Pick Stephanie and Jim up from the airport. How I missed my girl and how good it is to see Jim.
Stephanie meets Ella for the first time. What a picture of Ella smiling at Stephanie.
Appletinis.
Dad holding Ella for so long on Christmas Day. Every time I looked he was lifting her up in the air and bringing her back down to kiss her face. My heart was warmed over and over.
Jamin and Wendy and Stephanie and Jim played a (partial) game of Settlers. There's the four of them sitting together playing and talking. A wish nearly comes true.
How many stops did we make before we finally made it out of town and off to San Francisco? 4 or 5?
Stopped to see Mom's grave. Touched by Stephanie's emotion.
Jim so patiently sat through our reminiscing.
Christmas morning I'm up early. Have to wake Tom up at 10:00. Its Christmas morning!!!
Tom fixed dinner. He's such a great guy!! And a really good cook!!!
The people just kept coming!! We had more people here than I had planned on, but it all worked out, everyone had enough food and we had enough chairs. I love the noise and the activity.
Some played wii. Some talked and laughed.
Rob was a trooper, entertaining people for us. He didn't even know he was being flirted with.
Apples to Apples.
Catchphrase.
A pina colada to calm things down.
Willie loves loves loves Stephanie and Jim.
The wine cupboard.
3rd annual Bentley calendar.
So many gifts, the best of which is the gift of eternal life. Jesus really is the reason for the season and I thank Him for all He's given to me and done for me.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
Christmas Cookies
For the Christmas of 1962, my parents started a tradition. My mother bought several metal cookies cutters - a bell, a star, a Santa, a reindeer, a holly leaf and a snowman. She found a recipe for dough that she liked, and she started the tradition of having us four kids and my dad decorate the cookies that she would make sometime in the 2 weeks prior to Christmas. It was a big stretch for my mom, because its the only time that I can remember that she purposefully allowed us to make a mess at the table. When you have four children, three of whom are boys, you have your limits. But it was a great tradition and we looked forward to it every year. My mom would roll out the dough, bake the cookies, make the frosting and gather the sprinkles and colored sugar and let us have at it.
It was a comforting and happy tradition. We knew which colors of frosting she would make - white, brown, yellow, blue, red and green. The cookies shapes were always the same. My dad would always say "You can only eat the ones you break." as he snapped a cookie in two. You could tell who made which cookie based on the creativity level. My brother Rick would patiently decorate each cookie, taking up to 20 minutes for each one. I would just grab a bottle of colored sugar and toss it on. Mom did not decorate any of the cookies. She said that she made them and that meant that she didn't need to decorate them. As we decorated, Mom would put them in a container and we would eat them throughout the next week or so, making sure that there were some left on Christmas Eve for Santa.
As we grew up and started our own families, we still would set aside time for Cookie Day. Mom used the same cookie cutters. She was tempted by displays of newer looking shapes, but they were never as good as the metal ones that she bought in 1962. The grandkids all learned to decorate. They added their personalities to the experience. The year my nephew Josh was 3 or 4, he ate all of the cinnamon candies while we thought he was decorating. Those red hots became known as Josh's candy. The sprinkles were spilled more often as there were more grandchildren, but it still a comfortable tradition. After we finished, Mom would make stew and we would have dinner. As we all left, she would put some cookies on a plate for each of us to take home.
One year, about 15 years ago, my mom decided that, as the only daughter, I should take over the cookie making. My mom gave me the recipe and the cookie cutters. I felt a bit of a sense of awe and responsibility. I was not as good a baker as my mom, but I would try to do my best. The event shifted to my house. Working with the dough was hard at first. I would get frustrated and have to reroll the dough over and over again. Having my mom watch me do it was nerve-racking, too. I got better as time went by, learning some of the tricks of the trade. I never felt that I did it as good as Mom, but it was still fun and still comfortable. I toyed with using a different recipe that was easier to roll out. But the family didn't want the taste of the cookies to change. There were years that we struggled to find a day to do the cookies. Schedules and events sometimes got in the way. As the grandkids got older and busier, they didn't always participate. But Dad still would say "You can only eat the ones you break." as he snapped a cookie in half. And Rick would still take his time. One year, my son-in-law appeared to be unclear on the process and took the whole time making only one cookie. But it was quite a cookie!! Very fancy. And the personalities kept on coming.
In the summer of 2008, my mom died. That Christmas when it came time for Cookie Day, I felt myself dreading the day. The tradition was one of the few things that was truly passed from mother to daughter. I was missing my mom so much that Christmas that I just couldn't think of going through with it without her standing there watching me. As I started rolling out the dough, my mom absence was too great and I started crying. I couldn't keep going. My daughter Stephanie was home, having just finished college, and she lovingly took over. Everyone came to decorate, but I couldn't even do that. This was an important tradition in my family, and I wanted it to continue, but it was one of the hardest things about saying good-bye to my mother.
