Thankful ...

This year in a rare coincidence Thanksgiving falls on the first day of Hannukah (the Festival of Lights, gotta love that term). Isn't that something? If I read correctly, this has not happened since 1888. I like to think that maybe, just maybe, it is the Father's way of telling us to come together, putting aside our differences, some petty, some not so much, and just being a family, sharing a meal, conversation, time. I always remember when after 9/11 we all worshipped together, as one, regardless of our individual beliefs, faith, we came together as a family.  We are, after all, part of one great big family, the human family. We are all, regardless of race, ethnicity, religion, political affiliation, whatever, His children, and one day, hopefully, we will all sit at the same table in peace, joy, harmony.

Saw an article on the web, www.today.com/holidayguide, under the Good News tab, and had to write about it, For 28th year, man hosts Thanksgiving dinner for strangers.  If you get a chance, read it, guaranteed to give you the warm fuzzies.  It is about a gentleman by the name of Scott Macaulay who has hosted Thanksgiving dinner for 28 years (since 1985) for strangers by placing an ad in the newspaper saying if you are alone on Thanksgiving, come on by.  It started the year his parents got a divorce (he was 24 at the time).  He thought nobody should be alone on Thanksgiving, so why not open his home to people that had nowhere to go?  The tradition has continued.  He's gotten people from all walks of life, from EMTs to cancer patients, low income families, nursing home residents to police officers to recent arrivals to the U.S.  Everyone is welcome. I love this man! He prepares everything by himself, ensuring that everything is up to health codes and that wherever he holds his dinner (as the numbers have increased, he has had to change venues) looks like a home, bringing in furniture, lamps, candles, tables, making everything look cozy and homey.  He welcomes all.  He does this all himself, does not receive (or accept) contributions, wants to stay in the background.  Does not seek the limelight.  Now, that, my friends is a walking, talking example of Christian values, of what human values should and can be.  Wow, what a nice story to wake up to, especially on this day.  There is hope for humanity after all.

Today when we gather round the table and give thanks for all our blessings, let's give thanks for people like this gentleman who restore one's faith in people.

Happy Thanksgiving!  A Happy and Most Blessed Hannukah!  Let's be kind to each other and keep the faith!

Full Moon Memories

Recently I emailed a friend about a post on her blog where she mentioned a friend of hers was losing her Mom to Alzheimer's, telling her I hoped her friend was okay, that I would be praying for her friend and her friend's Mom.  It hit me, the way her friend expressed herself, saying her Mom was slipping away and how difficult it is to watch it happen, to see someone who was once vibrant, outgoing, happy just fading right before your very eyes.  Reminded me of when my Dad was going through the very same thing.  Not due to Alzheimer's, but just fading away.  See my Dad had a heart attack at the beginning of December, some years ago.  Sometimes it feels like it was centuries ago, others it feels like it was yesterday.  He was in a coma for about two days and then one morning he just came back, extubated himself (which totally blew the nurses' minds) and demanded to see me and my Mom.  His memory was wiped clean.  He did not remember my Mom was gone, or his parents.  And I did not want to tell him.  At least not right away.  He always knew me and my sister, knew we were his daughters, but other than that, his mind was pretty well wiped clean of fairly recent events.  Whenever I arrived at the hospital he would ask "Where's your Mom?" and I would tell him, "Dada, come on, you know she was here all day and left a little while to go and make dinner!" and he'd say "Right, right, it's these medicines, they confuse me!"  That worked for a while, as long as he was still in the hospital.

He recovered enough that his doctor sent him to rehab, where I continued the ruse for a while.  Until one afternoon when I got a call from this absolutely wonderful nurse taking care of him at the rehab place.  She told me he was REALLY ticked off and agitated and I needed to get there right away.  So, I took off (I've always had good bosses in that way) and drove over.  When I got there, she was waiting for me and said "Preparate!"  (Get ready!)  Sure enough, there was my Dad, sitting in his wheelchair, tapping his fingers.  He said he wanted to know the truth, so I told him, "Let's go out on the patio, it's a beautiful afternoon!" We sat under a big, old, shady tree and he looked straight at me and said "Why don't I ever see my wife, your Mom, and don't tell me she just left, because I know that is a lie."  So, I held both his hands and asked him "Daddy, why do you think you never see her?"  His eyes, those eyes, oh, my.  You know how they say eyes are the windows to your soul?  Well, it's true.  I looked into his eyes and could see his heart breaking.  He said "She's gone, isn't she?  When?"  I said "Yes, two years ago."  He sighed, asked me to take him back to his room.

