Week Seven (12/22-28)

I keep finding these tiny little silver bells, smaller than a pea, on the bathroom floor. Every time I'd go in there I'd find another one. So far I'm up to thirteen. Now, it's either the mice had a great Christmas party or my son (most likely) tore something up. What it was I have no idea, but that's pretty much par for the course.

I was surprised Damien's favorite Christmas present was the Origami book. He's made one pencil and at least 40 paper cups which are now everywhere. One was the size of my pinkie fingernail. I had to dig out the snow cone maker because he had to see if they would actually hold something. His second favorite gift was the 'bop it XD' He got mad when his dad beat his score, but he thought it was funny when I beat Dad. Now he's beat everyone X's 2 so he hasn't touched it since. Normal child.

I got the ladle I wanted plus coated tongs so I can turn meat in my coated pan. Like I've said before I'm easy to please, so I'm delighted. I was a cheap date when I was dating. In College all it took was a six pack in the hands of a nice guy and I was happy. I've never been 'high maintance' for the men in my life or even myself. When I wasn't dating I'd buy myself flowers. Actually at one time I was the overnight D.J. at an AM radio station. On the way home one early morning I passed a flower shop and saw they had thrown all the wilting flowers outside the front door in a cardboard box. I stopped and pulled out a bouquet of the best and couldn't have been happier. After that I had semi fresh flowers all the time. Sure they didn't last quite as long, but I was always able to replenish them several times a week.

This brings up a point: Why wait for someone else to make you happy? Buy yourself flowers or something special. There's nothing wrong with making yourself happy. Paul and I did this for Christmas. He received a Gift card for Wal-Mart. We decided to spoil ourselves and bought a small chunk of Prime Rib! Then I decided to try my hands at Yorkshire pudding. I can honestly say it was the best I've ever had...of course it was the first I've ever had, but now I can mark that off my list. I'm happiest with small/cheap things and free things. Thrift stores are a wonderland to me, garage sales are great amusement, and when I dig out my more than thirty year old metal detector, every beep is a chance to open a gift waiting in Mother Earth. Found coins are super, but every old chunk of metal I can't recognize might be a Civil War relic. For me it's not the monetary value, but the stories I invent to go with the prize just found. Yes. I'm VERY easy to please!

Lessons learned:

I can't decide. It's either "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder", or "One person's trash is another person's Civil War relic".  All I know for sure is whether it's a $3.00 used Origami book or half-wilted flowers you can find splendor all around.

Week Six (12/15-21)

I decided to buy something "old school" that is slowly going out of style for everyone for Christmas: books. For my best friend Sheila I got a gift certificate to her favorite used bookstore. For Paul it was "The Man In The High Castle" by Richard Dick. I was surprised how expensive a paperback could be, but with the help of my friend the World Wide Web I got a great price. For my son I got two books: Origami for kids, and one on how to fold better paper airplanes. I figure he's going to continue throwing paper all over the floor, so it might as well be folded into something first!

Paul and I have to buy more for Damien. He hasn't bothered to make out a list, but I think that's because this is the first year he doesn't believe in Santa. And he's pissed! I tried to soften the blow when he approached me with a 'I know the truth you lying mom' look in his eyes. I told him, yes, there is no one person who flies all over the world, but there are thousands of people who take on the role and make sure children get something under their tree. He didn't care. I took him to the Army reserve building and pointed at it and said; "This is where parents come every year and pick up presents. There are several hundred 'Santas' in there who love children so much they volunteer their time to make sure Christmas is better for children who's parents need help. When I told him children aren't allowed inside he became upset and said, "Then why did you bring me here! Let's leave!" Later I realized he probably thought Army men were going to burst out of the doors at any minute with guns blazing because I shared the "secret".

He does hold grudges. In First grade he came home from school one day angry at Popeye. He was grumbling under his breath "Stupid Popeye! (grumble grumble)" For two years he refused to watch his Popeye DVDs. I think they had spinach at school for lunch and he blamed the cartoons. Suddenly this last September I walked in the bedroom and he was watching a Popeye cartoon.

