New Year's Eve

Is there anyone who doesn't have mixed feelings about this day? Well okay, Ed shows no such ambivalence. He can't understand why anyone would go out of their way to do something unusual on a day that marks nothing more than another number on a calendar page. I've stopped trying to explain to him that conventions, traditions, social constructs help to move us along on the path of life. He will respond with a "yes, gorgeous" that means nothing at all.

Me, I like the coming of the new, I don't much like looking at what's behind. Sorry, 2025. We're done with you. You had real stellar moments, and no tragedies for me and I am so very grateful! Now, how can we help make things better in 2026? 

I read somewhere recently that the whole concept of resolutions for the New Year is an insane idea that only brings misery and stirs up feelings of inadequacy. We'd be way better off striving to change nothing, concentrating instead on improving our mental health. Perhaps by planning for some more time off from work, or maybe saving up for a massage, or joining an online class on meditation. Forget the learning of a new language or filling your 10 000 step goal. Put your feet up  and stream a favorite show on day one of the New Year, if that's what makes you happy. Well, considering that most of us will be streaming stuff on this Eve, perhaps we might want to move ourselves off the couch come New Year's Day. Vary it up a little: maybe sit at the table and do a jigsaw puzzle. Sounds good to me, except I bought too many Christmas puzzles and now they seem awfully out of line with the times.

 

This morning it was warm enough (just below freezing) for Henry to skip his sweater. 

My pooch wasn't into a longer walk and I didn't push it, since he has doggie day care, and that promises a full day of movement for him. 

At home, I gave my big guy lots of hugs to let him know that I am thrilled to have found him and that he will never be left to manage on his own again. I think he understood.

Breakfast, still with a poinsettia, because what are you supposed to do with a plant in full bloom? Keep it until it withers. Even as I know these plants never die, they just drag on and on. Mine looks as good as it did on day 1. And like Ed, it doesn't acknowledge the passage of time and my diminishing interest in anything related to the holidays.

Afterwards, Henry and I do snuggle a bit, but he is also in his "hide the treat" mood. I am not sure why he does this. I haven't seen it for a while, but today, here he is again, hiding his dental stick and his chicken jerky. Carefully. Pushing the pillow over to cover it. Is it a game? Is he serious about hording? Am I feeding him too much? Is there an instinct at play? I do not know.

 

 

 

With Henry in doggie daycare, I set about doing the obvious end of December stuff, which includes zooming with my wonderful friend in Poland whose birthday it happens to be today. Indeed, you could say I was almost there for their midnight, it being a seven hour difference in time.

I was to cook dinner for my daughter's family tonight, but they had a sudden arrival of extra family (on my son-in-law's side) and so I bowed out. Still, Ed came to my place, we drove over to get both dogs from daycare -- Henry and his buddy Goose -- and we stopped at Goose's home to linger over a drink and some yummy cheeses. Well, before we lingered, I tried to walk both dogs at the same time -- never a good idea. One pulls one way, the other -- completely in the opposite direction. Snow fell, I fell, my watch alarm went off and I could not silence it, because the dogs were still determined to tear my limbs out, even as I sat on their leashes in the snow and contemplated my unfortunate plight.

Eventually we make our way inside. For the cheeses. And a New Year's Eve toast.

... while the kids (three from here, one visiting cousin from Milwaukee) build tents and structures everywhere, which I'm sure they will clean up after, to my daughter's satisfaction, don't you think? Given that it's New Year's Eve?

 

And then it's just the three of us -- Henry, Ed and me, at the Edge. I fix a shrimp scampi platter, with some veggies and a salad. Henry, of course, loves the smell of food in the oven and convinces me that it is absolutely necessary for me to give him two of the (rather small) shrimp. And I do. Because it's New Year's Eve.

 Happy New Year, with so much love!

December 30th

This is that transition day for me. Holidays behind, new year looming up ahead. Time to gear up for what's before me.

I took down the Christmas tree decorations yesterday afternoon, but I left the lights on the tree, because it would have been too gloomy to remove their cheerful and bright glow in the darker hours of dusk. Since I have an artificial tree, I could keep it up forever. I could become one of those old people who fashions her own holiday schedule. Tree with lights in February? Why not!

