The gift of gifting

I love giving presents.

Listening to my friends and family all year, jotting down notes on tiny scraps of paper.

Researching where to get something. Maybe making it myself, or having it made especially for them. I'm not one to just last minute race to the store and pick up any old thing.

I think a gift should reflect both the giver and the recipient.

There is total joy for me when someone opens a box and has a 'WOW' kind of reaction.

Conversely, I'm totally crushed when one of my present is tossed aside without even a comment.

I feel as abandoned as the gift. Bereft. Like I had somehow failed in my quest.

It's also hard for me to send a present out via the parcel post. It's like casting a child adrift into the sea on an iceberg and hoping they are all right at the end of their journey. What if never arrives? What if its broken? Smashed to smithereens?

Wait, what exactly IS a 'smithereen', anyway?

Anyway.....I digress...

I love being there when my gift is opened. Watching faces for clues, hearing the sucked in breath of discovery. Trying not to jump up and down in excitement with them, because its supposed to be about THEM. Their reaction. Their joy. Their excitement.

There are times I wish I could be one of those people that buys randomly, shoves the item into a box and folds any old paper around it and slaps on a bow. An uncoordinated-with-the-paper bow.

Seems these folks arent emotionally attached.

Wait, maybe not.

Maybe they dont get hurt, but they dont have as much to be excited about either.

Gifts are ...... Taking a risk of heartache.
Going full bore. Letting go. Opening up. Receiving. Giving.
How interesting.
Sounds kind of like love, doesnt it?









(listening to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HJiL6OerCI&feature=related)

Holiday Humor

I'm sure most of you have seen this classic Saturday Night Live skit.
It's been a couple of years and it STILL makes me laugh. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WhwbxEfy7fg

The Verdict

I'm not so positive I like this new computer age when it comes to medical care.
Sure, it seems to reduce billing glitches. Inventory is much simpler.
Even mistaken identity has been curtailed.
However, it seems to be lacking the human touch.


Case in point: 2 weeks ago I had a very important blood test.
I'm not going to go into details here, but I will say I did my part to comply with treatment.
I did everything I was supposed to do.
On schedule. Perfectly perfect in every way.
Apparently bodies have their own ideas about where they want to go.
They don't care about perfection.
And you cant pick your disease.

I received a computerized letter from my physician. I let it lay on the counter for a week.
It was the results from my blood test.
Why didnt I open it?
I'd done everything I could.
Of COURSE the results would be fine.

It wasnt.
Fuck.

Part of my surprise in this entire process was the hot-off-the-printer note from my doctor scrawled in a bold ariel font at the top of my blood test results.
This is what it said:
"Tammy, your numbers are worse this time. Your xx was normal''

Wow.

Shouldnt there have been a phone call?
Something said about follow up?
Maybe a warm addition like ''hugs and kisses, Dr. X'' ?
or at the very least a ''Wow, that sucks. Too bad. Call me.''

I dropped the results into my health files.
You know, the file that's getting fatter day by day.

I'll email him later.

I wonder if he'll notice.

(listening to:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tR-qQcNT_fY)

Broken Hearts

It's difficult for me to welcome someone into my family's inner circle.
We've always been kind of a closed little society, although we make it a point to be nice and cordial to everyone.
And so it was hard to learn to accept my daughter's choice of boyfriend.
When they first got together, he was an arrogant ass.
We were aghast. How could she even enjoy being around this guy?
We were trapped in our obligation to have him attend family gatherings.
We suffered through. He didn't like being around us, and we didnt like being around him.
Then slowly, we were able to find common ground. He relaxed.
We lightened up and started including him in our traditions.
We listened to him. We learned about each other.

We actually looked forward to seeing him.

They were together 5 years and lived in the same home for 4.
They were engaged to be married.
Recently, he decided he didnt want to be with her anymore.
They broke up and he moved out.

It's awkward.
We were supposed to love him like our own, yet now we are to have minimal contact since they have split the sheets.
What's the etiquette here? Do I send him a Christmas gift? A card?
Invite him over?
Acknowlege him in public? What happens if he *gasp* wants to talk to me?


I suppose I could brow beat him for breaking my kid's heart.
I could treat him like a leper...shun him so he never attempted to speak to any of us again.

Or do I give him a big hug and tell him I miss him?


Nobody told me how hard this part would be.
In writing this blog, I had a terrible thought.....
When our daughter's heart was broken, ours got cracked a little bit too.


