At Christmastime and Beyond

I started writing this entry before Christmas. I hope it still has something to say. We'll see.


In the Christmas season, as throughout the rest of the year, people have worries, sadness, sometimes tragedies. In looking at a small family today, I noticed that the father didn't look happy. Sitting with his wife, a small child and a baby, one might in passing, consider his life to be charmed. When we see babies, children, we might think things are all good. But there can be worries, there can be real concerns. Even at Christmas. It's not all trips to see Santa and smiles and toys for young families. It's not all happy visits and good food and fun gifts for adults. There can be sadness too; there can be pain, there can be missing people and there can be emotional trips in one's mind back over the years.

We cannot, much as we would wish, stop the "slings and arrows," to quote Shakespeare, of life from flying around and hitting people sometimes. Christmas can't and doesn't stop it, nor does being good or working hard or getting a good sleep. We're humans and we're vulnerable and it seems, at least, that all this kind of stinks.

What we can do to soften the blows from the injuries people incur in life? I hope that, because of Christmas and the love shown by Jesus whose birth we celebrate that day, we can learn to offer our love to those who need it, and really we all do. I hope as well that Christmas does not, with its memories, its expectations, hurt people already be feeling pain. Rather, I hope that in quiet moments by Christmas trees, and in acts of kindness and of love, people can find healing, peace and hope.

Christmas is over for this year now. I hope it has brought goodness to you in whatever form you need it.

Take care, my friends. All the best for peace and healing and hope and joy after the holiday season as well.

JAHD

Puddles and Plants and Stuff

As I sit here, I am looking at a puddle of water that has formed outside the plant I watered moments ago. As well, I can see a tray. If the plant were sitting on the tray, the water would not have leaked. Oh, what a simple solution. Oh, what a puddle to clean up.

OK, I solved that problem.

While I did solve that problem, I wonder what I can learn from yet another small domestic blunder. Am I to be reminded of how simple preventive measures can make life so much easier? Am I to question if, indeed, some people really aren't capable of handling the responsibilities of a house and need to employ domestic help, whatever the expense? Or am I just to realize that there is too much going on in this house, too much lying around, too many things that take up space and require attention but which don't advance the cause of anyone in this house or in society? Do I even want plants? Maybe. But do I enjoy them or merely toss some water at them once in a while out of a sense of duty and hope the water lands within the pots?

I'm about to read a book about an apparently great system of tidying up, once and for all. I hope this approach works. I feel that there is stuff around me in this house that is not serving my purposes anymore. Why do we try to hang on? I think I should let at least some of this stuff go.

And the next time I am in IKEA, near the end of the store, parched from thirst and bewildered by thoughts of what I may still want or not want to buy, I will try to stop myself from buying yet another plant. Buying one won't make me an indoor plant person. Nor improve my life in countless (nor even countable) ways. There are artificial plants in that section too. Maybe one of them is a better option. Or, I could take a few steps back and buy a picture frame. It may end up in a pile with the other picture frames whose sizes don't match any pictures you've ever taken or seen or bought but it won't require watering and it's not dangerous like a candle. Yes, perhaps I should stick to picture frames. I've amassed quite a nice collection.

And soon, I will go and stare at my plants. Perhaps I will realize that they are more wonderful than I had realized. Perhaps I will notice that there are more puddles and, since I can't hire a staff, I should probably buy some absorbent cloths. Or picture frames. Or something. Just not more indoor plants.

JAHD

Recommitting - and Connecting Anew

I did a little bit of thinking about this blog and, really, the purpose of it. I determined what that purpose going forward will be.

I want to connect with people again. Whether you're a new or old reader here, I will write solely again so that we can connect with each other.

Stay tuned and I hope that you are enjoying your Christmas preparations and/other holiday celebrations!