I'll tell you why not: the aesthetics of it are all wrong. It's like keeping your carved pumpkin on the doorstep into December, or your happy birthday banner and balloons up weeks past your special day. What doesn't belong? My Christmas tree in my living room when I'm planning for the new year.

 

It's a bitter cold morning. Another Arctic blast. I don't mind. Henry doesn't mind. His sherpa jacket may not keep him toasty warm, but I have noticed that his natural coat has grown thicker over the past weeks. I think he'll be just fine!
 

Breakfast. I have a change of heart about reindeer plates and mugs staying with me all winter long. Again, I feel the push to move on.

Henry, do you agree? Look, my beloved pooch -- I'm wearing the sweatshirt with you on it!

I drop him at doggie daycare and go see my doc. I need to stop coughing. This has been a ridiculously long and bothersome leftover from some fall virus. Henry must think humans sound weird, hacking away like that.

After the visit, I run through the usual: USPS, UPS, Rx at Walgreens and finally home, to finish cleaning up after Christmas.

As I run through the day's activities (fun as they are), I ask people I encounter what they're doing for New Year's Eve. I hear about family gatherings (my doc), I hear about a blizzard in Warsaw, keeping everyone home, I hear about "going to bed" from people at the Edge. No one wants to party anymore. Personally, I never liked New Year's Eve parties except when I was very young, and even then I was skeptical. Is being around people you dont necessarily love or even like at the start of the New Year really all that great? Sigh... We've become a nation of introverts. Or, you could say that the introverts have finally had their say in how to move into the New Year. (Yes, I lean that way. Always have. Don't tell anyone.)

I pick up Henry, cook up a red lentil soup and stream the second season of Bad Sisters. A great way to spend the next to last evening in 2025, don't you think?

with so much love... 

le fin de Noel

Don't you think there should be a song for this? There is that one from Christmas Eve on Sesame Street -- about keeping Christmas with you all through the year, but it doesn't quite convey the sentiment of a very real ending. For me le fin de Noel came today and it was a bit of a jolt.

There was a sudden shift in weather overnight. Already when leaving my daughter's house last night I had to use the ice scraper on the windshield. By this morning, there's snow on the ground. Not a lot mind you, but the wind gusts are blowing it into mounds that suddenly grow to be higher than your snow shoes. 

Henry is ecstatic!

My beautiful, spirited pup. In a sweater once again.

 

I am so glad doggie daycare opens up again today. He'll love the romp in their fenced play area. 

But first -- breakfast. A wee one for me, as I'll be piling it in during brunch. Somehow when I prepare meals for the ten or eleven of us, I either eat too little or too much. Brunch leans toward the too much end of the continuum. So many great things to munch on with a milky coffee! So, just a light snack in the early morning.

 

 

 

I linger for just a few minutes with Henry...

And then I ask him -- Henry, do you want to go to doggie daycare?

Does he ever! He's by the door in a flash, jumping up at me to express his joy, scratching my face in the process. I don't care -- I love my pup's exuberance!

After dropping him off, I pop into Clasen's bakery to pick up some bread product for the brunch at the Edge. As some may know, this is a tradition that I have loved with all my heart for a long time now: the two young families coming over to my place (wherever that may be!) for brunch before everyone returns to their home and their everyday.  In the past, I've been ambitious, baking and cooking up dishes that required time and thought. Shakshukas, frittatas, snack cakes, muffins. These days, I simply pile on a variety of known favorites. Breads, croissants, and soft pretzels, bacon and eggs, salmon and lots and lots of fruits. And the sweet stuff -- my stollen, the panettone yeast cake with cherries from Eataly, gingerbread hearts from Poland (thank you, Bee!), Hearts moons and stars and sugared cookies from Clasens, and yes, I still had the fruit pâtes that I had purchased back in France for Thanksgiving, except there had been no brunch that weekend, because the snow had cancelled out half the family for me.

 

 

The younger family comes over first, because we have saved the gift exchange for this morning.

 

Can you believe my sweatshirt? Henry, embroidered from a photo!

When all five kids are here, they sequester themselves in the play/guest room. They have formed a cousins club and they are forever planning its future activities.

