December 23, 2009

I'm Whirling like a Dervish, aren't you?

DSC03162 Happy Holidays from Kate.

No blog today. Sorry. Too busy driving from one mansion to another with my son and his lovely fiancee, scouting wedding venues. The gifts aren't wrapped yet. Some are still in the mail and may not arrive in time, and the rest gather dust as we chug from place to place, imaging green lawns under the snow, and long white dresses instead of tightly buttoned coats. Sometime today a turkey must be procured, a dessert for Christmas dinner decided on, adequate nutrition for my vegetarian daughter-in-law to be included in the traditional holiday dinner. But we are walking down long halls on elegant old carpets, under highly detailed ceilings and imaging where the bride will walk--down a staircase? Down the wide stone steps?

Bride's rooms with tall mirrors and enough empty floor space for that beautiful gown. Grooms rooms--formerly the smoking rooms of millionaires--complete with a big screen TV concealed in an armoire. Menus. Open bars. Linens. Flowers. My husband's eyes goggle when I tell him how it all adds up. So do mine.

We got married in the hippie era--someone's living room, or out in an autumn field--and all of this feels foreign and hard to process. But there is nothing lovelier than new love, nothing more pleasing, really, than watching this young couple taking it in, supporting each other through the process, asking complimentary questions as they try to get a sense of what, in this barrage of information, dollar signs, and personalities, is "them."

I haven't baked a single cookie this season. The poinsettias are already dropping their leaves. One holiday cactus is in rebellion, scattering its tiny pink buds across the sideboard instead of opening. The long, heavy stalk of amaryllis suddenly folded in the middle and collapsed instead of bursting forth in bloom. The world's ugliest centerpiece, a ghastly three-tired droop of faux green leaves and red plastic berries, bought as a joke at Home Depot one year, is surrounded by a sea of wrapping paper. It doesn't need water or care, just the occasional flick with a duster. I'm liking it better all the time.

On the way to the gym in a few minutes--a futile activity given how much sugar gets consumed at this season on a daily basis--I'll blast some holiday music and see if I can get myself moved into a holiday mood--before I get back in the car and drive to the train station to collect my sister-in-law. Then it's off to the grocery store. When am I going to watch "It's a Wonderful Life" or "Love Actually" or any of my other Christmas favorites? Could we just get a few extra hours over here?

But I am not complaining. Really. I think this is shaping up to be a lovely holiday week. Perhaps today Jake and Robyn will find the venue of their dreams. A turkey will be seized and dragged home. I'll have the patience to stroll through a crowded store with my 91-year-old mother-in-law.

Best of the season to you all....if you're here reading this, and even if, like me, you're out in your car, trying to get it finished up. Smile, remember what the season is about, and if you've got some free time---drop by and wrap my presents, please, will you?

Merry Happy!

Kate Flora
By Kate Flora
Dec 23, 2009 7:28:02 AM | Kate's posts

5 Comments

Mason

Thanks for the laugh this morning Kate. What a way to start the day. I'm tired now just thinking about what all you're doing and have to do. Time for another cup of coffee and some energy.

Hope you find the venue of the couple's dreams. As for the rest, I know you'll complete all your task in record time.

Wishing you and your family a safe and Happy Holiday season.

Posted by: Mason | December 23, 2009 at 08:33 AM

Kate Flora

Mason...Glad I made you laugh. I just had a reminder about optimism from a good friend, and the sun is shining...and I'm thinking that whatever gets done will get done.

Hard, though, not to sneak away and write another chapter. Or just hide in a corner and read good books, instead of stalking the holiday turkey.

Thanks for dropping by.

Posted by: Kate Flora | December 23, 2009 at 10:17 AM

Angela (signlady217)

Talking about weddings brings back some memories! My 24th anniversary is on Monday. Why, oh why, did we plan it so close to a major holiday???? Celebrating the anniversaries so close to Christmas really isn't a problem; it was just crazy for the wedding itself. Hope they find the perfect spot and everything falls into place.

Have a great Christmas everybody!

Posted by: Angela (signlady217) | December 23, 2009 at 04:24 PM

Kate Flora

Thanks, Angela...I hope they do, too.

And happy anniversary!

k.

Posted by: Kate Flora | December 23, 2009 at 04:28 PM

Hank Phillippi Ryan

HURRAY! Can't wait to hear about the plans. Don't bother about wrapping--shopping bags are the new paper.

