Christmas Cookies

Posting this on the third day of the new year, but it's still Christmas, day number ten, so it's really not late.

I was thinking the other day about another tradition we had as kids. The annual begging to decorate Christmas cookies.

When I was little, I begged and begged to be the one to decorate cookies. And one year, it finally happened, and my big brother was more than happy to relinquish the task. Such excitement as Mom began baking her delicious Christmas cookies. Cookies of all kinds and shapes, including the best sugar cookies I've ever had.

Sugar cookies in the shape of Jolly Ol' Saint Nick, of trees, stars, and wreathes! My mom figured out that a donut cutter made PERFECT wreath-shaped cookies. To top them off, Mom would make a confectioner sugar frosting in all possible colors I'd need.

Part of decorating cookies is tasting them. And licking your fingers, of course! After about an hour of it, the sugar got to be too much and I was begging to stop, but of course, I had to finish them.

A few years later, my little brother took over the task, and loved the whole process. But he figured out that it was better to drink that cool glass of water rather than to lick the frosting, and he was the only one of the three of us that didn't get sick over the whole thing.

Christmas memories and thoughts

Christmas comes but once a year.

Grandpa Mac used to say that every year. I remember my brothers and I would wait for it, and were never disappointed. 

The early Christmases are dear memories to me. Usually, the big get-together happened at our house on Ferguson Road. I remember we usually had the fire going in the wonderful fireplace that Dad built when I was a baby. Family would come...my mom's parents, and through the years, usually some aunts, uncles, and cousins, too. 

Grandma Mac usually prepared Julekake, which is Norwegian Christmas cake; it's basically a sweetbread with candied or dried fruit. Grandma used to add a confectioner's sugar frosting to the top. This is something we ate on Christmas morning (more on that later). She once told me that her mother (who was born in Christiana, Norway...now known as Oslo) used to bake it in a very large round loaf. Apparently, she had a very big oven that could accommodate this loaf. I don't think her version was frosted. Grandma's was usually comprised of many loaves placed together in a shape--usually, a very large Christmas tree. 

In the early days, Grandma and Grandpa would drive down sometime on Christmas Eve day. In later years, when it was becoming harder for Grandpa to see, we used to drive to their house and pick them up. I remember I went up by myself one year not long after getting my driver's license to drive them the hour-and-a-half drive. As I recall, I believe Grandma had more confidence in my driving than Grandpa did, but both seemed proud that their granddaughter escorted them to the celebrations. 

We always went to church at least once on Christmas Eve. Since I played and or sang at the big Presbyterian church, we would go to that service, and if there was time, at least Grandma and Mom would go to the midnight service at the local Episcopalian church. Back home, Grandma would start working on her famous dressing and we would listen to Christmas music and programs on the phonograph, on the radio, or the television. 

I remember there was always a game played. Usually, it was dominoes or Scrabble, and there'd be a card table set up with a jigsaw puzzle. That was always fun, because if you felt like working on it, you would sit at the table for awhile, and then let someone else take their turns. 

Often, we would drive through town to see all the lights and decorations on the houses...that stopped during the energy crisis of the 1970s, when hardly anyone decorated their houses. I do it now, usually on the drive home from Christmas celebrations. 

Santa came to our house and would set all the toys up ready to play, complete with batteries if needed. I heard stories later about how things like train sets were played with a lot in the middle of the night by the older members of the family, so they were well in use before we got to see them. 

Christmas morning, we would all be lead out to the kitchen table--usually with a blanket over our heads. We had to eat breakfast before we could see the gifts. This was smart on my parent's part, because that pretty much assured them we'd actually have a decent meal before pouring into the candy and treats. My older brother used to tease my younger brother and me and eat VERY SLOWLY. Drove us crazy. And I learned later that my younger brother never liked the Julekakke, mainly because of the candied fruit. I'm not sure what he did, but I know it was agony. 

