Archive for the ‘family’ Tag
Well, another Christmas has come and gone. It’s late and the last of the family and friends have headed home. The day started early with my better-hale preparing some of her family traditions for Christmas morning. She makes a batch of cinnamon buns covered with lots of sugary icing. That and a large cup of hot coffee will definitely get your heart started. The grandson and his mom and dad arrived in late morning requiring the platter of shrimp to be unveiled and devoured. We all gathered in the living room around the tree for a time chit-chatting about this and that. It was obvious to me that everyone was just going through the motions until they could dig into the pile and open their gifts.
“The Aftermath”
As you can see an hour later and the room looked like Santa had shown up and then exploded. It took almost as long to clean up the debris as it did shopping to buy the stuff in the first place. The cat and grandson had a great time rummaging through the piles of wrapping paper and boxes seemingly more interested in that stuff than the gifts themselves. Kids!!!! Cats!!!!
Another hour has passed and everyone appears thrilled with their gifts so we snack a little more waiting for the next group to arrive. Our two visitors from northern Maine have finally arrived with tales of the previous day’s ice storm and the fact that most people up north are without electricity. It’s one of the hazards of living in Maine and those storms can be brutal. The last time we had one here we were without power for almost a week and a half. It’s difficult to sleep in a cold bed wearing a parka, gloves, and a tassel hat. It’s hard but we did it. The pictures taken during that storm are locked away where no one can seem them. We looked god awful.
After our new visitors had a beer and a few snacks the bowling tournament on the X-box began. I was able to avoid all of that because of my leg injury so I was the official photographer. Everyone had a ball with my better-half taking home the winners trophy.
Then it was my turn to cook and to fed the hoard with a decent meal. A honey-baked ham, rice, Brussels sprouts, and corn took care of everyone’s hunger pangs. It was followed later by delicious apple and pumpkin pies. Then after digesting for a while it was back to the X-box for a few rounds of darts which I also avoided by using “cleaning up the kitchen” as my excuse.
After loading up the cars they were off for the night leaving us at least two days of clean up. All in all a successful holiday gathering with a fun group of people. The better-half is scheduled for work at 5:00am and her son is flying out at 9:00am. Unfortunately none of us will be getting enough sleep tonight and we should be zombies all day tomorrow.
I hope your day was as enjoyable as ours. Merry Christmas!
Since I’ll be taking a few days off from blogging to enjoy the family Christmas doings I thought something important needed to be discussed. Being a former soldier, the holidays have much more meaning than just just gifts, Christmas trees, and family traditions. I’m all too familiar with that lonely feeling when you’re away from home on Christmas for the first time and the dull ache it leaves in your chest. There’s regular homesickness of course but being separated from your family, friends and comfortable surroundings on Christmas is a different kind of “hurt”. I always think of our service people spread around the globe and I remember them everyday but even more so at this time of the year. Here is a heartfelt poem from an unknown serviceman I received some years ago from a friend. It struck home with me then and it still does to this day. It may have been a different war or different time but the feelings expressed remain the same. Enjoy this and think of them tonight and never forget . . . .
Soldier On Watch
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
my daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep
in perfect contentment, or so it would seem.
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t too near,
But I opened my eye when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn’t quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
and I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old
perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
“What are you doing?” I asked without fear
“Come in here this moment, it’s freezing out there!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your arm,
you should be at home, this cold could do harm!”
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts,
to the window that danced with a warm fire’s light
then he sighed and he said “Its really all right,
I’m out here by choice. I’m here every night”
“Its my duty to stand at the front of the line,
that separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I’m proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ‘Pearl on a day in December,”
then he sighed, “That’s a Christmas ‘Gram always remembers.”
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ‘Nam
and now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I ‘ve not seen my own son in more than a while,
but my wife sends me pictures, he’s sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
the red white and blue… the American flag.
