It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

As the new year approaches I look back on past New Year’s Eve moments. In my youth it was always a babysitting opportunity that took me into the future.

One family in particular, with four kids barely younger than I, gave me lots of challenges. Once I just up and walked home leaving them alone. My mother sent me back, after I had changed my wet clothes which the three boys had sprayed with the garden hose while we were outside playing. They had locked me out of the house, too. It seemed the only thing to do in the non-cell phone era was to walk home.

This little gem sparked that memory and gave me a laugh. Here’s to more fun in 2023! I’ll be babysitting again, as it turns out!

Dear Lord,

Thank you for the beautiful snowfall which coated the earth, brought much needed moisture in the weight of the frozen water, and gave me ample opportunity to strain my back muscles. Thank you, also, for the ATV with a snowplow attachment. It’s fun to get it stuck on the first pass in the snow piled at the bottom of the driveway by the early-morning city snowplow driver. I appreciated the walk back up the driveway and the chance to dig the machine out with my trusty shovel. I’m also thankful my ATV stopped abruptly at the top of the driveway rather than at the bottom, where I only have a little path to mow through with my Escape. I only have one small request for this next round of snow. Could you please make it a small one because I don’t have a plow? And next time, if you think of it, make sure my husband is in town for a large dump of snow. I’m sure he’d rather be in charge of the plowing, since the last time I did it I broke the winch.

Thank you.

Rene J Today

The massive amount of Tupperware and roasting pans awaited. Dishes needed to be done and I was slow on the uptake yesterday. My very own angel, “Pabriel,” intervened. In one fell swoop he managed to wash and return my storage containers to cleanliness. (There were a ton of them, filling my countertop.) The nasty roasting pans – done. The cookie sheets – done. Whatever didn’t fit in the dishwasher – done.

After a beautiful weekend of music, family, parties, and of course, Christmas joy, it was nice to have my daughter and her husband’s help in restoring order to my lackadaisical approach.

I will miss all of the hoopla, but keep it in my heart!

To all of my friends and family with birthdays in December, sorry for the times you were short-changed, Dad.

Remember Barney, the purple dinosaur? I couldn’t stand the show, but it did have a great teaching song.

”Clean up, clean up, everybody, everywhere. Clean up, clean up, everybody do your share.” I did not do my share.

After the music extravaganza, my personal assistant, aka daughter, cleaned the entire kitchen, did all the dishes, and put away all of the delicious food of what was left. I sat at the kitchen table and chatted, surely making her tasks more enjoyable.

What a lovely Christmas gift. Thank you for taking on other people’s shares, generous daughter.

Everyone should have “that person” who is in charge of the candles at your party. By that I mean, the responsible individual who notices when the greens in your lovely centerpiece are on fire.

Years ago I was alerted to a hazard on the fireplace mantel. My candles had dwindled and caught the two-week old greens-from-the-yearly-pruning on fire. As was customary in December, it was during the annual music party. I was playing the piano. This young middle school pup, “Patt,” alerted me before the alarm sounded. I went to the fireplace to find the beginnings of a fine conflagration. We doused it. The crisis was averted.

This only comes to mind as that young pup is now an adult at the Christmas music party. The first thing I requested of him when he walked in the door was that he be in charge of fire. (Eight candles, to be exact.). He laughed and took me seriously. (I only light tapers at Christmas, by the way.)

Luckily, only one candle had to be monitored and eventually succumbed. I reiterate – I was playing the piano, oblivious to the fire hazards I created. Thank you, “Patt.” You are a hero!

-15 makes it hat worthy today. As I age, I feel worse for the trees than I did for my children! These temperature drops wreak havoc on them in the following years. And it’s supposed to be near 60 next week with rain?

Oh, Mother Nature! You keep us on our toes.

Did you know that you can purchase international “forever” stamps? I did not. My sister informed me of this fact as she has yearly postal needs for England.

Every Christmas I stand in line to mail letters and cards overseas. I dread it. However, yesterday I only had four people in front of me and I was thrilled. When I got to the counter, my friendly postal worker informed me that I could use three “forever” stamps next time and avoid him. Or, I could go online to purchase the “forever” international stamps. I just smiled and told him I didn’t want to avoid him and just wanted to see his friendly face, but I would keep that information for next year. (He really is a friendly guy.) We wished each other well and I left knowing I could do just about anything philatelically on my own, which made me wistful. Some of the fun of stamp collecting has definitely been lost with technology.

My PSA? Everyone needs my sister. She also told me Amazon sells stamps. Have a frustrating issue? Call her!

(In the style of Niall Horan)

Nice to meet ‘ya
What’s your name?
Here’s your pizza
Glad I came?

Weather’s crappy
Here’s your food
I’m the brave one
I’m the dude

Pay no attention
To those peeps
They’re crazy family
Love them heaps

They were bored so
They rode along
Getting real tired of
My mother’s songs

Now I know why 
I love this job
Takes me far from
The madding mob

Next time you order
Don’t be dumb
Tip that driver
A hefty sum

In our family, there is always “that present.” It’s the gift that is partially wrapped either due to a wrapping paper shortage, miscalculation on the part of the wrapper, desire to use scraps to cover ends that got missed, or loss of interest in the entire process. This has now become a time-honored tradition. Someone has to get a crappy looking gift.

My mother can account for part of this historical convention. She was thrifty and used every scrap available to cover our gifts. Of course, there was no running out to buy extra paper when we needed more. No Target store in sight. Did they even exist then? No. We always made do with what was on hand.

Currently, there are a few packages under my tree sporting a less-than-stellar look. The fashionable thought is that Amazon is to blame. The boxes are either too big to wrap or succumb to the mind of the wrapper. “Why wrap what is already boxed in earth-toned cardboard?”

Happy fourth week of Advent!