Curmudgeon

Maybe I need to make a New Year's resolution not to be so much of a curmudgeon. The older I get, the worse I become. By next year there may be no hope for me at all.

I was brought up to believe that men should not wear hats at the dinner table. Ladies, both young and old should at least comb their hair before being taken out to a nice restaurant. That even in a family home, visiting adult children should act like adults and not children. That "inside" voices should be used and that elders should be respected.

I admit it. I am big on manners. I wish I could give them as Christmas gifts. One size fits all, they never go out of style, and they cost very little.

Good manners for everyone.

Works for me!

Orange Cake

Back when my husband was a boy, his mother made what she called an orange cake. It is a pound type cake with nuts and raisins and then a glaze made with sugar and orange juice is poured over the hot cake and allowed to soak in.

Unfortunately, according to my husband, it only turned out just right ONE time. If the syrup is cooked too long, it does not soak all the way into the cake, leaving much of the cake very dry and crumbly.

After an experiment using (shudder) BOXED pound cake mix by my sister-in-law over Thanksgiving, I decided that I was going to attempt this legendary cake. I started out by putting out a query on a cooking forum about cooking the syrup. I bought the best ingredients, said a little prayer, and set to work.

I am calling it a belated Christmas miracle! The syrup soaked all the way through the cake, leaving it moist and delicious.

I just hope this is not a one-time event for me too!

He's BACK!

Apparently, there was quite an outcry from other distressed Pokey owners (besides me!) and we were given our original puppies back. At last count, 152 Pokey owners had written in to thank the creators for restoring our "babies."

I don't feel quite so daft now.

Just happy!

Smokey

Smokey was a chocolate lab puppy with the most adorable face. I fed, watered, petted, and played with him every day. He would turn over and let me rub his tummy wriggling with pleasure.

This week, Smokey changed. His face was no longer adorable. He wouldn't let me rub his tummy anymore. I was warned that if I did not feed and water him, he would be taken away from me.

Smokey was my Facebook "cyber-pet." Now known as a FooPet.

I know! It sounds ridiculous that I should get so attached to something that was not "real." But, since my husband refused to get another dog after my beloved Duffy died years ago, I just enjoyed playing with my Smokey.

I tried to get used to this new dog who claimed to be my Smokey. The one who liked to chew up shoes, especially high heels. The one I had had since March. But I just could not get used to this thing that was trying to take the place of MY puppy.

So, with a heavy heart, I went to my applications list, found the FooPets entry and clicked delete.

RIP Smokey. I miss you.

Stealing

A damper was put on Christmas Eve this year when I was warned to put my purse somewhere safe and out of sight before other guests arrived. I was told that one of the guests (a regular visitor to this home) had been suspected of stealing money from the hostess for some time, and had stolen a large amount from her earlier in the week.

So, we found ourselves in the position of having to watch our belongings and put our Christmas money out of sight during what should have been a carefree and enjoyable time. The entire color of the evening was changed, because of one person and her need to take what does not belong to her.

I don't understand stealing. I really don't. There is nothing I want bad enough to steal. I find no thrill in it. I don't think I am "entitled" to it. My conscience would bother me forever. But, some folks can steal without a second thought. They simply can't tell right from wrong. Or, they don't care.

Sad.

A Moment of Sad

I thought that I might escape it this year. That day or so of melancholy that comes over me every year at Christmas. It is nothing serious, but it comes every year, just like clockwork.

I know that at the forefront of this is the fact that I still miss my mom. She will have been gone 18 years this Christmas, but I still miss her. I probably always will.

I know, also, not to have too many expectations for Christmas. My DH does not like the holiday and is not going to do something romantic or spontaneous. My dad is going to be a grump. My sister is going to be so tired that she gets snappish. But, every year, a tiny part of me wishes for the whole Norman Rockwell happy holiday bit, even though I know that this is a total myth!

But, I will go do the Christmas Eve thing tomorrow. I will be thankful that my family is alive and well this holiday. It will not be as bad as I fear. And then I will take off to St. Alban's Episcopal Church to sing for the Christmas Eve service. A lot of my Christmas Spirit will come then, singing in this beautiful church and hearing the Christmas Story read.

And Christmas Day is always lovely. My sister's mother-in-law will have everyone over for a potluck lunch. Everything is laid back and everyone feels equally welcome. This is the precious woman who decided with my mom long ago not to make the family have to choose between them every holiday. They would have everyone at Thanksgiving at one house and Christmas at the others house. It is a tradition that works well and has been a blessing.