I looked at him and then the TV. "I thought you hated Popeye!"

He glanced up a second and said "Yea, I used to, but I like him again."

So far all I've been able to get out of him is he wants batteries for his light swords (he has 4) and a pair of tennis shoes that pump air on your feet when you walk. The last is because he has his dad's sweaty feet. I just hope they have them in 6 1/2! He has giant feet for a 9 year old. I don't know if like puppies big feet mean he'll be tall. His dad is 6' 3"and wears 12's or 13's depending on style. When I was pregnant that was one thing I worried about. The doctor said at 5'6" I'm considered above average for a woman, so even if he took after me he would be around 6'. Paul thinks he's going to be taller that him, almost like a giant. I think he's just worried about the grocery bill when Damien becomes a teenager. Kind of like a "Little Shop Of Horrors" fear: "FEED ME!"

As for me, all I want is a new ladle and some coat hangers. Paul says that's not Christmas type items, but it's what I really want and need. I never have enough hangers to hang everything I want, and my favorite ladle came up broke. I'm not talking a $1 ladle anyway. I'm talking about a Ladle like you would see on a cooking show. One that would last me the rest of my life and beyond. I'll probably get something I don't need, but I tried.

I did ask for a book on how to dry and preserve foods or a book on edible wild plants just in case December 21, 2012 really is bad, but I've looked around myself and can't find any I like. I guess he could get me freeze dried food to store. I once saw freeze dried ice cream at a Army surplus store. Not sure how that works but I'd like to try it! Of course I wouldn't wait until disaster to eat it. Who can NOT eat ice cream!

I finally got our tree up Tuesday. It's one of those little trees with attached lights. It stands three feet tall, and the ornaments Damien has picked out over the years are for a six footer. Some are eight inches long. It's a bit odd looking, but my family is odd, so it fits us to a "T".

One of my Grandparents had a silver tree. There are people, including Paul, who think a tree should be green, but I loved that tree. Whenever I see one I get so happy and the memories of Christmases past flow back including my Grandmother's divinity... I wonder if there's such a thing as freeze dried divinity? That would be an awesomely cool thing to freeze dry! I'm going to check into that!

What did I learn this week?

While I couldn't find divinity, I did find out there's freeze dried cheesecake!

Week Five (12/8-14)

For days I had a Christmas song stuck in my head. The bad part is I could only remember a small fraction of the words, mostly the words that repeated a lot, so what had been going through my brain was:


Ding, dong, ding, dong.... silver bells...caroling...sing something ...merry, merry, merry Christmas....Ding, dong.


I knew there were a lot of other words sung really fast, but it was a faded memory in my old brain. I'd wake up and the first thought was "ding dong...silver bells..." At bed time I was drifting off to: "sing what? Ring a bell? merry, merry, merry, Christmas..."

After several days I remembered I had a computer. I still forget sometimes that answers to questions no longer have to drive you crazy.

I think that having a computer lets you put off that feeling of loosing your mind for a little longer as you age. But will I memorize this song so next year I won't have to be driven crazy? Naw! I have a computer for that!

I want to raise my eggnog in a toast to the Internet for it's help. Thankfully I'm a little less crazy today.

Carol of the Bells [traditional]

Hark how the bells,
sweet silver bells,
all seem to say,
throw cares away
Christmas is here,
bringing good cheer,
to young and old,
meek and the bold.


Ding dong ding dong
that is their song
with joyful ring
all caroling.


One seems to hear
words of good cheer
from everywhere
filling the air.


Oh how they pound,
raising the sound,
o'er hill and dale,
telling their tale.


Gaily they ring
while people sing
songs of good cheer,
Christmas is here.


Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas,
Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas.
On on they send,
on without end,
their joyful tone
to every home.


Ding dong ding... dong!



What did I learn this week?

Not the words to that song!

Week Four (12/1-7)

I hate going anywhere this time of year mostly because of the Christmas crowds. There's nothing "Holly Jolly" about the people I have run into, sometimes literally. They're deranged isle blockers who's sole purpose is to make others go twenty-five feet to get to where they want to go that is only three feet from where they started.

