SIlent Night, Snowy Night

Tonight, there's an added dimension of stillness to my quiet Sunday evening at home. A gentle sprinkle of snow is wafting down, and its already covered the grass with a thin blanket of fluffy, wet flakes. Normally, I don't care much for snow, but even I am not immune to the subtle pleasure of this first snowfall, particularly since I'm snug and warm here inside my house, the new Josh Groban Christmas tunes playing softly in the background as I write. Thanksgiving is now officially over, so I'm ready (I think) to start celebrating the Christmas season.

As a working musician, the entire month of December is a wild merry go round of rehearsals, concerts, and community performances. So the Thanksgiving weekend is sacred to me. Every year I use these four days as a mini-retreat, to prepare myself for the frantic four weeks ahead.

These past few days have been a good respite for me. I've accomplished what I needed to - kept up my novel writing, did enough practicing to get me through the concerts coming up next weekend, returned some phone calls and e-mails firming up plans for next week, and even managed to catch up on all the laundry and grocery shopping. But I skipped church today in favor of a good walk with the dogs and some extra writing time. And I served leftovers a couple of nights in a row, rather than cook. I sat in my favorite chair Saturday afternoon, and read a good book (The Rest of Her Life). I might have even dozed off for a while.

Tonight, since I have the house to myself, I'll be taking a glass of wine and some cheese and crackers out to the den where I plan to indulge in an absolute orgy of chick flick TV on the big screen -Private Practice, Dirty Sexy Money (on DVR), and Brothers and Sisters (live).

Days like these become small harbors of peace and tranquility, where I can rest to prepare for the rapids I know lie ahead.

Just a few more hours before the onslaught begins. I plan to make the most of it.

How about you? Where do you find your small harbors of tranquility in the midst of life?

Sunday Scribblings-Misspent Youth

Ah, youth. Mine was such a long time ago now, I barely remember it. I do recall spending it doing whatever I could to win favor with my parents, my teachers, and my friends, which meant I was being the "good girl" who did her schoolwork, practiced lots so she could play well at all her concerts, didn't stay out late, drink, dance, or go to bars. I never allowed myself the luxury of goofing off, I was never willing to risk the possibility of screwing up, I would never take a chance on looking foolish. How boring. If my youth was misspent at all, it was in the opposite of this term's colloquialized meaning. Rather than frittering away my time so that I would never amount to anything, I amounted to way too much, way too soon. When I was 23, I had been married three years, and was caring for a toddler and a home. Technically, my youth was over. But...here's the funny part. Now that I'm in my 50's, I often stay out late with my friends, we goof around and act silly, we sometimes drink too much wine. I go quite a bit farther out on life's limb these days, and I don't really care whether people think I'm a "good girl"- well, not too much anyway. Perhaps when I'm in my dotage, I'll look back fondly on these days of "misspent middle age." At least, I hope I do. for other's tales of misspent youth, go here and here is the number one Google search result for the words "misspent youth" ~very cute!

The Day After

Don't know about you, but I have no intention of venturing anywhere near a store this weekend. Even if I wanted to go shopping, I wouldn't, just as a small protest to the holiday buying frenzy that retailers try so desperatly to hurl us into at this time of year. We took the dogs for a nice long walk in the park (although Jim nearly got frostbite trying to take some pictures), spent some time cataloging a treasure chest full of old coins that belonged to my in laws - a task we've been meaning to do for months now.

Tonight we're having dinner with some friends and then seeing August Rush. I'll let you know how it is.

It will certainly be better than shopping.

Tradition

Holidays are all about traditions, aren't they? Each family develops their own, and, whether they're good or bad, we seem to get stuck on repeating them until some fateful incident forces us to do things differently. Thanksgiving had more traditions for me than most holidays, maybe because it's a food-family centered holiday, rather than a gift/party/event centered holiday. When I was a child, I was always awakened about 7 am by the sounds of my grandmother stirring around in the kitchen, getting the turkey stuffed, whipping up the pies. She insisted on getting the turkey in the electric roaster at least 6 hours ahead of time. She would complain a lot about all the work involved in these holiday meals, yet she'd never let anyone help her.

My grandparents lived with us, and my grandmother was pretty much in charge of the kitchen. My mom was always cooking along beside her, but there was no doubt about who wore the head chef's hat. My grandma's been gone 15 years, and my mom has since revealed to me that it simply drove her crazy, the way my grandma took control of all the meal preparations.

Who knew? I was just a kid, my grandma was a wonderful cook, and I loved to eat. So I have some really happy memories of Thanksgiving - while unbeknowst to me, my mom was quietly having nervous breakdowns.

When I became an adult, married, and with a home of my own, my mother in law became our Thanksgiving chef. It was the only meal I really knew her to cook. She would come to our house (which used to be their house, after all) and prepare the turkey from start to finish - meaning she was around for most of the day. It would take a lot more words than those available in one short post to explain why this was enough to drive Jim and I to drink. Suffice it to say, I too have suffered my share of silent nervous breakdowns on Thanksgiving.

Over the years our Thanksgiving table - while never large - has now dwindled to just three -Jim and I, and my mom, who usually cooks in her kitchen, of which she is now in total control. It's a quiet day, a small meal really, but we still eat too much and the dogs get too many tidbits. That's traditional too, isn't it?

But I give a silent nod to my grandmother, who may be bossing the angels around in heaven's kitchen as we speak, and one to my mother in law too, whose craziness is only too familiar in the Alzheimer's facility she lives in.

They are part of my Thanksgiving canon of memories and traditions, and I'm grateful.

May you all enjoy your Thanksgiving, your traditions, new and old, and good memories of days gone by.

Read Write Poem-American Sentences

Four ancient women, memories gone, sit silently, watching TV.

Inhabitants of their own small world, everyone else is excluded.

I'm just one more smiling stranger, even to the one who birthed me.

These are my American Sentences, a poetic form originated by Allen Ginsberg, which might be considered the western version of haiku. They consist of a single sentence of seventeen syllables, written in a linear fashion.

"The format of American Sentences allows no excuse and serves as a reminder of the conditions, situation, atmosphere and shadow of the moment." writes Paul Nelson, in his article on this interesting poetic form.

My sentences were inspired by a visit to my mother in law, who has Alzheimer's Disease.

You can find more American Sentences at Read Write Poem, and new site for poetry sharing.