sandwich

Isn't it the case, that this year's December 23rd is like the middle child, stuck in there, forgotten, as all the attention and fuss are dispensed on what came before and what follows?

Winter solstice and the first day of Hanukkah? That was yesterday and the day before! Christmas Eve and Christmas Day? They come tomorrow and the next day. The 23rd hangs in there -- not a holiday, not anything really. Just "the day after" and "the day before. "

That's why I love it so!

Since I am a Christmas person (by that, I mean I have always celebrated Christmas and continue to do so, sometimes against all odds: Ed, it's Christmas! Huh?) and look forward to both Eve and Day, the 23rd is when it all more or less comes together. You can hang back and appreciate all the beauty that is there before you, without feeling that you have to make any great fuss about it. You just take it in and let the smiles flow.

But when the 23rd falls on a Monday, there are challenges. Take today: a lovely December day of some sunshine and above normal temperatures.

We sit down to breakfast...






... and then I struggle with paperwork for my mom. I need some information and I need some signatures. From her. Witnessed and with the stamp of a notary.

First, a drive to her apartment to rifle through her papers and to pick up her mail. As always, it's a pretty drive!





Then I spend the bulk of the midday with her, trying to do everything today, because tomorrow and the next day the world of business shuts down.

Except it turns out that it's sort of shut down today as well. Sandwich days are popular targets for personal holidays. There is no notary to be found. The social worker does not pick up her phone. All is calm, all is quiet.

Ah well. There's always Thursday, the 26th!

For those tracking my mom's progress -- what can I say... There's the good stuff: she can do a lot more for herself today than she could a week ago, when she first entered the Rehab Nursing Care facility. But, her attitude remains stalled. Perhaps that's too generous. It's tottering toward a lower than low point.

I surely can empathize. I get to walk out of the Rehab Center, go for a forest walk, shop for mango (I ran out!), go home, light a candle and sip coffee on the couch next to Ed, who finds distracting things to share on the internet. The key thing is that I am in control of my day.

Of course, thirty years ago, when my mom was my age, she was in control of her day as well. Here's the reality that all of us face: if you want to live a long life, you're going to have to give up some of that control, especially as you near 100. My mom has been so lucky: she was that rare bird that even at 96, could live independently. The change to now a lesser state of physical capability is like a slap in her face and she is reacting strongly.

I leave her with her reading material -- all favorite stuff, the same stuff that she'd be reading were she home and I quietly walk out to attend to the rest of my day.

This is the perfect time for a walk in the near by nature conservancy. Owen Woods, where all is very peaceful, but for the squeal of a child on a stroll with parents, with a dog. A lovely afternoon for it, for sure!






I also do pick up my mango and another candle (Sugared Spruce! mmmm!) at the grocery store and I smile at the craziness of the shoppers and their full carts and expectations of grand meals in the days to come.

Unpack groceries, talk to Ed. We look at the holiday cards. His buddy sent one where he described the highs and lows for the year. I laughed at his notation of a low: one year closer to death! Sometimes, it's really good to keep your sense of humor strong and in good repair, even when everything else seems to fail you.


And then I'm out the door. And I switch my focus to the youngest of the young in our family. I'm off for a visit and dinner at my daughter's home.

Gaga! Try this cheese! It's so good!!






(Sparrow favors the crackers)


 



(Snowdrop practices sharing...)






Dinner!






My mom had purchased some music boxes for the kids before her medical emergency. I brought them over today. Sparrow feels the rhythm. Snowdrop joins in.






Christmas books, most of them saved from when my girls were young. Sparrow looks for any cats in the pictures.





Snowdrop had said earlier -- I love everything when it's just like this! It's a skill to be able to look past the muddy stuff and recognize magic. Kids have that skill. Grownups? We have to keep practicing.

Sunday, sunny Sunday

You have to feel at least a little guilty for loving this weather so much. Surely it's not normal to near 50F (10C) three days before Christmas. Not in Wisconsin. Scarves tossed aside, furry boots stand idle, snow shovel leaning needlessly close to the farmhouse door. So it's warm. Perhaps best of all, it's sunny.  That glorious light, streaming into the farmhouse from the east, then south, then west. You cannot get enough of it on these short days!

(Kitty, leave those lights alone!)






Breakfast...






... is followed by the usual new routine, though I mix things up so as not to fall into a rut. Holiday wrapping, mom stuff, house cleaning, mom stuff, and then Ed and I break out and go for a serene and quiet walk in the forest.

(Ed gets ready to set out; cheepers watch, with hope...)






No traffic noise, no beeps, tings, meows, vrooms.