love to you all

Posted by: Hank Phillippi Ryan | December 23, 2009 at 08:48 PM

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When Traditions End Posted by Lorraine Bartlett My Dad was a craftsman, and could do just about anything. He built half the furniture in my house. Heck, he gutted my first house and made it a home. (I impeded him with that operation, but learned a lot, as well.) He went through a lot of hobbies. For a while he did leathercraft. I still have--and use--the wallet he made for me over 30 years ago. He made jewelry. (I wear 14 rings, five of them he made.) But one of his most endearing projects were his wood carvings--a hobby that stayed with him for a long time. He liked to do variations of Santa, and literally did hundreds of them. These little guys were one of his first efforts, and look pretty primitive when compared with his later work. He gave them to me for my birthday in 1992. When he'd finished them, he thought they looked like they were singing--and that they should do that under a lamppost--so he made one of those, too! At first, he was very critical of the painting of his carvings, and even asked my husband to do a few, but in no time he was better at it than Frank, and adding more and more decorations to the little guys. He did fat Santas, tall Santas and a lot of short Santas. His favorite were Tomties--little elves that help Santa. (As pictured on the right.) He made a LOT of these, and usually they were doing something, (like this little guy holding the candle) and usually wore "wooden" shoes. I'm really not sure how Dad got into carving, but for him, it was an adventure, albeit a usually solitary affair. I had my critique group, and Dad had his carving buddies that he saw every few weeks. One of them moved to Berea, KY--home of The Kentucky Artisans center, which, like the name says, showcases the work Kentucky's best artisans. Dad's former carving partner wanted to make a certain carving, but it wouldn't come out right, so Dad made one and sent it to him as a prototype. Unknown to Dad, the man put Dad's carving into a local competition where it took first prize! (The one on the left is another version of that prizewinner.) As far as adventures go, one day Dad was in his workshop carving, when he called up to my mother. "I've cut myself." She figured he'd cut his hand, but he'd actually dropped the knife on his thigh. When she got down to the workshop, there was so much blood, she thought he'd slashed an artery and got on the phone to 911, then hauled him upstairs to wait for the ambulance. There was blood everywhere--on the workshop floor, the stairs, all over the kitchen. The EMTs arrived in record time and got the bleeding under control, but they sent him to the ER just in case. Then they wanted to see THE CARVING KNIFE. When Mom showed the guy, he nearly went into hysterics of laughter. He'd been expecting a 10-inch carving knife, not a tiny 1-inch blade. (Hey, those suckers are sharp.) Ninety minutes later, Dad was belly-up to the bar at my Aunt's house where they were supposed to go for dinner--and only 30 minutes late. (Hey, there was a Manhattan waiting with his name on it.) One of my favorite carvings is Santa stuck in the chimney. From the top, all you see are Santa's legs sticking out--but turn the carving over, and there's Santa's sooty face. Dad didn't do too many carvings these last few years. His remaining carving buddy moved away and it wasn't so much fun any more. But last year for Christmas he gave me two of his last efforts. One was unpainted, the other was a Bear dressed in overalls. They live in my office, with a couple of fishermen, an owl, and an unfinished Santa tree ornament. The rest of them reside on a little bookshelf in my living room. I have carved bunnies, birds, a deer, and even a walrus, and I love them all. Dad passed away in October, so there won't be just one more "found" carving to go in my collection. (I know they're there--I've seen them in his workshop, which is pretty much just the way he left it.) It's the end of a wonderful tradition. While it makes me terribly sad, I have all these wonderful pieces that Dad made, a lot of them signed "For Lorraine made by her Dad." The were the best Christmas presents ever.
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Hey, this mess is a place! posted by Jeanne Munn Bracken I feel sorry for my friends who don't have cable television. I mean, for the mere price of one night at a mid-range hotel room, we have an entire month's worth of access to hundreds of shows. Okay, a lot of those shows are...well, lame, or boring, or just plain dumb. Really--how many times can we watch reruns of "The King of Queens" before we can recite the dialog along with Doug and Carrie and Arthur? And I never got the charm of Seinfeld, although I do love "The New Adventures of Old Christine" (but would somebody please explain to me--did Richard marry Barb or didn't he? I get so confused...) "30 Rock" used to be pretty good, but this season, not so much. My husband is easily satisfied--if there is a World War II documentary on, he's all good. Sheesh! My new favorites, though, are the cleaning shows. I used to watch a British one where the cleaning ladies ask, "How Clean is Your House?" The answer, invariably, is "not very" before the show stars tackle things, clean up what seemed like horrible filth even to me, and reform the slobs into neatniks--for at least as long as the cameras are running. I liked "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy," too, where the five fellows cleaned up and redecorated some bachelor's pad, taught him how to dress, groom himself, and cook, all in an hour. Pretty impressive. My new favorite, though, is "Hoarders." A screen shot at the beginning of each episode notes that hoarding is a mental illness and no laughing matter. The cleanup team includes a therapist, some family members, and professional junk collectors. The houses, though--defy description. Some of the homes look pretty normal from the outside; (this, admittedly, from a woman who had an old toilet sitting in the yard for so long there was talk of using it as a planter. Don't ask. Please.) I mean, I used to joke all the time that we were going to clean out one kid's room with a shovel. But this is what the cleaners have to do on "Hoarders." These homes are so far gone that relationships are foundering, usually the health board is lurking in the wings, and foreclosure is often threatened. Interestingly, the homeowners are often well-educated, thoughtful and forthcoming. The ages have ranged from an elementary school boy to elderly men and women. "Hoarders" is a show I watch with jaw dropping and eyes bugging. Our house is no "House Beautiful" spread, but at least it's reasonably healthy. It doesn't take much for the clutter to get out of hand, but there comes a point when even I can't stand it any more and tackle the mess (while family members and pets head for the hills, since my mood at that point is usually pure poison.) Yeah, "Hoarders" makes me look good. I spent hours last spring cleaning up my office until it was totally neat and organized. Then the kids moved out and took my bookcases. (I let them. What was I thinking?) So the little room, about 9 by 9, is now a maze of piled books and papers. I can whip it back into shape in a short time, but the bookcase I'll need is filled at the moment with manuscript papers and research materials from The Cancer Book From Hell. All I need is time. Hah. Besides, we are trying to clean out Mom's house. She lived there for 40 years, and guess where I learned my Yankee-thrift-don't-throw-away-anything-that-might-be-useful-some-day? Yep, from Mom. We are having to sort through not only her stuff, but also stuff that belonged to her mother, as well as two mothers-in-law...you get the picture. On the plus side, unlike "Hoarders", there are no goats chewing their way through the wall or cats multiplying madly in the corners. The only animal carcasses here are the dearly departed mice that Mongo, a/k/a Killer, leaves for us to find. Still, there but for the grace of God... How sad. Some Asian cultures clean their houses in preparation for the New Year. Sounds like a good plan to me. If only I had six months to get it done. So Merry Christmas, if that is your choice, and for heaven's sake, don't hang on to the used wrapping paper and boxes.

Lorraine Bartlett

Five women, five weekdays, many surprises.

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