Of course I have my list of Christmas miracle wishes. I wish for my brother to come back to family gatherings and learn to at least tolerate my sweet stepmom. I wish for my sister to stop and smell the roses a bit more. I wish for better years for my friends who had hard times this year.

I believe in Christmas.

I believe in miracles.

Who knows?

Wardrobe

Holiday dressing is a challenge in Mississippi. I never know from one day to the next what type of clothing I will require. Yesterday, I went to get gas in my car in shorts and sandals. Today, I am in velveteen and still chilly. People talk about putting their summer clothes away, but in Mississippi, that is not really feasible.

Trying to figure out a party/event wardrobe can be especially difficult. Holiday clothing pretty much consists of sweaters, velvet, turtlenecks, etc. So what does one WEAR when 75 degree weather on the day of the party makes that cute sweater totally unwearable? Someone would make a fortune down here designing a line of clothing that looks Christmasy, but can be worn when it is just plain hot.

Maybe that is my future calling?

Catfish!

Today I got to expand my soft diet to include a bit of fish. Catfish, that is. It was like Heaven to my taste buds as I took teeny, tiny bites of my fillet and a lovely change of pace from Rice Crispies, mashed potatoes, and Jello.

To many Southerners, farm raised catfish is a direct gift from God. I count myself among this number. To paraphrase Ben Franklin, CATFISH is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

I'm happy.

:)

Diet

Today is week 2 of a mostly liquid diet. I am on it while my stomach heals from being wrapped around my esophagus. I have to admit, it is already getting old.

I am beginning to understand why so many of those commercial liquid diets fail. Yes, you get full, but there is just no satisfaction in the process. I am already looking forward to the day when I get to CHEW something again!

On the bright side, this is one holiday season that won't involve a weight gain!

:)

Amazed!

As I write this, I am three days post op. I have been out of the hospital since Wednesday and have done so well that I am still amazed.

In the past, most of my surgeries have had complications. Some of these were due to poor hospital care and some just due to anesthesia, luck of the draw, etc. This time, other than the usual difficulty getting my oxygen saturation to proper levels after surgery, I have done well.

I know that all the good thoughts and prayers going up for me have made the difference. As has the excellent care I received from Dr. Petro and the Mississippi Baptist Medical Center nursing staff.

Healing is going to take awhile. I am limited to liquids. I am tired and a bit sore.

But mostly...

Amazed.

Surgery

Tuesday, I am having fundoplication surgery. This is a fancy name for having the top of my stomach wrapped around my esophagus in order to cure my GERD.

I have to admit that I am a little nervous. I have not been put under to this extent since being diagnosed with MG. Myasthenics tend to have trouble breathing when sedated, so things can be a bit more complicated than they are for the average patient. However, I would not be doing this if I did not have faith in God and the doctor.

I am praying that this surgery will eliminate the chest pain, indigestion, and diet limitations that have been my constant companions for years. The thought of eating half a grapefruit without pain makes my mouth water in anticipation.

Wonder if I can wrangle a trip to Florida to get some?

Hmmmmmm.

Carols and Kisses

One of my favorite Christmas traditions each year is when I take a huge bag of Hershey's kisses over to my favorite nursing home, get on my scooter, and ride down the halls singing carols and passing out chocolate. Everyone who is able to eat it gets chocolate or a sugar free peppermint patty. Many residents can't peel their kisses, so I unwrap them and gently guide these tiny treasures to eager mouths. I love to see the look of enjoyment on the faces of those who can no longer express themselves in words. The smiles and the eyes say what their tongues can't. If the resident can no longer eat solid food, then he or she gets a "real" kiss.

As for the carols, I never cease to be amazed that even the Alzheimer's patients can sit and sing every word to Jingle Bells or Silent Night even when they no longer know their own names. And some residents will continue to sing, even when I have gone on to the next hall. I can't help but smile when they just keep on singing.

And when I leave, my heart is full of smiles and songs.

And maybe a kiss.

Or two.

Over

It has been a lovely week, but I am glad it is over!

My husband and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. My mother gave it 6 months. There have been struggles at times, but we went into marriage knowing that we shared core values and that we were committed to making it work.