“I can live through the cold and the being alone,
away from my family, my house and my home,
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat,
I can carry the weight of killing another
or lay down my life with my sisters and brothers
who stand at the front against any and all,
to insure for all time that this flag will not fall.”
“So go back inside,” he said, “harbor no fright
Your family is waiting and I’ll be all right.”
“But isn’t there something I can do, at the least,
Give you money,” I asked, “or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you’ve done,
For being away from your wife and your son.”
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
“Just tell us you love us, and never forget
to fight for our rights back at home while we’re gone.
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
to know you remember we fought and we bled
is payment enough, and with that we will trust.
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.
ONE SHOPPING DAY LEFT
HAVE A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS WITH YOUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS
EVERYUSELESSTHING WILL BE BACK ON 12/26/2013
A few years ago I posted this story more as therapy for myself than anything else. I suffer from a nagging case of Santa PTSB that recurs every December. I want it to be known that I was fighting terrorism as a six year old before it became fashionable. Each time I repost this story it helps me with my Santa issues like nothing else can. That big fat and jolly SOB is known in our house as Osama Bin Santa and the only difference between him and other terrorists is that Santa loves victimizing young kids. With that in mind here’s my scary and terrifying Christmas story.
As a young child my parents made every attempt to make Christmas memorable for my sister and me. My sister was very young and I was just turning 6 years old. I still firmly believed all the stories about Santa’s elves and all the other good stuff. In the back of my young mind there was a seed of skepticism secretly growing. I was beginning to have serious doubts about Santa and my parents as well. A lot of what I was being told by my trusted family members wasn’t what I was hearing on the street (school yard). My friends had almost convinced me that the whole Santa thing was just BS and that the adults were actually the real gift givers. It think it was at that early age that my trust issues with authority figures first began.
My parents began to suspect I was wavering and their propaganda was now falling on deaf ears. In a conspiracy involving my mother, her sister, my grandparents, and my Dad it was decided that drastic action was immediately necessary to convince me that Santa was the real deal. I’d been acting out a lot and being a little disrespectful to my elders so it was time for Santa to step in and straighten me out once and for all.
It was the week before Christmas and we were visiting my grandparents. I was being a huge pain in the ass as usual like a lot of six-year-olds can be at that time of the year. It was just after dark and I was walking through the house down a narrow hallway towards the kitchen. It was dark outside and as I passed the window I glanced over and almost had a six-year-old heart attack. There was Santa looking back at me and smiling a frightening smile. My blood turned cold and I got the hell out of there screaming all the way upstairs to hide under the bed. My parents let me know in no uncertain terms that Santa was out looking for those children who were being good and keeping an eye on those that weren’t. I was on the latter list, of course.
For the next few days I was a complete angel but after dark I was still nervous about looking out the windows. Santa the terrorist had accomplished his mission. I saw him again on two or three other occasions over the next two Christmases, once at our house, and again in the coal cellar at my grandparents home. Unfortunately I’d already consulted with my knowledgeable friends at the playground and I was officially a nonbeliever by then. I went along with the charade for as long as possible since my parents were giving the gifts. They finally had a meeting and decided I was just playing them for extra toys and my game was over.
Many years later while I was digging through an old trunk in my aunt’s bedroom I discovered where Santa had been hiding for all these many years. His retirement consisted of being tucked under a pile of sheets and pillowcases in that old trunk. My aunt laughed until she cried when I confronted her. We relived a very special and scary Christmas memory and enjoyed the moment very much.
What I never told her or my parents was the lingering collateral damage from their actions. To this day during the Christmas season I’m careful in dark rooms and hallways and try never to look out the windows, NEVER. In the malls and stores where Santa is holding court I stay the hell away. That guy still scares the bejesus out of me. Terrorism is no joke.
