After I finished yesterday’s blog post, I remembered a few other possible hostess gifties.

Garlic and some saved Calendula seeds.
It’s local, practical, and it won’t end up in a landfill.
Sure enough.
After I finished yesterday’s blog post, I remembered a few other possible hostess gifties.

Garlic and some saved Calendula seeds.
It’s local, practical, and it won’t end up in a landfill.
Sure enough.
I’ve been invited to a “Holiday Open House” on Sunday afternoon. In the never-ending Jeep swerve which is my current life, I will find myself on the road south to a lovely zip code somewhere near Boston. The conversation will be sparkling, the food will be plentiful, and festive cocktails will be flowing freely. I won’t have much time to chat with the host and hostess because they’ll be busy having necessary conversations with all sixty or so of their guests. It’s simple open house math: two minutes of chat per guest.
Regardless of the amount of chat, a giftie must be given!
I pulled out one of my Emily Post books and researched this topic. Fortunately, Ms. Post’s descendants have digitized her wisdom; here’s a brief overview which answers the question of “Should I bring a Hostess Gift?”
I have my own short list of rules for Hostess Giftie Giving. I hope I don’t sound like a snob or a jerk, but I like to be practical, so:
Now that I have ruled out almost everything on the planet, here are a few of the items I am contemplating:
There are also some local chocolate options, although chocolate is not truly “local” because it comes from the seed of the very tropical cacao tree. This means the beans must travel here from faraway places like West Africa and South America.
Here’s a little hostess giftie someone left on the road to The Farm:

This particular giftie is quite mysterious, since I don’t recollect sending out invitations to a party. I’d better check with the neighbors.
When it comes to giving hostess gifties, I guess I’m just a practical jerk; maybe I should consider giving a box of Hostess Twinkies?
It’s hard to believe that more than a month has gone by since my 30th class reunion. What’s even harder to believe is that I didn’t write a blog post about it sooner. The event was wonderful in almost every way and I’ve thought a lot about it. I’m not sure I could properly summarize the evening because I only have my own personal experience of the event and my observations of other people having fun. There are the pictures on our class Facebook page and there are the conversations I’ve had with classmates since the reunion. As far as I can tell, it was a success.
Being involved in the planning and execution of such an event was right in my wheelhouse; I love planning anything that involves food, friends, laughter, and memories. As I look back over the last thirty years or so, it seems like I have always been knee-deep in planning something. Until October 27, 2012, I would have said that being the co-chair of a Junior League Decorator Show House in 2006 was my best effort in “event planning.” There were little things about that event, though, that made it extremely difficult for me and I was fortunate to have a tremendous co-chair who was able to pick up the ball and run with it every time I dropped it. Facebook hadn’t really blossomed in 2006, either.
Facebook ended up being an important tool in planning the reunion; every day, I would scan the old yearbooks and diaries and find some fun little nugget of information to share with our class via the event page. Other people would read it and some would comment on it. I began to remember a lot of things I had forgotten about people and I learned a lot of things about how my classmates had lived in the 30 years since we flipped our tassels and left Lisbon High School.
It was like finding the missing piece of a complicated puzzle.
I’m not sure who the first classmate was that exclaimed “Yay!” when we learned that a certain person was coming to the reunion, but the three-letter word became our “motto” and reminder that it was possible to overcome awkward adolescent memories of the past and enjoy the present.
We even had a sign.
After the reunion was over, we decided we had the best class ever and we wanted to make sure we stayed in touch. Facebook makes that easy. We’ve also had two “events” since the reunion and although the turnout has been smaller, they’ve been the steps we needed to keep the “Yay” alive. We continue to post pictures of our micro-events to remind people that the reunion is never going to end, even if they can’t be there in person.
I bring the sign.
Since it’s “the most wonderful time of the year” and people might be going to lots of parties in December, I thought I would share the five most important things I learned from my 30th Class Reunion, which was the best party I’ve ever attended. I hope these simple tips will help you to bring the “Yay!” to your own event.
Bring your best self
If you commit to attending a party, bring your best self. I’m not talking about clothes, shoes, and limousines; I’m talking about bringing the unmasked person your host or hostess love enough to include on their guest list. If you’re tired, take a nap before you go. If you’re having a bad day, do a few blood-curdling screams in the car and let it out before you get to your destination. It usually works for me.
Bring your own energy
Parties can be awkward; it’s a room full of people and even if you know them all, not everyone has the same “mingle DNA.” Some people are high energy and are able to draw other people into their charisma; other people are quiet and less talkative. Know which type of person you are and then “bring it” and enjoy it.