I thought about the cookie tradition all year long. I wanted to honor my mother. But it was going to be hard for awhile. At Thanksgiving, I got a message from my 15-year-old niece Kaity asking when we were doing the cookies. My heart skipped. Emotions of missing my mom and feeling overwhelmed filled me. With my husband standing beside me, I worked out a day with Kaity. I saw how much she needed to do this and then was glad that she pushed me. I told her thank you for being patient with me and working with me.
Kaity's connection to her grandmother, my mom, is important and strong. To her, doing the cookies was a way of keeping Mom's memory alive. I wanted to avoid the whole thing so that the grief wouldn't come back. But Kaity reminded me that the grief moves away when the memory is honored. This year I decided that the cookie tradition would be shifted a little. It will now be a tradition that will be carried out by both Kaity and me. I will teach her how to do it and eventually she will take it over. She has promised to keep it alive and to make sure that as many of the family is included, no matter where she ends up living.
This year I made the dough, but Kaity rolled out the cookies. I used the same recipe as always. We used the same cookie cutters, now more than 40 years old. We did add the color purple to the frosting options at Kaity's insistance. Still the tradition, but the personality changes a little. I have a granddaughter who will one day add a little of her personality to the experience. Its still comfortable and I feel that my mom would be pleased.
It was a comforting and happy tradition. We knew which colors of frosting she would make - white, brown, yellow, blue, red and green. The cookies shapes were always the same. My dad would always say "You can only eat the ones you break." as he snapped a cookie in two. You could tell who made which cookie based on the creativity level. My brother Rick would patiently decorate each cookie, taking up to 20 minutes for each one. I would just grab a bottle of colored sugar and toss it on. Mom did not decorate any of the cookies. She said that she made them and that meant that she didn't need to decorate them. As we decorated, Mom would put them in a container and we would eat them throughout the next week or so, making sure that there were some left on Christmas Eve for Santa.
As we grew up and started our own families, we still would set aside time for Cookie Day. Mom used the same cookie cutters. She was tempted by displays of newer looking shapes, but they were never as good as the metal ones that she bought in 1962. The grandkids all learned to decorate. They added their personalities to the experience. The year my nephew Josh was 3 or 4, he ate all of the cinnamon candies while we thought he was decorating. Those red hots became known as Josh's candy. The sprinkles were spilled more often as there were more grandchildren, but it still a comfortable tradition. After we finished, Mom would make stew and we would have dinner. As we all left, she would put some cookies on a plate for each of us to take home.
One year, about 15 years ago, my mom decided that, as the only daughter, I should take over the cookie making. My mom gave me the recipe and the cookie cutters. I felt a bit of a sense of awe and responsibility. I was not as good a baker as my mom, but I would try to do my best. The event shifted to my house. Working with the dough was hard at first. I would get frustrated and have to reroll the dough over and over again. Having my mom watch me do it was nerve-racking, too. I got better as time went by, learning some of the tricks of the trade. I never felt that I did it as good as Mom, but it was still fun and still comfortable. I toyed with using a different recipe that was easier to roll out. But the family didn't want the taste of the cookies to change. There were years that we struggled to find a day to do the cookies. Schedules and events sometimes got in the way. As the grandkids got older and busier, they didn't always participate. But Dad still would say "You can only eat the ones you break." as he snapped a cookie in half. And Rick would still take his time. One year, my son-in-law appeared to be unclear on the process and took the whole time making only one cookie. But it was quite a cookie!! Very fancy. And the personalities kept on coming.
In the summer of 2008, my mom died. That Christmas when it came time for Cookie Day, I felt myself dreading the day. The tradition was one of the few things that was truly passed from mother to daughter. I was missing my mom so much that Christmas that I just couldn't think of going through with it without her standing there watching me. As I started rolling out the dough, my mom absence was too great and I started crying. I couldn't keep going. My daughter Stephanie was home, having just finished college, and she lovingly took over. Everyone came to decorate, but I couldn't even do that. This was an important tradition in my family, and I wanted it to continue, but it was one of the hardest things about saying good-bye to my mother.
I thought about the cookie tradition all year long. I wanted to honor my mother. But it was going to be hard for awhile. At Thanksgiving, I got a message from my 15-year-old niece Kaity asking when we were doing the cookies. My heart skipped. Emotions of missing my mom and feeling overwhelmed filled me. With my husband standing beside me, I worked out a day with Kaity. I saw how much she needed to do this and then was glad that she pushed me. I told her thank you for being patient with me and working with me.