It’s just turning 6 am on Thanksgiving morning. It’s a windy and chilly day as it seems to be every year on Thanksgiving and I love it. This just happens to be the one holiday that means more to me than any of the others. Many holidays are religious and since I’m not a religious person they mean very little to me. My best memories of my family are those from the many Thanksgivings we spent together. There is no anticipation of gifts and the many negatives associated with that mind set. It’s just a peaceful family gathering to share a meal and to be thankful for the good things in our lives.
I’m lying in bed with my better-half who’s sawing some serious logs next to me. My cat just jumped up on the bed to demand his Thanksgiving breakfast, and the coffee pot just came alive and is beeping to let me know it’s time to get up. This morning is going to be just about me and that big, fat, twenty pound bird awaiting me in the kitchen. I began thawing him out two days ago and yesterday I began some of the prep work for his debut today. Tradition means so much to me and I love preparing the bird.
As a youngster I spent all of my Thanksgivings with my immediate family at my grandmother’s home. She was an old school cook whose Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners were the things of legend, just incredible. She was responsible for my undying love of cranberry sauce (the jelly kind) and the stuffing and gravy she was famous for. I begged her for years for her gravy recipe but she’d just smile and say “maybe when your a little older”. She went to her grave with the secret and I’ve spent years still trying to get it just right. Man do I miss her at this time of the year.
As a young man I married and moved away from my home area in Pittsburgh to Massachusetts and lived twenty minutes from Plymouth Plantation. I visited Plymouth every year and attended as many of the local celebrations as possible. I ate Thanksgiving dinner at the Plantation, was on and off the Mayflower many times, and really developed a love for the area. We even visited many of the Wampanoag Indian ceremonies that we were introduced to us by a friend who was a member of the tribe. It was a terrific tradition we’d developed but as in all things change was inevitable.
Divorce required me to find a new residence. I bought a small cottage near the ocean in Kingston, Massachusetts only 5 minutes from downtown Plymouth. I lived there for three years and submerged myself in the history of the Pilgrims, the Indians, and everything Thanksgiving. Again changes had to be made when my company bankrupted and I moved to Maine. For the next seven years I celebrated a rather lonely Thanksgiving tradition. I returned home to Pittsburgh once or twice during that time but for the most part it was just me, my cat and two ferrets. I maintained my own tradition with a large turkey breast, stuffing and all the trimmings and made the most of my crappy situation. The memories of all my past Thanksgiving’s helped tremendously but once again change was in the air. It arrived unexpectedly in the person of my better-half.
After a few years of adjusting to one another we’ve finally settled into a rather happy life and the holiday traditions had to change once more. We both maintain certain of our own family Thanksgiving traditions and are now creating a few of our own. This year we’re welcoming our new grandson to the table for the very first time. He was just a pooping and crying ball of flesh last Thanksgiving but now he’s grown into a walking and almost talking little person about to be officially seated at the holiday table. I hope in the years to come the memories of his grandmother will mean as much to him as mine do to me.
I also hope that your Thanksgiving will be even better than what you expected. The best thing about traditions is their flexibility. No matter how much change we’re forced to deal with, both good and bad, the traditions carry on regardless. The thoughts of years past and loved ones who are no longer with us are the real traditions and they can never be taken away.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING
I’m sleeping in a little today after the festivities of last night when our favorite and only grandson celebrated his first birthday. It wasn’t a huge party just a small group of family members to take a lot of photographs, eat some cake, and watch our newest member take his first steps into the world.
I haven’t had the pleasure of attending birthday parties such as this for a very long time. As I recall the last time was decades ago when my niece and nephew were new to the world. Since his mother is a believer in traditional values the party was just as you might expect. The star of the night was in fine form and hamming it up with everyone as soon as they arrived. He was all smiles and attitude and I felt like he knew it was a special occasion of some sort but wasn’t quite sure what it was. He knew he was receiving a lot of extra attention and really enjoyed himself.
Both of his grandmothers were there to coo over him as they’re supposed to do and he ate it up as usual. All of the family pets were involved (2 dogs and 2 cats) and were running around, having a great time, and enjoying the excitement like everyone else.
