The Yawn in Review

Let’s briefly pause and contemplate the numerous “Year in Review” articles that form and multiply in the weeks leading up to today.  Much like roadside garbage, where only the most committed dumpster diver will pull over and examine the merits, few readers are interested in “the Year in Review.”  We’ve been there already; we’ve done that. We’re moving on.

For what it’s worth, my blogging platform, WordPress, did provide me with a “year in review” summary, announcing my most “viewed” posts.  They were all old posts from other years and I won’t mention them here because their strange combination of words and algorithms attracted only spammers.

No one wants spam hanging around.

However, I was happy to learn my “busiest blog day” was a post about friends.  When I think back on the “year in review,” my heart is happy and filled with gratitude for my friends.  They say you can never be too rich or too thin, but what do they know?  I think a better maxim is “you can never have too many friends.”

And blog readers!  I love my regular readers who stop by; some of them don’t comment here, but they reach me by e-mail, phone, and even letter.

Of course, I’m grateful and fortunate for the close proximity and love of my family.  If you don’t read my brother’s blog, you should.  And you should read it today where he’s documented his impressive year in reading.

And let’s not forget Handy; he makes my house (and my life) better every day.

House_FB

(Custom holiday card designed by friend and artist, Robin Swennes.)

There might be a few changes here on the blog in 2016.  Some of you might know this already, but I’m writing a weekly blog for the local paper’s online edition, called “The Lady Alone Traveler.”  I’ll change my blogging schedule slightly to accommodate this new opportunity, but I think you’ll like what I’m writing there.

Coffee’s on!  From here at the old house on the hill, I wish you best wishes for an upcoming year of wonderful.

Thanks again and Happy New Year!

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No, We Didn’t

I got a box of See’s “Nuts and Chews” from my friend; it arrived the day after Christmas.  On sweets overload, I decided to parse out the candies and store them in the cupboard.  Ration them.

Sees ChocolatesNo, we did not eat them all.  These are the things you do on New Year’s Eve…

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Monday Without End

My phone just rang.  My loving mother saw something on the news last night and she wanted to let me know about it.  Apparently, the water at Pease Tradeport in Portsmouth, New Hampshire (where I used to work) may have been contaminated.

If I recall correctly, I used to bring my own filtered drinking water to work every day in glass bottles.  At least I think I did.

I hope I did.

Four day work weeks are tough, even from remote work locations with fresh and sparkling uncontaminated water.  There are deadlines, end of year madness, New Year’s Resolutions, and cleaning up from the “most wonderful time of the year.”  That’s what’s on the agenda for most people on this Monday after the holiday weekend.  Let’s not think about contaminated water and just savor the festive spirits for a bit longer.

Santa Before

And here’s Santa…

Santa After

Monday without end.

Amen.

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If the Fates Allow

I wasn’t going to post anything, thinking I “deserved” a break today.  But then I found a present in my laundry room.

Kitchen AidIt’s a long-ish story.  I’ll save it for next week, if the Fates allow.

Merry Christmas!

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Outside the Counting House

A Dickensian fog surrounded the old hometown yesterday; my iPhone couldn’t photograph it, so I’m featuring a friend’s image sent by text message.

Peace
“At length the hour of shutting up the counting-house arrived.”

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Christmas Bingo

It’s December 21 and there are four cards to write, three writing assignments to finish, two batches of ginger snaps to whip up and one meat pie to bake.  A friend I ran into at the Franco Center on Saturday night said it best.

“We are in full screech mode now.”

The event at the Franco Center was a holiday-themed musical performance and the hall was glittering with lights, voices, and a downright hep combo of musicians.  The picture I snapped during the show is a poor representation of the magical evening, but I loved the star.

Franco Center Lights

One of my neighbors was in the show and although I knew she taught music and drama in a local school, I confess I did not know she had such a sweet and melodic voice.  It was a beautiful evening in every way; I wish you could have been there.

Saturday night was “peak Christmas” for parties, performances, and events on the social swirl calendar.  On the national news stage, there was a presidential debate.  The complete ratings for the spectacle will be released today, according to an article by Brian Stelter for CNN Money.  He said the Saturday time slot might have been designed to “repel” viewers.

Ouch.

Personally, I’d prefer to think most engaged and gregarious citizens of this great nation were on a holiday news fast, suggested by my brother on his blog Friday.  I jumped on the “news fast” bandwagon on Saturday and although the criteria for my own program are still developing, I have eliminated all radio news broadcasts for the duration of the Christmas week.  Handy and I agreed on a notification system of texts, drive-bys, and flashes of light in the event The Apocalypse arrives during my fast.  In the very worst case scenario, I can see the street light right next to Handy Land if I stand up and look due east in my upstairs office window.  Unless the house is shaken to its foundation, the system should work out well.

