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Five Things Friday

Here I am again, falling back on the five things bandwagon

1. Tuesday was the first day that I had my get-up-and-go back after over a month struggling with bronchitis and disappearing energy levels and lack of sleep. And I got up and went. Tuesday ended up being a massive shopping day, which was quite necessary as I had managed with minimal stops and declining supplies for quite a while. Luckily I picked up a small rib eye and some lovely Japanese eggplant and mushrooms, all of which were destined for the grill. By the time I got everything stowed, took my evening walk with Tikka, and finished with dinner and its aftermath (luckily minimal), I was exhausted.  I managed to catch up with Sunday's episode of The Good Wife and fall asleep halfway through the State of the Union Address. But ahh, the joys of recumbency; something else I had sorely missed.

2. I finally started my first batch of kimchi this week! Can you tell that I am excited? After 24 hours, the first taste seems promising. But now I have to be patient, and I want to peek and taste every single day. I am using David Chang's recipe from Momofuku for no particular reason other than it being the first book I pulled off the shelf. It may not have been the best choice as  David Chang uses light soy sauce in his kimchi which may not be typical. Gluten free soy sauce is a form of tamari, which is, as I vaguely recall, darker and richer tasting than light soy sauce. But then again, it has been years, and all recipes are interpretations and adaptations to one degree or another. My next version might well be altogether different, without any soy sauce at all. The idea is to settle on something that is my house kimchi recipe and work from there. But then, I am getting ahead of myself.

3. Thursday morning Tikka and I took our first long walk in, once again, over a month. Not quite my former 2 to 2 1/2 miles, but an easy 1 1/2, up and down the big hill and a couple of smaller ones.  The walk itself, from starting out telling myself we wouldn't go far, to rounding the final corner and heading home buoyed my spirits for the rest of the day, and I remained entranced with the simplest of things. But then perhaps I just needed a little euphoria to bring balance back to my life. After all, the previous Friday evening I had tried walking up a hill and barely made it. A fit of coughing ensued that kept me up for hours and I feared that I would never recover, never return to active life, and was about to fall into steady slow decline. There is nothing quite like a little 2 AM melodrama when one is under the weather, is there?  And yet only a couple of days later there I was, walking up hills and engaged in the normal activities of daily life. My inner lark had been freed and was beginning to soar.

4. I finished reading Stoned by Aja Raden. It was a good, highly entertaining, light read. Ms. Raden is a good storyteller and she made the book a lot of fun, and I liked her approach, using jewelry and the desire for precious things as a focal point in history, which of course is all too true. Some sections were all too familiar, but charmingly told, especially those concerning Queen Elizabeth, Spain, and the New World. But that is the downside of being the daughter of a historian I suspect, the daughter of a historian who was also a good storyteller, and who loved to talk about history and the interesting little details that he found fascinating.   I recommend the book, it is engaging and entertaining, and not at all remote and distant. In fact Ms. Raden brings the reader into the story in all-too-human ways that desire, envy and obsession have cut a wide swath across history, implicating us all in the process. For who has never obsessed over something? Who has never been stoned?

5. I was going to make soup for dinner last night, but I realized that the last canning jar in the freezer was not, indeed, stock, but pecans. Bummer. So I made chicken stock. My stock is not the detailed, fancy, proper French style stock I made when I was young. Now I tend to save up chicken bones and carcases, onion and carrot peels, and the like in a zip lock bag in the freezer. When I have a bag or two I make a batch of stock in the slow cooker, adding vegetables as needed by weight, to enrich the stock. I try to keep some meaty chicken backs, or even better parts of an old stewing hen or chicken feet, to enrich the stock. But otherwise it is pretty much a dump and go process. The resulting stock is rich and flavorful and good enough for my home uses.

Besides there is nothing quite like the joy of waking up to the aroma of chicken soup.

January 15, 2016
Quiet

Sometimes you just need a quiet day. Monday was mine. It wasn't quite an unplugged day, as I wrote yesterday's blog post in the morning and was back online, checking emails in the early evening. But mostly I needed a quiet day at home and so I was happily occupied with knitting, reading, some cooking and a little bit of piano practice.

Tikka and I got outside for a walk just in time for a sunset. All in all, a perfect day of rest.

