It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

The theme of the year is…metaphorical. We English Majors keep the world spinning, so my sister and I (she’s a numbers girl though) chose an appropriate motif to guide us. It is meant to help us sift and sort through what is most important to us. But before we enter that time-honored tradition of giving the year a theme, let us recall the past honorees, good and bad.

It all began with the pineapple and an embellished dish towel from “Pann.” “Stand tall, wear a crown, and be sweet on the inside.” We tried to emulate pineapples the first year. After that we moved to mermaids, swimming through life. We had a sub-theme for the porch one year, that of “lemons.” We went on to camels, penguins, octopi, and of course, the ever-popular-no-one-remembers 2023 theme – “whales.” (I guess that one was just too large for us to understand?) The bigger question in all of this – why do my baby sister and I choose a theme? Easy answer. Silliness – and in complete honor of our middle sister who still remains with us in our yearly efforts to laugh and enjoy this world.

Therefore, this year we shall be honoring the beloved and cherished, “purse.” Call it a satchel, bag, tote, whatever…but we throw a lot into our purses and expect them to produce what we need when we want it! But do we properly restore them, replenish the supplies, respect their tender hides? Once in awhile I manage to throw a package of tissues in after I’m searching for the remains of a well-used scrap. Most often I’m lugging around two to three pair of glasses I haven’t removed. I often throw my bag on the floor, scraping up grime and muck from around the world. My purses, though taken for granted, have been stoic, hanging in there year after year, travel after travel, celebration after celebration.

Obviously, the purse is a metaphor for your life. What are you toting around that needs replenishing, tossing, restoring? (Sometimes you just need to start over and get a new purse, too…unless your name is “Pristina.” You have enough.) Whatever it is – enjoy ruminating on this extended metaphor and share the theme with those around you, especially strangers. Somehow they seem to think they have missed a TikTok about this or a tweet from an influencer. You just go be an influencer all on your own and add some silliness to 2024!

Happy New Year from the theme-determining committee of two. We appreciate your support.

With this auspicious date you’d assume we’d be whooping it up tonight! Well, we are. We’ll be going through plenty of bottles and staying up well past midnight. There might even be a little hollering in there? It will be an absolutely joyful evening and the perfect way to ring in a new year.

Farewell, 2023, and thank you Lord Tennyson.

Ring Out, Wild Bells (from In Memoriam)

By Lord Alfred Tennyson

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Ring out the grief that saps the mind
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.
Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.
Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be. 

The promise of warm weather and scuba diving, along with that “clearance sale” from Land’s End sent me to the bathing suit section of the advertisement. Of course, options were limited to certain styles and sizes, so in the end I had to choose a polka dot model. Thus, my husband has been humming “She wore an itsy bitsy, teenie weenie, yellow polka dot bikini.”

It is not itsy bitsy, nor is is yellow or a bikini. It is merely a suitable replacement for the time-worn, weary-elasticized models I have been relying on. And, it has spurred me on to re-examining my wardrobe.

That cleaning of the closet still hangs in the balance. I’m just waiting for 2024 so that I can accomplish one thing in the new year. No sense crossing off something in the old year?

Happy end of 2023!

Nothing says “Christmas” like a few rousing rounds of Bingo!

It was a tradition my mother began with her little paper game of Christmas bingo. There were always prizes which one of my sisters procured for her – usually gift cards. It was a lucrative adventure if you were lucky enough to have a winning card. So when our dinner yesterday grew to 12 guests, the obvious thing to do after dining ‘twas bingo! (Well, that and “jumping frogs,” a new tradition to be sure.)

I’m surveying the damage from the fun and frenzy, which is happily non-existent. Everything is cleaned up quite nicely. I see a new ball we can play with, a puzzle to assemble, some yummy “moose munch” for later, and one unopened gift under the tree. It’s not for me so I’m not too excited about that.

The gently falling snow has me yawning this morning and considering an early nap, all as I listen to a doctor and his recommendations for “safe shoveling.” That can wait until later – maybe after I shovel some moose munch into my tummy.

Peace on earth.

The best song…”Don’t Know Why” for doing dishes and reminiscing. It’s a vibe and it fits the end of a glorious evening.

I really tried to get to a post on Friday, but it just wasn’t happening. It’s Saturday morning at 12:05 and I’m thinking about the music and the memories of family singing events. (Once a month with my grandparents in my childhood.) I don’t care who sings, who plays an instrument, I just think we have to get the music out in some fashion. Thankfully my son is super competent on guitar, I stumble on piano, and I invite some ringers. (Friends who happen to be in orchestras and professional choirs!) The factor which levels us all is the annual singing of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”

Oh, it’s hokey and silly and I think it makes the evening sparkle. Thank you, friends. I am so happy to be able to sing and share. You are my family!

Yes, there was dust in the stable, too. That didn’t stop the greatest event in human history from unfolding, did it?

As I’m preparing for Christmas and shooing away the dust I’m also celebrating another wonderful event. My brother and his wife are coming for a visit to our little stable! My belly is in need of some good laughs and my siblings both deliver on that promise. How fortunate am I to have had my sister and now my brother grace our home?

It’s a good day. I hope my SIL doesn’t mind washing floors with me?

“We are vertical,” quoth the spouse.

“The Broncos will hopefully lose and we can stop this chatter about playoff potential,” quoth I.

Keeping the lights dim will ensure no one sees the dust of the day which is going to live with us longer than I had planned, thinkest myself.

And yet…hope springs eternal! The joy of the season is definitely slipping in and making its home in the peaceful moments of the day. Today’s advice – (by the way, the closet didn’t get cleaned) -stop and spend dedicated moments in gratitude. You can make the noise of the world halt and hold its breath, awaiting the Incarnation we celebrate in a few more days. It is possible.

Just breathe.

It’s time to clean my closet. Guys you can stop reading here.

I can’t fine my favorite bra. As I stood looking at the shelves in my closet I realized I have been stuffing stuff and misfiling everything for the past few months. It’s a mess such as the world has never seen. I exaggerate, of course, but it’s now taken precedence over grocery shopping. (Most things do.)

Just wearing the favorite undergarment support makes a difference in the day. It’s a lovely lavender color, too. I will shoulder on (!) even with my regular granny style delicates. This caffeine is hopefully spark enough to empty my half of the storage area for our costumes and create a share pile for my future travels.

Oh, and a herd of deer came traipsing through our ‘hood this morning – I counted ten – cleaning up the spits of green in our yards. That was probably worth reporting more so than the closet quandary.

“Go and clean something today,” is the encouragement.

…my mother would be figuring out the meal for Christmas Eve. It was usually soup. I don’t think there were many surprises or deviations on that menu. Christmas Day? That was always at both sets of grandparents, running up and down that well-trod alley between the homes. I don’t know which side dish she claimed, but it could easily have been a jello creation.

Anyway, if my mom only had to figure out soup, I’m wondering why my list is so long?

It’s time to put the armor on and prepare to do battle with grocery store parking lots! Either early in the morning, or late at night when all of the super-speedy high school checkers are employed – that’s my strategy.

Since it’s already cup ‘o coffee time, I guess I’m going late at night.