Tomorrow is Dec. 15th. Just 10 days until Christmas! Is that really possible? More importantly, is there any way possible that I will be ready by Dec. 25th?
Service has become an important part of my life so tomorrow I will spend the day at Borders wrapping gifts for other people to help raise money for our work with Veterans. Who will wrap the presents I'll be giving? Another question - When will I buy all the presents?
Thursday I must go to the Legion Post at 10:00 a.m. to set up for the Christmas party we do for our Veterans. I will stay to help serve the lunch and clean up after. Hmm, I guess I won't be doing any shopping or wrapping on Thursday. So maybe Friday?
Oh no, that's right, on Friday I'm going to lunch with two of my daughters-in-law. I'm looking forward to that, and we will spend several hours lingering over lunch and enjoying each other's company. That will, however, take a rather large chunk out of the day so there may not be time for much shopping or wrapping on Friday. Saturday?
Well, it seems I agreed to watch my 4 1/2 mon. old granddaughter Saturday so my youngest son and d-i-l can take their other two little ones to a Christmas show in Lancaster. No shopping Saturday, but spending time with Grace is totally worth it. As a matter of fact, it's all worth it!
Next week I'll be spending at least two days doing some consulting work, and I am determined to continue to try to find time to do a little writing each day.
Perhaps I'll get to the mall on Sunday or do some last minute online shopping. One way or another it will all get done, and on Christmas Day and every other day of the year I will be grateful for all that I am fortunate enough to be able to do. Life is good.
Beautiful Vieques PR
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Sitting here looking at the Christmas tree so beautifully adorned with lights and ornaments collected over the last 20 years, (ones from earlier years lost in a fire) I can't help but reflect upon Christmases past. There have been so many now. Sixty-six in all I suppose, though I can't say that I remember those of the first few years.
Did we even have a tree that first year of my life while my father was flying in the back of planes as a tail-gunner fighting the Japanese in WWII? My poor mother was alone with three very young children. On my first Christmas I was just three months old. My sister was two years old, and my brother was three and a half. Poor Mama. I can't imagine that she had a very merry Christmas that year.
Then, when I was three years old, both my parents were hospitalized with TB, and I was living with a great-aunt. I don't really remember those Christmases either. I'm sure my Aunt Addie made them as wonderful as she could for me. I am just as sure that my mother never had another merry Christmas. She died, never having left the sanitarium, when I just five years old.
My father remarried, and our family was put back together by the time Christmas came when I was seven, and I remember the magic of those Christmas mornings. My brother, sister, and I went to bed on Christmas Eve, after hearing the reading of the Christmas story, and there was no tree sitting in our living room. But, magically, the next morning there it was! And it was always so beautiful. Those were the years of believing, knowing, that Santa did it all. He brought and decorated the tree, ate the cookies we left for him, and left all those wonderful presents. It wasn't until I was approaching my teen years and had a baby brother ten years younger than I, that I became a part of the conspiracy. Waiting until we knew he was sound asleep, my father would then bring in the tree, and put on the lights (with all the grumbling that went with that job) then we got to put on the ornaments and the tinsel.....one strand at a time. The presents still didn't appear under the tree until the next morning. I never did figure out how my Mom (step-mother who is the only mother I know) managed to hide the gifts so that we couldn't find them. She was pretty sneaky!
Next comes to memory the most wonderful Christmases of all. Those were the years of creating the magic for my own children. The joy of seeing their faces on that most special morning of the year still warms my heart. I remember one Christmas morning when my oldest son, Michael, was about three years old, we got him a red fire engine, the kind he could ride in. Well, when we opened the door to the rec room in the basement and he saw that fire engine, he got so excited that he just ran round and round it. I can still see him with his blonde hair and big round blue eyes, wearing his yellow jammies and being so excited we had to tell him to get in and try it. What a perfect memory.
Those Chrismases were long ago, and now I look at our tree with excited anticipation of seeing my grandchildren's eyes light up as they open their presents. No, it's not about the presents, but it is about the family. It's about the joy that comes with the season and the joy of having my family around me.