Joanne

While I Wait for My Coffee to Cool

My coffee's too hot but I feel like if I don't have coffee, I might not be able to go on and I could add milk or even water to cool it down but milk doesn't always taste good in coffee and adding water sounds weird but if adding water enabled me to go on, perhaps it would be worth it but it's so hard to say because I don't have nearly enough coffee in me, just a few searingly hot sips, and I may have spilled some of this hot liquid as I transferred it to the end table over the disproportionately high chesterfield/couch/sofa arm and I'm never sure what I should call this piece of furniture but it probably doesn't matter - the height of its arms are more of an issue - and there could be an inland lake of coffee down there on the table but I'd have to look way, way down to see it and it doesn't matter right now anyways because until I drink some of that coffee, I'm not going to wipe up the coffee spill because I'll be sitting here waiting for the heat to escape that coffee and I think I actually have some notion of that element of physics right - heat escapes - even though physics was not my thing but I went down swinging and Mr. Munro was a nice teacher and he never came right out and said that I should give up - he always seemed to be looking at some far-off point in the future when students like I would finally see the light or at perhaps at the time when he would no longer have to deal with us - and, oh, high school science wasn't good for me but thinking like that doesn't get coffee into me this morning so, it maybe okay now to secure the system of ropes and pulleys to bring my coffee up to me and see if the temperature of it has cooled sufficiently that I can drink some of it and obtain the power I need to be able to go on.

JAHD

Thoughts of Hunger and Other Stuff While on A Plane

Last week I flew to Toronto. I jotted down thoughts as the flight progressed. My son contributed some of his thoughts too. I will share them with you now. I was pretty hungry when I wrote them. It did start off as a way for me to try to calm down. The massive security line-up and slow boarding had been unpleasant. No hats were harmed or eaten during the flight (as far as I know.)


I struggle, as I sit here, to find my center, to find my peace. I don't understand how it can take that long to board a plane. The thing I don't get is that these people must do this quite regularly and yet it all seems new. Maybe this (writing) is how I relax. Maybe this is how I center myself. Who knows?

I don't particularly enjoy bumps when I'm in a plane. What are we hitting? It makes all that science stuff a little too real. Contained in the plane and away. The wonder, the joy of flying.

Where's my pretzel bag? I was savagely hungry when I received them. Did I eat the bag? Oh man, I can just imagine when the flight attendant comes for garbage. She'll say "I know I  gave you pretzels - what'd you do with the bag?" And I won't have a good explanation.

I could look at the on-board menu but my experience on planes has led me to believe that those menus are fictional. Is that fiction? There are pictures of real food but it's not food that is available on the plane. A work like that is kind of in its own genre.

Oh, I wonder if that was a mistake. I've put my glass in the seat pocket and now I'm thirsty. I don't want to use that glass again but fear that the flight attendant won't want to give me another one after the pretzel bag incident. I can produce the first glass so it's not that she'll think I ate it too but that whole thing may have turned her against me.

I was hungry in the airport. Oddly, while there were 14,000 people in the security line, the food area beyond security was not busy. And while I had wanted food that could be purchased quickly and would revive me, the service was slow and the food was not good. I didn't feel revived; I felt like I'd eaten bad food. It was quite disappointing.

Dehydration is starting to overtake me. The crew may be willing to serve me coffee as that would require a different type of cup. I hope that one flight attendant is ready to move on from the pretzel bag incident. Some time has passed. Perhaps we can begin again.

With hope I will look at the menu much as a child plays with a toy. I know it not real but briefly, it may bring me joy.

I have found a meal I want. I will retrieve my credit card and dream of the chance that I may receive the food I saw pictured.

The flight is going quickly. This cheers me.

The flight attendants just passed. I could have fought for my turkey and brie sandwich but they made no indication that we could order food. I don't have the moral strength to pursue the matter.

Nourishment still eludes me.

Words that describe the current situation: Shocked, Saddened, Betrayed, Bullied. And hungry. I feel them all.

I look at a member of my family who is sleeping. I resent him for the peace he experiences. But I will not disturb his slumber.

A brief game of "I Spy" with another family member proved confusing and controversial. We now know that this game can be played within a darkened plane. It doesn't make one feel less hungry, however.

I no longer hope that food will be offered despite all of those attractive food options I saw in the menu. Alas, it matters not what sandwich I chose.