January 12, 2016
Reading, Remembering, and Writing

In the 8th grade I took a test. In the 8th grade there were many tests, but this one in particular stands out. I don't remember the subject of the test, and that, actually, is relevant to this post. It may have been on the amendments to the constitution of the United States. I remember studying for that test, I remember reciting the relevant information over and over, perhaps cramming, possibly memorizing the relevant information. I passed the test. The first test. A week later our instructor gave us the same test again, this time as a surprise. Most of us did not pass the second test. I remember my teacher telling us that this proved that we were not actually learning the material, but merely memorizing facts to take a test.   I recall feeling chastened for studying incorrectly. I do not recall that we were instructed in techniques to aid in long-term retention of the assigned material, and I wondered where I went wrong. If memorization and cramming are not enough, what indeed is the proper way to study?

Last year I felt driven to slow down my reading. I am sure this impulse was somewhat reactionary in that there were a few years when I felt overwhelmed and distracted and although I read, I continue to feel like I did not really focus my attention on my reading. I feel like what I read filtered through my brain like a sieve, leaving little lasting impression. And this continued to bother me. But I am also not convinced that some part of me didn't wish to slow down as attempt to align my reading pace more closely to my ability to review the books. That ended up being an epic fail, as rather than reviewing more, I actually almost stopped reviewing altogether. But the experiment itself was a success.

Then in December I picked up Make it Stick by Peter C. Brown.   Brown's thesis is that many of the things that we assume about studying and learning are in fact wrong. He then explains what we have learned about how the brain works and discusses what techniques work and why. He also explains why study techniques like repeatedly rereading and underlining, then reviewing the underlined passages don't work even though we believe they do.

The book is a pretty easy read. Brown basically tells you what works early on, then spends the bulk of the book fleshing it out, telling you why some things work and some don't, reviewing the science and interspersing it with stories aimed at helping the reader relate to the content. Then in the end he reiterates his main points, with more examples of people who use the techniques and how they have helped them.

There is a lot of fluff. But the fluff is actually necessary. The fluff hides the patterns, which is the point. The reader has to sift through the story and reflect on the meaning, which feels frustrating, but which also aids in learning. Brown points out that an author is a storyteller. We relate to information through stories, and it is through our own adaptation and interpretation of those stories that we write our own stories, which help us ultimately to retain the information.  But in order to write our own version of the story, we have to understand the underlying principles. We have to think about the story, not just copy and memorize a list of points.

You learn through the connections and relationships your brain builds between bits of information. When you make your own associations, the information takes on meaning, just as I recalled the 8th grade test. I certainly hadn't thought about that test in decades. But that test did change the way I studied. And the changes I made at the time also informed the changes I made to my reading this year, techniques I had devised in high school and college that helped me retain information and which actually made preparing for finals easier. I was never one of the students pulling overnighters cramming for exams.

I certainly don't use all of the techniques Brown mentions, although I might use more of them were I following a course of study rather than just reading for pleasure and edification. You might use a different combination of techniques, or use them in a different way. But reading Make It Stick helped me reflect on my own reading habits, and my reviewing habits as well, and why sometimes I feel torn between wanting to review a book while simultaneously being wrapped up reading another book, and how both difficult and ultimately rewarding it is to go back, and summarize and put my thoughts on a book on paper after it has had time to marinate in my brain for a while.

For a while I struggled with my inclination to want to go back and reflect on what I had read. My inclination is to read then put the book aside and do something else, even watch tv, then come back, write down what I thought I had read, refer once again to the book to test my own memory and then come back again, usually later, to write my own reflections and elaborations on what I had read. This functions well as a technique for making the knowledge mine. This often takes days if not weeks. Sometimes I wonder if I make things too hard for myself. It feels hard, but actually having to work hard on memory, cements that memory more firmly in place. Restating new information in my own words, associating it with something I already know or an issue I am already struggling with, embeds that knowledge in my own neural pathways.

In the same way, my own tendency to interleave my reading materials by reading several books simultaneously, as well as the distractions caused by the general hubbub of life, helps to solidify the impression made by the book. The harder I have to work to retrieve the memory, the more likely the memory is to stick. When I was young I thought I wasn't very smart because I had to work so hard, rewriting and quizzing myself in order to fully absorb things. I was envious of those who read and underlined and made it look easy, even thought I knew that didn't work for me. It ends up that effortless study does not really help any of us; it is the effort that makes it stick. Although I didn't realize the impact then, my efforts paid off. As I mentioned, I was not cramming come exam week, although many of my classmates were. I already knew the material. I didn't have to crack my text, just review my own copiously rewritten notes, and quiz myself on a few points. It was my classmates who made it look so easy during the semester were up all night cramming their brains into oblivion, showing up with gray skin and dark circles under their eyes.