I wasn't even Christmas shopping nor in the mood to start. I avoided Black Friday like the plague. Actually I have one present bought, but I got that off ebay. Ebay is a great invention! You don't have to leave the safety of your house to get something, and the world is your mall! It was a book I ordered from the UK. Maybe that's one thing about being older: You can still be amazed by the fact that through your laptop you can connect with the world, have your say, or order the perfect gift. I've been told I'm easily entertained, maybe that's why.

After the rough trip Paul bought me some eggnog. Sweet man! It's the one thing I do look forward to every year. I had it for dinner. Nothing else. What else do you need? I hope I'm not the only person who fulfills the childhood rants: When I grow up I'm going to drink all the eggnog I want! When I grow up I'm going to have cake for dinner! When I grow up... what's yours that you do? I tried to get my son to eat his birthday cake for breakfast with milk poured on it and he wouldn't do it. What's with this younger generation!

I got a Christmas card in the mail today and it reminded me of something: We haven't put any decorations up. I know I need to drag them out, it's just they get pushed to the back of the storage room and it means walking over other stuff to get to them. One thing nice is I have several cards from past years from my Mom. I love seeing her handwriting! I guess that is one thing I can't put off any longer. I'll do that first thing tomorrow.

Lessons learned this week?

1. Egg nog still hasn't lost it's joy

2. Christmas shopping never had it.

Week Three (11/24-30)

I just realized "Week Two" was 8 days long, so I'll just start Week Three Thursday night when we drug ourselves back home over fed and with leftovers in tow:

Paul complained on the way home he didn't get any cranberry sauce. You know, the kind that slurps out of the can still shaped like the can? It was there on my sister's table...about six inches from Paul's right arm. He says he didn't see it which I guess since he's 6' 3" tall COULD be true, but I was on his left, right next to him, and I got some. Don't know about him.

Friday dawned with Paul saying he missed sweet potatoes at Thanksgiving and pumpkin pie. Two things my sister forgot. After promising him a Thanksgiving redo we drove up to the Nursing home his Mom has lived at since her stroke. I read an article once about a woman who, like Paul's Mom Judy, lost most of her language after a stroke. After 10 years of therapy she was able to gain her life back, but she said one thing about the experience that she learned and doesn't want to forget was that even though it was hard to communicate, it was a freeing experience. She had no worries of bills, grocery shopping, or even what to wear. She felt totally at peace. When I look at Judy I can see no worry lines on her face, but there is always a smile for her "baby" Paul. After she had had enough of Damien she gave us the "OK" that we understand perfectly and went to Paul's Dad's home.

Bob drives the 30 miles to see and eat lunch with Judy every day. His sister, Melba, now stays with him. They take care of each other. She's a real hoot. Though she uses a cane now she has fierce eyes and a quick laugh. She was Paul's buddy growing up since he was an only child. The one who, I've heard, got him in trouble more than out of it.


She's also someone to study on this journey to refind myself in the world of being 50. Age really is in the mind. When Melba was 50 Paul would have I think been around 15. She got him out of the house and he has told me she was fearless! A good word to remember: Be fearless. You don't have to go jump out of a plane if you don't want to, but get out of bed and GLARE at the day and face it head on. Awesome!


Fixed the promised Thanksgiving Saturday night with the leftover turkey and ham, new stuffing because Damien and I had ate the other, a crust less pumpkin pie because I forgot to buy a crust and wasn't going back to the store for it. And as for the cranberry sauce? It was in the fridge but I forgot to get it out. Now I've had to promise Paul I'll make crepes with my cranberry-butter sauce... Canned cranberries keep for quite a while. No rush.



So what did I learn this week:


1. Paul really likes cranberry sauce!
2. Be fearless today!

Week Two (11/17-24)

This week began with a letter from school saying my son would be out of school from Wednesday 11/23-27. It was one of those moments like in a movie: Everything slows down including the word coming out of my mouth, "Noooooooooo!" Don't get me wrong, I love my son very much. I just LIKE him more when he goes away for a several hours a day five days a week. It's the same with his father. I love him. He's a wonderful man, but he was off Thursday-Sunday. I could say they cramp my style, but actually they cramp my nap. It's annoying.