He asked me to tell him what we had done when she passed away.  I told him we had been surrounded by friends and family, had followed her wishes to scatter her ashes on the ocean, at a spot she loved, after a Mass in her name.  That it had been a beautiful, cool, sunny Spring morning and the sun had shone particularly bright when we scattered her ashes, almost as if welcoming her home.  Two very dear friends had been with us, along with his brother and his wife.  Afterwards we all went to breakfast at IHOP and had pancakes, just as my Mom had requested.  Then he and I went home and planted three rose bushes.  I told him all of Mom's wishes had been followed.  The sun shining so brightly, the scent of the salty water lapping at our feet, have stuck in my mind all these years.



We talked a long time that afternoon, my Dad and I.  His mind was clear, I had "my" Dad, the man that raised me, back at least for a little while.  That evening there was a full moon, we could see it from his room.  He told me "Do you remember when you were little, you used to babble away to the moon and I'd tell your Mom it worried me and she'd tell me to leave you alone, you were expressing yourself.  I really loved your mother and we both really loved you."  My parents had the kind of marriage that makes you believe in marriage.  They were always happy to see each other, we were always happy to get home at the end of the day. That afternoon and evening, although difficult, were such a gift, because he remembered, his memory was returning and, possibly, just maybe, at least for a little while, please, I had my Dad back!  He told me, let's sit outside and look at the moon, it's so beautiful.  So, I wheeled him out to the little terrace outside his room and dragged a chair outside and we sat there, holding hands, talking.  His nurse, the one that had called me came in and said "You two are quite the pair, sitting there looking at the moon!"  And it was a beautiful moon, full, glowing in the night sky.  When I left to go home, he called my cell, something he had not done since before his heart attack, and told me "Call me when you get home, so I know you got back safe.  I'll see you in the morning, I love you."  I thought maybe, just maybe, he'll be okay, he'll get through this.  I'll have him for a while longer.

The next morning I drove over to see him.  I'd go in the morning before heading to work and after work.  I wanted him to know he was cared about, thought about, loved.  He was waiting for me, I'd stop at McDonald's once or twice a week and get him a hash brown, he loved those crunchy hash browns.  He munched on his treat and said "My parents are gone too, right?"  I said, "Yes, Dada.  They are."  He gave this big sigh.  I shaved him and then headed to the office.  He came home on Valentine's Day and for a while, he rallied.  We were blessed with wonderful neighbors who took turns sitting with him, getting his lunch, keeping him company.  My aunt, my Mom's sister, would visit him a few times a week.  He had a wonderful visiting nurse, Sylvia, a Jamaican lady, who became part of our family.  Even after her visits with him expired, she continued to visit at least every other day, even on weekends, making sure he took a shower, shaving him.  Between her, my aunt and our neighbors, I felt safe leaving for work, because I knew he had people that truly cared about him with him.

Then he caught a cold,  One night, he had trouble breathing, I called 911 and we were off to the hospital again.  In the E.R. they stabilized him, he started feeling better, I went to get some coffee for my sister and me and returned to find all  hell had broken loose.  He'd had another heart attack. After a few weeks and a few close calls, he stabilized enough to be transferred to a different rehab facility, more of a hospice place.  His memory was gone, again.  Although he still knew my sister and me.  He knew my aunt.  But other than that, he really didn't remember a whole lot.  Zip, nyet, nada. My aunt and I, we did have our differences, but she was family through and through during that time.  If he asked for rice pudding (she was a master baker), she'd make him rice pudding from scratch.  It was a favorite of his.  Still, it was hard seeing him slipping away.  One afternoon I asked him "Daddy, do you remember when I was little?" and he said "No, I just know you are my daughter."  That was heartbreaking.  Even now, it still is.  One weekend, I was sitting by his bed, reading.  He was taking a nap, sleeping so peacefully.  I looked over and he was wide awake, just looking at me, so serious. He said "I must have been a good father, because you are such a good daughter."  I looked at him and smiled, told him "Daddy, that is a daughter's sacred duty.  You don't remember, but whenever I wanted some spending money and asked you, you would always say yes and tell me, that is a father's sacred duty, to take care of his child.  Well, now it is my turn to take care of you, okay?"  To this day, I feel it was an honor and a privilege to be there for him.

My cousin, his favorite nephew, died suddenly during this time. He was working in his backyard one afternoon and that night he was gone. I did not tell my Dad, did not see the point. The evening of my cousin's funeral, my father had a very restless night and I stayed with him.  In the middle of the night he sat up in his bed and looked towards the door of his room and said "My nephew, look, look at what they've done to me."  I know he was talking to my cousin, my beautiful, tall, handsome cousin who was gone much, much too soon from this life.  Early the next morning, he was, finally, sleeping peacefully, and I left to go to the funeral home.  I wanted to see my cousin one last time.  My cousin who gave the best hugs in the world, my big, tall, I can take care of everything, beautiful cousin. I took the day off and stayed with my Dad that day.

