Wednesday

I am on this day a designated driver. That is my sole job and responsibility. I have, therefore, no child care duties, no greater obligation, nothing typed into my calendar, no big agenda to move toward completion. 

Sure, I feed the animals and it does feel like a chore this morning, because it is so cold out there! We wont move beyond freezing. All that mushy wetness yesterday? Frozen solid today. Only the youngest hens go out. And then they immediately find a wind-free hiding place.

Breakfast? On my own.

And then I wait until I'm called into action.

At least my driving today consists of shuttling Ed back and forth for medical stuff (that is the assignment) that can be taken care of within the perimeters of Madison. When we attend to his eyes (that comes next week), we have to go to the end of the state and back. He chooses his health care providers carefully.

Ed as a patient is very cool and blasé. He uses few words to communicate with the staff. I fill in the pleasantries. As we get older, I expect these visits will grow in number but for now, we keep them to a minimum. Both of us like to pretend we are very self sufficient. 

When you have been together for as long as we have, you understand each others habits and preferences pretty well. But all bets are off when health care issues arise (and to be clear: Ed is not sick; this stuff is routine). Both Ed and I like to minimize what ails us, hating any pity or advice. But, I tend to be a user of the health care system and he is exactly the opposite. When you go in with him to a clinic, he barely understands the protocols. I'm there not only as a designated driver but also as an interpreter. Do this, put away that, go there... And so on.

Of course, nothing phases the guy. A doc could come in and tell him -- sorry, but you have an incurable disease and we expect that you will be dead in two minutes. I'm certain he'd just turn to me and say, Oh, okay, bye gorgeous. Don't forget to put away the chickens and feed the cats tonight.

Man, I love his attitude!

So the day is spent on me driving and eventually, at sunset, we go home and luckily he does not get that diagnosis of only two minutes of life left within him, so he puts away the cheepers and feeds the cats and I fix dinner and he dozes off on the couch, because the whole idea of going to a clinic for the better part of the day is exhausting for a guy who can chop down trees and lift heavy objects but cannot get himself to see a doc more than once every very many years.

Tuesday

I've been thinking about the novels of Elena Ferrante lately. You've read the Neopolitan Novels maybe? I did, but it's been a while and I read them for the pleasure of the good story that they are and not for the weightier issues that underpin the entire narrative. I've long recognized that when I have a lot on my plate, I don't think enough about the books I read. But I'm thinking about these ones now.

My friend sent me an interview with Ferrante that she came across in the Guardian. (You can find it here.) As I was reading it, I couldn't help but think how much easier it is to recognize the brutal oppression of women in countries far from us (Iran of course, but also so many others), but how much harder it is to recognize patriarchal structures in the complicated societies we ourselves inhabit. Once women have gained access to educational institutions and to some of the basic human rights (as they have in the U.S. and in many other countries), once they gained the freedom to move out of confining homes and workplaces, many of us assumed that they, we could easily knock down the "few remaining impediments" to personal freedom and equality. And we certainly believed that once outed (through open and loud discussions about inequality) why then of course, oppressive patriarchy would become a thing of the past. I know I myself left Poland in the end because I could not imagine living in the male dominated culture that existed in that country then (I write about it in Like a Swallow). I saw the United States as being on the move, ripping apart preconceptions about gender, about race too. Others had done the work (that was not yet started in Poland). Once here, I relaxed. And then I fell into one gendered trap after the next, drowning in my inability to recognize and react to what was happening all around me as I married, had kids, sought to get a degree and find satisfying work (in that order). I wasn't strong enough nor mature nor wise enough to see the pitfalls and to act decisively. But now, thinking about it in the context of the Ferrante interview, I see that using her markers of equality, I was doomed to fail anyway. Mine was not the generation that was going to free women of gender-based constraints. The structures (created over the centuries by men) were not in place for it. It's funny, but when I was just thirteen years old and recounted to my dad my various girlish ambitions, he told me then that women were not going to attain equal footing in his lifetime or even in mine. I was stunned. I thought he was wrong. I felt I could go after any job I wanted, study any discipline at the university. Somehow I never looked beyond those goals. 