I did learn I'm not a Hag this week. I was thinking of the Three Stages of Woman. Turns out I'm a Crone...much better.

Stage one is Maiden. That's where you play around and have fun. Since I met Paul when I was 38 my Maidenhood lasted until 40. He was my first real relationship. I had many other boyfriends, but it was all fun and games...Ah! Memories! LOTS of fun!

Stage Two is Motherhood. I became a Mom 12 days before I turned 41. I think for me being older was good. I was having too much fun to be responsible for a child before.

Stage Three as I've mentioned is Crone. It's when your periods stop. Mine have always been hit and miss, usually only in the Spring, so really as long as I have mine this Spring I can just call myself "pre-crone". But I'm still 50, can't change that. Crone is the time a woman is supposed to be a teacher of the young. Guess that's a nice way of saying old women say whatever the hell they want. In a way I'm doing that here, so maybe 'pre-crone' does fit!

My Mother died October 22, 2010, so I've been going to my older/only sister and brother-in-law's house an hour away for Thanksgiving. I was going to take my mother's recipe for ribbon Jell-O and even made some, but it didn't turn out right so we had to eat it (real hardship!). I'll try it again for Christmas.


I learned this week that I need to practice my ribbon Jell-O recipe several more times, even if it's a 'horrible hardship'!

Week One (11/10-16)

The good news of having a Birthday in November is its eggnog season. The bad news of turning 50 in November is its eggnog season.

The first week of turning 50 I slapped on my sweats and a big t-shirt and immersed myself in comfort food. I drank several quarts of eggnog at different times that week, ate butterscotch pudding, my son's leftover Halloween candy but I controlled myself and only ate the kinds I knew he didn't like. Some of it's a blur. I know there were pinwheels, strawberry logs and Chico sticks involved, but I honestly only remember one actual meal. Yes, yes, you have to watch what you eat as you get older, but week one was about drowning my sorrows. I'm not a big drinker. I do like champagne, but that's a 'happy' drink and I was not happy. I like Japanese Plum wine, but that mellows you out and I wasn't in the mood to be mellow, I was mad! The meal I remember was when my boyfriend took me out Friday night to a Brazilian steakhouse. It was a wonderful evening just the two of us. He’s a sweet guy. He's 12 years younger than me so he has no clue how it feels to turn 50, but he gets a gold star for getting me out of the house.

What did I learn from week one? Hum. Have to say:

1. Let yourself be mad! It's okay to wallow in your pain, just don't live there.

2. Eggnog is awesome.

Wake up! Your 50!

The morning of my 50th Birthday, I woke up to the sound of my alarm going off as any morning, but as I silenced the noise a thought popped into my head that had never been there before: 'You're a hag.' For the first hour this horrible thought echoed through my brain as I brushed my hair, drank my coffee, got dressed, got my son to school and man to work. I'm a hag.

I turned to the Internet for help to feel better. I googled 'I'm 50 years old'. The first place I visited talked of how I'm now over the hill with cartoons of saggy boobed women. The second site looked promising for help until the woman started talking about how more than half my life was now over...gee, thanks. I feel SO much better knowing I'm closer to death than ever before... I just didn't find anything that made me feel better. Of course I started crying after the second website and kept at it for several hours. That DID help a little. So my first advice is to cry if you need to, even watch 'Steel Magnolias' if you need to, that's my 'cry' movie that I love!

I think it was that moment though that I realized I needed to do something. It was a small thought at first, but grew every day. Finally I decided to do what I love: write! I've also decided plain honesty is best. Maybe over time as I share being 50 my experiences will bloom into Knowledge. Actually if I give someone a chuckle or make one person smile I'll feel good about the time I'm putting into this. I really don't want to make this a 'woe is me' site. Who wants to read how someone is bummed, sad and weepy? Not me! I'll buzz right past some one's blog who talks about how horrible life is. Yea, I hope to find some answers in how to cope, but as Shirley MacLaine said: "The person who knows how to laugh at himself will never cease to be amused."