A few days later, on a Saturday I walked into his room and lo and behold, my Dad was sitting up in bed.  Not my Dad after his second heart attack, but "my" Dad, the one that had raised me.  He looked at me and said "Give me a hug!"  Oh, that was the best hug ever.  I just leaned over, put my head on his chest, I could have stayed there forever.  We had the best conversations that day, that kind of conversations we'd always had, ranging from the most inane of subjects to the deepest.  That day was a gift.  I called my sister, my Dad's uncle, his sisters that afternoon and told them, if you want to see him again, he's himself today.  The next day my sister and his uncle visited, but towards late afternoon, I could see "my" Dad slipping away, fading.  The next morning, he had faded again.  But, oh, I would not have traded that Saturday and Sunday for all the money in the world.  Thursday afternoon when I got there, he looked at me and said "My daughter, I'm so glad you're here, I've been waiting for you."  I just knew, he was ready to go.  His nurse came in and said his heart was failing, they were ready to intubate if it failed, they had the team ready to resuscitate.  I told her no.  Asked if he was in pain and she said no, his heart was just slowing down and was I sure.  I was.  I said, as long as he wasn't in pain, just let him be, let him go.  I was not about to put him through that again.  Ever.  I called my aunt and I called my sister.  My aunt was there in less than five minutes.  I called our former neighbors, who I knew loved him.  They'd had twins recently, but she left the babies and came over to be with us.  How can I ever forget that?

We stood by him, my aunt and I, each holding a hand. I sang him songs he'd sing to me every birthday.  He just went to sleep.  There was a nurse that kept coming into his room, off and on, she'd just stand at the foot of the bed, bow her head, as if praying. She kept vigil with us.  And he just went to sleep.  It was July 31st, 1997.  Right before midnight.  My sister got there about 10 minutes after he'd left.  She went home with me that night.  I followed his wishes.  Same instructions as my Mom.  No funeral service, direct cremation, a Mass and scatter his ashes where we'd scattered Mom's.  The following week, I followed his instructions to the letter.  My aunt, once more, by my side.  Along with some good and trusted friends.  We all gathered at the little chapel where we had gathered for my Mom three years before. Then we went home, where my sister was waiting for me.  She and I went by ourselves to scatter his ashes.  It started raining softly, like a gentle benediction, as we scattered his ashes.  Then we went home and ordered Chinese food, just like he'd said that last afternoon we had talked, that blessed, blessed afternoon I'd had my Dad back.  Oh, how he loved Chinese food.  Special fried rice and egg rolls.

It was easier for me to deal with his passing than it had been to deal with my Mom's.  Maybe because I had gotten used to coming home and him not being there.  But I still missed him.  A few months later, in October, I was outside all day planting impatiens as we had always done, I was in the garden all day, until dark.  Night fell, the moon came out of hiding, I looked up and realized it was a full moon.  There she was, shining in all her glory and suddenly I felt so happy, I felt my Dad right there with me.  It was like I could almost touch him, I felt him so close.  I watered the newly planted flowers, went inside for a much-needed hot shower, put on fresh pajamas, turned on the outside lights and looked out at our tiny garden. It looked so pretty, colorful, happy, a riot of pink and purple and red impatiens, ferns everywhere, the red and pink rose bushes my grandmother had planted with me and my Mom, the ones I had planted with him after my Mom.  And I looked at that beautiful moon glowing so bright.  I remembered babbling at the moon as a child, sitting in the moonlight listening to my grandfather and my Dad spinning fairy tales for me.  I remembered that moonlit night when my Dad and I sat looking at it, talking and I was thankful for my moonlight memories.

These last posts have been rather heavy, next one, I promise will be completely and utterly silly, maybe even include a recipe or two.  Cookie baking time is just around the corner, after all!  Time to deck the halls, trim the tree and light the candles.  Until next time, be kind to one another, cherish your loved ones and keep the faith!

