Category: Experience

Posted on

The Best Present is Presence

I didn’t want them to leave, even though we go back to work tomorrow and most of our grandkids have another week of homeschool before they take their Christmas break. Sawyer is in 3rd grade, Saylor in 1st, and River in PreK. Beckham and Magnolia aren’t in their school years yet.

Aidan, the oldest and a teenager, lives in a neighboring county and attends a private school there. He has finally caught – and exceeded – my height. We’ve been back to back and heel to heel for a year now to see when the day would come, and it has happened!

Even though it’s far from our normal routine where we live with three Schnoodles, having part of our family come for a visit is a joy! They are a lively bunch, and they make us so proud!

We love taking pictures each time we all get together. Our daughter in law sets the timer and makes the run to take her place before the click, while we all watch the flashing light and say “cheese” on repeat until it stops. She’s an iPhone wizard!

This year, no one felt like getting dressed for a picture, so we didn’t. It was a rainy, cold weekend and we were busy staying warm and playing dominoes and watching movies and eating nonstop. So we opted for the reality photo, the one where you have to keep calling everyone to get outside and no one can pry themselves off the couch or chair they’re occupying. No one wore anything except pajamas with a coat or robe (and not the family matching kind with the coordinated Tartan plaid that looks planned and professional). A couple of us had shoes on, no girls had makeup on, and one or two of us might have brushed our hair or teeth. We simply ran out in the misty drizzle for a photo to mark the occasion.

L-R: Saylor, Kim holding Beckham, Briar in back, River, Aidan, Sawyer, Marshall holding Magnolia, and Selena

This may be my favorite picture of us ever taken. When our grandchildren are grown and look back on these days spent with their grandparents, this is what I want them to remember – that we were happy just the way we were, and that we chose to savor every moment relaxing together at home. And that we didn’t need a crippling blizzard to know how to stay in our pajamas and drink coffee and chocolate milk all day and stay cozy.

It’s true: the best present is presence.

Posted on

Sleepless Christmas Time

All six grandchildren are here with two parents, their three labs and the two of us and our three Schnoodles. The house has never been more alive than it is right now (you can actually feel its heartbeat thumping, pulsing with the energy of children). We celebrated Christmas together yesterday. During the weekend time, we have watched our small town’s Christmas Parade, baked and decorated Christmas cookies and pumpkin bread, made peanut butter fudge, cooked a big pancake breakfast, played outside and amassed Georgia red clay dirt stains from wrestling in the grass and playing King of the Hill, made pinecone birdfeeders and watched the birds come to an early Christmas feast, taken a walk with the dogs to look for the elusive “Lellow Bear” that has lived in these woods for many years, napped, visited a family friend at the fire station, opened gifts, played board and card games and dominoes because we gave away the Scrabble board, feasted on Lasagna and garlic bread, and ran inside from the drizzle that stopped our fireside marshmallow roast plans. We’ve taken a tour of the camper and talked about all the plants on the front porch, including the ways to propagate them for our nine year old environmentalist grandson to have snips of offshoots of these plant species (he already has five varieties of succulents and cactuses growing in his room). He has shown us how to make his favorite tea. We’ve taken some moments here and there to sit on the swing of serenity and have a brief time of peace before being discovered by someone needing less peace. We’ve thrown the ball down the hall for the fetching dog hundreds of times and tested stain removers on knees of pants and elbows of jackets and shirts. We’ve K-cupped multiple times a day to keep caffeinated enough to keep pace with the little ones and read books at quiet times.

We’ve found half-eaten marshmallows in the pantry and little pieces of games and random things here and there – – including six grapes, four smushed into the floor. And we’ve showered at the oddest times, just to stagger for hot water so that all ten of us wouldn’t get the shower shivers.

And we’ve tasted sleep. 

But we have not indulged in the entire entree of sleep.

That will come in time.

Posted on

Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cake Dip Office Party Day

Today is our office Christmas Party, and I signed up to bring Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cake dip. I have no idea why I did this. 

I have never made or tasted Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cake dip, but the man making it in the video on Facebook swears by it.

So when the shared document came around in email to sign up saying what we would bring, I wrote, “Either Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cake Dip or those chocolate-dipped Vienna sausages with the colorful sprinkles that are all the rage on Tik Tok.” I don’t know why I wrote that, either. Apparently a Tik Tokker figured out a way to stop being asked to bring a finger food to parties and was kind enough to share his secret with the rest of us who don’t do much kitchening.

The good news is that I decided not to make the chocolate covered Vienna sausages but instead to go with the classier dish.

I watched a video on Facebook showing how to make the cake dip. You take a box of the larger size Little Debbie Christmas Tree cakes and reserve one cake, then blend the remaining five together with a block of cream cheese, a teaspoon or two of vanilla, and 1/3 cup of milk. Then, you fold in a regular sized container of Cool Whip, add sprinkles on top, place the reserved tree cake on top, cover, and refrigerate. You serve it with vanilla wafers, pretzels, or whatever you’d like. I have both of those and gingersnaps, but we’re having to settle for all-occasion sprinkles because I forgot the Christmas kind.

