SHATTERED GLASS

 

The boxes arrived via UPS. I had been awaiting them; wringing my hands with worry they would not be here before Christmas. I was thrilled when my doorbell rang announcing the delivery. Two boxes, one a bit larger than the other. They were both fairly heavy. My kids lugged them here into the study where I have been wrapping gifts.

Early last nite during another wrapping frenzy, I opened the boxes to prepare to wrap the contents. I am especially pleased with these particular gifts. They are wood serving trays with handles. The part I like so much about them is they are keepsake trays. There is a layer of glass over a black velvet-like board where mementos such as photographs, tickets, cards, and the like can be safely displayed. Spilled liquids cannot harm them.

Each tray was packed well inside yet another box. Three trays were in one package; two trays were in the other. A feeling of relief washed over me. Yes, all five I had ordered were here in my home waiting to be covered with festive paper and ribbons. I carefully took them out one by one and set them on the floor. It was the fifth one that caused my eyes to fill with tears. Lifting it out of the large box, my ears were filled with the sound of shattered glass shifting about inside.

I felt sick inside. And I stood there not moving for quite some time as I held it; deceived by the perfect condition of its box. Finally, I set it down. I reached inside the shipping box for the packing slip and phoned the company. The woman who answered was pleasant. She was sorry the tray was broken, and she was glad I had not opened it and risked shards of the glass escaping and possibly cutting me. She was putting a rush replacement order through, so I would quickly receive another tray. I was appreciative of her helpfulness, and I told her so.

Maybe that ordeal set up my mood for the rest of the evening. I stepped away from the wrapping paper and gifts. My mind shifted to some unhappy thoughts. I had earlier in the day discovered during a phone conversation with my mother that a man whose children I used to babysit is in the hospital. He is faring poorly. Very poorly. A back operation had been performed, and he was seemingly fine. He returned to his home, but became sicker and sicker. He was sent back to the hospital where it was determined he has a wicked infection. He cannot speak. Tubes are everywhere. It does not look promising. Of course I have to go visit him. I would not dream of not making the time for him. He and his wife always treated me wonderfully during those years I watched their children. And he is the reason I write birthday letters annually to each of my kids; he did that for his kids, and it impressed me so much that at the age of 12, I decided I was going to do the very same thing for my children when I had some. He also visited my father regularly during Daddy's years in the nursing home. Such a particularly sad time of year to spend in the hospital. I pray he will make it through this crisis. I worry for his family, too. Update at 5:13 p.m. on Thursday-his condition is critical in the neuro critical care unit.

Then, I focused my thoughts on my dog. During the past three weeks, she has had two eye surgeries for a corneal ulceration. Our vet is coordinating his treatment of her with a vet who specializes in ophthalmology and has recently completed and is in the process of publishing her findings regarding the treatment of ulcerations. Even with the seven doses of eye medications I have been daily giving my poochie, there is no improvement. None. Her eye has become infected, too. That is a new development. Knowing the doctors have said how extremely painful these corneal ulcerations are has further upset me. Thank goodness I was given pain medication to give her twice daily. She hid from me today when I tried to get a close look at her eye. She has never done that. So, a phone call will be placed to the vet on Thursday asking for help. Never too far from my mind is the confirmed possibility she will end up losing that eye. Yes, she is blind, but she does seem to see shadows. I am heartsick.

I am hearing a lot of glass shattering around me.

Oh the nerves, the nerves; the mysteries of this machine called man! Oh the little that unhinges it, poor creatures that we are! Charles Dickens

(Beautiful graphic by Simone of Brazil. Her work cannot be displayed in any web site without her prior permission.)         

THEM

                                                                      

During this exhilarating time of holiday festivities and celebrations, think about them.

 

If you feel harried and haggard from the seemingly endless holiday preparations, think about them.

                            

When you are laughing and eating and drinking at warm gatherings, think about them.

     

While you hold your children close to you, think about them.

              

When you feel safe and loved in your homes, think about them.

      

And when you say your prayers each nite, include some for them.

           

       

'Twas the night before Christmas,
He lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house
Made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney
With presents to give,
And to see just who
In this home did live.

I looked all about,
A strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents,
Not even a tree.

No stocking by mantle,
Just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures,
Of far distant lands.

With medals & badges,
Awards of all kinds,
A sober thought
Came through my mind.

For this house was different,
It was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier
Once I could see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping,
Silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor
In this one bedroom home.

The face was so gentle,
The room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured
A United States soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho,
The floor for a bed?