Thanksgiving 2013

I have been on a bumpy road lately.  Events from the past rearing up their nasty little heads.  Disagreements and hurtful situations dredged up.  Some days I feel locked in a constant debate with myself.  Thankfully this debate, for the most part, is silent, although at times I do tend to verbalize and my cubicle neighbor will ask "You say something about bloomers?" because I'll be sitting at my desk and go "Suck it up.  You can't fix the past.  Put on your big girl bloomers (panties in Spanish) and deal with it!" I don't know why, it really should not have affected me the way it did, but learning of my aunt and uncle's deaths really set something off deep within me.  And it is stupid, silly, childish of me to think, to wish, somehow I could have "fixed" things.  Because, really, it was up to them.  Goodness knows, I really, really tried.  But it was up to them.  Their decision.  Their call.  The funny thing is when I read about their passings, the first though that popped into my head was "Well, Father, they are YOUR problem now!" and I am sure our Father in Heaven must have thought "Really, NOW they are my problem?  They always WERE!"  Another thought was "Well, now they are all together, I bet they have come to their senses."  Because their ... situation caused so much grief and anxiety in our family.  It was like, you know when you throw a rock into water and it creates ripples?  That was my aunt and uncle, they created discordant ripples in the fabric of our lives.  Boy, I just really mixed up my metaphors there, didn't I?  But you understand what I mean.

Sometimes people do not fully realize how much of an impact their behavior can have on those around them.  Sometimes they do and still plow ahead because they do not give a flying fig about anyone but themselves.  Me, me, me.  You hurt me.  You have more than me.  Your house is bigger than mine.  You make more money than me.  They never came right out and said it, but you know that is what they were thinking.  There were times, especially after my parents were no longer here, when I really needed to have a sense of family, of tribe, when I felt like a turtle without its shell (I still do, but have learned you have to make your own shell) and instead of just being what family is supposed to be, they somehow twisted it around and made it about them, their disagreement, their imagined or real slights.  I really wanted to smack them upside the head and tell to grow the heck up and deal with it.  But, nope, did not do so.  My aunt was the only one who was there for me, for that I will be forever grateful.  And I do wish it had been different between us, it did not have to end the way it did.  But things happen for a reason.  We each choose our path, make our decisions.

Anyway, back to Thanksgiving.  So, I have been in a phhhhhtt mood, more or less for a while now. Back to walking on eggshells.  Given to "poor, poor, pitiful me" moments.  When those happen I give myself 10 minutes, tops, to wallow, then smack myself upside the head (figuratively) and start moving, rearranging, organizing and remind myself to look for the good, for the positive and focus on all my blessings and not on what I wish I had. Really believe that moving stuff around creates positive energy, gets those vibes going!  Especially if you have music on and start bopping to the beat as you clean and putter and fluff and realize you have lots to be grateful for.  One of the ladies on The Talk, I think it was Aisha, was saying how when she was little and complained about something her father would say "Well, at least you're not in Afghanistan!"  That just cracked me up, because it is so true!  These past few weeks when I have started to veer into pity party territory I've thought about the typhoon victims in the Philippines and realized, really?  You're whining about being stuck in traffic?  Typhoon victims, hello?  Once I worked with a MAJOR Gloomy Gussie and one afternoon she was whining about how her new shoes hurt her feet, now, I've never been known for my patience and that day it was in particularly short supply, and I told her "Well, you could be living in a slum in India, then you'd be barefoot!"  That did not go over well, but, shoot she was just so darn annoying!  She was the same one who made Gina cry once, so I was not really all that fond of her.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, it is WAY easier to focus on the negative, than it is to focus on the positive.  And a lot of us whine about stuff that is about as important as a gnat's behind.  And you know how tiny THOSE are.  Sitting next to one of my co-workers yesterday at lunch, listening to her yap about how stressed she is over Thanksgiving, over the holidays, all this stress!  I finally snapped (not real long on patience these days) and told her "Do you know how lucky you are?"  She stopped mid-sentence, looking at me like I'd grown another head, and said "Lucky?  How am I lucky?"  I responded, "Well, you have your parents, your kids, your husband, everyone is healthy and everyone will be together at your house!  Do you know what a blessing that is?  If all the cooking and running around stresses you, tell them!  Look, I need you to help me with this and this and that!  Hell, go out to eat, have a barbecue, slap some sandwiches together, buy bags of chips and say we're going low key this year.  The holiday should not be a source of stress, it should be a source of joy.  It's not how much you put on the table, how big a meal you serve, what kind of china and crystal and silverware, it's who you share it with.  That's what makes it a holiday, a holy day!"  Yes, I know, I should not have ranted.  By now everyone in the lunch room was looking at me cross-eyed.

But it's true, some of the best meals I ever had were the simplest.  Once we were really, really broke, we had a loaf of white bread (Holsum!), Swiss cheese, mayonnaise and two cans of evaporated milk, coffee and sugar.  We had cafe con leche for breakfast, skipped lunch and dinner was a grilled Swiss cheese sandwich with another cafe con leche.  A few days before payday, those cans of evaporated milk were about as watered down as you could get them and still have it look, reasonably, like milk.  But, let me tell you, those were the best cafe con leches and grilled cheese sandwiches ever.  Because we shared them and we were grateful to (1) be together and (2) have that warm and toasty sandwich in our tummies.  One night I told my Dad that was the best cafe con leche he'd ever made and he said "That's because it's baptized!"  I said "What do you mean, baptized?"  He answered "That milk has had a LOT of water poured over it!"  That still makes me laugh.