Though I don't usually pre-announce trips here on Ocean, I thought it fitting this time to mention that in January, I'll be going to Naples. Not exactly just to poke into the neighborhoods artfully described in the Ferrante novels, but on the other hand both my friend who will accompany me and I are at an age where we can use the prompt of those books to reflect on what Ferrante wrote about postwar Italy and perhaps reframe a little of what we lived through in postwar Poland.

*     *     *

It's gray and wet outside -- nothing to cheer about there. Though maybe there is magic in a misty late November morning. Maybe that dampness releases the pungent earthy aromas from the fields and gardens. Wet leaves, muddy fields, rotting wood -- these have a place in our annual calendar of scents. 

We eat breakfast. I return to oatmeal. It seems fitting for this day.

*     *     *

Watching the three girls (out of the five grandchildren) make their way through each day, I have to wonder  about the world they will inhabit as adult women. I've learnt that even in the worst of times, not everyone is slated to confront the same barriers to personal growth in the same way. Fifty years ago, when I was growing up, there were women who did not fall into traps set by societal expectations and institutions. And I myself was lucky enough to avoid the grossest and most egregious pitfalls. The independence I feel now is a product of that luck. (And believe me, writing freely as I do here, on Ocean, moving around the planet without someone telling me that I can't or shouldn't do it -- these are markers of freedom many would kill for.)

My optimistic hope is that these little girls will get a hell of a lot closer to free agency than you and I ever could. Creating new non-patriarchal structures is a work in progress, that's for sure. But, I don't think I was wrong in believing that here at least the work is well underway. You may not see it in the recent court decisions affecting women, but perhaps we can recognize it in the reactions to those decisions.

In the meantime, this little girl is here after school, reading books, making up stories in the play room and doing a lot of Ed teasing. 

No ballet today. Somebody forgot to pack her ballet clothes into her backpack.

[I was amused with her yesterday because in the same way that I went back to Nancy Drew books when I was already approaching adolescence, she has recently gone back to rereading Cam Jansen, a younger version of the same idea. And in yesterday's book, Cam was rewarded for solving a mystery by the owner of the amusement park where the crime took place. Snowdrop said to me -- gaga, did you notice how in all the Cam Jansen books, the owners and managers of amusement parks, stores and such are always women? I had to laugh. I told her -- the author of these books wants you to know that women can and do hold positions of power and wealth. And then I wondered -- at this age, does she even doubt that this is the case?]

*     *     *

Our evening is a little different because Ed has some routine medical stuff before him and so he's not eating tonight. I do a quick stir fry, eat it equally rapidly, by myself, and then settle in on the couch to watch a TV show -- a rare thing for us. (Movies -- yes. TV shows -- almost never.) This one is about the movie Love Actually and how its themes play out now, 20 years later. I can understand why some people find this movie to be flawed. Yes, okay. Everything in life is flawed. But hey, dig deeper and something beautiful will emerge. I guarantee it.

And the tree lights twinkle and the ornaments shine and Dance, our grand dame of a cat thinks this piece of beauty is there for her to swat at and play with. 

She has a point: Christmas trees are to be shared by all. 

Swat, hit, swat, dangle... Smile.

Monday

Well, either I have an internal will that is fantastically powerful against the invading evil forces of disease, or I was just plain lucky, because the minute the last young family members left the farmhouse yesterday, I got a cold. This in itself is not surprising. I'm around sniffling kids a lot and Ed, too, had something knock him down a couple of weeks ago, so we are running through the usual wintry mix of bugs. Nor am I particularly inconvenienced by it -- it took a little longer to clean up the farmhouse in the evening and I slept in a little later this morning, but otherwise, it's just one of those things that you put up with in the cold season (pun intended). But I am so glad that this happened after everyone left. Totally fine one minute, sneezing away once the door closed behind them. A miracle. (And no, it's not Covid. We test a lot and repeatedly.)