Having given up on food service, I look at the backs of people's heads in front of me. I learn very little about them from this activity. I'm okay with that. From this vantage point, at least, they don't look like an interesting or inspiring group.

The seat of the person right in front of me is reclined very far. I could start stroking the man's hair if I felt a need to do that. I do not feel that need. He has nice hair though and I do not feel rage at his invasion of my space. Perhaps my hunger has rendered me too weak to feel strong emotions of any sort at this time.

A sleeping passenger across the aisle has removed his hat. He clings to it though. He should; it's a stylish hat. His appearance is different when he is hatless. I wonder what he looks like when awake. He has spent so much time sleeping I have not had a chance to find this out. Perhaps he is so hungry he cannot stay awake. I would not be surprised to see him munching on his hat soon.

While famished, I enjoy the peace on board right now. No one is in the aisle serving food (obviously) or drink and the flight is smooth.

While I know that flight attendants may have duties of which I am unaware, I notice that this flight seems to have a large number of them when one considers the service that has been provided.

Accepting that food will not be provided, I put my credit card and the menu away. Perhaps the garbled message near the start of the flight was intended to convey some information about the food and some unpleasant fate that had befallen it. Perhaps it is best not to know what happened.

Reaching down to put my credit card in my purse, I find that my foot is caught in one of the purse's handles. While it takes some effort to free it that is visible to other passengers, I am grateful that I learned this before I tried to get out at some point only to fall down in the aisle. I might have disturbed the sleeping man with the hat. I might have reignited the fury of the flight attendant who had tried to retrieve my pretzel bag. Neither of those things happened and that is good.

In my famished state, I glance at the map and believe that we have gotten close to Hudson and/or James Bay. This has not happened nor should it. I sort that out and come closer to figuring out where we are. It's good that we are nearing our destination; I really need to eat.

Beginning our descent, I try to accept the lack of food provided and aim to find food within the airport. A chocolate bar (or wrapper) would do. At this point, eating at least one of those items, oh, it is my biggest dream.

JAHD

On Tomatoes, A Toaster and the Potential for Fire in the Morning

"What if the tomatoes catch fire?" That was one of my earliest thoughts after I got up this morning. I'm probably not the only one who dislikes dealing with a tomato-related fire at the start of the day. I was making toast. The tomatoes were in a plastic container near the toaster. We've had problems with the toaster before. There's been smoke. What if the toaster took aim at the tomatoes? I can't be sure its intentions are good. I don't really feel I know that toaster at all. As well, I don't know the chemical compounds that tomatoes and plastic could form. I'm not eager to discover them. The tomatoes wouldn't have have been a loss. They're aging. They're not aging well. The fire would have been a concern. If we were able to extinguish or at least contain it, we'd have to reassure ADT that all was well. I don't know the weekend fire alarm people at ADT well. It would be worse if we were unable to control the fire. I'd have to let ADT send the fire department this time. I'd miss out on my toast. The tomatoes didn't catch fire. That's good. My husband's reaction to the whole issue, when I recounted my concerns later, was "Why didn't you move the tomatoes?" It's likely that man will never be the one responsible for letting a kitchen fire start in our house. I admire that in him. But while he is moving potentially flammable objects away from dangerously hot small appliances, I'll be the one seeing the possibilities in situations and stopping to consider them, even as the threat of fire looms around me. Perhaps there is value in that too. Perhaps there's really not. Safe toasting to all, both the practical and the more contemplative among us! And happy tomatoes too!

JAHD

The True Waffle Story

In a hotel where I stayed last week, a sign in the elevator noted the "Daily Complimentary Hot Waffle Breakfast." To me the focus on waffles, to the exclusion of all other foods, seemed presumptuous. Had the hotel decided that everyone staying there would eat waffles and would this be strictly enforced, or was there an expectation that people love waffles and would jump for joy (hopefully not in the elevator because that's a weird experience) when they learned of this offering? Do people love waffles a lot more than I had realized?