I realized the families
That I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers
Who were willing to fight.

Soon 'round the world,
The children would play,
And grownups would celebrate
A bright Christmas Day.

They all enjoyed freedom
Each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers,
Like the one lying here.

I couldn't help wonder
How many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve
In a land far from home.

The very thought
Brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees
And started to cry.

The soldier awakened
And I heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry,
This life is my choice;
I fight for freedom,
I don't ask for more,
My life is my God,
My Country, my Corps.

"The soldier rolled over
And drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it,
I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours,
So silent and still,
And we both shivered
From the cold night's chill.

I didn't want to leave
On that cold, dark, night
The Guardian of Honor
So willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over,
With a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa,
It's Christmas Day, all is secure."

One look at my watch,
And I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my friend,
And to all a good night."

(I do not know who wrote the poem. If you do, please let me know, so I can give credit where credit is due!)

Click HERE if you really want to make a difference.

THE GAME OF TAG

The wench whose feelings are very real, Maryanne, tagged me. I did not see it coming. She did not tell me ahead of time we were playing tag. She waited until AFTER the fact to let me know the game was on. I cannot let her tag me last! I have to play along or else be considered a spoilsport. Not gonna happen! It is a damn good thing I adore her, too, or I might not be so pleasant about this. ::grin::

The stealth game of tag began late last nite. She wrote a journal entry that lists ten "things" that make her happy. She has some gorgeous photos in her blog. Do take a peek. Then she tagged five others to write an entry stating their ten happy-inducing things...followed by the tagging of five additional bloggers. Alrighty. Here are my ten and my five:

1.    Anything regarding my family makes me happy. Their looks, their actions, their smiles, their laughter, their love. I could devour my children. Just suck their cheeks right off their faces. I already do devour hubby. (Ack, that sounds kind of cannibalistic...but he loves it. ::wink::) Include my mother and my sisters and brothers-in-law and nieces and nephews in the word "family" and I am one blessed woman. And to think they ALL love me till the end of time is sheer bliss. *Hubby will not allow his picture to be in this journal, or I would be posting our family portrait. He does not want to be on the Internet. ::sigh::*

                                  

2.    My home makes me deliriously happy. I positively love it. It suits me. It "matches" me. And I feel safe and comfortable in it. I love how it wraps itself around me when I need it, and it leaves me be when I need that. My dining room is filled with furniture from my grandmother and one piece from my late mother-in-law.

     

3.    Smoooooches and hugs thrill me to pieces. I am a very touchy-feely kind of person. I give them, and I tingle getting them. To be the recipient of both is grand.

                                                   

4.    Taking those smooches and hugs a bit further...SEX makes me orgasmically happy. Uh huh. It does. And the more the better. The more ways, the more places, and the more creative make it the best. My one and only hubby gets to explore alllllll of those things with me. Ooo-la-la. I love a man who is into discovery.

                                                                

5.    SNOW makes me happy. It snowed last nite. All nite long. It was gorgeous. It came down heavy at times, and it was a whirlwind of white. It is breathtaking. I took a picture of it, but I had to use the hubster's digital camera (the batteries were dead in mine...what can I say? I use electric toys.) I am unfamiliar with how it works, so I could not alter the settings~like the date being stuck on 1-01-02 at 12:01 a.m.. Why is it on THAT date and time? Anywhooo, here is a pic of the bench on our back patio.

                

6.    Our poochie is a definite happiness inducer. She has her health woes, to be sure. Diabetic, blind, and getting up there in age has taken a bit of a toll on her; however, she never ceases to make me smile when she pals around with me. Her tail still wags when I talk to her, she likes to be near me. She greets everyone with a cheerful bark and expects to be petted...which then drops her to the floor on her back with her legs spread. Geez, she looks so cheap when she does that. But, she is still our baby. This photo is from this morning, too.

                   

7.    A blazing fireplace brings me a contented happiness. I find it relaxing and it warms my senses as well as my body. I had ours going all day today, so I photographed it.

    

8.    My friends make me gloriously happy. They are an endless source of laughter. I like to think I supply them with the same. More importantly, they are good souls who share their wisdom and pieces of themselves with me.

                         

9.    I am very happy when I am creating things. Anything. Whether with my words, my ideas, the stroke of a paintbrush, the planting of seeds in my garden, or the combination of my mind telling my fingers what to cut, glue, and assemble, I feel immense joy. These are daisies I planted in my back flower bed a few years ago.