Kaity's connection to her grandmother, my mom, is important and strong. To her, doing the cookies was a way of keeping Mom's memory alive. I wanted to avoid the whole thing so that the grief wouldn't come back. But Kaity reminded me that the grief moves away when the memory is honored. This year I decided that the cookie tradition would be shifted a little. It will now be a tradition that will be carried out by both Kaity and me. I will teach her how to do it and eventually she will take it over. She has promised to keep it alive and to make sure that as many of the family is included, no matter where she ends up living.
This year I made the dough, but Kaity rolled out the cookies. I used the same recipe as always. We used the same cookie cutters, now more than 40 years old. We did add the color purple to the frosting options at Kaity's insistance. Still the tradition, but the personality changes a little. I have a granddaughter who will one day add a little of her personality to the experience. Its still comfortable and I feel that my mom would be pleased.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Christmas is a Week Away!
So Christmas is just one week away. I usually get the shopping and prepping done long before now. I don't like to put things off till the last minute. The day after Thanksgiving, I start thinking about the people I want to buy for. I think about the things they've said over the past year, what they are interested in, things I've observed that they could use. I don't like to just wander around and pick up any old thing. I want to choose just the right thing. I start shopping and try to be finished by the week before Christmas. Then I can wrap and decorate and be prepared. I can bake and enjoy the events that are Christmas.
Something happened this year. I'm not sure what. But something. I kept putting off shopping. Ideas didn't come like they normally do. Other things needed to be done. I even got lazy. But now that Christmas is just one week away, the motivation and the drive are coming. The ideas are coming - some clever, some not so much. The house is getting decorated. I'm getting excited. Stephanie and Jim are coming. That is very exciting. I can't wait to share the holiday with Jim. It'll be the first time. Ella is here. She's young and not really aware of things like gifts and such. But its a beginning. I want to soak up the togetherness and the experience and the enjoyment.
The presents are good and important to me. But I know they're not the main thing. Being together is the main thing. Making memories and thinking about why we're celebrating in the first place are the main things. I want to make time go really slow and enjoy every single second. I want to look in the faces of those I love and feel the love and the admiration. I want to let all of it soak in. I want to let them know how much I love them and hope that they got the message. I want all the hustle and bustle.
Its my favorite time of year. Full and busy and lovely.
Something happened this year. I'm not sure what. But something. I kept putting off shopping. Ideas didn't come like they normally do. Other things needed to be done. I even got lazy. But now that Christmas is just one week away, the motivation and the drive are coming. The ideas are coming - some clever, some not so much. The house is getting decorated. I'm getting excited. Stephanie and Jim are coming. That is very exciting. I can't wait to share the holiday with Jim. It'll be the first time. Ella is here. She's young and not really aware of things like gifts and such. But its a beginning. I want to soak up the togetherness and the experience and the enjoyment.
The presents are good and important to me. But I know they're not the main thing. Being together is the main thing. Making memories and thinking about why we're celebrating in the first place are the main things. I want to make time go really slow and enjoy every single second. I want to look in the faces of those I love and feel the love and the admiration. I want to let all of it soak in. I want to let them know how much I love them and hope that they got the message. I want all the hustle and bustle.
Its my favorite time of year. Full and busy and lovely.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
At Starbucks
Every Thursday, my sister-in-law Tia and I get together with my mother-in-law. We run errands or just visit. No matter what we end up doing, we always start at Starbucks. We take turns paying and it gives us the chance to catch up and get my mother-in-law out of the house. Sometimes all we do is go to Starbucks.
Today we decided to go to Trader Joe's, but of course, we first went to Starbucks. We ordered our usual drinks - Gingerbread Latte for Mom, soy decaf mocha for Tia and nonfat chai with a pump of chocolate for me. Tia and Mom found a place for us to sit. I was standing at the counter waiting for our drinks. I glanced around the room and saw a man sitting in one of the comfy chairs that Starbucks tends to have in their stores. He was very well dressed in a black suit with a red scarf around his neck and a red hankerchief in his breast coat pocket. He was mostly bald and had a white, well-trimmed beard. His shoes were shiny black and he was talking on his cell phone. He looked exactly like Cecil from the movie Mr. Deeds. Cecil was the cohort of Chuck Cedar, who was trying to trick Deeds out of his inheritance. Cecil hung out with a rogue, but deep down you could tell he was a decent guy. Between the clothes and the demeanor and the use of the cell phone, I thought I was seeing a scene from a movie. All he needed was a pipe in his mouth. It made me want to laugh, but of course, its rude to laugh at someone that you don't know sitting in a Starbucks. So I didn't laugh. I would have loved to have known who this man was and to ask if anyone had ever mistaken him for Cecil from Mr. Deeds.