I think people get so focused on the meal,  the cooking and the baking and the cleaning and the freaking out because people are coming over and the house isn't perfect!  They lose sight of how very lucky they really are.  They lose sight of the joy.  I mean, it's nice to fuss and have everything just so and make it special, goodness knows, I love doing that kind of stuff.  Pretty little place cards, beautiful china, tablecloths and REAL napkins, flowers on the table, but in the end what's really important is to have loved ones gathered around and share a meal, no matter how grand or how simple.  Time spent together. There's a photograph taken at my 15th birthday party, we had just moved from L.A. and were staying with my Dad's parents, in this tiny little house, hot as Hades, no a/c, not exactly what we were used to, but my father is looking at me and just beaming because it was my birthday and we were all together, his face says it all in that photograph.  What mattered was our family was together, something he had wanted for so long, to be reunited with his parents, his siblings.  He is just beaming little rays of happy in that picture.

Then again, some people are hell-bent on seeing the darker, stressed, joyless side of things, no matter what.  I know someone who routinely reminds me "The world is awful, people are awful and one day it's all going to end because we are all wicked!" Sometimes I just smile, others I'll go "Well, maybe, but look we're here today, we have this day, might as well enjoy it!"  You just have to pat them on the head, refuse to let their energy sap your joy and go on your merry way.  I know because I used to get stressed over the holidays, not way stressed, but enough to make me grumpy because things were not perfect like I wanted them. I once got really upset with my Dad because he whapped his head on a hanging planter, it fell off its hook and broke.  Never mind it was in his way, I'm short, he was tall, I did not take that into account when I placed it, but I was good and ticked off he'd broken the hanging planter!  Hello?  Can you say nimrod?  Instead of taking care of him, asking if he was okay, I saw the broken planter and how the terrace was not going to look "perfect!"  I didn't see the bump on his head, I did not see the roses which were blooming like mad or how pretty it all still looked anyway.  I just saw the pieces of the hanging planter!  It's a wonder he did not tell me what I could do what that planter and, by the way, get him an ice pack for the huge lump on his forehead! If you would have looked up the word nimrod, my picture would have been next to it!

Then my Mom was diagnosed and let me tell you, after that happened I didn't care how perfect or imperfect the house was, I didn't care what was on the table, or what plants were in the garden, all I cared about was spending time with her. My Dad and I made her the focus of our little world.  And it was a happy little world, as long as she was in it.  Once she was gone, well, things changed and soon after that my Dad joined her.  And I built a whole new world.  Again.  It's a wobbly one, at times, but just the same, I am thankful for it.

This year I am thankful, once again, for my friemily (friends + family = friemily), for my boss who sends me home early when bad weather threatens, who tells me to work from home when I am feeling ill or there is bad weather, for my job because it allows me to pay the rent, car, bills, even if it means working on a weekend, or part of a holiday, it's okay, because I know sooner or later, I get to come home.  I am thankful for my faith, I really cannot fathom how people get through life without faith, it must be a cold, hard road to travel.  I am thankful every morning when I wake up.  For the new day, for the hot mug of cafe con leche as I sit down on my comfy cozy sofa for morning prayer.  I am thankful for my three kittens who make me laugh with their antics, and for my Bella Bella Smokey Noella, who smacks them when they get too rambunctious and sleeps curled up on my hip, claiming me as her momma.  Sometimes she looks at the three little ones with this stern look as if saying "I was here first, you WILL obey me!" I am thankful I have my pretty, comfy, cozy cocoon to come home to at the end of the day.  For Friday nights when I pull into my parking space and know I do not have to leave for the next 48 hours. I am thankful my friend's little grandson has a good prognosis and is responding to treatment.  Thankful for my friend Kathie who
was able to go on a wonderful trip with her Mom. And for Kathie's chicken pot pie recipe, which is yummmmo to the max. I am thankful for my neighbors who keep an eye out for me and call to see if I am okay, we break bread together regularly and I am so very, very thankful for them. I am thankful for each and every member of my friemily, for my Fairy GodMothers, for all of my friends and all of my family, those that are still around and those that have gone on before me.  I am thankful for having felt the sting of false friendship because it made the love of true friends even sweeter. I am thankful it has rained a lot lately and my ferns and plumbago are really happy and lush and green.  For candles that light the dark, for roses and beautiful wreaths.  For memorial services that are a true celebration of life, where you find laughter in the midst of sorrow.