As of blog publication time, it’s “all clear” at Handy Land.

This year, my family will celebrate together on Christmas Eve “over the river and through the woods” at my brother’s home.  He and his wife, Miss Mary, put on a great shin dig and if we’re lucky, Uncle Bob will meander his way over to join us.  I’m putting the final touches on a scheme for “Baumer Bingo” using a bingo cage Handy found in his travels.  I’m hoping my brother is on board with the game of chance.  I’ll bring all the game parts and the prizes and he’ll just need to supply some appropriate music.

Der Bingle would be nice.

If I recall correctly, we used to play a bit of Bingo during our childhood Christmas celebrations.  That would be after we’d ask Aunt Dot if she’d play a game of “52 Pick Up” with us.

Who knows, maybe it will be the start of a new movement, something like “be the bingo you want to see in the world.”

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Blue Christmas

When I woke this morning and shuffled through the house to get the paper, my curtain-clouded view through the living room sheers tricked me into thinking it had snowed last night.  The notion of snow warmed my heart for a second; when I opened the front door, though, I could see it was an illusion.  The ground was wet and shining from the rain that fell all night.  The weather puppets have prognosticated.

There will be no white Christmas this year.

With my tiny hope for a cleansing blanket of snow dashed, I made my morning trip to the basement.  Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.  My house is old, built in 1898.  It sits on a peninsula of land surrounded by trees and the river is close by.  Sometimes, I have mice and I don’t want a cat.

The world awaits the building of a better mousetrap, does it not?

I went back to bed, no visions of sugar plums dancing.  In all honesty, my heart has been heavy since the end of October and that’s when I decided I would decorate my house with blue lights this year.  There are so many little things out of joint in my world and the world at large, but who would want to read about my personal sadness?  That’s what Facebook is for, right?

My philosopher friend “At Your Service” and I have had a long-running conversation about my “blog personae.”  We talk about how my blog stories attempt to shine light onto the dark sadness of this violent and conflicted world.  But the other day, I made a confession to “At Your Service.”  I told him that I kept my more morose musings to myself because they didn’t make for good blog posts.

First there was Debbie.

Then, there was the sadness of a woman who grew up on my street.  Her Facebook post announced that her fiancé dropped dead one Sunday morning and her heart was broken.  I read a similar post about a woman I used to hang out with in Portland.  She lives in Colorado now and she and her husband were in the middle of moving to their dream house.

He dropped dead.

Then there was visible world-weariness I saw in another friend’s gait when she visited for coffee and cookies the other day.  I’m so glad she stopped by and shared her worries with me.  I wish I could have offered more than treats and a listening ear.

But probably the most unusual news that’s been on my mind these past few weeks is Mark Zuckerberg’s new “philanthropic” LLC.  According to various news sources, Mr. Zuckerberg will be giving away 99% of he and his wife’s Facebook stock holdings to causes like fighting disease, improving education, and building strong communities.  Setting it up as a LLC is highly unusual in the philanthropic world.  Generally, a tax-exempt foundation is set up, a 501(c)(3), like the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.  The Internal Revenue Service prohibits tax-exempt groups from contributing to political campaigns.  But a LLC?  No problem.  They can donate and lobby without limitation.  Yet, I hear so much lamentation about money’s influence on politics (on Facebook, no less) that I can’t help but wonder how it will be different when young Mr. Zuckerberg does it.

No pictures today; the blue tree and window lights didn’t photograph very well in yesterday’s fading December day.

If you’re looking for more “peppy” posts, you can read my new blog I’m writing over at the Sun Journal, The Lady Alone Traveler.  Next week, I’ll make my “big reveal” there about next year’s travel and writing projects.  I’m sure there will be vintage cars, old houses, and sweet treats, and maybe even a philanthropist thrown in.

Stay blue.

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The Swag of the Season

The Holiday Swag

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Handy and the Christmas Spirit

When I wrote my “Pumpkin” piece for the Lewiston Sun Journal, Handy helped me with some of the recipes and he also helped me bring all the food and props to the photo shoot.  Little did I know he had an ulterior motive.

“Do you think the Sun Journal still has newspaper bags?” he asked.

“You mean like a paper carrier would use?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know,” I said.  “You should ask Mark Mogensen” referring to my editor at the Sun Journal.  Did newspaper bags, those large canvas bags with the wide reinforced shoulder straps, still exist?  The carrier who brings my paper every day has a car.  The only bag I ever see is the plastic one my daily sits in.  And if Mogensen did have an insider’s source, why did Handy want one?