The point is to read or study, forget, at least partially, then retrieve. My own inclination to rewrite and reflect is a form of retrieval. I finished the actual reading of this book around the 30th of December. I finished my notes on January 2nd. It has taken me over a week to articulate what I wanted to say in this review, which is in effect, yet another final review and restatement of my thoughts on the book. It is completely different from my notes of the 2nd, which I reviewed briefly before sitting down to write this, and set aside.

Granted not all books are worth the effort. They should not be. We all need to rest, to escape, to wind down however we chose to do so, be it a beer with friends, a mindless television show, a silly book. Learn. Rest.  Learn something else. Wander. Recall. Begin again.

One of the two books that I finished the first weekend of this year addressed this exact problem.

January 11, 2016
Five Things Friday

I'm off my game this week. I had a minor flare-up of the bronchitis that plagued me most of December, but it does seem to be back under control now. And it seems I've finished nothing I started. Even when I think I have indeed finished, I find I was mistaken.

Better therefore to rely on simple things:

1. It has been so warm in Knoxville, despite a few frosts here and there, that my bulbs are all starting to come up early. I worry that they may still loose their heads.

2. But I can't say that I mind seeing a few things in bloom in the otherwise desolate landscape as we take our morning walks.

3. Most of the Christmas decorations have come down and been put away. I had a lot of fun sorting out various balls and baubles, recalling origins and associations, and lovingly packing them away, a combination of Christmas and Epiphany carols running through my head.

4. It has also struck me that I've had better fish and seafood since I've come home, cooked in my own kitchen, than I had in Sarasota. There is something truly sad about that. Beautiful Grouper, purchased locally and cooked at home with long Japanese eggplant and oyster mushrooms on the side. I had made an incredible batch of mayonnaise that afternoon with a richly fruity yet mellow olive oil from Lucero. On a whim, I combined the mayo with grated coconut and ginger and used it as a topping for the fish. The coconut and ginger brought out the fruitiness of the olive oil, and beautifully enhanced the fish. Not at all modestly, I will assert it was perfectly cooked, unlike the sad pan-roasted grouper I had in Sarasota at a locale probably better suited to those who want their fish breaded and baked or fried.

5. I've been reminded of this quote from John McPhee, writing about writer's block in the New Yorker. After confessing that his first drafts may often take the form of an "awful blurting", he goes on to state the following: "Then you put the thing aside. You get in the car and drive home. On the way, your mind is still knitting at the words. You think of a better way to say something, a good phrase to correct a certain problem. Without the drafted version — if it did not exist — you obviously would not be thinking of ways to improve it. In short, you may actually be writing two or three hours a day, but your mind, in one way or another, is working on it twenty-four hours a day — yes, while you sleep — but only if some sort of draft or earlier version exists. Until it exists, writing has not really begun."

I've started writing several things this week only to have them all turn out to be awful blurtings. And my thoughts are still revolving around the paths that those words might eventually take. I suppose also that this post technically only contains four things, as bulbs and flowers could have been combined. But it is only human to fudge occasionally.

Have a lovely weekend.

Quote from John McPhee, "Draft no. 4," New Yorker, April 29, 2013.

photos all taken on my iPhone.

January 8, 2016
Mushroom musings

Yesterday evening I went out to the side yard to harvest a bit of rosemary to use while preparing dinner. The dinner wasn't for me, but for another family, a family who could use a dinner, and the process of cooking this dinner reminded me of how the preparing of food can be a gift of service, and the preparing and giving or sharing of food, is an act of communication, of sharing, and of building bonds, bonds that stretch far beyond the single meal.

But that is not the point of this post.

When I went out to the side yard, where the herb garden is located, I saw that the majority of the side flower bed has been colonized by masses of mushrooms, masses just like the one above, which was next to my rosemary bush. The whole scenario took me by surprise. Once I recovered from my shock, I thought the flower bed had a certain alien-landscape aspect to it, but I couldn't quite capture that on film in the early evening light.