Ouch.

(listening to:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GDlCcGBtGd0)

Shades of a Late Summer

(note: this was written in late summer and I just found it again)

fresh, organic vegetables from my garden

gathered at dawn, pleasantly glistening as I lift from their beds

crispy potatoes roasting in cold-pressed olive oil

delicate sauces bubbling softly on the stove

chop, chop, chop

feet shod in crazy red clogs

ugly sundress with vintage apron

happily singing off key to the radio nearby

loud

Maggie forever underfoot

kitchen therapy

dinner is ready

(listening to:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZtPF9M3nIHs)

The Face

I have one of THOSE faces.
People think they know me no matter what town I'm in.
They look--then they look again--then they look AGAIN.

It's also the face that people talk to. Confide in.
I have no idea why this happens, but it can occur anywhere.
My friends all laugh, because the minute I make eye contact with a stranger they know
it's only a matter of time before that stranger is tucked in close, telling me everything.
I'm serious when I say everything.
Friends and family take it in stride when we go out.
They have learned (like me) to be patient. They wait. They shake their heads.
Often.
They all think its funny.
And I suppose it is.

They all blame it on THE FACE.

My face.
So, what do I look like?
Actually, I look like an ordinary person.
Nothing that stands out or screams ''wow''
Dark brown eyes with laugh lines crinkled around the corners
Cheeks that blush too easily
A nondescript nose
And a mouth with cupid's bow lips and fairly straight teeth thanks to orthodontics.
Apparently it's a kind face. One filled with empathy and compassion.

Man, if these people only knew.

(listening to :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEGFuXGHMdY&feature=PlayList&p=32E972CA7D2B845D&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=29)

Bully for you

I have been thinking about bullies lately.

Websters define a Bully as : to browbeat: discourage or frighten with threats or a domineering manner; intimidate

Why do people feel the need in 2009 to behave this way?

How do they justify bullying in their minds?

What kind of person is a bully? According to some theories, bullying behavior starts when someone has been bullied themselves or feels powerless within their own lives.
Instead of dealing directly with the disappointment, they feel warranted in harming others emotionally, physically or spiritually.

Bullies can hide behind religion, anonymous Internet posts, social groups and even the media.They can be found in the workplace and school , although there are laws now to prohibit such behavior.
In talking about bullies recently with friends, I was surprised to hear how common it is.
I couldn't believe the stories I heard. From all walks of life, it seems everyone has
encountered a bully at some point.
What I learned was that when confronted, most bullies are cowards. Cowards that don't have a leg to stand on. They are wobbly and sad and pathetic.
And so, I have decided I know just how to handle the person who has been bullying me.
If one more instance occurs, I will be sure in my stance.
I will draw a line in the sand. I will be positive and self aware of my words.
And I will make damn sure the bully is stopped in his tracks.
For good.

A Brewing Company is Born

The beer is done! The beer is done!!

We've been making beer for ages, but haven't ever gone as far as naming it and placing a label onto the bottle.

It was difficult to decide on a logo, but the name was easy.
Since she is 4'10'' of fiery natural redhead, and he says he needs alcohol in his hand to be around her.... "Bitchwidget" is the name Wes affectionately calls my Mother.
She always laughs -thank heavens the woman possesses a fairly good sense of humor.
So, he thought the name Bitchwidget Brewing Company would be appropriate.


I think I like it.

(listening to:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPCjC543llU&feature=fvst)

Memorials

I've been thinking of memorials lately.

How does one honor loved ones who have died?

On a recent trip, I took pictures of a roadside post. At the time I had no idea this was a memorial. There wasn't a name, just a random collection of interesting men's hats and some deer antlers.

It wasn't until I was walking back to the car, that I saw the flowers at the base and I realized what it was. I was going to inspect it further, but a shot rang out and I figured I'd better get on down the freeway. Gotta love rural America!



Directly after that experience, I took the picture of the headstone above. To me, it looked like someone took the time to think about Phyllis Alderson's life and who she was. And to write it down.

These memorials were complete opposites of each other, yet they both speak of a life well lived.

Both Phyllis and ''The Hunter'' obviously had people who loved them. Their memories will linger, never far away. Immortalized.



So, I guess it's never really goodbye.

Those left behind will grieve. And then one day they will breathe again. Maybe smile. Or laugh. Eventually picking up their life's work and heading down their chosen paths. All the richer for the experience of loving someone that deeply.