“Tools.  I need a bag to carry tools up and down a ladder.”

The day we visited the Sun Journal, Handy made his request and Mark said he would see what he could do.  He was non-committal and I wasn’t optimistic.  Things had changed a lot since those long-ago days when I had two newspaper bags, one strapped across each shoulder.

I had almost forgotten about it and was hoping Handy had too.  I wrote a couple other pieces for the Sun Journal, including a “holiday nostalgia” piece.  I scheduled time to have the cookies and meat pie I baked photographed for the article and was pleasantly surprised when Mark mentioned “I’ve got a newspaper bag for Handy.”

I brought it home, wrapped it up, and placed it under my vintage aluminum tree.  Handy hadn’t been over for a few days and when he did stop by yesterday, I distracted him by asking for his help with a pot roast and an errand to L.L. Bean.  I promised we’d only spend “thirty minutes tops” in Freeport and true to my word, we were in and out of the iconic Maine outdoors store quickly.  We were driving on Route 125, a road that runs through Freeport and Durham to Lisbon Falls, talking about Yankee swap gifts, Christmas parties, and home renovations.  We laughed about how things had ground to a halt with projects we’d talked about at both of our houses.

You know that feeling you get when you realize you’re on a conversational path which is going to end in only one possible topic?  That’s how I felt.  I shouldn’t have asked Handy what projects he wanted to finish at his house in 2016.  That topic could only end in Handy asking me about the “tool” bag.

“Hey, what ever happened to the newspaper bag?  Am I going to have to look for a substitute?”

We had just passed Gooseberry Farm Antiques.  I looked straight ahead and adjusted my sunglasses.  That’s all I remember of that moment.

Oh boy.

I didn’t say anything; we drove on in silence for a few minutes.  I could tell Handy was looking over at me quizzically and let me tell you, I was not prepared with a lie or fabrication.  In retrospect, it would have been so easy to say “Oh…let me check with Mark about it tomorrow,” and let it drop.  But I didn’t think of that in the white heat of that moment and I must have looked like a deer in the headlights.

“You’re getting one.  Just stop looking at me.  It’s wrapped up under the tree.”

Just like that, I gave up the surprise.

Handy seemed pleased to know he was getting his newspaper bag.  But with less than 10 days before Christmas, will it be possible to find another surprise for the man who often says “I want for nothing?”

Merry Christmas Handy

Oh, Handy, just act surprised when you open your tool bag, ok?

 

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Everybody Just Calm Down!

I got a letter in the mail yesterday.  My friend and I have been writing letters during the “most wonderful time of the year” because we don’t have enough to do.

Right.

My dear friend writes “I do believe the Xmas crazy train is going too fast.”

I couldn’t agree more.

I hardly know what day it is and I’m not quite sure where I am supposed to be next.  I’m over-committed.  I need to go somewhere that doesn’t exist, like Bing Crosby’s Holiday Inn; a farm that doubles as a swanky nightclub, but only on holidays.

Walton’s Mountain would be lovely right about now, too.

It felt like Walton’s Mountain here last night as I finally put up the tree on my screen porch with some help from Handy.  We brought it home on Wednesday and set it in the tree stand.  I rearranged two strings of blue and white lights to match my blue window candles and when Handy stopped by to drop something off last night, I convinced him it was time to put on the lights.  We wound them through the tree branches and everything was nearly perfect.  Handy plugged the cord into the outlet and “Voila!”

Then Handy replaced a burnt out bulb and the whole top string zapped out into darkness.

HANDY!

It was like that scene in The Homecoming: A Christmas Story when John Boy Walton, as the eldest, is in charge of decorating the tree and watching out for the younger children.  They have their own ideas about arranging ornaments.  The scene features some of the worst acting I’ve ever seen from the actress who played Elizabeth.  You’re supposed to think Jim Bob hit Elizabeth’s arm and the ornament she’s holding flies out of her hand and breaks, but it you watch closely, (around 31:40) it looks like she is tossing the ornament over her shoulder.  Things get a little crazy; the children are fighting and John Boy shouts “Everybody just calm down!”

(This is also the scene where Mary Ellen calls her brothers and sisters “piss ants” but that’s a different blog post altogether.)

Since there is no problem Handy can’t solve, he replaced the blown fuse and I channeled John Boy’s line from the movie:

“Now remember, keep your fingers crossed ‘cause if one bulb is gone bad, none of them is going to work.”

I crossed my fingers and closed my eyes and the string of lights sparkled again.

It’s true, the Xmas crazy train is going too fast, but I’m going to keep running after it for a few more days.  If I just “calm down” I’m sure I can catch it before I go off the rails completely.

Calm Down Cookies

Good night, John Boy!

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