     

10.    Music. It lives inside me. It soothes me when I need it, it encourages me to cry if that is what I need, and it takes me to a faraway place when that is necessary. Oh, and it makes me shake my groove thang at the right times. ::laugh::

                                                   

Time to TAG. I have not had the chance to peruse the journals to see who has or has not been tagged. If you have already been nailed, then consider yourself tagged again. If that is the case, then change it to TEN THINGS THAT MAKE YOU CRANKY! Otherwise, I EXPECT (yes, dammit, EXPECT) to see TEN THINGS THAT MAKE YOU HAPPY. Please link your entries in here. I want to read them. ::kisses to all::

DERASTA~gotcha! Please give us your ten happy things!

LORD OF BUTTER~I'll be waiting to see your ten cranky things (and I know you will include the game of online tag as one of them)!

SASSY~tag! You're one of the "its"!

TILLY~oops, I tackled you! Share your ten happy things, please!

 MARC~grope...er, I mean TAG!

"Some pursue happiness; others create it."

WHY?

                                       

Christmas is rapidly approaching, and most of my activities seem to be centered around this wonderful holiday. Because of all there is to do, my brain is abuzz with thoughts of it, too. Well, not ALL my thoughts. In between the "I must get one more gift for my mother" and "I sure hope we have a white Christmas" are some mighty strange thoughts.

             

Let's just explore what has recently gone through this overactive mind of mine:

1.    Why does a woman who has a very visible mustache not get rid of it? You know what I mean. Some women have a mustache that would rival those of the most virile men. Does she not see it on her face? Does she never look in the mirror? Or does she like the idea that it is there? Is she keeping her options open for a possible traveling freak show spot as the "mustached lady"? I just do not understand it. It gives me the creeps. 

2.    Along those same lines, why does ANYONE let a hair grow out of a mole until the hair is long enough to wrap around a curler? Geez, cut the damn thing. It is bad enough if the mole is big and unsightly without seeing some dark hair wiggling out of it. Ewww. 

3.    And men. Why do they let hair grow out of their ears and nose? (Although I have seen hairy-nosed women, too.) There are those little spinning devices that can be shoved inside the nose and ears to trim those hairs. (Wait...that thought has a Christmas connection. It is a gift idea for the hairy ones in your lives.) 

4.    Final hair query. Why do men's eyebrows get so long when they get older? Man, they start sprouting super long hairs in a random fashion, and they will not trim them! Is it because they are losing, or have already lost, the hair on top of their heads and they hope somehow their eyebrows will start to grow over their scalp? 

               

(I have to blame one of my favorite female friends for these hairy thoughts. She had a bad dream the other nite involving the awkward discovery of long hair on her body at a particularly stimulating sexual moment. The 6-inch long hair killed the sexual tension that was building between her and the gentleman. End of dream. But she shared it with me. Nice. Now I am left thinking about unsightly hair.) 

                       

5.    Why do people shout wicked things at young male and female athletes during college sporting events when they would not dream of screaming in such a manner at their own children? Grown men and women hurling obscenities and cruel remarks at "kids" who are in all likelihood at least half their age. That is SICKO. (What is even sicker is when you hear them do it to high school, middle school, and, yes, even elementary school kids. Good God.) 

6.    Why do we have to pretend we like someone when we really do not? Aside from a hello, why is it expected to say anything more to the disliked one? At work, I can understand the need to engage in conversation regardless of how we feel about the person. But socially? Pffft. A pleasant hello should suffice, followed by a hasty maneuvering away from the yucky person.

7.    Why do men think women care about the size of their package? Unless that package comes with a pump to inflate it (sorry, I do not wish to offend any male who is currently utilizing that device), all I care about it is that it is in working order and large enough to be seen with the naked eye.

8.    Why are some people stingy passing out compliments but want/expect to receive them from anyone and everyone? 

9.    Why do dogs chase their tails? I just saw a dog doing that while we were taking care of a couple's dog in our home over the Thanksgiving weekend. It was funny to watch. He never caught it. But what would he have done if he HAD? 

10.   Why does my husband still smile at me and love me even knowing my mind is a nonstop machine filled with some pretty bizarre stuff?

               

There. I think the off-the-top-of-my-head whys have been recorded. Time to revert back to Christmas mode. I do believe I will need a bit of Christmas music to obliterate hairy thoughts.

  "Ask a question and you're a fool for three minutes; do not ask a question and you're a fool for the rest of your life." ~Chinese Proverb       

A SUDDEN FLURRY...

                          

...of memories of my Christmases, past and present. These thoughts are swirling through my mind, and I want to record them~and to heck with proper grammar and complete sentences.