Admittedly my first thought was "Oh no!". My second thought was more along the lines of "Eh, its winter. They aren't hurting anything." It has been warm and damp. It is now getting colder and we will have a hard freeze. It is possible the wood chip mulch the landscaper for my neighborhood used last spring is part of the problem. It burnt existing plants when they put it out, and not just in my yard, and I have had a constant fungus problem in the areas they mulched, but nowhere else. That may be a problem that needs to be addressed before spring growth begins, but in January, no.

But dealing with fungus is not really the point of this post either, although the appearance of the fungi may have indeed initiated my chain of thought, just as the fact that I was cooking dinner and needed rosemary initiated my trip to the garden.

Life throws us mushrooms when we are least expecting it. At times, unexpected setbacks proliferate like a field of fungus. At other times, life seems to be running smoothly and we once again assume that we are in control, and if we can only stay the course and do the right thing, good things will roll before us like a never ending yellow brick road. It is all an illusion. We spend the first half of our lives building structures, defining ourselves in the world, deciding who we are going to be and the role we will fill in our societies and our social structure. We battle the mushrooms, uprooting, scraping away that which we see as unnecessary, applying fungicide, building newer (hopefully stronger) structures. This is all very necessary. It is all a part of our humanity, of what allows us to function in the world. But it is not necessarily all that there is to us.

At some point we may realize that there is in fact, very little we can control in our lives. We've built this external structure that allows us to function, but only within our illusions. We can keep fighting the mushrooms to the very end. Or we can pick our battles, and accept that life is in fact random, and out of control, and like the dark woods in fairy tales, full of dangers. But fairy tales are not useless frightening imaginings meant to scare children. They are maps that show us how to be resilient. First we must build our house, and then once the house is built, we must rediscover our character, and make our house a sanctuary that keeps us strong and warm in the face of the cold winds. The question is do we build a house of straw, or a house of stone? Each of us has that choice, and we often don't know what we are building until the foundation has already been poured. But the good news is that we can, if we choose, fortify whatever we have built, can help ourselves to become more resilient, more generous, stronger, and more flexible in the face of the random ravages of the world. Do we close ourselves off, behind walls of steel, or do we learn that our strength is inside us, and stand tall, bending in the wind and not breaking?

Here it is early January, and there has been a lot of talk of resolutions and goals. Do we make them? Do we stick to them? Are they broad or narrow, large or small? Does it even matter what my goals are? What if my goal is to be truly kind to everyone I meet, to treat them as I would truly like to be treated, to attempt to live up to "love thy neighbor as thyself" (or at least as thou would like to be loved)? A group of us had this discussion the other night. And it was said, although there may have been some misunderstanding of intentions here, that the goal of loving thy neighbor is not enough, that you need a corporate structure, and some shied away from this, myself included. But I have come back to it because I think both are true.

I honestly believe that if each of us could try to be kind, the ripples would be never ending. But I also believe in structures and know that each and every one of us needs some kind of structure in our life that allows us to function, allows us to strive toward our goals, and allows us to bend and change when we either achieve our goals, or see that our goals need to change and evolve. To have a goal is not enough. When my grandson entered kindergarten, his goal was to grow up to own a Lamborghini dealership. A pretty grand goal for a small child. But the point is not whether your goal is grand, or small. Or even whether or not you achieve the goal. The point is the character you build in the process, and the structures you build. Do you build structures that help you reach your goals? When you get there, have you become the person you wanted to be? Are you becoming the person you are meant to be?

Without resilience, without structure to help you build resilience, you cannot work toward your goals. Increasingly, I think the structures we impose to frame our lives are more important perhaps than the goals themselves. The goal alone is not enough; it cannot be accompanied without the structure. If along the path the goal evolves, the structure still supports us. And I we falter, and we always falter, the structure we have built allows us to pick ourselves up and keep moving forward. What motivates you to get out of bed in the morning? What work do you do that fills your soul? Who do you help? Why? If your goal is to love your neighbor, what do you do when your neighbor screams at you in the middle of the night? How do you fortify yourself when you are tired and have a cold and just want to go home and have a cup of tea or brandy and go to bed but traffic is terrible and you feel like everyone else on the road is an idiot? Is your structure fragile? Does it crumble easily? Is your structure so heavily fortified that you have lost yourself inside its forbidding walls? Or is your structure just right? Holding you up and yet also flexing through the force of the gale?