If you’re tired, it’s fine to go home
The excitement of a party can end “just like that” and deflate your energy balloon. Maybe it was a second piece of cake or dancing to a favorite song a little too energetically, but energy fades. It happened to me at around 10:00 p.m. at the best class reunion ever; I knew I didn’t have any gas left in the tank and so instead of being “stoopid” with fatigue, I went home and dreamed happily about the fun I’d had and not the fun I’d missed.
Wait until later to get a little tipsy
If you get tipsy later in the evening, there is less likelihood that someone with a sharp memory is going to remember every honest thing you might have said. There are fewer cameras after hours, too. In looking at all the pictures from my reunion, I can tell everyone still has their dignity on. Please also remember to bring a designated driver.
Bring your dancing shoes and keep them on your feet
Parties, unless they are formal seated dinner parties at Buckingham Palace, involve being on your feet. Sometimes parties involve dancing. Shoes for standing around and looking good might not be the same shoes for dancing your “Yay!” off. Although I brought what I thought was a good pair of flat dancing shoes to my class reunion, they were not good enough and they slowed me down. I had no choice but to kick them off and they went flying over a (thankfully) empty table; one of my big shoes came dangerously close to knocking a Bud Light bar bottle to the ground. Had that happened, I would have been mortified. I’m even a little mortified that I kicked my shoes off, but my classmates have not held it against me.
To prevent any further humiliation, I’m bringing some glittered-up Chuck Taylors to the next reunion.
Here’s to keeping the “Yay!” in your holidays!
All together now, friends: YAY!
Ever since we’ve had a “Gazebo” in the middle of town, we’ve had a “tree lighting.” The Lisbon Falls Baptist Church sings Christmas carols and serves hot chocolate and cookies; when everyone has sung through all the songs they know, a big fire truck comes up Route 196 with its sirens wailing. The firemen park the truck and Santa descends with his pack of toys. He lights the big Christmas tree and then sits in the Gazebo, visiting with the little ones from town.
My friend Faye used to be involved in planning this small town event and sometimes, she would make some of her beautiful painted cookies to go along with the Baptist hot chocolate. She always made sure Santa looked just right and she made sure the fire truck drove up the road at just the right time with the perfect amount of drama.
After this, Santa would get back on the fire truck and go to the fire station. There he would sit, posing for pictures. Not surprisingly, I’ve got a few pictures of Santa and me.
I’m not sure I’ve ever mentioned this, but my friend Faye is actually an honorary member of the fire department. There was a fire near her house once and she ran out and banged on the door of the burning house and woke up the sleeping people inside. She saved their lives, just like that.
Having a fire fighting friend is a good thing.
The best tree lighting I can remember was in either 2009 or 2010. Everything happened just as I’ve described, except when Santa arrived it began to snow ever so lightly and it was like being inside one of those snow globes; it was beautiful. There was also a good-looking and chatty fireman waiting for Santa to finish his visit to the Gazebo and we talked and laughed about absolutely nothing.
Santa left; Faye and I followed His Jolliness down to the fire station and had our pictures taken with him. Since Faye knew all the firemen, we got talking about how fun it might be to take a spin around town in a fire truck, what with the snow being so pretty and dream-like and all. We were certainly in luck that particular evening because sometimes firemen have to take the equipment out for a spin.
I can’t remember if it was Engine 7 or Rescue 10, but it was a very big fire fighting machine. Faye and I climbed in and sat in the back two jump seats; the front seats seemed like they were miles away. Then we buckled up and put on our headsets, which allowed us to talk to the firemen sitting in the front of the truck.
We left the station and slowly chugged up Main Street for a mile or two. We took a left onto the Gould Road, still chugging a bit up the hill past Little Ridge Farm. When we hit the intersection of Route 9, we slowly turned left and headed back towards town; it was mostly downhill at this point and the rest of the short ride back to the station remains a little blurry, like the occasional snowflakes splatting against the truck’s windshield.
Even though I didn’t have a blog then, I filed the story in my memory bank under the heading “life sure is fun in a small town.”
Following this adventure, the Lisbon Fire Department did not make me an honorary member of their corps; I’m one of their biggest fans anyway. That one little zip around town was all it took.
Riding in a fire truck was exciting; the only other thing that could possibly top it would be riding in one of those big plow trucks that sweep snow off the main roads and interstates. Faye isn’t an honorary member of the public works department yet, so I guess I’ll have to keep scheming.
The tree lighting has changed a bit in the last year; it’s now called “A Very Merry Main Street” and we light a tree at what used to be the Marion T. Morse Elementary School, or “The MTM Center.” On Saturday, December 1, 2012, the Lisbon Falls Baptist church will start singing at 4:30 p.m. and Santa will light the town tree at 5:00 p.m.
