Archive for November, 2007
Okay we’re about to hit 100 so I’ll just pop this in here now.
As you all might have heard, I am decorating the tree (which I need to get this weekend) and baking cookies on 12/8. That also happens to be my normally scheduled posting date. Since we also need to get this place ready, and it being our first year to celebrate in our new home here at the Bar & Grill, I think we should do it up right.
I’ll do a post as usual and give a running commentary on what’s going on. Some of you may want to do some of your own decorating and baking on this day. Some of you may prefer to participate virtually. I think one way or another, we can all get into the spirit. If you are going to be joining in via the real world, and you have a blog, feel free to post in the spirit of the occassion. If you let me know I’ll put a link to your blog in my post so that people can bop back and forth from one “house” to another easily.
If you won’t be doing the holiday thing in your own home … well SOMEONE has to get this place decorated!
So, make your plans and get your shopping out of the way. Saturday, 12/8, we launch the first interblog, international, synchronized decorating and baking extravaganza. Oh, and Bryan? Louis? You manly men are in charge of getting us a tree. But not to worry, I’ve got your transportation lined up. 
November 30th, 2007
I have been called a lot of things in my life, grandma being the best right now. Recently, I have become a card carrying, flag waving member of the sandwich generation.
There are many of us out there. You over there…..raise your hand. You know what it means. It means we are stuck in between the wants and needs of our parents and our children. THUS, we are dead meat- a sandwich.
MAX!’s parents want to go snowboarding for Christmas. They are quite good at it and haven’t done it for a while. They invited us to join them so we could babysit MAX! DS#2 and future DIL can come- so 3 bedroom condo at the slopes for a week over Christmas- presents for all are done.
Then Dad gets sick. And my mother, NEVER, EVER flexible in her life, refuses to acknowledge that Christmas could be celebrated on any other day than at 11:00am on the 25th. My sister in NC actually asked them to fly down there and have Christmas with them and watch my nephew play basketball. She and her family are in the stage where work and sports and life really don’t allow them much time to come home at Christmas.
So I have been dithering and blathering to my friends for nearly a month, because I have the tickets to UTAH and haven’t told my parents that I really want to go. The guilt has been killing me. The CURSE of the ELDEST CHILD. Tonight I finally told my mom when she asked when MAX! was coming for Christmas. Now she isn’t speaking to me. I suggested we all celebrate a couple days after, and no dice.
We don’t really do anything special. It is not as if we have relatives and family over- we don’t. My Dad doesnt’ speak to his sister or brother and my mom lives 2 miles away from her brother and sister and last saw them at their siblings funeral. So my sister in NC and my sister here, and My family are it.
I have a feeling that this situation is only going to get more fun as we add DS#2 and his new family into the fold(GREAT GREAT PEOPLE!).
Is it only Girl childs that feel the guilt? Do you have get togethers at different times? My sons and husband and I have always been travelers and I can see them wanting to continue that when ever they can. DH’s birthday is tomorrow and mine today and then our anniversay is DEC 10th, so we try to combine a trip with both or one of the DS’s each year. (the romantic getaway after 30 years..not so much ….we both still like to have the kids around!) But this is the first time right at Christmas. Mom can’t get around and Dad is still terrified that something else is going to befall him so I can’t see them joining us.
Anyone know anything about cloning? Is there a Mathematical formula to fix this that I missed somewhere?
ANYWAYS- ENOUGH with the whining! what are your FUN or SILLY holiday traditions?
And at 9 months next week…… 
November 28th, 2007
Just a quick post today- I have one put together about my experience at the community police academy, but I think I’ll save it for another day. I have a few things I want to say today about tomorrow.
Holidays have an audience as far as I’m concerned: Valentine’s is evil; Easter is about church; Veteran’s Day is about ceremony; Halloween is about kids and creativity; Christmas is the family you’re given; and Thanksgiving is the family you make.
Thanksgiving is a harvest celebration. A time to be thankful for the bounty of life. I’m thankful for my family, but I’m really thankful for the family I’ve made, which includes y’all.
I live a ten hour drive from family. It’s both a good and a bad thing. But it does mean I don’t travel a lot during the snow season. Which means I’m here more than I’m there for holidays. I miss some of the things I grew up with, but I’ve noticed things I’ve added to the mix: Lima beans and fried apples from the couple who grew up in Maryland; sweet tamales from a Mexican friend; amazing potato salad from another friend; and even an occasional glass of wine, something we never did at family gatherings when I was growing up.
So, on this day that is devoted to being thankful, to being with the family you create, and to eating until you burst, let’s incorporate another tradition I’ve picked up here in Colorado. Going around the table and telling what we’re thankful for.
Here’s the rules-
One thing that has happened to you this year that you’re thankful for.
One thing that someone in the room (or bar and grill) has done for you this year that you are thankful for.
I’ll start it out.
Others- I’m thankful that with a small personnel change work has gone from stress to fun and I’m enjoying what I do again
Here- I’m glad that some had the forethought to plan ahead and arrange for us to have a virtual home after we got kicked out of the basement- this placed has saved my sanity more than once
November 21st, 2007
A little amusement to get you over the holiday hump day. Hopefully I did this correctly.