We’ll see how the party goes. I’ve heard through the grapevine that there’s fixin’ to be a fight over one particular item when the gift swap game is played – – a coffee mug with Christmas music lyrics personalized with our county’s name.

If we get to see a couple of co-workers wrestling over a coffee mug and all start circling around and chanting fight! fight! fight!, then I’m for sure gonna whip up the chocolate-dipped Vienna sausages next year and maybe bust open a can of whop biscuits, too. 

Posted on

The Past, Present, and Future

Seven years before she died, my mother joined one of my daughters and me on a girls’ trip to Dahlonega, Georgia. My college roommate makes it an annual tradition to take her own mother and daughters to start the season of Christmas shopping the weekend before Thanksgiving each year, so we met them there that year, staying with them in their favorite Smith House suite overlooking the Dahlonega square. It was a magical time of welcoming the Christmas spirit, eating great food, playing dominoes and cards, reading, sleeping past 6 a.m., lingering over coffee, and shopping for those on our lists.

I’m so grateful for that time we had together. Mom knew something was different, and she suspected Parkinson’s Disease long before her official diagnosis came. Her right thumb trembled endlessly, and she found she grew weaker and felt increasingly exhausted in her daily routine, even with her normal daily tasks. I was glad our room was close to the town square so that she could go back and rest when she felt too tired to walk.

We were downstairs in one of the gift shops when Mom’s eyes lit up. She’d spotted the sale sign on Willow Tree items. I was curious about what she’d wanted from the selection, so I followed her over to the table, where she stood admiring the Nativity set.

She bought that basic Nativity set as my Christmas gift that year and added to it for the next several years, giving me a new part of the collection each year. At the time, I was thankful, but not nearly as grateful for that gift then as I am today. The memory of our time together lives on, and this is one gift that I truly cherish because it marks our trip and takes me right back to the place where she found the joy of giving this to me and building it over time. When I admire these pieces, she is right here with me. In this Nativity, I see the past, present, and future.

Posted on

A Slice of Night: From 1:21 to 3:38 to 4:32 a.m

Photo by Leeloo Thefirst on Pexels.com

It’s 3:38 a.m. and since 1:21, 

a crooner has been singing

on repeat in my ear right through the pillow 

It’s the Holiday Season

So hoop-de-do

And hickory dock

and just exactly at 12 o’clock

He’ll be coming down the chimney

coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney down

And I need this to stop!!! 

Because I need to worry

About the ceiling

And the little piece of plaster that fell 

That Briar tried to replace with

Glue and tape and a broomstick 

On top of a tall ladder but it 

Plunged to the floor and broke

Now we need a spackling job

But there might be moisture 

And we might need a repair

Or black mold might start growing

And take over the whole house

And we would get sick and die

And I need to worry about what might have happened

if he’d fallen off that ladder at his age

And all the whatifs that go with a thing like that 

Like if we want to change where we will be buried because I do NOT want to be buried on the current plan anymore and I asked for my own cemetery way back a year ago in July and it still hasn’t happened and so maybe I’ll get a Christmas cemetery,

I sure hope so,

down by the road under the only hardwoods on this farm, with little iron fence that stays empty until we are all too old to move or talk or breathe anymore, but a cemetery that’s ready at any moment just for the peace of mind

I might be the only woman on the face of this planet who would cry tears of unwept joy opening the gift of a personal cemetery, but I’m dead serious 

I heard a thud and am relieved

It’s a pillow I kicked off the bed and not a dog 

Especially the one who already

Broke a leg before we rescued him

Now he just snuggled closer to me

Those little feet 

Always find the boobs always 

Always always and ouch 

Ouch

He burrows to my feet finally

Thank Goodness

I have the presents but I still need to

Wrap some and remember to get part 2 of the work gift exchange 

And make Little Debbie Christmas tree cake dip – and replace the regular sprinkles with Christmas sprinkles 

And after 2 pairs of Levi’s and a pair of Timberland Boots that I have gotten him again just like for the past at least 8 Christmases 

He says on December 11 before bed

He wants a sound machine because these new fans are too quiet 

They don’t make them like they used to

And I need to gather pine cones for the night tree.

Crisco and birdseeds I already have, and that twine is somewhere maybe even in the toolbox

and I need another newspaper since I used extra newsprint on gift wrapping but now we will for sure need it for the mess after reading the book and honoring the critter tree tradition

And these grandkids will do this. It’s what their father and aunts and I have done since he was little in preK and got the book as a gift from his teacher and it is what I was doing by the driveway when he called to tell me he was planning on popping the question to their mother

this tree we have always done together

But no gingerbread houses, no!! Lord, no! There aren’t enough sprinkles and nerves in this world for that, that’s why I bought them the Lego set last year. They can put that together as their gingerbread house.

We will make cookies. Break and bake sugar cookies with a can of store-bought icing with a tablespoon of Crisco and some cornstarch mixed in with the beaters so the icing will harden and maybe we use the regular sprinkles for that since my granddaughter likes pink, the one who can say she likes pink

I think we can do that and sweep up all the sprinkles 

And I have to be up in an hour getting ready now that it is 4:00 because the conference is an hour away and registration starts at 7:00 so I need to leave here by 6;00 meaning feet on the floor at 5:00 

and help!!! What to wear???