For Publix frozen pies, I have gotten hooked on them thanks to my friend Jodie (I'm also thankful for her cheesy corn muffin recipe and for her having visited me this past Spring, when her hubby came down on business, that was a lovely, lovely day), and now keep a little stock of apple, blueberry and cherry pies in my freezer. I have one peach pie (my favorite pie) left, they seem to be seasonal because I haven't seen any since September. Next year I am definitely stocking up on peach pies.


For grandfathers who spin fairy tales out of thin air that you always remember and carry in your
heart. For the little things that, somehow, are not quite as little or inconsequential as some would have you think.  I am thankful for the kindness of others, for really busy people who somehow find the time to email you, making your day even better and sometimes making a truly rotten day turn into a good one.  For friends that restore your faith in humanity and write books you carry with you because no matter how rough a day you are having, reading just a bit of them makes you feel all better.

Thankful for clean clothes, soft bed linens, scented candles, books, hot showers, art supplies, hot glue guns and for glitter!  Thankful for unexpected friendships that spring from a simple blog post.  For parents and grandparents that love unconditionally, care and look out for you, no matter what, no matter where. Whenever I feel a blue mood coming on, I miss my loved ones so very much still, sometimes a memory comes along and it is so sharp and so clear, it makes the loss raw and fresh once more, I remember Joel 2:25 and for that promise, I am thankful.

 

Father, I am thankful for my life.  It is turning out to be quite the journey.

Well, this post has been more stream of consciousness than most others.  Signing off for now, I wish everyone a healthy, happy, splendid Thanksgiving spent with loved ones, where laughter, good food, maybe some really good wine are shared.  Remember to focus on the good, on the light.  Look for your blessings, your Silver Linings, they are there, I promise you.  We are blessed, we are blessed, we are blessed.  Until next time, be blessed, be kind to one another and keep the faith!

Little Things ...

 

Having gifts (faculties, talents, qualities) that differ according to the grace given us, let us use them.—Romans 12:6

God's word for you today: You are an awesome person with tremendous gifts and abilities, and you don’t need to compare yourself to anyone else.

The above is from the inspirational emails I receive from a most wonderful e-friend.  Somehow she sends just the right quote at just the right time.  She took over when Gina went home and I am most grateful she has carried on with Gina's calling.  This particular quote resonated with me because I have been neglectful of two of my gifts for a while, writing and drawing.  They bring me joy and they had been cast aside.  Too busy with work, with doing, with toing and froing.  Oh, I have written a bit here and there, mostly posts.  I lost three little stories I'd written for the Whimbles, when my laptop had a meltdown shortly before going on vacation.  Bless my IT guy for getting it up and working again, but everything was lost.  My mistake for not backing stuff up.

Laptops that blow a fuse, traffic jams, hammers that disappear, bottles that leak, little annoying things that can set one to whining and then you realize it's no big deal.  It is fixable.  How can I whine and complain when our guys are on the other side of the world dodging IEDs and up-armoring their vehicles?  Little things.  They can make you or break you.

Glitterina the Witch

Halloween Tableau

I have been on vacation this past week.  Started out to do a bazillion things and did about ... three.  Sigh.  Really need to reboot, recharge, just be.  Today found me running around getting clothes ready for the week ahead, baking brownies (see below for recipe) for my Most Excellent IT Guy who always fixes my laptop when it has a meltdown, bless him.  I'll be taking them in tomorrow.  Have thoroughly enjoyed this week.  Had lunch and spent some time (never enough) with my Most Faboo Magical Fleaing Fairy GodMother on Halloween.  She was wearing a beautiful purple witch's hat adorned with fabulous black feathers and a veil (which seemed familiar somehow) and a beautiful and sparkly choker and, yeah, I forgot my camera, again.  She looked quite fabulous and magical.  I had to turn back twice because I forgot stuff, you'd think I would have remembered the camera at least one of those times, but nope!  Pictures will be taken (and posted) at a later date.  I'm taking a page out of Frances Schultz' blog here, she just posted photos of her (beautiful, magical) wedding last year and let me just say, should I decide to try that trip down the aisle again (which would take some serious magic, but you just never know, Mr. Right could possibly come charging into my life any day) I am using her wedding as inspiration.  Outside wedding, beautiful trees all around, amazing flowers in my favorite colors, go figure, music and laughter and everyone just seems so happy and content in those photos, like they are really enjoying themselves.  That's the kind of wedding and reception I would like.  Please.  Reading her blog and Hollye's and Connie's and the Whimbles reminds me there are wonderful, normal, joyful, creative, truly good people still in the world.  They restore my at times sorely tested faith in humanity.