 

 

 

For brunch I decided to create a kids table, and to have the rest of us eat on our laps or side tables. More room, more movement, more fun to watch the younger set engage in games, sneaking more treats as if we weren't there to remind them that those come after the savory foods.

It is a glorious day! Absolutely wonderful, all the more so since at the Edge, the kitchen is part of the living room space, so I never have to let go of their conversation, their stories, their teasing when I prepare the foods.

 

They leave. I dont rush to tidy up. I need an hour to sit and think about it all. The love. The beauty of every moment. The worries that were ill founded, the joys that were often unexpected. 

Typically I don't suffer a post Christmas letdown. So often I've been relieved that "we pulled it off!" There would be the contentment of having the added memories in my storehouse of the best of the best. But this year it seems Christmas preparation lasted longer, was more intense, and then, too, there was Henry -- a new presence to bring into the holiday fold. And so as dusk set in, I kept coming back to this -- I can't believe that tomorrow, the holidays, the days with my pack of kids and grandkids would be... well, done. I see the Madison family often, and I see the Chicago family on a regular basis, year round. But the times when I have them in the same place, at the same time, are more rare. I'm fine with that. I'm lucky enough that we live as close as we do to each other. Though when a gathering of the whole lot of them comes to an end, I let go of a wistful sigh.

 

I pick up a tired but loud Henry. Every stranger gets to hear his woof. It's okay -- you were quiet when you needed to be quiet. We'll rest together, my boy. Hop up and put your head on my lap. There we go...

with so much love... 

 

just a little more...

 ... just a little more celebrating, gathering, eating, watching the grands laugh at their own antics. Today, tomorrow, then we return to normal until the next time they're all here, together, with me.

To those of you who have kids, young enough still to be under your wing, let me assure you, there will come a time when you will be excited to see them. When you think that having them all together at a table is nothing short of sublime. Hard to imagine? I promise you, that day is just a breath away. And when they disperse to get back to their daily lives, you will be sad, but in a good way, knowing that they have their own worlds of friends and of routines and habits that they have cultivated on their own, without your insights, advice, guidance, or "wisdom."

Celebrations bring all that out into the open: them, you in their lives, their lives apart and away from you. I love it all.

That's the good stuff. Now let me turn my attention to the weather. Today promises to be awful. Dense fog, rain, maybe thunder, ominous changes coming tonight. We all have very short distances to navigate so I needn't worry too much about travel. But I am fretting a lot this morning about Henry.

Will my beautiful pooch magically leave his shyness behind when he meets the younger family? They have so little time together! Might he get over the hurdle of that first greeting quickly? 

 

Henry wakes me promptly at 6:30. We set out in this ridiculously thick and damp weather.

Our morning routines are lovely. 

My lap dog and me...

 

Henry, I cannot write this way!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Outside, the mourning dove is hogging the bird feeder for now, so the whole extended finch family has moved to the table, along with a newcomer -- a cardinal -- all of them creating a mess of all messes.

I cannot leave that for a better day. My family will be here tomorrow for a traditional pre-departure brunch and the sight of the seed debris and bird droppings cant make a good impression. Despite the wetness of it all, I take the vacuum cleaner outside and much to Henry's dismay, turn the thing on and inch by inch I pick the stuff up. Then of course I have to take apart the vacuum cleaner and wash all the components because it's just too disgusting otherwise. Dog hair (I thought his genetic mix gave him 0% chance of shedding!), seeds, shells of seeds (they said it was a "clean mix of seeds -- ha ha ha), bird messes, dust balls from the inside, one big soggy horrible mess. And I have to wonder, why do my projects always lead me down these dreadful paths of added work that somehow were not under consideration when I first embarked on them? [To be fair, it's not the bird feeder that created the problem, it's my impatience with attracting birds, which lead me to purchase the additional brick of seeds, which is responsible for 90% of the litter. I could remove it, but the birds have come to depend on it. I wont do that to them. I'll just keep mopping up what they leave behind.]

 

But then comes the real worry: how do I get Henry to properly exercise on a day of cold rain? Of all our time together thus far, this has to be the poorest day for a lengthy dog run. And without it, Henry is likely to go nuts, like one of those toys released after the tightest wind. There's no two ways about it. I have to take him to a dog park, rain or no rain.