My mother had always told me not to bother people. Don't bother people when you're on the bus. Don't bother people when you're out shopping. Don't bother people you don't know. I might have to rethink that. I want to go back and "bother" that man and find out a little bit of his story. I'll bet it was interesting. And I want to tell him who I think he looks like. He might get a kick out of it.
Today we decided to go to Trader Joe's, but of course, we first went to Starbucks. We ordered our usual drinks - Gingerbread Latte for Mom, soy decaf mocha for Tia and nonfat chai with a pump of chocolate for me. Tia and Mom found a place for us to sit. I was standing at the counter waiting for our drinks. I glanced around the room and saw a man sitting in one of the comfy chairs that Starbucks tends to have in their stores. He was very well dressed in a black suit with a red scarf around his neck and a red hankerchief in his breast coat pocket. He was mostly bald and had a white, well-trimmed beard. His shoes were shiny black and he was talking on his cell phone. He looked exactly like Cecil from the movie Mr. Deeds. Cecil was the cohort of Chuck Cedar, who was trying to trick Deeds out of his inheritance. Cecil hung out with a rogue, but deep down you could tell he was a decent guy. Between the clothes and the demeanor and the use of the cell phone, I thought I was seeing a scene from a movie. All he needed was a pipe in his mouth. It made me want to laugh, but of course, its rude to laugh at someone that you don't know sitting in a Starbucks. So I didn't laugh. I would have loved to have known who this man was and to ask if anyone had ever mistaken him for Cecil from Mr. Deeds.
My mother had always told me not to bother people. Don't bother people when you're on the bus. Don't bother people when you're out shopping. Don't bother people you don't know. I might have to rethink that. I want to go back and "bother" that man and find out a little bit of his story. I'll bet it was interesting. And I want to tell him who I think he looks like. He might get a kick out of it.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Gymnastics Performance
I had the opportunity to watch the gymnastics performance of two little friends of mine today. It was fun and it was educational. The fun part had to do with just watching two little kids having a ball, doing something that they could both do well. They could both have done so much of what they did today, and more, long before they got there today. These are strong, physical kids. They have parents who provide them with a junglegym, trampoline and gymnastics lessons. They have what amounts to a park in their backyard. They are skilled and talented and its fun to do athletic things when you know how.
The educational aspect of the day was because while I don't subscribe to the notion that it "takes a village" to raise a child, it does take a bit in an investment on the part of others. There was an investment on the part of the gymnastics instructors. They taught these kids how to do the things that they did with love, acceptance and patience. They allowed the kids to use energy in a constructive and pleasant way, in a safe environment. There was an investment on the part of the observers of the performance. We all didn't know most of the kids in the performance, but we applauded and showed approval. That approval will go a long way in the esteem of most of these kids. But the best investment was made by those of us who consider us to be "long-haulers". We hope to be involved in these kids lives for a long, long time. We will be there for the good times and for the not-so-good times. We will watch them grow and learn and see life from their perspectives. My hope is that one day I will be able to sit with each of them, when they're in their 20s, and have a conversation built on love and history. It will be a conversation born of love, love for their parents and love for them; love because of who they are today and who they will be someday. It's better than having your own kids grown up, because you don't have to be involved in the disciplinary duties that go with raising kids. I just get to watch and smile and keep it all buried in my heart. I hope that I have as much of an impact on them as they have on me.
The educational aspect of the day was because while I don't subscribe to the notion that it "takes a village" to raise a child, it does take a bit in an investment on the part of others. There was an investment on the part of the gymnastics instructors. They taught these kids how to do the things that they did with love, acceptance and patience. They allowed the kids to use energy in a constructive and pleasant way, in a safe environment. There was an investment on the part of the observers of the performance. We all didn't know most of the kids in the performance, but we applauded and showed approval. That approval will go a long way in the esteem of most of these kids. But the best investment was made by those of us who consider us to be "long-haulers". We hope to be involved in these kids lives for a long, long time. We will be there for the good times and for the not-so-good times. We will watch them grow and learn and see life from their perspectives. My hope is that one day I will be able to sit with each of them, when they're in their 20s, and have a conversation built on love and history. It will be a conversation born of love, love for their parents and love for them; love because of who they are today and who they will be someday. It's better than having your own kids grown up, because you don't have to be involved in the disciplinary duties that go with raising kids. I just get to watch and smile and keep it all buried in my heart. I hope that I have as much of an impact on them as they have on me.
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