Merry @&%$*)$*#& Christmas!

The party over the weekend went off well. Ended up with 22, which was the headcount the last time we had one of these shindigs. One of my cousins who lives nearby didn't come, and I missed seeing him. And the mother of my grandson, along with my grandson, was a no-show. She waited until the party was underway to send a cryptic email. It really did put a damper on the whole thing for me.

As I age I see why the holidays are so stressful. There has to be someway to offset the accompanying depression. Maybe the answer is to downplay the whole season. Part of what happens is the memories of past Christmases, which are probably enhanced by distance, rise up and beckon. When I try to remember which were the best holidays, the ones that come to me are from my childhood primarily, or from the childhood of my own children, and these are circumstances that are impossible to replicate. I'm ready to start new traditions. Or do away with traditions altogether. I admit to being caught in the trap of feeling down again this year.

Most of it comes from the situation with my younger son. The whole thing has been exacerbated by having this party. It was a risk I knew existed way back in the spring when I began the planning of it. I thought that I could nip it from the beginning when my dear, well-meaning aunt mentioned how wonderful it would be to see this particular son again. I told her that would not happen. As much as I love him, I will not invite someone who threatens me with physical harm to come to my home. Now, one of my cousins wants to know how to contact my son, and I don't want to answer. I think I will confront it head-on and tell them the truth.

That part was all written two weeks ago, when I was still feeling spurned and fragile. I've had time to readjust myself and get over it, but I am really tired of Christmas, and it's not even here yet. It seems to go on forever nowadays, with so many families split apart by divorce or mere extension. I've already attended two additional parties since the one with my family: my old buddies from Yorktown gave one, which was lowkey by comparison to the big family shindigs, and the SO's family gathering, which happened at his brother's house. I found myself, about halfway through the last one, wishing to just be home watching football, or something as mundane.

I like my everyday life. It satisfies me. I don't need a holiday to remind me of how good things are for me. I'm grateful every day. We are to have one more minor gathering on Christmas eve during the day. Then that night, we have decided to head off to the movie, just the two of us, to see "True Grit." The current version is supposed to more closely resemble the TRUE GRIT book than did the one back yonder starring John Wayne, basically, as John Wayne. Never was a fan. Still am not fond of one-note actors. We will head for the mountains next Tuesday. Yea! Can't wait.

Onward ....

Marriage, Fruitcake, and Family

We talked about getting married, back before we moved here, and again right afterwards -- twice just to make sure we were on the same page. We have decided against it. On purpose. Both of us have done it before, more than once, and we both have had disappointments, betrayal of trust, heartbreak. Call it what you will. We have decided that we must not be that good at it -- marriage -- either of us. Oddly, because both of us are domestic. We enjoy that sense of belonging, the responsibility that goes with it, and the dedication to making life easier, kinder, calmer. We are both drama-adverse. As he has said so plainly, "I've had enough bickering to last me a lifetime." Ditto.

That's not to say there haven't been bumps. Anytime two people in the second half of their lives begin a relationship, there are bumps, caused mostly by old habits, old lessons learned hard and not given up easily. Almost every misunderstanding we have had has been because of baggage that we carried into this relationship. But even those skirmishes have been minor, talked out and gotten rid of quickly. We are old souls, delighted to have lucked into each other. We've let go of the stuff and made room in our hearts for each other. We keep each other centered. We're aware of each other's likes and dislikes. We've suspended criticism and are open to trying new things. So far it's working.

We've having a big Christmas to-do here later today. His side, plus me and Daddy. He has one living brother, and one who was killed in a car wreck 15 years ago. The living one, his wife and grown children will be here. The one who was killed's widow and her grown children and grandbaby. All will arrive around 11:00. His mother is, of course, the main reason for the gathering, and for gathering here. She had Thanksgiving at her house, and she's 86. It was hard on her, plus we have more room. So there will be 14 of us for lunch. Mexican food. Everyone is bringing a dish. We'll exchange gifts, drawn by number. It will be fun. I like his family. His son and daughter-in-law especially, and his granddaughter. I think they like me, too.

And so yesterday we worked in the kitchen together, getting things ready. He made his chili, I made a pie and a chicken dish. We pitched in together to clean up our messes. He swept. I mopped. He washed dishes. I wiped down the counters. He balked at me scrubbing the bathroom in our bedroom. "Nobody will be coming in here," he said. I get on these cleaning binges and have a tendency to think things have to be perfect. He knows this failing of mine and reminds me, gently, that nobody will care if it's less.