But I digress.  This week has been wonderful.  Sleeping late, having cafe con leche and morning prayer on my sofa surrounded by my feline progeny, knowing I do not have to deal with traffic, what a marvelous present.  Going shopping with my neighbor and her littlest one and discovering a fabulous new (at least to me) mall where handicapped parking is plentiful, as are benches to perch on.  Panic attack threatened, but mercifully it was squelched.  It was such a treat to go to the Bath and Body Works store and pick out new yummylicious lipglosses, room sprays to spritz before leaving for work and upon my return (love coming home to a sweetly scented nest), a candle or two, can never resist those.  Little things.  We tend to take little things like that for granted. In Alexandra Stoddard's book, Living A Beautiful Life, she mentions something about how if the little things are taken care of, the big things seem to work a lot better.  That has stuck with me since I first read it.  I love that book, so much so that I bought TWO copies.  Well, my Mom bought me my first one, while we were away from home at a family wedding and went shopping.  Found this lovely little store, I had read about her in Victoria magazine, and there was her book.  My face lit up and my Mom up and bought it for me.  It is a wonderful book.  When we returned home, I bought another copy ... as a backup.  Just in case someone wanted to borrow it.  I'd lend them my second copy.  Not my first, that one was from my Momma and very, very special.  Anyway, returning to my original point, little things, some trivial, some not so much, little, everyday things we tend to take for granted at times.  Until we lose them, or skip them, or altogether forget about them and slowly our days change and are not quite so joyful and you find yourself getting a bit stressed, maybe cranky, whiny.  You know there really is no reason for it, but it just is.  Then one day you get up a bit earlier, decide to make yourself a cafe con leche, you sit on the sofa and watch the sunrise while sipping your hot cafe con leche, do morning prayer and then it hits you.  Bam!  Aha, THIS is what I've been missing.  Little things, small rituals that somehow make your day better, nicer.  Make boneheaded people tolerable.  Little things.  For which we should be (and are) grateful for.  I made it a point this week, to get back into those rituals, everyday little things that just make my day nicer, easier, happier.

My Neighbor (in borrowed hat) and Her Trick or Treaters

Glamourina

Halloween was awesome.  Lots of trick or treaters and I got to see some of my favorite neighbors dressed up, trick or treating with their kids.  I got to wear one of my witch's hats and figured out why Stephie's hat looked so familiar ... turns out we bought the same hat!  Ended up loaning it to one of my lovely neighbors who was trick or treating with her two kids, see above.  She wears it rather well, don't you think?  I love Halloween, it's fantasy and magic and I can wear my orange and black striped stockings and one of my (many) witch's hats and not get odd looks from people, ha!  One of the reasons I love my Glamourina the Witch doll so much is she is wearing an outfit I would absolutely wear if I could find it in human size.  Those socks!  That hat!  Oh, my!

Still have Halloween candy left over.  Used some of it in my batch of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Brownies, I added chopped up walnuts and Snickers, plus chocolate chunks.  They smell awesome.  Little things.  My Leaves candle adds to the perfume of my cocoon. Finally got my hair done, sneezed my head off with the haircolor fumes, but it looks fabulous. Amazing how a bit of color can change one's face.  My Mom looked beautiful with her silvery mane.  Not me.  I look like someone's Aunt Brunhilda.

Bootiful Halloween Chalkboard



I have to change my chalkboard from Happy Halloween to Give Thanks.  This is my absolutely favorite time of year.  Halloween, Thanksgiving, the holidays peeking around the corner.  I have much to be thankful for.  And, oh my gosh, in my emails today there was one from one of my favorite people ever, Frances Schultz!  She is sending me an autographed copy of her book, Atlanta at Table, as a present!  Can you believe that?  Every time she has emailed me or replied to one of my comments on her (fabulous) blog (http://www.francesschultz.com), it just gives me the warm fuzzies.  This is someone who is ultra-busy and yet she takes the time to email me.  That just about blows me away.  Oh, my, I am rambling ... it may be the fumes from the haircolor have finally gotten to me.

Going through a drive-through the other day to get a spiced pumpkin latte, the server at the window looked vaguely familiar.  As I drove away I realized she worked at one of my former law firms, as a legal secretary.  I wanted to turn around and ask her how in heck she wound up working at the drive through window in Dunkin Donuts, it would have been terribly rude and she was not someone I dealt with a lot, she did not seem to recognize me and I would not want to embarrass her, but still I wonder what her story is.  And it made me realize, yet again, I am blessed, I am blessed, I am blessed to have a job that allows me to have my cocoon, pay my bills, have my little car, take my felines to the vet, buy candles, especially when they are on sale at 2 for $22, and deliciously tasting lipglosses.  Little things.  I rescheduled a visit with my Most Favored Goddaughter today.  She was supposed to come over with her Ireland photos, but I remembered I was supposed to visit a friend today.  So I rescheduled.  Then my friend called to reschedule.  So I wound up staying home, baking and puttering about.  My goddaughter will come over another day and we will sit and look at photos and I will bake her brownies.  Little things.