Most of my husband's family came for the holiday. I really do enjoy my in-laws. They have always treated me more like "blood kin" than an "outlaw" and for that I am grateful.

We celebrated a niece's 7th birthday, complete with cake, balloons, and presents.

Other than that, we watched football, ate too much pie, and played Scrabble and Dominoes. Another typical Thanksgiving.

And for that, I am thankful.

Thanksgiving

I usually look forward to Thanksgiving. I love good cornbread dressing more than most anything on the planet. I love that my husband's family comes in from out of town and I get to enjoy them. I love pecan pie. I love the relative lack of commercialism.

I usually eat with my husband's family, but this year, since he is working on Thanksgiving, I am eating with my family instead. I am already beginning to think this is a mistake. My dad starts with his "maybe not up to doing Thanksgiving this year" stuff. But, when we offer to have it somewhere else, he insists on hosting. Then, despite the fact that each attendee is bringing at least one dish and offer to prepare more, he insists on making the most labor intensive dishes himself.

He reminds me of that Rice Crispie marshmallow treat commercial where the woman dusts flour on herself and comes out with her hand on her forehead trying to look like a martyr.

Next year, I'm having pizza. At home. Alone.

Twilight

Looking for something easy to read while trying to get things in order for the next couple of weeks, I picked up this book. My surly bookseller friend had read it and given it a favorable review. My young neighbor, Sam, had expressed an interest in it as well, so I thought I would get it and pass it on to her when I finished.

Well, today, she came up, saw my copy of "Twilight" on the table and immediately declared that she wanted it. I am not through reading it, but I downloaded a second copy from e-reader and gave her my hard copy. She declares that she does not like to read. However, she is now sprawled out on my couch devouring this book.

I am tiptoeing around her.

I don't want to break the spell...

Nuts

It is 56 degrees and raining. I am warm and dry in my snug little house. My husband, however, is in a tent at Natchez State Park. He went camping knowing that rain was a distinct probability.

He has an honor society membership and a Bachelor's degree. Those would indicate a certain degree of smarts. But, obviously, he is not quite smart enough to come in out of the rain...

Good Game!

Well, not unexpectedly, my young LSU team went down to #1 ranked Alabama. But they put up one heck of a fight and made me proud.

Just wait till next year!!!

Football!

Tomorrow my beloved LSU Tigers will play #1 ranked Alabama. It is going to be tough for my Tigers. They are in rebuilding mode and are playing with three very young, very inexperienced quarterbacks. What success they have had this season has been accomplished by pride and a degree of luck.

But, one of the things I love about SEC football is that, literally, ANYTHING can happen on any given Saturday. So, though the odds are against them, I believe my Tigers can pull off the upset!

GEAUX TIGERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stay tuned...

Daddy

I had a rare treat going to the family reunion yesterday. Some "one on one" time with my Daddy. Don't get me wrong. I am crazy about my sweet stepmom, but sometimes it is nice to have Daddy to myself. I imagine a lot of daughters feel the same way.

Coming back from the reunion, we stopped in Hazlehurst to visit the cemetery and put flowers on the graves of my mother and my grandparents. We passed by the house where Daddy was born, the church where he and my Mama were married, and the house where his parents had lived. He told me about working at a local diner for $2.00 a day when he was a teenager and of his mother threatening some chicken thieves with a shotgun. I have trouble reconciling this image with my memories of my sweet, gentle Mamaw, but I would love to have seen her brandishing her shotgun and yelling at the men who would try to take HER chickens!

"God gave us memory that we might have roses in December."
JM Barrie

I had mine a little early.

Reunion

Today I headed down to Kentwood, Louisiana for the annual "Blades" family reunion. My mother's mother was a Blades and she had a boatload of brothers and sisters. At one time my mother had 51 first cousins.

My grandmother used to take me down to Kentwood in the summertime when I was a child. We stayed with my favorite great aunt, Emma Lee and I had cousins in abundance to play with. This city gal got to see what country life was like, helping herd cows from one pasture to another, picking butterbeans, and fishing in one of the many ponds.

It is a rare treat to return to Kentwood and talk with the people who remembered my mama. Pretty and vivacious, this only child would come from Mississippi and enjoy the companionship of her many cousins. From what I have been told, she was quite the ringleader of a number of escapades. I am told I favor her in looks and personality. I consider that an honor.

So, when I get that invitation next year, I will do my best to go back to Kentwood.

And my family.