That’s Using The Old Onion
Turkey Pardons, The Stuffing of Historic Legend
November 21st, 2007
Comments are getting a bit long winded in the tooth on the previous post. Seemed like time for a new post.
Things to do on a rainy weekend:
Clean the frig
Get that filing done
Pay bills
Help BCB redecorate her blog
Write postcards to Lori
Play Free Rice
Write plot twists for Scope
Shop online
Write a nasty letter to Btuda’s boss
Start watching fridges of the world
Work out with Theresa and Christina and CMS
Indulge in silliness involving cows
Any other ideas come to mind?
November 17th, 2007
I don’t remember watching much television before we moved back to Canada after living in Germany for three years. I know we did; the Sandman came on at 7:30 and told kids it was time to go to bed. I can remember gathering around the set, like millions of other people around the world did, to watch the Moon Landing. But those moments were few and far between. More often than not, the television set sat silent in the corner.
Maybe that explains the impact that one of my earliest memories of tv viewing had on me. We were having dinner at Lino’s Pizza in Kingston and I was struck by how odd it was that the news was on while we were eating. I was eight years old and the Vietnam War was well-televised.
A young reporter interviewed a woman whose house had just been blown up. While we watched, another missile came in from behind and hit what was left of the building just over their shoulders.
It’s an image I’ve never forgotten and was a huge defining moment in my life.
At the end of the decade that same clip played again on a retrospective of the seventies. It had the same impact on me. Whether it was grace under pressure, or stupidity, watching Peter Kent report on the realities of war changed how I viewed the world.
That’s when I knew what I wanted to do with my life when I grew up; show people another perspective. That moment led me to broadcast journalism in college, then to documentary film-making and finally to writing. There are so many point of views in the world, and they don’t always mesh.
But that man showed me that at the heart of the controversy we were all united by a common need to tell our story. Or hear someone else’s.
What was your defining moment?
November 13th, 2007
Before I get into the actual blog post, I wanted to mention the upcoming First Annual Tree Trimming/Cookie Baking At McB’s Extravaganza on December 8. Ya’ll are invited.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post.
Where was I? Oh yes, mob mentality. What had me thinking about the subject was a recent article on blogs and bloggers, about how blogs are the modern equivalent of a public soapbox in the town square, allowing any idiot anyone with marginal internet smarts to hold forth on any topic they desire. Probably a good many of these people would do better to keep their thoughts to themselves. Was it Mark Twain who said that it is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak up and be known for one? And as is so often the case, like attracts like with people reading and commenting on the blog posts merely to make themselves feel important and to reinforce their own biases.
The article talked about how the internet provides much the same anonymity as being part of a crowd; and it’s that anonymity that fosters the mob mentality, allowing people to smear, trash, rant and libel others without requiring that they take responsibility for their words. In person most of these people are probably not the fruitcakes they appear to be in the virtual world. Probably. Then again, some of them might be. If you look up the term “mob mentality” there certainly seems to be a general feeling that it is a Bad Thing. That’s probably a valid judgement in 99% of the cases (ymmv).
And yet … and yet … you have to wonder if it isn’t a case of bad news making headlines while good news goes unnoticed, because it seems to me that a mob mentality can go either way. If being lost in a crowd can give you the courage to be bad, can’t it also provide you the courage to do good? Aren’t most of us more willing to take a positive stand when we know we don’t have to stand alone? And isn’t that a kind of “mob mentality”?
You’re probably thinking that before I start proselytizing on the subject, I ought to do a little more research. (I probably ought to look up the word “proselytizing,” too, but I think I got it right.) After all, what do I really know about mob mentality? Quite a bit, actually. In fact I think I might have fallen victim to the mob mentality myself about a year and a half ago. 
Who’da thunk it? Yes indeedie Bob, folks, I do believe we might qualify as a mob. Huh.
Wadaya say we go start a revolution? I even have some nifty slogans handy. How about “Ban Ignorance!” and “Up With Tolerance!” and how about “Life, Love and Literacy!”
What? You got something better?
November 10th, 2007
First, OT:
Be sending good thoughts towards Wapak for her school referendum she’s been working so hard on.
Now, OnT:
McB had a “Limp Noodles Award” for awarding people who either lack the altruism gene or else have a double set of the egocentric ones.
That started me thinking about what bugs me and also that I can do something about. This is not so much a polyanna thing as something I can do to make myself happier. I crossed off my list immediately things that are beyond my control, like the lady in the checkout line that looks for her checkbook after her groceries are rung up. Yes, Cary, we still have checkbooks in NC. There are other things that I can’t fix, even though I do try and try and try. So what fixable was bugging me? The messes were everywhere, and I hate messes. Except no messes on the kitchen counters! I keep them clear except when cooking.