You have to find your own structures, your own paths to wisdom and grace. Structures that allow you to be open and to bend but still remain strong, structures that allow you to laugh at mushrooms, and death, and screaming neighbors. Yes those things give us pause, yes they sometimes even terrify us, but what keeps them from defeating us?

We all search for meaning. We all yearn for Grace, no matter what we may call it. And we all battle lethargy, and darkness, and failure, and the fear of death, the fear of not leaving our mark, the fear of not being enough. We all battle evil, but the world itself is not evil. The mushrooms and the storms and the plagues of locusts are not evil. We define evil, and we allow it to fester, or we can build structures to root it out, out of ourselves, out of the world.

Build structures. Build strength. Build resilience. Find your own sweet spot. Find grace. You will not need to search for goals. They will find you, and you will find your path. The sun always rises. Let the line shine through the clouds in your heart.

January 5, 2016
Current Reading

The Disappearance by Phillip Wylie. I heard a lot about this book when I was in college, but I never found a copy. Eventually I forgot about it, until recently that is, when I saw a copy in a bookstore. I will be intrigued to see if it lives up to nearly 40 years of expectation.

Jesus and the Disinherited by Howard Thurman. This is my reading for a class later this week.

The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker. I actually read this a few years ago, but felt strongly moved to read it again this December. A lot has changed in my understandings during the intervening years. This second reading is proving quite rewarding.

Creeds, Councils, and Controversies, edited by J. Stevenson. I picked this up during the fall, to look up some original materials referenced in my reading about the history of Christianity for EFM year three. It is not the kind of book I can read straight-through, but I am still finding it yields fascinating perspectives into the development of western European thought.

Stoned by Aja Raden. I've just started this. So far nothing new but the reading is entertaining.

I also finished two books this past weekend, which is good because even for a person who tends to have multiple books going at one time, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed and stressed by the number of books competing for my attention. I haven't quite wrapped my head completely around the second book, though, so you might hear about that later in the week.

January 4, 2016
Happy New Year!

I greeted the New Year with a dawn walk. Truthfully, I was hoping for one of those photographable moments, but the sky is solidly overcast, so instead there was simply a gradual brightening of the world, with no spectacular display of glory.

That's ok, really, because that is how enlightenment really happens most of the time. We wait for the big special moment, only, hopefully, to learn that we've carried the light within ourselves all along.

So here's to a season of birth, of bringing light to the darkness in all the ways that it is possible to do so. And since, I always think it is fitting that the New Year dawns in the middle of the Christmas season, a season of birth and joy, a season where we celebrate the coming of light out of the darkness, instead of sunrise, I'll share a photo of the lights reflected in the glass from my Christmas tree.

Say yes to the light. Say yes. And let your light shine and be reflected in the world.

January 1, 2016
Defining Books of 2015

I am not going to post a list of all the books I read in 2015. I now keep such a list on LibraryThing, and therefore have no need of duplicating the list here. The feature of my previous lists that was useful however, was the notation of favorite books, and that I shall continue. This may be particularly useful this year, as I more or less stopped reviewing books in the middle of 2015. It is a decision I regret, but it is too late to go back and catch you up on thoughts and processes past. I believe I just needed to make some decision about what I would and would not write as I am not inclined toward a traditional review, and, by nature, it is very rare that I actually regret reading a book, or find that my time was wasted, even with a book, that I may find seriously flawed and lacking. So I will occasionally write about books, but not all books.

In the meantime, here are the books that I enjoyed the most in 2015. For the most part the books I enjoyed the most are also the books that in some way changed my way of thinking and seeing the world. Since I find it difficult to both rate and rank books, they are listed alphabetically by author's last name.

How to Fly a Horse by Kevin Ashton is a book about creativity and how humans are creative animals by nature. In fact it is about our struggle between the creative impulse and fear, or the need for security. Not reviewed, but mentioned here and again here.

Necessary Targets by Eve Ensler. We need to build walls to make life tolerable; and yet those same walls which protect us, can also separate and destroy us. We occasionally need to be reminded of this fact. Review here.

The Episcopal Call to Love by Rob Gieselmann. The book was written in response to a particular time and place in Episcopal Church, and I initially read it for two reasons: We were addressing a related issue in my parish home, and Rob Gieselmann was one of the candidates being considered in our search for a Priest-In-Charge. I went back to the book later however because it resonated deeply with me in my own explorations of how we listen, relate, and ultimately love our neighbors.