Just dry oak leaves, which stay on the tree until spring, rustling every time a breeze kicks them up a bit.

We come to the Brooklyn Wildlife Area for this view:






And for the forest, no longer flooded with hunters. Just sunshine.







At home again, I fix supper for the young family's Sunday visit.











You could say it is an evening of dinner and dancing...










A lovely moonlight serenade to these fine days...

winter solstice

The shortest day. For us, that means the sun rises at 7:25 a.m. and sets at 4:24 p.m. (By comparison, in Warsaw, the shortest day is actually tomorrow, when the sun will rise at 7:43 a.m. and set at 3:25 p.m.)

Do you take note of it?

In the years when we have fog, rain, sleet, or even snow, it's tough to separate the sheep from the goats -- the days blur into a heap of gray indifference. The day doesn't feel short. Rather it feels like it never quite got going.

But today we have beautiful sunshine! The animals are out and about, Ed takes out his bicycle and goes out for a ride. After breakfast, of course.






This is when winter solstice has an edge over midsummer night: you may like your June sunshine, but it's midwinter sunshine that is most revered. The joy of feeling its mellow light is profound. And of course it portends longer days. When the sun sets on summer solstice, you feel it's downhill all the way thereafter!


My morning is all about mom. It's a new pattern for me. Morning -- mom. Afternoon -- other. Evening -- mom again.

I do have a rather good, long talk with my sister. It doesn't make up for a visit, but I can almost feel that Warsaw holiday sparkle passing through the Skype waves. Christmas in Poland is a big deal. Not surprising, since upwards of 85% of the population identifies itself as Catholic (the number drops down significantly in Warsaw and only a fraction attends church on a regular basis, nonetheless, Christmas is huge).

I want to bake, because a holiday season without baking is like a chicken without feathers (cold!), but I postpone it once again. This shortest day of them all is so lovely, that I pull out my bike and I follow Ed along the rural roads (a second ride for him!) all the way to Lake Waubesa.
I shout out -- We could go to Christie's Bar (a small local dive on the lake shore), except I dont really want a beer.
Let's split one!
That's embarrassing! Two people walk into a bar and order one beer on tap for $1.50.

We do it anyway.

And then we pedal back.





At the farmhouse we roast chestnuts. Ed tries to convince me that the microwave is good enough for the job. I look at him in horror.
What is the point then? That is a plunge into a cooking abyss I myself will not take!
Tastes good! Here, let's try it!

In reality, they do not taste good when microwaved. I do the standard criss cross on their flat side, stick them in the oven and sit back to the wonderful aroma of roasting chestnuts. Almost like the chestnut stands in New York City, only better!






A few minutes after 4 we go for a walk. For this (at 4:24 or thereabouts):






And this, after the sunset...






What words would you put to winter solstice? Happy winter? Merry short day? How about the same as ever -- stay healthy and in love with life! And to longer days going forward! From our house to yours.

Friday

It's a day with too few hours for what has to be accomplished. There is no point in rushing -- it will feel packed no matter what. May as well pump up the holiday music and move at my normal pace.

First, though, there is breakfast -- for the animals, then for us.





The shed cats have now taken to coming into the porch to remind me of their existence at mealtime. Stop Sign feels apprehensive about this onslaught of cats (they're all her children, mind you, but it feels as if she doesn't quite place them in the category of beloved kin) and it is my goal to keep them away from the food that's intended for the porch kitties. Today there are some paws flying and tapping at each other as they vie to get close to me, the bowl, the food. One sharp "cut it out!" sends them all flying and after that, calm is restored.

We are now in a week of warm temperatures. Meaning we are above freezing. That translates into no pretty snow cover for Christmas, but I'm fine with that. November gave us a brutal dose of cold, of snow, of ice. We need a pause before the January Arctic terror sets in.


My first stop is my mom's Rehab facility. (As a reminder, she had a stroke and is there to regain some of her strength.) We have a conference. She is in on the meeting, but she really can't hear much and processing a discussion of her progress is challenging for her. I express my concerns about several aspects of her current situation. I am not surprised by what the response is. I really do have to start looking for a new place for her after Rehab. Returning to her apartment is not likely to be an option.

I'm not sure which is more daunting of the three: doing the paperwork for this, finding a place that will accept her and that is well regarded, or accomplishing the move itself. It is perhaps a good thing that we have two weeks of holidays coming up. Nothing can happen until January. Still, I get on it immediately. Right after the conference. It's important to understand the options, given her particular financial predicament. And it is important to make first contacts with agencies that can help me process papers. Too, it's important to start talking about this with my mom, so that she she can get comfortable with the idea that there will be change.