Remember the sofa problem that went on for months? That room had been emptied and painted when the first sofa got ordered. I had moved boxes and boxes of books to the bedroom: novels, non-fiction, research, even boxes of stuff from my office when I retired That mess sat and sat and sat. DD1 had recently moved back home in a crisis. That is, she moved all her stuff back home, but went to live with a friend who has very little spare room. That meant lots of hastily half-filled boxes taking over the den. Two closets with stuff dumped in them.
So here was something I could start to tackle that would make me happier. That’s when I went out and bought the bookshelves and tinkertoyed them together. And I started filling them artistically with my books and a few pretties. Like the ceramic camel; the wooden flowers in the wooden vase; the 2 abaci; and the metal cat. I’m not through. But I’ve made a start. I’ve managed to classify stacks of papers that need saving, made files for them, and put them into the filing cabinet. My desk is almost clear, the way I like it. Every box emptied makes me happier.
What have you done or can do that’s in your control to make yourself happier?
November 6th, 2007
Since I did know Margaret fairly well, I know she would have hated it that we are sad and mourning her death. She loved to come here to laugh and she especially loved our moments of outrageousness. There was more than enough sadness and tragedy in her life, one of many things we had in common, and she had a keen appreciation for the value of precious laughter. I know it didn’t always come through in her comments, but Margaret was feisty as hell. She had a temper and was fiercely determined when it came to things she cared about. Like her kids. And her friends. And beating cancer.
McB and GP have proposed the idea of holding an old-fashioned Irish wake for Margaret, a celebration of her life — at least, what we knew of it. A time to tell stories about her or tell stories to her, stories we maybe never got around to telling while she was still here. A time to raise a few glasses to a friend, to cry a little and laugh a lot. A grand send off for a great friend. I think she would have loved that. Keep in mind, I’m not Irish and have never attended a wake, so I might not do it quite right. I don’t think Margaret would care.
I’m sure we all have differing opinions and beliefs about what happens after death. For the purposes of this post, I’m going to imagine Margaret has just gone back to lurking for a while. That she can read our words and be with us one last time. Each of you should give her whatever send off you deem appropriate. There is no wrong way to say farewell.
I will never forget the first time I met Margaret, just over a year ago. Because I made her cry. I guess I really should blame Lori for that, since she was the one who obtained the signed copy of DLD as a surprise gift for Margaret. All I had to do was get this shy lurker-type person to agree to meet a complete stranger for lunch. Turns out she couldn’t wait to meet me. In fact, when we finally sat down together, she kept saying, “I can’t believe you’re really here. It’s really you.” Like I was some big deal. Huh. Set her straight about that fast enough, let me tell you. But DLD was special to her and receiving a personalized copy — and the fact that strangers would do that for HER — made her cry. She told me she had read her copy many times during her first round of chemo treatments. She said that book, and knowing she had the HWSW blog and comments to look forward to each day, helped her get through that painful ordeal with her sanity intact.
Every time we had lunch together, Margaret would say, “I’ll never be able to eat all of this. I just don’t have much appetite lately.” I loved the surprised look she’d get on her face, two or three hours later, when she realized she’d eaten every bite. And then she’d say she was going to have to buy bigger pants at this rate and we’d both laugh and pretend she needed to watch her weight.
When I first met her, she was wearing a wig because all her hair had fallen out. It was a nice wig and she looked great. But you know me, I’m impertinent and tactless and I wanted to see her baldness. She said maybe she’d show me later. I figured that meant “no” and forgot all about it. So later we walked out to our cars together and, without warning, right there in the parking lot, she whipped off that wig and said “Ta da!” We both doubled over with laughter when a woman driving by in a mini-van slammed on her brakes, staring in shocked disbelief at the woman who had just ripped off the top of her head. Margaret was beautiful without hair, and gorgeous when it grew back into a soft elegant cap of salt and pepper.
All my memories of Margaret involve laughter. Even the ones where she was imparting bad news or swearing a blue streak at the cancer. She said she was not a writer, that she just loved to read, and always worried that her comments sounded stupid. But it takes a special talent to write the way she did on her blog, to make people laugh at news that should by all rights leave them sobbing in despair. That was just one of her special gifts.
We communicated mostly via email, since speaking and breathing at the same time was often difficult for her. She usually opted for breathing. In one of her last emails to me, even though she was suffering through her own agonies, she expressed concern for a fellow CB’s health issues. I don’t think she’d mind if I shared her words here, since she asked me to pass them on: “I wish there were some magic words I could say or a potion I could fix that would make it all better. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for her, and will get in the line of “get well, dammit” well wishers!”
Ah, Margaret. Me too. Some day soon, may there be a magic potion for all of us.
McB, slide that shot glass down here and hand me that Irish whiskey– never mind, it’s on the top shelf. I’ve got it. This is my version of an Irish toast for that special woman who was brave and strong and funny and wise, and who was my friend:
May the sun always shine on your shoulders, provided you have applied copious amounts of sunblock. May the wind always be at your back, and not have blown through a pig farm first. May the love and laughter of good friends carry you safely to wherever you may travel from here. Slainte.
November 3rd, 2007
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