I had sent all the kids and some parents off to the movies. Having looked at the weather forecast, I'd decided this was a good way to get them out of the house for a few hours while I walked Henry. 

So, about that walk...

We go to Prairie Morraine. I may as well be in a park I like -- nothing else about the outing will be fun.

 

 

There is almost no one else here. Would you drive out on a rainy cold day? Without other dogs to chase, I'm a little concerned about the calmness of our walk. And I have another, bigger worry: the two dog families we do pass trigger in him that barking-at-strangers reaction that I wish so much I could manage better. These are dog people in the park, and yet, I see them backing away. Henry can be very loud. And I see him tense up: his hair goes up a little when he is anxious.  I think that he is especially reactive to humans with hoodies. Could it be that these are people who mistreated him in the past? Pure speculation on my part. Of course, since it's raining, most people today do have head covers. Is that why he is barking so much?

During the walk I decide that this afternoon will be the big test for me: if Henry is going to be this anxious around the younger family (whom he will meet for the first time today), then I will have to seek professional help in teaching him to trust strangers. Because surely it would show me that what I am doing on my own is not enough.

Toward the end of the walk Henry finally gets his chase minutes. I'm grateful for that.

 

 

 

 

 

Immediately after, I go to my daughter's house. For the third year in a row, my son-in-law is cooking a traditional Estonian Christmas meal, celebrating the traditions of at least one half of his heritage. 

Initially, only my younger girl and her older daughter, Primrose come over (Juniper is napping under her dad's care). Henry appears to me to be very... normal! Not at all reactive. No barks, no great shyness. He lets my daughter and Primrose reach out to pet him. No problem at all! Is it that he is with Goose and so he is not concerned? Or, do these two humans have a little of my scent? Or, could it be the collar I purchased for him? Camp K9 (where I boarded Henry while I was in Chicago) sent all its clients an email recommending the Zenidog dog calming pheromone collar for stress relief during chaotic holiday festivities. Apparently nursing mother dogs release pheromones to calm their puppies. This collar seems to do the same, letting them know that there's nothing to fear. So, was it that? Well, later, at the Edge, he was still wearing the collar and he barked his usual loud bark at an older gentleman leaving the elevator. So no, not just the collar.

My honest opinion is that it was the whole combination of things: he's trusting my decisions more. If I'm okay with who is here, he will be okay as well. And he was well exercised. And I gave him a hemp dental stick that may have additional calming benefits. And that collar. But let's not discount my words to him. Before we set out for my daughter's place, I asked him really with all my heart to turn on his most friendly behavior toward these guys. I think he listened and understood how important this was to me.

 

The afternoon and evening were fabulous! I could not get enough of it all! And without a meal to prepare, I could sit back and just savor every moment.

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

When Juniper showed up with her dad, I had another surprise -- the girl really loves dogs and has no fear of them. Even ones that are... so big!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Henry stayed awake for the entire time which, considering his run at the park, was telling.  But this is exactly what he needs: to pay attention and notice that everyone is getting on just fine. No one's hitting, screaming, beating up anyone.

 

 

And the dinner? Well, my son-in-law had another triumph. Perfectly seasoned and prepared roast of pork, potato fritters in addition to the roasted potatoes, and a simply awesome dessert that I especially loved -- a sponge with cream and red currants and meringue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An evening like this always ends with me wanting to do a group photo. The kids were superbly cooperative. As were the grownups. As were the dogs! Of course, Henry is very used to timed self-release photos...

 

(my arms can still embrace them all!) 

 

 

(kids and dogs, getting ready for the big photo)

 

I'll end with this one -- of us all. Ten kids, spouses and grandkids, two dogs. If they only knew how much I love them all!

 

 

 

I came home with Henry: he waited only for me to sit down on the couch. His head rested on my lap and he fell asleep instantly. Henry, thank you.

with so much love! 

days of Christmas

I have before me three more days of Christmas. No no, not the theological ones that are counted toward the meetup of the wise men and baby Jesus. We have nine of those left (until the Epiphany on January 5). Mine are a continuation of our family celebration, this time with both young families here, together. We start on that today. This evening. 

In the morning, Henry and I enjoy the still balmy weather. It's dark, drizzly, March-like stuff, only without any chance of a daffodil breaking ground.