At least once, Dad filmed us coming out of the bedrooms in the morning. He had engineered a sort of light bar for use in the filming. And that light was BRIGHT. So imagine coming out of the bedroom and being met by this light as bright as the sun! Lots of footage of us rubbing our eyes. Back then, there wasn't any audio to these, but perhaps that's a good thing. No, we didn't swear--that was strictly forbidden--but I'm sure we weren't too nice about this. 

After we had eaten what was deemed "enough," we were allowed to run into the room to see what Santa had brought. The stockings always had a penny (for good luck, I learned) in the toe. I learned later that Grandma always supplied those. 

Grandpa used to get up very early in the morning (like 3AM sometimes!) and tiptoe down the hall toward a favorite comfy chair we had, where he'd remain for the rest of the day. In those early hours, I think he read the Bible and prayed in that chair. And then would watch us and open his own presents. Grandma used to save wrapping paper and ribbons for re-use, so they took forever opening their gifts. And sometime during that time, Grandpa would fall asleep. 

That's just some of the Christmas memories I have of childhood Christmases. In more recent years, we've made new traditions.  I'll talk about that in another post sometime.

I'm thinking about those we've lost in recent years. My big brother. My parents. My husband. And they are missed; it's hard sometimes to deal with the happy in the holidays. But I try to find joy, a far more permanent and fulfilling thing. I still feel sad this time of year, but there are lots of distractions that help me get through. 

My wish for you, dear reader, is a blessed Christmas and New Year. 

Love,

Me

Family

While looking for a few photos from the June 2012 visit of John's brother, Dan, and his son (our wonderful nephew!) Will, I didn't find the specific ones I was looking for...yet...but here's a couple from the visit. I know Dan reads this blog, and I hope he enjoys these, and meanwhile, I'll look for the others and post them when I find them.

These are from when we had the chance to visit Clara's, in Lansing. They have a restored dining car attached to the restaurant, and we wanted them to see it. Great food and great visit. 

I'm also going to include a photo of John with our beagles, Abbey (RIP) and Elvis, because tomorrow is the Blessing of the Animals, which John always loved attending. I think I'll bring Elvis tomorrow evening. He needs every blessing he can get.

Speaking of blessings...

Blessings,

Tam

Total eclipse of the moon and...plaidurday...fun things that happened in the last week.

Elvis and I had a couple of fun activities we did this past week. On Sunday, there was a special supermoon/blood moon eclipse. Elvis and I went to the south part of campus to take photos. I love having him with me, but he's not much for being a camera assistant. Too many interesting smells out there near the University farms. :)

Anyway, here's a few photos that we took (I didn't include any of the blurry ones caused by the wiggly beagle).

This is how it looked when I first arrived at my spot, which was near College Road and Bennett.

Fully eclipse. Amazing, isn't it?

Now, we see the moon again.

Love how this one turned out; there were lots of clouds starting to appear, and it made the moon look like it was on fire, or at least smoking.

And more of the moon returns to view...

Here's the best photos from the rest of the event:

The last one was taken in front of my house. Love the spookiness of it.

And then there was yesterday, which was the fifth year of the new World Event: Plaidurday. Started by someone in Lansing who was teased by his coworkers for the plaid attire from his Upper Penninsula roots, he decided to start a new thing: Every first Monday of October, wear plaid! Everyone!

There's been an official Lansing, MI photo taken every year since 2012. Elvis and I have been in all of them. The first one was taken on the steps of the state capitol. The second year, we were at the fish ladder in the Old Town part of Lansing. Last year, we were at Cooley Law School Stadium, home of the  Lansing Lugnuts, a minor league team that is connected with the Toronto Blue Jays. And this year, it was by the Worker's Statue, near the sight of the old Lansing City Market (a newer, sadly less busy, version is not far away) and new apartment buildings.

Here's this year's photo. I had a treat in my hand for Elvis. Can you tell?

We had a lot of fun, and I even managed to get a few coworkers to dress in plaid for the day. I'll close now with a close up of our attire for the day.

Blessings,

Tam

Rainy days and...Saturdays...