There will be free horse-drawn wagon rides around town, too, sponsored by Fern’s Auto Body. I think I’m going to take one of those free rides; you never know what might happen. It just might be more fun than a ride in a fire truck.
If you’re in Lisbon Falls late Saturday afternoon, stop by the MTM Center. I’ll see you there!
It didn’t take long for things to get weird this holiday season, did it?
I mailed my Christmas card order to Saturn Press the other day; I’m sure the beautiful letterpress cards are making their way from the coast of Maine to my post office box right now. My list is prepared and I’m manufacturing sentences and stories in my head for the 50 or so people to whom I send cards. Even with this level of preparation, I’ve never been able to get my cards out before our family friend, Mrs. Kay.
I’ve known Mrs. Kay my whole life; when I was a Girl Scout, she was one of the troop “helpers” and she chaperoned our regular “trip to the nursing home.” A group of us would go to the library, pick up books, and then bring them to a local nursing home. I loved the library and books and I was familiar with being around older people from spending more than a few hours every week sitting on the porch with my Nana. Bringing books to the nursing home was an activity very much to my liking.
We would caravan to the nursing home in two cars; I always liked to ride in Mrs. Kay’s Volkswagen Beetle. When we arrived, we would “buddy up” and visit the nice old folks, books in our hands. Like the carnival barker I can be, I loved bustling about with books and conversation, wearing my Girl Scout beret.
Getting a card from Mrs. Kay always reminds me of this enjoyable sacrificial memory. When I write my cards, I like to think that perhaps I am delivering a little book to someone who has forgotten to read. I sometimes even wear a beret when I write them!
I got Mrs. Kay’s card yesterday and this means it’s time to get my Christmas card factory cranked up.
(Vintage Kristin Elliott cards, designed by Hattie Wentworth and made in Beverly, MA, circa unknown)
Although relaxing for me, writing story-full cards and letters may not be to everyone’s liking this time of year; I’ve promised readers and myself that December will be a time of slowing down. Here are five other things which help me disconnect from the manufactured madness some call “the most wonderful time of the year.”
Power Down
Regular readers of this blog know I have a teeny tiny sports talk radio addiction. Starting on December 1, 2012, I’ll crank it down a few notches and limit my WEEI sports radio listening to “The Whiner Line,” “The Planet Mikey Show,” and Celtics games. No “Dennis & Callahan,” no “Mut & Merloni,” and no “Big Show.”
This year, I’m going to try to cut my “online” time in half as well. My strategy for that one is evolving, but my idea is that by diminishing media influences and spending less time online, it’s easier to “power down” instead of “ramping up.” I don’t have to do and be everything the news puppets tell me to do and be. It’s really OK to attend just one holiday party this year.
As contradictory as it seems, by “powering down” on some things, I think I’ll have more time to
Exercise More
Duh.
My friend Jaxon and I have talked about investing in snow shoes this year so we can keep moving on days when a normal walker might be forced inside.
Travel through time
I like the past; some people say I’m living in it with my dreams of moving home and being some sort of suburban farm girl. Laugh at me, I don’t care. I like to read old books and magazines; sometimes, I even listen to old radio broadcasts and watch old movies. It’s interesting and informative to understand how other people lived at other times. It slows me down.
Remember
I know this sounds like time travel and maybe it’s similar, but sometimes I pull out old pictures and papers and remember people who aren’t with me anymore. When I pull out an old card from one of my aunts or my Nana and examine the handwriting, I’m quiet and thoughtful. Since there’s so little daylight in December, this time of remembering is beneficially provocative. Sometimes, old hurts come up and then I’m reminded of other things. Like forgiveness.
Forgive
There’s a certain box in my spare bedroom here at The Coop with memorabilia from an old love affair. I can see the manila envelope in my mind’s eye; it’s wrapped up with a gold ribbon and I’m pretty sure there are some old love letters in it. Thinking about it brings a little tear to my eye and a little stab to my heart. I’m going to go through the contents of that envelope anyway and I’m going to forgive that man. I’m going to pray that he forgives me for any hurts I may have caused him. Then, I’m going to put those letters and memorabilia in the pile of things I throw in Herman’s wood stove. It doesn’t mean I will forget him; it just means I forgive him.
**********
I’m so happy I’m on Mrs. Kay’s Christmas card list. It helps me to do every little thing on my own list.
Who and what is on your Christmas card list this year?