Travelling with Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor. Lent to me by a friend, I was initially put off by the opening sections of this book. Yet I stuck with it and ultimately found it rewarding. It proved to have strong connections to other books I read this year, including Ashton (above) which I read later. It proved to be a fascinating exploration, through memoir, of the role of creativity in life, of the search for meaning, and in finding and embracing one's true calling.

H is for Hawk by Helen Macdonald. A book I wish everyone could read. Yes, it delves deeply into the darker sides of human nature, but it is only by reconciling ourselves with darkness and pain that we become most human. Review here. And also, see Mater's review here.

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel. A rich, complexly rewarding novel. I see no point in repeating myself. Review here.

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami. This is a book I wish I had reviewed as I cannot say enough about it in this brief format. That said I will read it again as it has played so deeply in my insights and thoughts that I am sure I will see things with new eyes upon my next reading. Although I have read all of Murakami's other novels, and I purchased the novel when it first came out, I realized when I picked it up, after our new Priest (see above) mentioned it in a sermon, that I could not have read it before now. Is Tsukuru colorless because he has closed himself off to emotion and love due to grief? But he saw himself as colorless before, whereas his friends had color. Or is it is self-perceived colorlessness that has allowed him to live out his dream to create? A novel that exists on many levels and raises more questions than it answers, but once again touches on pain and joy, the struggle between safety and creativity, and what makes us human.

Globalization, Gender, and Peacebuilding by Kwok Pui-Lan. This brief book on interfaith dialogue was assigned reading in last year's EFM class. I read it early in the year and found it be a persuasive and thought-provoking analysis of the roots of religious conflict. It really challenged many of my perceptions and assumptions and I found myself looking forward to a class discussion that never occurred due to many conflicting circumstances. I will probably read it again, in an attempt to come to some understanding between my initial perceptions and any evolution in my personal insights into the world (in lieu of actual dialogue). Academically written so not for everyone, but worthwhile for those so inclined.

You've probably noticed that there seems to be a theme, or some consistency in what stuck with me this year. I am sure that to some extent this often occurs, as what we see and are drawn to in any book depends on where we have been, what we have learned, and our own understanding of the world, ie. the perspective we bring into the dialogue between ourselves and the book. Since I tend to read several books simultaneously, this habit may also affect my perspectives.

I have therefore decided that it may be fun and informative if I occasionally list the books I am currently reading. They may not all get reviewed. They may not even all get listed, as I view this as an occasional snapshot kind of post. But I'd be interested in seeing how my memories and perceptions of a book relate to the other books I was reading at the same time, if they relate at all. I'm thinking this will be a monthly snapshot, but it may be more or less frequent, depending on how much or how little I read (2015 was a short-listed year). I'll put up the first post next week.

December 31, 2015
Christmas Away: A Midpoint Review of the Season

This year I did something different for Christmas. I went to Florida for Christmas week, the week that ended with Christmas Day and the beginning of the Christmas Season. My step-daughter's husbands' family has a condo in Sarasota, which they are planning on selling, and on this, their last family trip, she invited me and her brother's family to join them. And so we did.

It was a mixed blessing for me. Sarasota was unseasonably warm, as has been most of the eastern United States, and 86 and very humid was not kind to my bronchitis. In fact I was much worse, aggravated by my mold and mildew allergy I'm sure. Even in this there is a blessing in that I am now fairly certain that I am not destined to be living in Florida.

Things were much better out at the beach however. The breeze and the salt air cleared my lungs and I could actually breathe, at least until I crossed the threshold into the vegetative interior. Wednesday evening we took a sunset cruise. It was fairly overcast, and the clouds dampened the sunset, but it was lovely anyway. In the top photo we are looking back at the gulf, in that little gap between the two keys, and the photo above, is of downtown Sarasota as we head in to port, the almost-full moon beckoning with promise of light and joy to come.

There were adventures I missed, like a trip to Myakka park, simply because I could not breathe everytime I stepped outdoors in the interior, and it seemed like a trip to misery from my perspective. But I happily stayed indoors, wrapping gifts, drinking tea, and reading some light fiction. Perhaps someday I will return, at a time of kinder weather, without dragging bronchitis around.