I do morning animal rounds, though a bit late.

And I fix a breakfast of leftover bakery items...

And then I settle in to think about what I need to do to get ready for Christmas. For those of us who have developed traditions for this holiday, December can be quite consumed by thinking about it, planning for it, and executing a fitting set of meals that span a number of days. Too, December means that presents for your loved ones begin to stack up. 

For me, gift giving is only within the family, but I know that the expectations are something else for working parents: gifts for family, sure, up and down the ladder of the old and young, but, too, for kids' teachers (my older daughter, for instance, has a total of seven school teachers who will be expecting gifts), your staff at work -- the list can get long.

At least these days you do not have to go out and actually shop for presents. There are gift cards that are possibly more appreciated by colleagues and teachers than any purchased items, and for the rest -- there's the blessed internet! I will admit it: except for a tiny set of gifts purchased during travel, every single one of my presents for family members will have come in a box, delivered by either USPS, UPS or Fed Ex. Thank you for doing the walking for me and for eliminating both the driving and the long lines at the check outs! 

But something that hasn't become any easier is the wrapping. Buying recyclable paper eases the environmental guilt for indulging this frivolity, but the work of boxing and wrapping does have to be done and it takes a while.

All this to say that I spent a good chunk of my morning not shopping for presents, but searching for lovely recyclable and not monstrously expensive wrapping paper. A waste of time you say? Maybe. But all the visual aspects surrounding this holiday are important. I mean, why else do this??

On December 1st (or thereabouts!), I will begin the wrapping and if the last years are any indication, this is when Ed starts pacing nervously as boxes mount. And with five grandkids and four adult kids, the boxes will mount. Still, he has become much more mellow about holiday giving. Possibly it's his love of these young faces in our lives, possibly it's that he has gone through this enough times that he knows that Christmas comes and goes and for most of us, December is the better for it.

In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop at school. I had asked her mom if she wants me to baby sit despite my sneezing and wheezing and she gave the thumbs up so here we are, doors open a bit to move they air around, but really not worrying too much about it, since quite likely the direction of this cold was child to grown up, and not the other way around.

And in the evening, Ed and I sit back and indulge in our beautiful habit of a movie with popcorn and a chocolate and for me -- some wine because I swear, the minute I take a sip, my sneezing stops and my nasal passages relax. Or so it seems. I tell you, we can talk ourselves into anything, anything at all!

the last of the holiday weekend

I was up extremely early today. Not because I couldn't sleep, not because I had loads to do, but because Ed came up from his all-nighter downstairs and I chose this moments to discuss with him the choices we make in our charitable giving. This is a minefield of a topic for us because he and I are so different in the way we approach it and in the way we imagine who and what needs help from those who make charitable donations, however big or small, at this time of the year. It's no surprise of course that he and I aren't on the same platform here: choosing who to help reflects your core beliefs, your ideas of where we are heading and of course, most of you know that Ed and I are very different in our life choices. What I learned from living with someone who is not at all like me is that in everyday matters, little of this comes up. I imagine it would be like a staunch Republican living with a solid Democrat right now: how you go through the day is not going to be impacted much by your politics. But every once in a while, like in our case this morning, the belief systems (which, just so you know, have little to do with politics) clash and the noise is ear-piercingly loud. Not an argument so much (because -- what's there to argue about? he is who he is, I am who I am, we both know that), but a thunderous divergence of views that gets aired at a weird time. Like by me at 5 a.m. this morning.

And then we return to our regularly scheduled day. Happy and whole once again.

For me, the regularly scheduled day is actually not very regular at all: it's amazing and wonderful and different. The young family from Chicago is in town still and this morning they are at the farmhouse, joined later in the morning by the five who live just 15 minutes up the roads from me.

Things don't change much at the farmhouse: the toys may be updated a tiny bit every now and then, but not a whole lot. Most of it stays the same, waiting for the next grandchild to grow into it. This means that when the kids come here, when their parents come here, everyone knows where everything is. The kids go off to the play room or the art room, the parents gather at the kitchen table, or in the living room, or on the playroom floor -- we've done it all a million times and that comfort of knowing what's what makes for a pretty easy set of hours, even with the littlest guys.