(black dog, black eyes, dark morning) 

Once again I find myself thinking this morning about Henry.

Such a gentle, affectionate dog, but with scars of his past and bit of character traits that are very much in line with his DNA markers. Protective. Not of himself, never of his food, but of his people. My job is to reassure him about this world (Henry, you're not in Dallas anymore!),  and to let him know that if a person is okay by me, they should be okay by him as well. Given his yearning for gentility, this should not be hard, but it does take time. It may seem like I've had Henry forever, but in fact, he's been in a safe home for only a little over two months. He's learned so much in a very brief period of time! But he hasn't learned everything yet. I have to remember that.

(Breakfast)

 

 

My immediate concern though is how to exercise Henry this weekend. Walks in the rain are part of the deal here: you own a dog this size, you need to give him a chance to work those muscles and release some positive hormones every day. Even if it rains. Before getting Henry, I imagined there would be days when I would take my umbrella and head out with him. No problem! I did not realize that this would not be enough -- that he would need more. So... today we go back to a dog park, in what has to be the ickiest kind of a day. Cold, wet, puddly, totally muddy and in places still slick. 

I might as well do the best one -- at least Prairie Morraine has a gravel path that can be the default for me if things get really bad. Off we go.

 

 

Despite everything, the walk for me is always good here. It takes just about an hour to do the full loop and of course, Henry runs at least three times the distance that I put in. 

 

 

 

Today he picked a Greyhound to race so I had a chance to compare the two dogs. My pooch has 0% Greyhound DNA, and indeed, there is nothing similar about the profile of these dogs -- the shape of the Greyhound head looks a bit like that of a possum to me, but don't you think their bodies are awfully alike?  

In general, I'd say Henry behaved like a puppy at the park. I can't put my finger on the defining characteristic that made me see him as so very young still, but I wasn't the only one who recognized it. Another dog owner said it as well -- he's such a pup still! 

And this is something I forget as well. With me a short time and still so very young. Three fourths of one year. He'll be on puppy food all the way until age two. So much to learn and understand in that time! 

 

 

 

In the late afternoon, Henry has to have yet another experience: I drop him off at a dog sitter's house. I still cannot leave him alone and we have our annual holiday dinner out -- with both young families, Ed and me.

I found this sitter on Rover.com and what I liked about her is that she has a fenced yard, lives nearby, and she will have another dog there as well. I figured Henry could manage that, despite the strangeness of the situation.

What I did not anticipate was Henry's reaction to seeing Julie, the sitter, standing there in the doorway, waiting for us. He sat down on the curb and would not budge. No treat, lure, cajoling words, pleadings worked. When Henry plants himself down, he anchors himself to the ground with all his might and I cannot force him to move. Eventually, Julie retreated and suggested I go straight to the back yard, where she then released her two (small) dogs. Henry is great with dogs and hewillingly acquainted himself with the pooches. Eventually they were called in and I went in the back door and he (reluctantly) followed us in.

Julie is on the older mellower slower-moving end of the continuum (like me??) and I was glad that he did not bark at her. Her home is small and full of stuff, but Henry was not interested in any of it. I think the dogs made him less anxious because Julie reported that he did just fine, albeit he placed himself by the door and waited the entire time for my return.

Meanwhile, the eleven of us celebrated the holidays at Vintage Brewing Company. 

 

I've said this before -- these gatherings are totally beautiful. I could sit and listen, and watch, and occasionally add something that's probably regarded as very ancient, for a long while. There was a time when the kids were babes and we'd go out anyway, but our attention was all on keeping the babes quiet and still. Not anymore. And tonight they really were all laughter and hugs and secret messages. The big people in the room still offered a lap or a word of encouragement to the youngest, but really, everyone was just grand! I sat at the head of the table and beamed at them all!

And then came the photo that I so love to take, which the kids arranged with their own sense of style and pazzazz.

 

 

 

I brought home a tired Henry. My pooch doesn't sleep when on alert. This evening, at home, he exhaled and fell asleep next to me on the couch. I am so so hoping that he will relax quickly with the Chicago family tomorrow. Of course, he's still the youngest of the animals and indeed of us all, so I need to adjust my expectations. Or offer a lap. Or a word of encouragement.

with so much love...