And so ...to answer the question....living a full and adventurous life is exactly how you honor someone's memory.



(listening to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saalGKY7ifU&feature=related)

Stubborn? Not really.

Communication is an interesting thing. Everyone has different skill levels, yet somehow we're expected to all balance these levels out and speak the same language. Fluently.
How ?
That's the question I throw out to the Universe at times.
And I don't know either.

I think it starts with mutual respect. A willingness to compromise. A dash of fun. Maybe a smidgen of teamwork. Or a soupçon of daring.
Both parties must have the intent to do the right thing.
Purposeful communication takes a lot of work. It's not for the weak .
Certainly not for the faint hearted.
And the rule needs to be: Nobody gets to leave until the subject is closed.
If everyone agrees to a worthwhile cause....well, then that makes it worthwhile doesnt it?

Tell you what......I'll bring the snacks, you bring the drinks.
This may take awhile.

(listening to:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZcBfDCdHWw)

It's Tradition!

Blessed Be to those who go all out during the holiday season.
I so love the opulence, the lights and the traditions.
It's magical.

(listening to:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYTnzNeTWmE)

Upper Crust

Have you ever noticed that , if you add a crust to something it's elevated in status?
For instance, a common roast of beef wrapped in pastry is now Beef Wellington.
Any fine restaurant will charge a ridiculous amount for this delicacy, and people will be lined up to get it. Happily.

Or, if you put bacon into a dish, you can practically see eyes roll and mouths water?
Steamed green beans are so dull, but toss in a few little bacon shreds and suddenly that side dish is the main event.

Or have you noticed calling something an exotic name somehow makes it better?
Beef stew is boring, but Beef Bourguignon is worthy of a write up in the local paper.

I guess it's true.
It's all in the little extras.

Isn't it?

(listening to:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EcyhVHrmlMU)

He's gone.

My Grandfather died yesterday.
He collapsed on Thanksgiving and was taken to the hospital.
He was there nearly a week.
Not one person contacted me. Nobody e-mailed.
Nobody picked up the phone for 2 minutes and let me know so I could travel to see him or to begin letting him go in my heart.

Not one.

(listening to:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iT88jBAoVIM)

Fat City

The fattest city in America for 2009 is Miami, Florida.
Apparently, they have more obese people per capita than any other state.
While I dont care why these folks are fat, I'd like to talk about the scientific methods used to obtain this information.

How do they count?
Do the scientists tag fat people? Like they would animals in the wild?

I picture a group of people in labcoats driving slowly down the road in the back of a pickup truck, eyes ever watchful. Upon spotting a suitably obese person, do they rush and surround her with clipboards and tape measures? Shouting questions at her as to her ethnicity and age?
Do they mark her her back with a big red 'X' so they dont count her again? Is she given a radio tag bracelet so they can track her forays into burger and pizza joints?

Or, do the scientists hang around the entrances of large and tall clothing shops and gather information that way? Hmmm....Where's the sport in THAT?

I suppose they could simply sit outside a Krispy Kreme doughnut stand and tick off bags of doughnuts as opposed to waist size ratios. It's a little less sporting, but a bit more humane.

Sure beats getting a kick to the groin from angry fat people who refuse to go down without a fight.

It's like wrestling a wolverine. Or poking a barracuda with a stick.
These people can be brutal when threatened in the wild.

Trust me.

(Listening to:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fqz1ojIQTBk)

The Wordsmith

Writing is an art form to me.

While I'm ok at it, really its all about self expression.

Saying whats on my mind and in my heart.

Things that maybe I am thinking, but cannot formulate verbally.

Does this make me a writer?

No.

It makes me a person who struggles daily to say who they are inside. A person that attempts to put a piece of their spirit down on paper.

Therefore, when I see my words, and how I use them coming from another source, it is difficult not to feel angry and frustrated.

Plagerism is alive and well it seems.

Maybe I am overreacting. Perhaps I should take this as a compliment.

After all, borrowing words is something people have done for centuries.

If we didn't , words like ''groovy'' and ''what's your sign'' would have never caught on...right?

In writing this piece, I have come to terms with the fact that someone may take my ideas and run with them. Maybe learn a thing or two. Enjoy a laugh with a friend.

Sharing a part of my inner self with my readers is my aim here.

Looks like I succeeded.