Then it was time for gifts as we sat around and watched him unwrap a gift, play with it for a moment, and then go for the wrapping paper. He enjoyed the stupid paper as much as the gifts. He was quite taken by a huge bag of foam blocks that he immediately dove into and began to play with. He’s either going to be some sort of engineer or possibly a Lego salesman. We’ll just have to wait and see.
The highlight of the night for me was the cake presentation. His Mom baked him a small green cake that he was expected to demolish and OMG did he ever. In one short minute the cake was man-handled, smashed, and smeared over anyone daring to get too close. Once he realized he could destroy it, he did so. His face, hands, arms, eyes, were covered as he shoveled it into his mouth with both hands. He was also nice enough to feed a good portion to the two dogs who were hovering around waiting for some. He was a real mess and I’ve saved plenty of photo’s to prove it. I’m looking forward to the day a few years down the road when I can show them to him.
He finally was dumped unceremoniously into the bathtub and scrubbed clean by an assortment of volunteers. He was dressed in his new fancy PJ’s and settled in for his final bottle of milk for the day. All in all quite a successful first birthday party. I hope the rest of them as just as festive and filled with people who love him.
What more can a person ask.
Well we returned home at 9pm last night from our day and a half road trip to Rhode Island. I was never so glad to be home. Road trips in and of themselves can be fun but only if you have enough time to stop and smell the roses. Anyone who tries to squeeze four or five days of activities into one day is out of their effing mind.
I can tell you from my experience yesterday that the last place you want to be on a hot summer Sunday in August is Newport, Rhode Island. Thousands of people jamming the streets and every business and building. You’d better not be the least bit claustrophobic because if you are you’re royally and supremely screwed.
There were so many pedestrians on the streets it was difficult to even drive a city block without issues. If you do somehow find yourself kidnaped by your spouse and her family members and taken there against your will, you have my sincerest sympathies. If you go there voluntarily then you have some issues of your own to deal with.
Make sure you have plenty of cash with you as well. Things are a little pricy and you’ll pay top price for everything. Parking fees are utterly outrageous and insulting. Restaurants will serve you huge portions of food that you’ll never be able to finish just so they have justification to jack the prices up as high as possible.
Do I sound angry? If I don’t then I’m not getting my point across. My last visit to Newport was twenty years ago and I guarantee there will never be another. The entire place offends my sensibilities and going back again is just out of the question.
There, I feel a little better after getting that off my chest. Now I can allow my life to return to what I think is normal. No more unorganized, hit or more miss, expensive, and un-fun outings. I promise!
One other thing, any members of my better-half’s family who may read this, don’t take anything I’ve written too personally. If you do, so be it.
It’s been a few weeks since I slipped back into journal mode but with the summer beginning I thought I should catch up a little. It’s been raining off and on for more than a week forcing us to be house-bound once again. With all of this rain the garden is flourishing and beginning to look like my own personal jungle.
The summer plans are once again being readjusted due to family obligations by my better-half. What I initially thought would be a quiet summer is slowly slipping away. I shouldn’t be all that surprised since it happens more often than not.
I spent more than a little time yesterday attempting to get my chores in order. If you garden you don’t need to be told just how important maintaining a compost pile is. Unfortunately that magic doesn’t just happen. It must be maintained just like anything else and this week I took steps to do just that. There’s nothing as much fun as standing ankle deep in compost and turning the pile. My compost consists primarily of grass clipping left to rot. The smell is unforgettable and the larger the pile becomes the worse the smell. With the over abundance of rain the amount of clippings being saved is huge. I no longer have a compost pile but a compost mountain. What a dirty but necessary job.
My cucumber wine is progressing nicely. The aroma is rather nice but I haven’t tasted it yet. It needs to progress a little further into the process because it would only taste like yeast at this stage. My better-half finally put up a batch of blueberry wine which we’re both looking forward to drinking. It seems that almost anything made with blueberries always tastes wonderful. The blueberries also make almost anything they’re mixed with taste even better. This Fall should be very productive for jams and jellies with the rain making for fat and luscious berries.
