admires. So it has a Catholic bent, but I think Fr. Kevin’s words will be meaningful to anyone with faith in God….

http://itrinitydirect.net/clients/OblatesStFrancisdeSales/webpages/column_20161110-2_ElectionDayAfter.htm

And finally, my daughter-in-law Lauren sent this to me Thursday night, recognizing that after this chaotic week, I could perhaps use a laugh. And laugh, I did, at the dance moves of my sweet 4-year-old grandson Micah, who was born with perfect rhythm. Be patient; he really gets going about 33 or 34 seconds in (not that I’ve watched it 18 or 20 times)….

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: The Last Moriarty

searchThere are dozens of authors who have taken on the task of recreating Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s great detective Sherlock Holmes. In fact, I was shocked when I went on Amazon to try and figure out how many Sherlock Holmes-related books there are in existence. The most interesting to me is a fairly recent addition to the offerings – Mycroft Holmes — actually a mystery involving Sherlock’s brother Mycroft written by – wait for it – basketball star Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Who knew?

For reasons that I have never quite figured out, as much of a mystery fan as I am, I have never gravitated towards Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes books, which, of course, have almost a cult following. I mean to give them another try, as my interest in the great detective has been piqued again by both the PBS show Sherlock and the CBS show Elementary.

For this reason, I decided to give The Last Moriarty, by Charles Veley, a try when it showed up as an offering in my daily Goodreads Deals email a while back. I’m really ever so glad I did.

Veley didn’t contemporize the detective as does the CBS program Elementary. But he does throw in a few surprises, which for my part, I will not give away.

The two men who reside at one of the most famous addresses in London – 221B Baker Street – have been put to work on several cases. The most important involves the safety of some of the most important businessmen from the United States, including John D. Rockefeller, who have come to London for a meeting involving the national security of both countries. It seems, however, that though Holmes’ prime nemesis, Moriarty, is, in fact dead, one of Moriarty’s trenchmen has escaped from prison and is out to continue Moriarty’s work. At the same time, a young woman with a link to Sherlock’s past, makes an appearance. Together, the three attempt to save their friends from this evil enemy.

Veley’s book read easily, and the plot moved in an interesting manner. The addition of Lucy James to the Sherlock/Watson team provided a nice change, and an indication that there will be more books to come.

Good reading.

Here is link to the book.

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Thursday Thoughts

Jump
Yesterday was not my greatest day ever, for a number of reasons. In an effort to make myself feel better, I did the only thing one could do under the circumstances – well, aside from eating a quart of Bunny Tracks ice cream out of the carton with a spoon. I watched the movie Love, Actually. Sometime in the recent past, one of those Facebook questionnaires asked me if there was a movie I’ve watched five or more times. Yes there is, Ladies and Gentlemen. I have probably watched Love, Actually somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 times since it came out in 2003, and I love it every single time I watch it. The story lines are clever, the music is fun, there’s just enough Christmas to get me in the spirit and just enough poignant tales to make me cry a bit. Not too much. Just the right amount. Plus, I could watch the scene in which Hugh Grant (who plays the British prime minister) dances at No. 10 Downing Street by himself to Jump (For My Love). By the way, Sleepless in Seattle is another such movie, but yesterday I needed to see Hugh Grant dance.

See You Later, Facebook
I’m taking a two-week break from Facebook, but I think that I will still post my blog in the morning with my eyes closed. I have found that presently Facebook is having a negative impact on my life, and I can control that, so I plan to do just that. See all of my Facebook friends soon! In the meantime, we can communicate the old-fashioned way — talking!

Christmas Spirit
In addition to watching a holiday movie (if you can call Love, Actually a holiday movie, I also am getting in the spirit of Christmas in my Nanas Whimsies Etsy Shop. Look at some of my holiday cheer…..

nana-christmas

Anniversary
Part of the reason I have been off-kilter was because it was six years ago yesterday that my dad passed away. I think of him so often, and my mother as well. My brother texted me late in the afternoon and commented on how lucky we were to be blessed with such good parents. That is really true. There aren’t many days that go by that I don’t think about one or the other of my parents and wish they were around to help me decide what to do about this or that…

50th-birthday-photo-2

And, by the way, I had pink eye in this photo, so don’t laugh.

Ciao.