By the time I feel I've done all I can do at this stage, it is after noon. I absolutely need to squeeze in grocery shopping before I pick up the kids (yes kids! Sparrow is up and running again!).

Typically, I really enjoy a very slow stroll through the aisles of a grocery store just before a holiday. I look at foods that magically appear just before the holidays. I redo menus in my head. I feel warm with anticipation. But, there is no time for that today. Too, I'm not cooking on either December 24th or 25th. Our holiday merrymaking will follow a different schedule, so that the various family members can have their fair share of Christmas time with each other and with other grandparents.

I fly to the store, I put on the music in the car extra loud to energize me, despite the absence of lunch or even a second cup of coffee, and I scramble to throw stuff in the fridge before heading out to school to pick up these two wonderful bandits.

(Snowdrop isn't ready to go! She needs to finish this gem of a card!)






(Each child loves to imitate the sound of a rooster. None of this cock-a-doodle-doo stuff. They go for the real thing!)






Orange couch book time!






I then take out a holiday themed Duplo for them. The age range for this set of legos is 2 - 5, but it really is too old for him and way too young for her. Still, it's a grand way for them to play side by side. (Sparrow tries to help by sharing his little "bear.")











Evening. Kids go home, I go back to mom stuff, reviewing with her several steps that are before us.

Supper? Oh, easy stuff once again. I consider it a great achievement to cook up a pot of brussel sprouts and cut up an avocado for a salad. A few cooked shrimp and we have a meal. Tomorrow I will do better.

Thursday

Just at noon, I walked a forested path and I thought -- how easy it is to find peace here...

And I thought -- sometimes it's hard not to be grumpy. I get it. Things go wrong. We can't control it -- stuff happens. To everyone. We get angry, we get grumpy. (I heard an office worker at a residential facility screaming at someone today. I wondered -- had the woman really wronged her? Was her anger effective? Or was the world just too much and she let out a bellow, in the same way that a kettle with boiling water releases steam?)

When I was a teen, I so wanted to be the person who never gets angry. Over the decades, I lost that struggle every now and then, but in my senior years, it's not been hard to not get fired up about the indignities that befall us all. The greater challenge is to not feel or act grumpy. Ever. I want to be that person described to me by a friend whom I encountered recently. She said her mom was getting senile and frail, but she was a dotty old chipper granny. I don't mind being dotty so long as I stay chipper!



Today is stunning, weatherwise. It's right around freezing, but the sun is out and the air is calm. December perfection! (Snow would add beauty, to be sure, but we mustn't be greedy!)






It's a busy morning for me. After breakfast...





... I return to my mom's apartment.

(Here's the pretty driveby... The lake is freezing over!)





There, I again search the place inside out for her missing item. And I find it! I take this and some reading material to the Rehab Center and visit for a while. She is at an impasse, but it could be just a temporary thing. Tomorrow I'll be meeting with the team of caseworker-nurse type people to set some goals and review the possibilities.



I return home, do some quick Christmas work (all pleasure to be sure!) and wait for Ed to finish his work phone calls. The clock ticks, the calls are endless. I wave good bye and take off on my own. I cannot miss this moment of good weather.

Where to? Our county park by Lake Waubesa has it all -- water, prairie. Forest. Birds.

(Two fishing huts! Are they safe??)






(Forest calm...)






(Ducks, geese...)







Immediately after, I pick up Snowdrop...






It's the next to last day of school before winter break and I sense, for the first time, that she's looking forward to "sleeping in" next week. She is tired. At the farmhouse, she chooses mellow books for our reading time. Sweet winter stories, some of which were favorites last year, when she was only three.






I take her home toward evening. Again I linger there.

It's late when I finally pull into the farmette driveway. I bring in a supper of Thai take out. We eat it on the couch, with an eye and an ear to the political news of the day.

Wednesday

This is what 4F (-15C) looks like:




Once again, I hardly mind it. The air is so crisp, so bracing, that it livens your step and gives your cheeks a nice little slap of pink.

(breakfast)




It is, unfortunately, the season for bugs. Not the flying stinging kind, but the ones you get from the person who sneezed right at you. Ones that little boys who just start school catch. Sparrow was drippy last week. I thought he seemed better yesterday, but today, he's feverish and home from school. How a parent must love ibuprofen at times like this! Last I heard the little guy is doing more or less okay. Still, it's a home day for him.