Yesterday was “Cyber Monday.” According to the radio news puppets, lots of people bought things online. Maybe I’m immune from the pressures of advertising because I don’t have a Tee Vee or maybe I’m just a Scrooge, but I didn’t give in to peer-pressure and shop online yesterday. I’m not opposed to shopping online. Truthfully, I didn’t even know it was “Cyber Monday” until I saw a commercial on the Motel Four Tee Vee Saturday night during the Notre Dame football game.
According to Wikipedia (emphasis mine),
“Cyber Monday is a marketing term for the Monday after Black Friday, the Friday following Thanksgiving in the United States, created by companies to persuade people to shop online.”
Having now lived without Tee Vee for thirteen years, I think I am more aware of marketing messages created by companies to persuade me to shop. When I watch Tee Vee commercials, I’m fascinated by the techniques companies create to persuade people to part with their money, either in stores or online. On Saturday night, I observed talking lizards, sloppy beer-drinking buffoons on couches, and wealthy NFL quarterbacks humiliated by school children.
I don’t remember a single thing they were selling.
I am a consumer. I don’t want to be, but because I live in a chicken-coop sized condo (The Coop) and work in a Big Corporation, it’s difficult for me to produce all of the goods and services I need to survive. I do try to grow my own vegetables in the summer, but I can’t have chickens, cows, or goats on the deck of my condominium. The level of my “production” is limited right now. Ten or so years ago, if someone had told me I would want chickens, cows, and goats, I would have flatly told them they were crazy.
Looking back over my life, I can see that I’ve always been a consumer; sadly, I think I’ve been a conspicuous consumer. It pains me to think I purchased certain consumer products in the hope that these things might help me obtain a better job, sophisticated friends, and a higher social status. I guess I wanted people to judge my soul based on my sole.
Don’t get me wrong; I love these little leather shoes. The soles have held me steady for hundreds of miles of walking around The Big Corporation and back and forth to Junior League meetings. They’ve worn well in the 6 years I’ve had them; a good pair of shoes should last at least 6 years. If I divide the cost of these shoes over the time I’ve worn them, they’ve cost me no more than a pair of discounted shoes at one of those big shoe buffets.
If I were to buy any Big Corporation or Junior League shoes in the next year, I would select this brand again based on my sole satisfaction.
Interestingly, I have never seen a commercial for this brand of shoe. One of my smart and stylish friends just happened to be wearing them one day; I said I liked them. This friend is a good steward of her money and she outlined all the reasons she selected this brand, not the least of which being the quality and endurance of the shoe soles. She implied they were built to last and that is important to her.
It’s important to me, too.
It’s not my style to hit people over the head with a shoe and tell them how to live. Some people want to shop for consumer goods at this time of year and they are free to do so. I am, however, suggesting that the answer for our soul struggles may not be for sale in any supermarket or shoe buffet and that’s why I’m going to be very thoughtful about my consumer habits this December.
My sole is not my soul; it never was and never will be. I’m glad I finally figured it out.
What thoughts are heavy on your soul this December? What is your plan to lighten your soul load?
New England’s Thanksgiving weather was extraordinary; there were bright blue cloudless skies with temperatures hitting close to 50 degrees in my little corner of Maine. This was healthy, walking-off-the-pie weather.
“Black Friday” wasn’t a bad day either, until about 2:00 p.m. I was planting tulip bulbs in my “Redemption Garden” and I felt the temperature slipping down a few degrees. The planter’s soil hadn’t frozen yet and I was able to get the bulbs safely tucked away for their long winter’s nap. I zipped over to my friend’s garage and hung around while he welded the tines into Uncle Bob’s hand rototiller for me. We chatted a bit after he finished; he must have been wearing more layers than me because when I said I was freezing, he gave me a strange look.
By Sunday morning, the wind had picked up and the temperatures had finally settled into “the 30’s.”
My father and I took a walk on The Farm, looking for some red winter berries. We didn’t find any berries, but we found the ground was frozen hard and every puddle had a thin coating of ice.
Even though the sun was bright, it pledged nothing but betrayal in its ability to keep us warm. December was upon us; there was no turning back now. In spite of holiday hysteria, it’s a good time to make peace with the shorter days, the colder temperatures, and the possibility of snow. December and January can be interesting months of introspection and planning. By adjusting my expectations during these difficult months, I’ve grown to love the opportunities that exist for peace and light during the darkest days of winter.
Admittedly, I’ll need some “Bob Cratchit” fingerless gloves for days like today when I’m tapping out my blog from the exterior of the Lisbon Library.
This week, I’m going to offer some ideas for rethinking December. Please stop by for a December draught of fresh and crisp metaphorical air. Don’t forget your gloves.