With the Fourth of July approaching we’re planning a couple of beach days. The weather looks as if it will be cooperating for a change so we’ll really be able to enjoy ourselves. The better-half is insisting we make a short visit to our local amusement park to enjoy a few rides and a visit to a small kiosk that specializes in Chinese chicken wings. She has a serious addiction to wings that hasn’t lessened over the years. Just recently we made a trek to our favorite spot in Portland for outstanding chicken wings. The Great Lost Bear is known for it’s hot wings and believe me they are unbelievable. Their super hot version will almost certainly kill you but I guarantee you’ll die happy with a smile on your face.
Now that the heaviest rain storms are over and things are drying out I’ll be able to get into the woods for some head-clearing alone time. My camera and lenses have been cleaned to within an inch of their lives and are ready for some heavy use. I can’t wait.
So, we’ll celebrate the countries birthday this coming week as well as the life, death, and times of Thomas Jefferson. I’m pretty sure if he were here he wouldn’t be celebrating all that much but that just my humble opinion. I’ll get back to my normal postings soon enough and I’m looking forward to an interesting summer. I hope you are as well.
I’ve been having some fun with lists for the last week but I think it’s time to step back into journal mode to update a few personal things. With this continuing rain we’ve been having the garden has really taken off. Last year when I planted my first rhubarb plant after three months it was approximately one foot high and I was really concerned that it wouldn’t make it through the winter. As of yesterday that stupid plant is now over six feet high and going strong. It looks like I’ll harvest enough seeds from it to plant a few more places around the property. You just can’t have too much of that wonderful stuff around since this years current price is hovering around $3.80 a pound. That s just highway robbery in my view so the more I grow the better.
Last weekend I spent a portion of Saturday doing the ceiling fan shuffle. I installed a new sleeker model fan with a light kit in our bedroom and a matching fan without a light kit into the room I spent all winter remodeling. The remodeled room is almost ninety percent furnished with nothing left to do except put a organizer system into the closet. It looks freaking fabulous. I then took the old fan from our bedroom and installed conveniently into my man cave directly above my computer desk. That will make for a nice cool blogging summer.
Tonight we were invited to my better-half’s daughter’s home for shish kabobs on the grill. With the school year almost over she’s preparing for her first summer vacation with the new baby. After teaching everyone else’s kids all year, she can now spend some quality time with her son. I see a lot of beach time in his immediate future which he will probably love. We were able to catch up on things a little and enjoyed the meal and conversation immensely. We made an early night of it and returned home with full bellies and smiles on our faces. It was a very nice visit.
We’re do for what looks like two or three more days of rain which is always badly needed to keep the garden healthy. That should give me enough time to continue work on a project I started more than a year ago. I’ve been working off and on a somewhat strange abstract bust of my better-half and I’m finally making some real progress on it since the room remodel was completed. I recently finished the hair which was a tedious job and within a month I should have this project finally completed.
We’re having a really great start to the Spring and Summer and plans are already taking shape for a long weekend to the wilds of northern Maine to get into the woods and take as many pictures as necessary to fill every memory card we have.
We also have an obligatory two day trip to visit her family in Rhode Island which should be fun too. This could actually turn into a rather nice summer barring any unplanned catastrophes. We plan on enjoying it as much as we possibly can before the next long winter begins. I might even be talked into a night at the amusement park in Old Orchard Beach. You’re never too old to jump on a ride or two and have a little fun.
Enjoy your summer.
It’s raining here in Maine this morning and I’m hoping it’s Mother Nature’s last and final gasp of the winter. Listening to the weather forecasts for the last few days was too depressing for words. They were calling for sleet and a few inches of snow this morning but thankfully they were mistaken. A light coating of sleet that melted away almost immediately is something I can live with.