I have been on a wobbly emotional path for a few months now.  Needed this week to decompress and take stock.  Remind myself I have much to be grateful for.  Little things like true friends, holidays, scented candles, old books, vacation days, purring, spoiled feline children,  The first cold snap (which where I live means your a/c kicks off for 20 minutes), pumpkins, homemade soup and cheesy mini corn muffins, a blueberry pie in the oven scenting your entire apartment with yumminess.  Faith.  Well, that's not a little thing, but it is something I am most grateful for.

And tomorrow, back to the real world, back to traffic and rude drivers and attorneys yelling and phones ringing.  Coming home to find my flameless candles (isn't that an oxymoron?) twinkling welcoming me home, along with the outside kits and my feline progeny clamoring for their supper.  Amazing Grace scented bedtime showers and clean bedclothes to snuggle into.  Little things.  For which I am grateful.

Enough rambling and weaving about.  Until next time, keep the faith, be kind to each other and blessed, blessed, blessed be.

Brownies:  Two choices.  You can either bake them from scratch (see below) or use one of the package mixes.  When I'm feeling particularly Betty Crocker-ish, I will do the from scratch ones, I usually have the mix that includes the little pouch of Hershey's syrup in my pantry.  If I don't I just add a good one or two squishes of the syrup (ALWAYS have that in my pantry or fridge).  I do the same to the from scratch ones.  You can also use caramel syrup, just as deeelish.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees, butter your brownie pan really, really well. I have two I got from QVC some time back, that come with an insert so the brownies are already sliced. You have to let them cool really, really well or else they fall apart ... but then you can use them over ice cream, mixed in with ice cream (Rocky Road and vanilla are my two favorites to do this with), Silver Lining!

From scratch:  (Hershey's Chocolate Lover's Cookbook)
1 cup (2 sticks) butter or margarine (I'll use Parkay margarine, Fran Masters used it to make her butterball cookies and said it's just as good as butter and it is).  The butter should be room temperature, squishy-melty (yes, that IS a culinary term, at least in the Barbie kitchen), so you can mix it in easily.
2 cups sugar (regular, everyday sugar)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract (I buy really, really good vanilla extract, it's soooo good, Nielsen-Massey Vanilla Extract from Williams-Sonoma)
4 eggs
3/4 Hershey's Cocoa
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 small bag of walnuts (chopped up)
Fun Part:  Chopped up Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Snickers (I like the original Snickers), Crunch bars, Milky Way bars, M&Ms (any and all flavors, your call), Hershey's Kisses (I like the caramel filled and original ones), Butterfingers, once I did a brownie batch adding in chopped up Peppermint Patties and peppermint canes only, it was Christmas time and I had a lot of those peppermint canes.  If it's chocolate covered anything, you chop it up and in it goes.  I eyeball the amount I put in, enough to make a chunky batter.

Get your electric mixer ready. Mix the butter, sugar, vanilla. Then add the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each one.  Add cocoa, mix well. Add flour, baking powder and salt. Mix well. Now comes the fun part. By hand, meaning don't use the electric mixer from this point on, add whatever chocolate yummies (see above) you have on hand. Add nuts. You have to really mix these in well and the batter becomes very thick, you get a good arm workout, trust me.

From mix:  Follow directions on package, it's usually one egg, 1/4 cup water, 1/4 cup vegetable oil, packet of chocolate syrup, mix well.  Add small bag of walnuts, chopped up.  See Fun Part above for other additions.

Pour into prepared brownie pan.  Bake 30 to 35 minutes, the brownies start to pull a bit away from the sides and if you stick a little wooden skewer in, it will come up clean.  If you stick the little skewer in the center, it should come out just a bit sticky, not goopy, but sticky,  Take them out of the oven and let cool.  Cut into whatever size you like, or if you have the pan with the insert, they're already sliced for you.  I cut those in half, they make the perfect bite-size or two-bite-size if you are particularly dainty, nibble.

 

I've also cut them in even smaller squares and poured chocolate ganache over them and dusted them with cocoa powder and also some with powdered sugar instead of the cocoa powder, they look very pretty on a platter.  Next time I do that, I'll take a picture.  You do go into sugar overload though, so just keep that in mind and have some other non-sweet nibbles on hand to balance the sugar out.  Here's a picture of some brownies ready to pop into the oven, that's the insert pan (nicely buttered) I talk about ... love it!  You can cut the brownies into four for bite-size nibbles.