(Primrose notices that there's a fence and a gate in the playroom. This is totally to keep Sandpiper safe. On one side are toys with which he can let loose and do what he wants. On the other -- small stuff, fragile stuff, more precious stuff.)

Hey, Juniper!

How does it feel to be almost one?

(Grandma time..)

(the older girls...)

I was told not to fuss with brunch, so I ordered a box of croissants from Madison Sourdough, cut up loads of fruits, put out some leftover Thanksgiving apple cake and Clasen's baguette, found a hunk of four year cheddar cheese,  baked up some bacon, sautéed some mushrooms, and of course, scrambled some cheeper eggs.

The table just fits eleven if I set things right. 

(Making Juniper laugh...)

We eat, and then we let the kids play while we drift into that wonderful conversation that hits both funny events from the last months and, too, speculations about the future. I mostly love to listen to them, with an occasional question maybe, but really I just suck in the sweetness of the moment where I would change nothing at all. It's all that good.

(Kids, in the art room...)

(Sandpiper goes back for some more blueberries. The boy loves blueberries!)

We are lucky. We all survived the pandemic. Sure, Covid hit both young families in many, many ways (not the least is that they all had it in their households), but here we are, gathered, with old Ed and old me and if you ignore the occasional sneezes and runny noses, we are all so very fine!

(last play of the day: each older kid is "at work;" Juniper so wants to join in...)

And then the afternoon is winding down and they leave and the house is so... empty. But not for long. We may be done with the holiday weekend, but we'll all be together soon enough for the next series of celebrations.

For now, I attend to my own Christmas tree. While I tidy up,  Ed saws off the knotty stump, and then I spend a solid hour decorating it. It used to be small. Now it's... medium!

I have music in the background and images of the happy little ones and older ones from this weekend. My beloved young families: how hard they work, how beautifully they play, all of them!

(the two that started it all...)

In the evening, Ed and I eat Thanksgiving leftovers. He has said repeatedly that this was the best turkey he  has ever eaten, which sounds awfully much like a suck up comment, though honestly, since I've roasted more than a dozen Thanksgiving turkeys for him over the last years, he's comparing this to all my other good efforts to get a perfect bird to the table. It's just that this year, between the turkey itself and the method of preparation, we seem to have hit gold. 

The air is turning cold again. No matter. Tis the season. We are ready for it.

With so much love...

the holiday weekend

We're still coasting on the tails of the Thanksgiving holiday, but now with one foot into the Christmas season.  And the sun is out, and the weather is unseasonably fine, and both young families are here, and Ed is leaving behind whatever virus snagged him, and I seem to have sailed through with the mildest case, so that luck has been our partner for sure this Thanksgiving weekend. Indeed, these few days are really at the top of the heap of memorable family weekends. 

Let me run through this day using few words. Not because it's late and I'm tired (though that certainly is true), but because so much was exactly right for us today and when that happens, you feel a little humble, knowing that this wasn't the case for everyone, and, too, you lack the words to express again and again your deep gratitude for all the warmth and good feeling that comes your way when you spend extended periods of time with your kids and their families.

So, quietly, this was my beautiful day:

Morning, with the cats and cheepers.

Breakfast, still eating up Thanksgiving Day leftovers with Ed ...

And then I meet up with the two young families at Clasen's, for the gingerbread treats. (We thought, too, we'd let the kids explore the bakery's giant gingerbread house, but for some reason they're holding off on putting it up this year. "We'll have it in a couple of weeks" -- they tell us.)

(happy with the cookies)

(our youngest one was born in mid December so this is in fact her first trip to Clasen's)

("Can we please get some cake?" "Go ask your father." They do just that.)

(cookies everywhere!)

(yep -- cookies everywhere! she already has her favorites...)

For lunch, the kids beg to go to Culver's (just next door). For the burgers and chicken fingers and fries and custard. I feel that after Thanksgiving, I can well put off eating until maybe Christmas, or New Years, so I leave them there...