AS A KID AT HOME:   Snooping anywhere and everywhere for my Christmas presents and hoping to find them before Mom wrapped them. (Let's just say that is a nasty little ritual that I still follow in my own home. ::sigh:: Problem is I am now much more savvy about discovering hiding spots.)

Attending a Christmas Eve church service at our longtime church and listening to the minister devote virtually the entire sermon to the Vietnam War. Feeling very sad and wondering why the birth of Jesus was mentioned by him almost as an afterthought. (Uh, we never returned to that church after that.)

At our NEW and wonderful church, watching Daddy play with the "candle" we had been given to be "lit" at a specific time so the entire church was a mass of tiny lights. (They had discontinued using real candles due to fire hazards and replaced them with candle-shaped tiny flashlights.) Daddy was always holding the light to his fingertips and turning it on to show us how the blood looked through the skin. Remembering Mom giving him her "behave yourself" look. ::laugh::

Being unable to fall asleep on Christmas Eve.

Jostling my sisters before we descended the steps on Christmas morning, because I did not want to be the first one in line. Weird, huh? I suddenly became almost shy about being the first one to walk into the living room to see all the presents under the tree.

Being forced to at least drink a glass of orange juice before gifts could be opened.

Looking at Mom and Dad with each thank you I said and seeing their faces shining.

Carefully arranging and rearranging my pile of presents to best display what I had received.

NEVER being disappointed with a single gift I received. ALWAYS thinking I was the luckiest girl in the world.

MARRIED:   Need I say digging and rooting for my hidden Christmas gifts?

The year hubby gave me two small diamonds to go on either side of my diamond solitaire engagement ring...even though we had next to no money because he was in college.

Our son's first Christmas. He was almost lost in the massive pile of gifts Santa brought him. When he reached up and opened the little door to the toy soldier toy box he had received and peered inside.

At the age of three, our son "reading" The Grinch Who Stole Christmas word for word from memory to us while I videotaped him.

Our daughter's first Christmas. She wore a tiny red Santa hat as she crawled over, under, and around all of her presents. Giggling at the toys she received. She was always smiling and laughing. That lone dimple in her right cheek just begging to be kissed.

The treasured Christmas gifts both children made for us in preschool and on through their elementary school years.

Listening to and filming hubby reading 'Twas The Night Before Christmas every single year to the kids while they snuggled up against either side of him.

Laughing hard when our daughter wanted to go to bed as early as possible on Christmas Eve because she was too excited for Christmas morning. She knew if she slept, Christmas would be here in a seeming flash.

Year after year sitting with hubby and beaming at the kids. Noting our son was a careful and slow gift opener. Noting our daughter was a whirlwind tearing open the neatly wrapped presents. Videotaping and photographing them.

Realizing my daughter was as big of a pre-Christmas gift snooper as I.

Sitting alone with my father at the nursing home on Christmas Eve the first year he was in one. Having him never open his eyes or react to anything. Holding his hand and not letting go of it. Watching the TV perched high on the wall and falling apart when a commercial played the song "I'll Be Home for Christmas."

His very last Christmas...twelve days before his death. The only words he spoke were, "Is it, honey?" when my sister told him it was snowing. Hugging and kissing him and pretending he was fine.

Knowing that each and every Christmas I have had has been filled with thankfulness and a deep appreciation for the life I have and the people in it. Yes, there have been sad times mixed among my many blessings. But they have never overshadowed the fairy tale life I feel I have lived. I hope they never will.

   "Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love." ~Hamilton Wright Mabi 
   

BECAUSE I SAID SO!

     Every once in awhile~maybe more than I like to think~I have an urge to say things exactly as I want to, without worrying about whether or not they are politically correct. Not everything I think is controversial. Some topics are quite bland. Whichever the case may be, I believe what I say is accurate. Why? Because I said so!