My better-half was up early to deliver her son to the bus station. He visited us for three days but now is on his way to somewhere in NY state for the wedding of one of his friends and then back to Los Angeles.
I was wondering to myself before his arrival just how he’d react to the new grand baby. It was fun watching the transformation from being my better-half’s son to the uncle of his younger sister’s baby boy. Babies have that special ability to take you out of yourself and your everyday worries and to really enjoy the moment you’re having with them. He was totally disarmed by the whole experience and found himself swept away by the baby and the new relationship they had begun to build. It showed a side of him I’d never seen before and I was glad to see it emerge. He was able to spend a lot of time with the baby and the bond between them was strongly made.
Things should quickly get back to what we call normal around here. Getting ready for Spring and the garden are at the top of our To Do List for the next few weeks. I’ll be off to Lowes to purchase paint and primer this week and hopefully the new room will done by midweek next week. If I time things just right I should be able to put the finishing touches to the room and then immediately move outside and get busy with the yard cleanup and garden prep.
We’ve already started talking about a few weekend photography trips to the northern part of the state. The Attagash region is a few hours north of here and is truly a beautiful place to visit. Hundreds of lakes, small and large, surrounded by thick and dense forests. Wildlife is plentiful with a million opportunities for excellent photographs. I love getting away from all the trouble with the economy, politics, TV, talking heads, cell phones, and any other BS you can think of. Peace, quiet, wilderness, and calm. It beats any kind of drug you can find anywhere.
Another winter month coming to an end. It’s hard to believe that it’s March already and we’re within a few short weeks of April and the beginning of another Spring. Even with all of the snow, sleet, and ice we’ve had this winter it’s just flown by.
Since I’m the ultimate planner I ‘m already looking forward to gardening and how I plan on improving our garden. You really can’t start too soon in Maine because our growing season is so much shorter than the norm. Last year we had some successes with the garden and a couple of abject failures. For the first time I planted collard greens just to see if they’d grow in this colder climate. OMG, a huge mistake on my part. I didn’t realize just how freaking big those plants could get. I planted only six plants and they just took over the entire corner of my growing frame. I was so pissed I jerked them out of the ground and personally delivered them to the compost pile. I wasn’t even smart enough to keep one or two to eat. I’m guess I’m in need of counseling to help me manage my Garden Anger.
I like keeping a medium sized garden that produces well and anything that I deem a problem or an obstacle to my goals is gone, gone, gone. I guess that’s why my compost pile is fifteen feet long and three feet high.
My biggest disappointment is growing tomatoes. I love to eat them and use them in a variety of recipes but it seems that successfully growing them isn’t likely to happen. Cherry tomatoes seem to do well both in the garden and containers on the deck but regular tomatoes, no such luck. I’ve tried different fertilizers, had my soil tested and adjusted, planted a number of variations, all to no avail. I even went so far as to buy a couple of those upside-down growing bags that were advertised on TV for a couple of summers. They were a huge pain in the ass to start with and never produced a single tomato. Very frustrating to say the least.
I have a sizeable herb garden which always does well and supplies us with a variety of herbs for cooking year round. I may try a few new and different things this year like adding additional garlic chive plants, a chocolate mint or two, and maybe two or three varieties of basil and sages. It’s much more fun to experiment with your plantings when there’s no fear of the plants not growing as expected. I’ve discovered that most herbs will survive almost anything except a lack of water.
Well, so much for my first taste of Spring Fever. It all started with this little burst of warm weather today. I feel as most people in Maine do. We’ve had our long and snow-laden winter which was beautiful and all but it time to move on. Very soon we’ll have warm weather, the smell of cut grass, walks in the woods, strolls on the beach, and vacation visits from family and friends who refuse to come to Maine in the winter. Can’t wait!
Here’s hoping 2013 is as good as expected and even better than last year. C’mon warm weather, you’ve been missed.
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