And there were moments of great joy as well. One such time involved sneaking back into my step-daughter's condo after Owen had gone to sleep on Christmas Eve, in order to populate the area under the tree with gifts and brightly wrapped packages, and fill stockings. I wanted Owen to wake up that to moment I have always relished, of seeing all the gifts under the tree, that moment of immense hope and joy. (but I forgot to take a picture of the tree fully loaded). Besides one of my grandmotherly duties was to see that Santa's gift arrived.

Even though I did not still believe in Santa by the time I was 9. I have always believed in the joy of Christmas, and in gifts, in the joy and hope of Christmas morning, and the promise and love that is symbolized by gift giving. We give gifts, hopefully out of love and joy, not obligation, as both a reminder and a promise. I still love the Christmas Day rituals, seeing the gifts under the tree, and the joy of opening the gifts. I am still often the first one up on Christmas morning, even if I have been up late at midnight services. Apparently, one mile apart, Owen and I were both up at 5:30, filled with joy. He staring at the tree and reading a book, me singing Christmas carols as I took Tikka for a walk and puttered about in the kitchen, making coffee and browning meat for the Christmas Pot Roast. Cooking and the rituals of preparing food, setting tables, and celebratory meals, the rituals attached to the meal, all of this is a kind of service, a sharing of joy and love, and it is true that I was singing and dancing in the kitchen as I cooked.

I arrived early, before everyone else was up. I still don't understand it, to me the joy is palpable and I cannot sleep. I turned on the tree lights for Owen and we took Tikka for another walk. And then, of course, there was the great unwrapping. I adore watching everyone's faces, and the flurry of paper and ribbon, the anticipation and joy of it all. In fact I want to watch everyone else, more than I want to unwrap my own gifts, although my gifts were all wonderful and included a couple of books I might not have found on my own, but which I will thoroughly enjoy reading, and a photo of my handsome grandson. Then we had breakfast and trooped off to the beach to join the Christmas throngs, where everyone had a good time.

On Saturday I packed up my condo and met with two friends who have each relocated to Florida, in different cities, having lunch with one, and dinner with the other and long fabulous conversations with both. I was reminded that I have been remiss, and it is long past time that I begin making a greater effort.

Then on Sunday we drove to Atlanta for a couple of days, returning home yesterday. We stayed in midtown, where I had not stayed before, and it was a perfect spot for us. We were two blocks from Piedmont park, where Tikka and I took long walks every day, and 5 blocks from the High Museum, in an area that was lovely to walk in with a very people and dog-friendly mix of business and residential areas and a variety of restaurants as well. Even though it was still unseasonably warm, the cooler temperatures were better for both of us, and Tikka seems to enjoy these brief forays as a city dog. But yes, we are also happy to be home. Tikka couldn't wait for a walk around "her" neighborhood, and I was happy to once again sleep in my own bed.

(sunrise from our hotel room in Atlanta)

And there were more presents. We came home to a big box from my aunt which contained two beautiful red glass vases, which I already know how I will use in next year's decorations – promises of Christmas future.

December 30, 2015
Needlepoint Gifts Revealed

You got a glimpse of one of my Christmas projects earlier in the month, when I posed a shot of some needlepoint I was working on. Here is the finished piece, a luggage tag, for my step-daughter.

There was a second project as well, for my daughter-in-law, finished just in the nick of time. This photo, taken in my Florida condo, just before wrapping the gift, does not do it justice. Forgive the little bits of fluff as well, I didn't notice that until after the gifts were wrapped, too late to take more photographs. The photo doesn't capture the shimmery colors of the bit of metallic thread either, which is not just gold but golden-colors, and it frames the flower perfectly and the bit of sparkle suits the gold leather frame for this small mirror.

Just to give you a little perspective, both pieces of needlepoint are 3 inches in diameter, and are done on 18 count canvas. The threads on the luggage tag are silk and silk and ivory, a wool silk blend, with cotton used for the veining in the leaves. The pansy is a mix of fibers, silk, cotton, and some silk and ivory as well, mostly in the background. The glittery thread is actually a machine embroidery thread, but alas I don't have the materials with me (and I am not yet home), so I can't provide the details.

Both projects seem to have been well received, and I am grateful as they were both spur-of-the-moment inspirations, and I am mostly happy with how they came out. Making them proved to be a joy and an inspiration as well, and now I need to find more small projects.

December 28, 2015