It's a home day for me as well. I have a bunch of calls to make and my mom is set for a little while, so we decide that I'll do my back and forth (between her apartment and the rehab facility) tomorrow. Today, I'll work from home. This also gives me a little time to go back to holiday thinking. The last few days have really put Christmas on the back burner. This morning, it's front and center once again. (In between the phone calls.)


And in the afternoon, I play with Snowdrop.

She reaches for favorite books and then she decides that a really great accomplishment would be to cut up a post-it note into a million pieces and scatter them on the floor.
But Snowdrop, why?
The floor is hungry. This is its food.
It's not hungry for bits of paper. Who will clean it up?
You will. With my help. I'm going to cut out a broom for you!





She is disappointed with her finished product.
Gaga, I drew a great broom, but I'm just not good at cutting it out perfectly!
It does not have to be perfect -- I say this wondering how I could possibly demonstrate to her that an imperfect paper broom is good enough. Luckily, as she slumps at the kitchen table, she notices the jar of honey. She is newly inspired.
Gaga, can we make pancakes? 
Yes we can. Do you want a particular shape?
A snowman!
Okay...
With a hat!
Okay...
Make that hat bigger, Gaga!
Snowdrop, there is only so much that I can do with pancake batter....






Good enough!






(glance out the playroom window at sunset...)






Eventually I drive her home. I look in at the poor sick face of her little brother, I chat with my daughter, and then I return to the farmette, where I throw together a classic low-key farmhouse supper of eggs, a slice or two of smoked salmon, wilted greens, mushrooms and whatever leftover I have on hand -- in this case, a yam that's been hanging around here since Thanksgiving. My, but that holiday seems like it was ages ago!

Tuesday

This morning, as I set out our breakfast, wondering whether I should call Ed down or let him sleep, I once more considered where to put the handful of holiday cards that have come to the farmette. They deserve a place of honor.

(Ed comes down. I'm glad. Breakfast is infinitely more special when he joins me, which he does, out of the goodness of his heart, daily.)





It would be completely not for me to even suggest that you or anyone should revert to sending out holiday cards (the time, the money -- all such good arguments for turning your back on them), but I do want to tell you why I myself love them so much.

To put a card in the mail does require more effort than simply saying Happy Holidays on FB or in a text, but the gesture is infinitely more beautiful. The physical presence of the design (or photo), chosen by the sender, expressing something of her or his whimsy, sends forth just about the highest form of hygge (Danish winter coziness), in my view. I'm charmed by each and every card I get and I study each one carefully.

(For now, the small handful can adorn our kitchen window...)





You are going to tell me that you do not want trees to come down for the paper that cards require. I understand your concern. Nonetheless, I'll stay with cards. I'll go so far as to give up my books in favor of  Kindle reading, and I'll part ways with news print in favor of online press. Too, Ed will have called every single company that sends a catalogue in the mail and asked them to take us off their mailing list. Pfft! No more catalogues! But I'm keeping my cards. Because I value so much what is printed or scribbled on a piece of paper, especially now!

We have very confused and confusing emotions at this time of the year, compounded by the stress of having too much on our plates. Still, I'm a big believer in sifting through these complicated  emotions and reaching for the stuff that brings us joy. Stuff that keep our lights of happiness burning brightly. Stuff that make you and me smile. Cards make me smile.

(This cover of the New Yorker also made me smile; too, it's a good reminder to be super kind to the people who make deliveries at this time of the year.)






It's a gray day in Wisconsin and I have a lot of very uninteresting things to attend to, all surrounding my mother's transfer to a rehab facility. She has a new set of needs right now and she can do virtually nothing for herself. Too, the past weeks are a blur for her and this means that I have to step into her shoes and attend to matters of daily life for her. A lost item that is important to her needs to be found. I search her apartment up and down and all around and fail to find it. I see the disappointment in her face when I tell her during my visit. Papers. Endless papers come in the mail. Others don't come in the mail on their own, you have to request them. Details of another person's life are complicated. This week they have become my details.

(driving to my mom's apartment)






I barely make it home in time to drink a quick coffee before I pick up the kids. But the candle burns and the music plays.






The kids, at pickup time.






And now at the farmette, Ed engages Snowdrop in a rousing game of volley ball. With a pillow.






Sparrow is a good cheering squad.






(That's Ed's capture: Olivia, at Christmas.)






Much of the play time with Sparrow today was spent on dressing and undressing this little bear.






Snowdrop is always fascinated by what's on Ed's computer screen. This time she finds a video on the conflict between secular and religious Jews in Israel.






Always interesting: the games the kitties play on the porch.






Evening. I'm glad I have chicken with rice and beans to reheat. Microwaves were invented for days like this!