I haven’t even worried about that yet so maybe the gray pants and a black shirt and sweater but my feet will freeze if I can’t wear my regular black boots and they don’t go with those pants and I just don’t want to wear a dress since I have to wear my magnetic work name tag and it looks like it’s lost on a dress so maybe 

….could I get away with jeans? Wouldn’t that just be great to show up in the ripped knee pair? Surely they would take that one picture if I did, the one defining conference picture to go on social media to show all of us working, thinking critically, collaborating, communicating, creating

All the professionals in their pressed slacks and boutique blouses and nametags and me in my ripped jeans and boots and camo shirt and it’s too bad it’s so cold or I could pull out my camo Birkenstocks for that picture and if I were really bold just wear them in the winter with socks to hear Joan Sedita talk about The Writing Rope 

the one supposed to be a random candid where I’m the only one looking straight at the camera like I’m all defiant in my fashion all because I couldn’t sleep and it’s the holiday season 

And hoop-de-do

And hickory dock

And just exactly at 12 o’clock

He’ll be coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney down

Happy holidays

Happy holidays

While the merry bells keep ringing

Happy holidays

to you

It’s the holiday season

And Santa Claus is coming round

The winter snow is white on the ground

And when old Santa gets into town

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

It’s the holiday season

And Santa Claus has got a toy

For every good girl and good little boy

He’s got a great big bundle o’ joy

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

He’ll be coming down the chimney down

He’s got a big fat pack upon his back

And lots of goodies for you and for me

So leave a peppermint stick for old St. Nick

Hanging on the Christmas tree

It’s the holiday season

So hoop-de-do and hickory dock

And don’t forget to hang up your sock

‘Cause just exactly at 12 o’clock

He’ll be coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney

Coming down the chimney down

Happy holidays

Happy holidays

While the merry bells keep ringing

Happy holidays to you

  • …..and now it’s 4:32
Posted on

Festive Gas Pumps

Earlier this week, I watched a Tik Tok video showing a prank a teenage girl played on her father by telling him she was having car trouble and didn’t know why. She said she’d put gas in the car and loved the festive red and green gas pumps the stations were putting out for Christmas like she’d seen on Tik Tok, and that she’d chosen the green one. She knew she wasn’t out of gas.

“You didn’t!” her dad muttered in disbelief, before using a few choice words about staying off of Tik Tok.

When I pulled into the gas station on my way home from a conference yesterday, I chuckled when I saw the pumps. Sure enough – red and green.

I chose the red one.

Posted on

Storytelling Open Mic Night

We will have an open mic night at our local coffeeshop this evening, where we will share stories. Mine is entitled Ancestral Spirits.

Before my mother died 4 days after Christmas in 2015, I asked Dad to look through the recipe box and give me some recipes written by the hands of my ancestors.  I framed them, and they hang on the wall of my kitchen to welcome the kitchen spirits for those times I attempt to cook anything. They gather, I’m sure, standing over my shoulders, shaking their heads, convinced by now that I’m a complete kitchen misfit.  

Throughout her life, Mom was a great everything, teaching my brother and me the ways of the outdoors on the coastal island of St. Simons.  We crabbed and fished off the pier, collected shells, and learned how to identify all kinds of birds.

Mom had some inner sensor that alerted her to bird presence, particularly hawks.  My brother Ken and I frequently send text alerts:  Mom was on a wire by Highway 362 checking to make sure I had my seatbelt on, warning me the cops are running radar up ahead.  

We believe in the presence of birds to convey messages. 

Ken and I were a little divided on where she’d be buried.  We walked through Christ Church Cemetery, my preference being in the old section, where she’d have casket neighbors who were friends.  My realtor brother was concerned with the oak roots and preferred the new section.  

“Fine, brat,” I told him.  “I picked the spot, you pick the plot.”  So he picked the new section.

I wrestled with it and lost sleep.  At breakfast, I confessed to my preacher Dad (who did her funeral) that I needed reassurance from Mom that she’d be okay up there by herself until more burials happened.  “I prayed for a sign – – some majestic bird, with a large wingspan, like an eagle.  Since there is no tree canopy up there yet, I want her send a bird to let me know Ken didn’t mess this all up.”  

We pulled into the cemetery for the graveside service, and parked up by the tent.  And when the car doors opened, we heard them before we ever saw them.

“What have you done?” My father looked at me accusingly, like I’d done some voodoo magic.  

We glanced up, and three buzzards circled overhead.  

My brother elbowed me and pointed to the skies, chuckling.  “Look!  She showed up!  And she brought her parents.”  

My ancestral spirits seem to enjoy their gatherings, always giving us signs and messages. 
Imagine our deep comfort when, just last week, one of my grown children was having surgery two states north of here.  As we left the hotel for the hospital that morning, there on a wire above my RAV 4 was a hawk.  Mom.  Gathering with us.  Waiting on us to say everything’s going to be okay.