Snow: Too many people complain about winter. "It's too cold." "I hate it." "You try shoveling X amount of inches or feet of the snow off your driveway and see how you like it." Blah, blah, blah. I have heard ALL of those things said and certainly plenty more. It gets cold where I live, I drive in the snow, I shovel it, and there is no escaping it. I get all four seasons here. And yet I think the winter is the most alive time of all the seasons. Uh huh, I do. Maybe the flowers are not in bloom, the grass is not growing, rich colors are not in abundance, but big deal. How can you ignore the positives of winter? Are you so set on hating it that you cannot see the beauty of ice-covered tree branches literally sparkling from the sun's rays touching them? Can you not see the gentle journey of the snowflakes as they travel toward the ground? Do you not realize there is a quiet outside unlike any other time of year? Have you never made snow angels? I would like to see the winter haters make some summer angels. Good luck there. Go to a ski resort. Watch people laughing and carrying on while using the snow as a means for great fun. Go outside and see your breath pour out of your mouth like smoke. Feel your skin get all chilled and tingly. Hurl a snowball at someone and run like hell. Then, come inside and get a fire going in the fireplace. Watch the flames moving in a sensual dance. Wow. It is an awesome time of year. And for those who are going to talk about the dangers of driving in the snow, I already know about it. It is scary. But no scarier than those summer travelers who hit the highways at about a bazillion miles per hour in their haste to arrive at their vacation destinations. And, yep, people freeze to death in the winter. Just like people die from the heat in summer. See, you are not going to win any argument with me on this topic! So, quit bitching about the cold and learn to enjoy it. Learn to experience it in a cup is half full kind of way. Why? Because I said so.

Books: Regardless of the ease with which we can access information via the Internet (thanks to Al Gore ::snicker::), nothing can replace the pure pleasure of reading a book. Fiction, nonfiction...doesn't matter. A book is a treasure. Here are two books I think are outstanding. This first one is an old book (1983) by Taylor Caldwell called Captains and the Kings. In a nutshell, the woman wrote a riveting and thought-provoking fictional story (even though it probably should be considered nonfiction) about a handful of Europeans who control the power and money around the world. And here we thought the United States was controlled by the Dems and GOP. Pffft. That society exists just as sure as I am sitting here. Read the book, and you will see why. As for newish books, a great read is Mrs. Kennedy by Barbara Leaming, written in 2001. She has a fascinating take on events in Jackie's life that shaped who she became. There are the juicy tidbits about John's penchant for womanizing any female who moved, but also some incredible insights into his behavior. The bonus is very little brouhaha was made by the Kennedy clan about this book. That pretty much tells you what was stated was on the money. Why? Because I said so.

Face Transplants: So, the French took a badly disfigured woman whose face had been partially torn off by the family Labrador, and they transplanted a portion of a brain-dead woman's face onto the scarred woman. Not just skin...but muscles, too. If all goes well, this woman may actually be able to chew for the first time since the dog mauled her. She now has a nose, too. And, of course, there are the big mouths screaming about how unethical the procedure was. Okay, you try to live in a society that puts a premium on appearance with only half a face. See how well you are greeted. Cripe, people are ostracized for far less in this world. Or let it be one of your loved ones who loses part of his/her face and watch how repulsed every single person is who comes into contact with him/her. Watch your loved one shrink from society due to not just the injuries but also due to a demolished sense of self-worth. Bah! If there is no hope for the standard reconstructive plastic surgery to work, why not give the person an opportunity to live the most normal life possible? Why? Because I said so. (And be thankful I did not start on the stem cell controversy, or you would be in this journal for months reading how I think the most outrageous opponents of it would be the first in line to receive those stem cells to cure them if they were victims of a terrible disease and a stem cell cure was available.)

Commercialism of Christmas: Just because some people buy Christmas presents out the wazoo each year does not mean they have lost the meaning of Christmas. The REAL meaning. It simply means they love the idea of giving gifts...and, yes, receiving them, too. It means the priceless gift we all received 2000+ years ago has not been forgotten, and this time of year brings out the desire to make others happy with heartfelt, well-chosen gifts. It does not mean they have not secretly found a very poor family to create an entire Christmas for, complete with a mass of gifts and food. Nor that they have not donated to worthwhile charities, and that they have not supported a church's wishes for help for the homeless or destitute. Why? Because I said so.

Which brings me to my last thought. God: You do not have to regularly attend a church to be a good person (::chuckle:: we tithe at our church, so I am not a church hater by any means...more a liberal thinker in regard to religion). You do not have to take every single word in the Bible as the definitive truth. You can embrace snippets of many religions and still be a great person. One God loves. And you know what? I do not even think you HAVE to believe in Him at all to go to Heaven. My God sees all of us as His children, and I think we all get a chance after we die to join Him there. Atheist, agnostic, Jew, etc. It does not matter. ::pointing to my heart:: It is what is in there that counts. Why? Geez, because I said so!

   "If you resist reading what you disagree with, how will you ever acquire deeper insights into what you believe? The things most worth reading are precisely those that challenge our convictions." ~Unknown        

PAPA

            Voeux de bonheur, Papa. Je vous aime, et Je manque vous tellement.