This year one of my sons will be missing again. He's serving our country far away in Afghanistan, so there will be a void where he should be. It's not the first Christmas he has missed with his wife and family, but it doesn't get any easier. I guess we may have to have another Christmas this year......Christmas in springtime sounds pretty good to me.
Did we even have a tree that first year of my life while my father was flying in the back of planes as a tail-gunner fighting the Japanese in WWII? My poor mother was alone with three very young children. On my first Christmas I was just three months old. My sister was two years old, and my brother was three and a half. Poor Mama. I can't imagine that she had a very merry Christmas that year.
Then, when I was three years old, both my parents were hospitalized with TB, and I was living with a great-aunt. I don't really remember those Christmases either. I'm sure my Aunt Addie made them as wonderful as she could for me. I am just as sure that my mother never had another merry Christmas. She died, never having left the sanitarium, when I just five years old.
My father remarried, and our family was put back together by the time Christmas came when I was seven, and I remember the magic of those Christmas mornings. My brother, sister, and I went to bed on Christmas Eve, after hearing the reading of the Christmas story, and there was no tree sitting in our living room. But, magically, the next morning there it was! And it was always so beautiful. Those were the years of believing, knowing, that Santa did it all. He brought and decorated the tree, ate the cookies we left for him, and left all those wonderful presents. It wasn't until I was approaching my teen years and had a baby brother ten years younger than I, that I became a part of the conspiracy. Waiting until we knew he was sound asleep, my father would then bring in the tree, and put on the lights (with all the grumbling that went with that job) then we got to put on the ornaments and the tinsel.....one strand at a time. The presents still didn't appear under the tree until the next morning. I never did figure out how my Mom (step-mother who is the only mother I know) managed to hide the gifts so that we couldn't find them. She was pretty sneaky!
Next comes to memory the most wonderful Christmases of all. Those were the years of creating the magic for my own children. The joy of seeing their faces on that most special morning of the year still warms my heart. I remember one Christmas morning when my oldest son, Michael, was about three years old, we got him a red fire engine, the kind he could ride in. Well, when we opened the door to the rec room in the basement and he saw that fire engine, he got so excited that he just ran round and round it. I can still see him with his blonde hair and big round blue eyes, wearing his yellow jammies and being so excited we had to tell him to get in and try it. What a perfect memory.
Those Chrismases were long ago, and now I look at our tree with excited anticipation of seeing my grandchildren's eyes light up as they open their presents. No, it's not about the presents, but it is about the family. It's about the joy that comes with the season and the joy of having my family around me.
This year one of my sons will be missing again. He's serving our country far away in Afghanistan, so there will be a void where he should be. It's not the first Christmas he has missed with his wife and family, but it doesn't get any easier. I guess we may have to have another Christmas this year......Christmas in springtime sounds pretty good to me.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Becoming a Writer
In the last week of October I read about something called NaNoWriMo. Following a link to the site out of curiosity I read about the challenge to write a 50 thousand word novel between November 1st and November 30th.
Well, that sounded absolutely crazy, and yet maybe this was just what I needed to kick-start my writing. I thought when I retired, I would finally begin to write, but I've been retired since June 2009 and have written nothing but a few poems. This is not the productivity I had hoped for.
So, what the hell, I decided to take the challenge, never thinking I'd actually succeed. I was wrong. On November 27th I reached a word count of 50,632. More importantly, I loved the experience! It finally became a reality. Yes, I am a writer.
Now, that does not necessarily establish that I am a good writer, (that is yet to be determined) but I AM a writer. I am writing. And I am delighted.
Well, that sounded absolutely crazy, and yet maybe this was just what I needed to kick-start my writing. I thought when I retired, I would finally begin to write, but I've been retired since June 2009 and have written nothing but a few poems. This is not the productivity I had hoped for.
So, what the hell, I decided to take the challenge, never thinking I'd actually succeed. I was wrong. On November 27th I reached a word count of 50,632. More importantly, I loved the experience! It finally became a reality. Yes, I am a writer.
Now, that does not necessarily establish that I am a good writer, (that is yet to be determined) but I AM a writer. I am writing. And I am delighted.
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