As it turned out, the breakfast was not as waffle-centric as the sign had made it seem. Other food was offered as well - much of it typical of those types of breakfast situations. There were small, heavily processed muffins and danishes that I would not choose to eat anywhere else, hard boiled eggs that likely came from chickens far, far away and juices and coffees that seemed to run out just when you had the opportunity to obtain them. It can take some work to gather the components necessary for your meal at a complimentary breakfast bar.

I did not attempt to make waffles while there. And while I do not mind eating a waffle when the time is right, I do not see the attraction, for anyone, of making them in a hotel breakfast bar. There is the potential for a lot of mess when, morning after morning, new guests try to learn about and use waffle irons with which they are unfamiliar. There has to be batter sticking to the equipment, leaking out of the equipment and potentially burning in the equipment. In addition to that, I don't see the benefit of fresh-made waffles when the batter for them is squirted out from a waffle batter machine. I question how this amounts to an experience any more wholesome than popping an Eggo in the toaster and splashing some syrup on it. Perhaps there is some charm of which I am unaware.

I wonder what would happen if all the guests in the hotel decided one morning that, yes, they did want waffles for breakfast. The hotel was right; waffles were the answer after all. Would there be enough of the batter on the premises to meet the demand? I considered that perhaps there was a reservoir of waffle batter under the hotel parking lot. Perhaps, if you stayed at the hotel for enough nights, you would see a tanker truck come and feed something in through a hose. Always, in pipes and vast storage rooms, a ready inventory of this important substance would be at the ready. Never, would anyone really know what it contained but as long as people could always make waffles for themselves, that wouldn't matter.

Next time I am at a hotel, and especially one where a "Daily Complimentary Hot Waffle Breakfast" is offered, I will see if I can spot any doors leading to any subterranean rooms and vaguely labeled "Breakfast Supplies" or "Reservoir Entrance" or, the very obvious,"Waffle Batter Storage." I still won't have waffles, none of these thoughts have made me want to do that, but I will try to get a better understanding of the hotel's handling of them. I'll be eating my over-processed pastry and well-traveled egg as I observe the waffle happenings. And I'll look for pipes that are attached to the batter machine and know I am onto the truth.

JAHD

Is that what improving means?

We have new neighbours. I don't know a lot about them. That's ok. I remain in close contact with my former neighbours and was happy when they dropped by recently. We also keep up through texts. We continue to make each other laugh.

Since the new people moved in, they have had most of the trees on their lawn taken down, had the lawn dug up and had new sod planted. A neighbour across the street commented to my husband yesterday, though, about how much better the place looks already. When he says that, I find it upsetting. When I think of him and why he says that, I feel sad.

While the grass next door is beautiful now and we may, at some times of the year, get more light in our house, I found beauty in the property before. Seeing and hearing little boys play (even though sometimes they scared me when they zoomed their trucks down to the road), having impromptu conversations with their mother and knowing we were there for each other when we needed help, and,one time, repeatedly seeing one of the little boy's heads appear in a window as he jumped on his bed were beautiful to me. We no longer have any of those experiences.

I see so many people on this street who, while they may be nice people, put a very high value on pristine lawns and trees. Pristine lawns and trees don't make you laugh and are not great at conversation. People can do both and when some nice ones move away, I miss them. And when their contribution to the street is not valued. I think that's sad.

JAHD

Still More Book Titles

I came up with a short list of possible book titles, again. Please let me know if there are any which you are particularly interested in reading.

1.  I'll Never Do That But Thanks: A Gracious Guide for Listening to Advice You Know You Will Not Use

2.  When Food Purchases Go Wrong: Grisly Pizza, Disturbing Doughnuts and Other Heartbreaks You've Bought At The Grocery Store