... and go to a local coffee shop for a nice rich espresso with milk. Then I scoot over to my daughter's house to start in on the tree. Lights need to go up. It's a tedious job and it's best done before all the young ones hit the tree trimming scene.

Okay, lights done. The young families return home, the kids have an hour of play before nap time.

And while young ones rest, grownups chat in the kitchen over food prep. We are all great cheese fans and tree trimming calls for a really special cheese tray.

Kids are up! Time to decorate the young family's tree.

Once one cousin stood on a chair to hang an ornament (the instruction was to put all the glass ones out of reach of toddler hands!), all the cousins wanted to stand on chairs. So they did.

And the band played on...

Remarkably, Sandpiper did not break an ornament until much later in the day!

Reaching the top is no easy feat on this tree!

Done!

Oh Christams tree, oh Christmas tree...

Tuckered out...

Here comes our reward for working hard: pizza!

And eventually we near bedtime for the kids. Hey little ones, do you think we could take a photo of the five of you? And because this day is pure magic, they give us their best!

I return to the farmhouse in the glow of a most beautiful day.

With so much love!

the holiday weekend

For us, Thanksgiving ushers in the beginning of an extended period of family, food, and gratitude. I wake up with thoughts on all of those.

It's a beautiful day. You'd have to be really down in the dumps not to notice that! I go out, the cheepers come running, even the hiccuping Bresse girl. They seem as happy as the cats, who also are not complaining! Really, a gorgeous end to November and a fitful ushering in of the winter holiday season.

We eat breakfast elegantly. I had for once purchased flowers that were not just grocery store additions to the cart, and I keep the tablecloth on from last night. My Polish friend Bee and I purchased it together, in Paris, on our trip there just before the pandemic and it has sweet memories of that innocent time. And for once, at dinner, we all kept our foods on our plates. No stains! Impressive, given our age range, don't you think? All this to say that breakfast warranted a timed release photo! Happy us.

I'd done a good job of tidying the kitchen late last night, but the play room remains under siege. Still, I put off tidying in favor of a bit of a rest. Too many nights without the requisite hours of solid sleep. So, couch time for me, for Ed as well. 

But toward the lunch hour, we move ourselves to go for a walk. How could we not? Stunning sunshine, the quiet of a forest -- it's all irresistible.

And now I'm back in the thick of holiday stuff. First comes the meetup with the young family at our favorite Christmas tree nursery. Time to pick out a tree for their house! And let's not forget about one for the farmhouse! I read the article in the Wash Po out loud to Ed to remind him about the environmental virtues of growing trees for holiday sales. Of all that we do for Christmas, this is perhaps the most beautiful, coming to us without the feeling of excessive indulgence. Trees, if grown sustainably, are never a bad thing, not before they make an appearance in our homes, not after we dispose of them with care.

So we buy trees.

Oops! Sandpiper is on the run! I'll get him -- this from Snowdrop.

Hey, how about this pot? Sandpiper does try to help out...

Finally. Tree selected. Doesn't quite fit into the photo frame. Hopefully it will fit into their living room.

(Admiring the ornaments inside... )

We haul the load of greens, the tree, the wreath, and yes, a few ornaments to their home. And then we get ready for a dinner out with the arriving youngest family!

We all eat at Craftsman Table and Tap. We are all so happy to see them!

Craftsman is the kind of eatery you hope to have around the corner from where you live -- reasonably priced modern pub food. A wonderful place to hang out with these two families! (Well, in truth, we could be stuck in a barrack with bread and soup delivered in thermoses and it still would be fun to hang out with these guys.)

(my beloved young families)

Ed's sleeping off the last of his period of Great Lethargy (that followed whatever bug he had last week), but he's up when I come home, and we sit back once again to an evening of farmhouse quiet. The tree will go up tomorrow. For now, we eat our chocolate, snuggle the couple of cats that always come in for an evening greeting, and smile at the sweetness of the day.

with love...