I have been wrestling with sleep. Excited about today, and about seeing my son in five days. It has been an almost effortless Christmas so far. Painless shopping. Easy decorating, a little here and a little there. I've baked some, but without the frenzy of years past. We tried our hand at a fruitcake and it turned out better than good. I'm not a big fan of fruitcake but I like this one. Because it was a joint affair. The decision to make one, the decision on ingredients. Neither of us like dates, so those were out. I like things nutty, he likes them fruity. We doubled up on both, and used a spice cake mix as our base, adding apricot brandy and vanilla, a brandy glaze. It's the best (I unashamedly admit) fruitcake I've ever tasted.

It's Christmas ... or almost. And now that it's here I don't understand why I was dreading it so much. Even the weather is cooperating so we can have a fire glowing in the fireplace this morning when the family arrives. But the sun is supposed to keep shining so the young people can go out exploring after we eat. And they will as they always do when they're here. In the country. Things to look at and places to wander, an opportunity to get away from the grown-ups.

Tonight, when they've all gone, the dog and the cat will lounge near us, happy to be just the four of us again. The television will be on again, the leftover mess will be only half tidied but who cares. Contentment. In our element. Whatever else may come will just be gravy.

Onward ....

Things That Matter

A blue norther is blowing in as I write this. I barely made it down to get the newspaper. The wind chilled on my way. The dog was frisky, bounding through the velvet flush of rye grass in the front meadow. The cat, skittish with the wind and hesitant about his morning sip from the ground birdbath, vanished inside before I was halfway back to the house.

Ruts have pocked the driveway from all the rain. We'll have to buy in more gravel. The SO's in charge of that project. He says we must wait a while for things to dry up first, if they will. It's supposed to rain hard with this norther, and from the looks of the sky this morning that's likely. After 8 o'clock already and the photocell-run floodlight is still burning. Birds have taken cover. Boughs of the trees are swaying, and occasionally a dead limb falls on the roof with a clang.

The house has lots of windows, high and low. It's an eccentric house anyway, so why not have crazy windows, too. The center of the house is a geodesic dome with wings jutting in three directions. The main part lies under the dome, the kitchen, master bedroom, and in a loft upstairs, one guest bedroom and my office. The livingroom has it's own wing with wide exposed beams. The sunroom makes another wing, as does the garage and outside guest room. There are four skylights with wooden spokes like wagon wheels beneath the dome, and other windows of all shapes and sizes throughout the house. I'm sure it won't be an easy house to sell one day. It sat vacant for several years before us, and this was during a housing boom. But I love it here --we all love it -- and that's all that really counts.

Home. A place where a person can be themselves, feel comfortable inside, say anything within its walls, snug and cozy. Home is one thing that really matters.

Love. Something so hard to find and hold, to define, to understand. Having it, feeling it, returning it, believing in it. Love is another thing that matters.

Purpose. Nobody is exempt from it, and purpose is the thing that defines someone. It's our job to carry out, aside from, in addition to -- or perhaps those are one and the same -- the thing one does for a living. Purpose fulfills, it makes us thrive and gives us drive. It's the thing that propels us through life. "Find your purpose," to quote words of wisdom from my mother long ago. Purpose is another thing that matters.

Joy. "We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy," as Joseph Campbell has said. It's that choice I'm concerned with, a lesson so many never learn, and one that I continue to learn and relearn: That it is a conscious choice a person makes, to be joyous, to allow yourself the freedom of happiness. Otherwise what is the point of living, if all of life is only misery? I suppose a fair amount of sorrow is required to fully appreciate joy. Who was it said sorrow and joy go hand-in-hand? Joy is a full heart and gratitude of mind. Joy is another thing that matters.

Gratitude. I am grateful for my beautiful home, and for the man I love, and for my animals, for my sons, and my grandson, for my dad and my good friends. I'm grateful for a healthy mind and a sound body, imperfect though it may be. I'm grateful for some success in doing the things I love to do, and for the promise of a future that's even brighter than my past. I'm full of hope and personal peace, and I'm thankful to be alive. Gratitude is another thing that matters.

It's Christmas, and close to a new year, a new decade, and it's seems to me to be a time for reflection and for valuing things that matter. I'm sure there are other things that would compliment this list, but there are so many that don't, and sometimes it's the things that don't matter at all that consume us, that cause us anguish, or that make us bristle in our attitude towards others, and that keep us from fully recognizing the preciousness of the life we are given.

Onward ....