3.  Doing Good Deeds In Secret And Wishing People Knew: A Study of Your Motives, A Look Into Your Soul

4.  How Not to Attack Your Child in the Night Even When They Really Scare You

5. Toothbrush-Related Accidents and the Damage They Leave Behind (A Stunning Presentation In Pictures)

6.  Evaluating Squirrels - Their Leaps, Jumps and Prances - So You'll Know How They Really Feel

7.  An In-Depth Look at Pickles (Now With Bonus Section: Selected Profiles Of Those Who Fear Them)

8.  Learning to Understand (And Not Throw Things At) Someone who Yells "Phone!" When It Rings

9.  When Sudden Furniture Moves Seem Necessary; A Consideration of Motivations, Injuries And Hope For A Creative But More Patient Future

10. Determining Whether You're A Role Model Or Your Life Should Serve As A Cautionary Tale

11. You and Your Fear of Closed-Up Hotels: Comforting Words and Pictures That Probably Won't Help At All

12. When You Covet Cream Cheese: Dealing With Jealousy When A Friend Eats A Bagel Near You

13. Steve, the Pumpkin: His Memoirs and Collected Papers (Volume I)

14. When Your Rabbit Frets: Helping Him Communicate About That Which Troubles Him Most

15. Turkey Gravy Through the Years: A Short Study of a Substance That Should Never Change (With Samples)

16.  How to Know When Your Hairstylist Dislikes You, Finds You Annoying and/or Really Wishes You Harm (With Helpful Coping Strategies for Each of These Disappointing Scenarios)

17.  Listening In On the Conversation When Your Stomach Has a Lot to Say: A Helpful Guide to Understanding What Those Growls And Grumbles Really Mean

18.  You and Your Water Softener: Examining Why It's Set for 2 a.m. Replenishment When It Bothers Everyone So Much

19. Keeping Your Grandparents Busy: A Toddler's Guide to Terrifying and Tiring Those People Who Love You So Much

20. The Therapeutics of the Burp: Time-Tested Strategies for Successful Gastric Release

Input/advice (which I probably won't heed)/ and names of people who can help me (in any ways you think I need help) are all welcome.

Take care, everyone.

JAHD

On Clouds and Doom and Lots of Fun Stuff Like That

After exiting the mall today I noticed dark, horrible, oddly shaped clouds and I thought to myself that I should get home fastly which led to questioning myself about whether or not I had actually just used the word "fastly" and I thought that wow, there were no grammar police in my head, and then I thought that's weird because I kind of am the grammar police and then I questioned the value of correcting people's grammar and I spilled some coffee into the very small but tasteful gift I'd bought for someone and decided that wasn't really an issue because people expect this kind of thing from me and soon I noticed that the sun had come out somewhat or there was a strange glow coming from somewhere and it gave everything a look that suggested we'd reached the end of days and I thought to myself "That's too bad" and considered anything I'd been wanting to get done and I hoped I'd get time to drink the coffee I held in my hand because the first few sips had tasted good and I realized how selfish that seemed if the whole world was ending but acknowledged that there wasn't a lot more I could do for anybody else if we all only had about 20 minutes left and I headed over to a route home where there'd recently been some underground pipe work done and I hoped I would notice any holes before I fell in them but then I thought it didn't matter anyways with what was about to happen and I felt like I was being followed but then I realized it was probably just by doom and I was for sure not the only one being pursued by it at that time and this all really sucked because I had been hoping to get home in time to watch 30 Rock and hadn't foreseen any of this happening but probably nobody really had and I noticed that a decorative rock, which had likely been situated at a house for a very long time, looked like a vicious animal sitting in wait for me and it was probably normal at a time like this for everyday objects to take on the appearance of terrifying beasts and soon precipitation started and it seemed that it would turn to hail, probably really pointy hail, and I was aware of how we hadn't really had hail this summer and that's partly due to a cloud seeding procedure that insurance companies undertake and while it's nice not to lose property and plants to hail it also seems unnatural and maybe we shouldn't mess with Mother Nature and maybe she's getting back at us today just for things like the cloud seeding and all but it seems kind of mean to end the whole world simply because some insurance companies want to minimize hail damage claims but clearly it's way past the time to argue about something like that and the precipitation picked up a bit and I definitely wanted to be under the eaves to get my house key out of my purse and I got in the door, glad to see home again at least one more time, and savoured my coffee because, really, what else could I do?

JAHD