It's been awhile since I've entered something, and because I'm procrastinating about something else, of course I've found time to write.

Summer seems to have faded to fall. And in many ways, fall is my favorite time of the year. I love the smell of leaves, campfires, the colorful leaves against the sapphire blue sky (ever notice how much brighter blue the sky is from about September until November?), and my favorite piece of apparel: Sweaters!

We had a warmer-than-normal September, which was okay because it gave me a chance to try out my new (to me) paddle boat. It needs a little work, but it does what I really need it to do right now--float and paddle. So, a couple weekends ago, with the help of my brother and sister-in-law, I got a chance to pedal around and view a lovely sunset on the lake. They are being kind to allow me to store it in their new pole barn, and helped get it into the lake; I'd love to figure out a way to do that by myself, though, so they don't have to help. I spent some time that weekend (with the help of my family) scrubbing it down. This model originally came with a little troweling motor, which doesn't work anymore. I may eventually replace it--more as something for when I'm just too tired to pedal. I do want to find a canopy, as my northern European skin fries to a crisp if I'm not careful. Thinking I might get a fishing license next summer and try my hand at fishing. Anyway, here's the boat:

First, I had to scrub the boat top-to-bottom so that no foreign materials entered the lake. There's been a great deal of problems with that already with snails, believe or not, and the clean-up costs are reflected in the property taxes. I sure don't want to add to that.

Elvis loves to sit in the front yard, watching the activities on the lake at at the homes nearby. He is supervising our work. He loves to get up in chairs to do this. You'd think he was human.

Finally, the boat is ready, and we get it into the lake on a lovely and calm Sunday evening.

And here am I, on my maiden voyage on the yet-to-be-named paddle boat. I think it should have a name. Why reserve that for bigger boats? My brother and sister-in-law joined me on their pontoon boat, and the three of us enjoyed a marvelous sunset, as most sunsets on the lake are.

This is the lovely view from the front yard. No wonder Elvis likes to sit here!

Many people have asked if I'm going to take Elvis for a ride. I'm considering it for next summer. Beagles don't like to swim, but I've learned that Elvis can swim. While he was staying with my family while I was out of the country, he did go for an involuntary swim in the water...tugging at the leash all the while. I'm glad he went in; if we're going to be out at the lake, we need to know that Elvis *can* swim. Just because he doesn't want to swim, doesn't mean he can't. But I think if I do take him with me, I'll get one of those dog life preservers. Everyone who rides on my boat must have them. It's state law, but it's also my law. :) Anyway, he has been on the pontoon boat (pictured beyond Elvis above) and didn't seem to mind it. Glad he's not as much into birds as his cousins, the chocolate labs are. They will not be riding on my boat with me. Because, well, they'll get off at first sight of geese, ducks, and other birds. What my brother and his family decide to do is not my business; I did tell them they are welcome to use the boat, too, and if they want to try giving Goose or Homer a ride on it, more power to them. Hahaha!

Last Saturday, I had a chance to go to the first MSU football game I've been to in a few years. At least the first one in the upper deck. We have owned four seats in the upper deck since sometime in the 1950. The athletic office allowed us to transfer them to us after my parents died. I know they'd love that we still have them. I was remembering, though, that I pushed Mom in her wheelchair a few tmes up to that deck, and I'm not quite sure how I did that. Later, we were able to get assistance and the temporary use of a motorized scooter chair for games.

The weather was quite different last week at our game against the Chips of Central Michigan (where my niece is a sophomore). Very warm and sunny. Today was cool and raining and windy, thanks to the outer ridge of the rains from the hurricane. Thankfully, we're not getting it nearly as bad as the east coast, but it's a gloomy day, nonetheless. My brother and his wife (the ones who actually pay for the tickets these days) went and took my niece and (I'm assuming) her boyfriend. I can only imagine how nasty it got both in the stands and on the field today. MSU nearly was beaten by a far inferior Purdue...the Boilermakers, though, have done that over the years, which earned the nickname "Spoilermakers" from my dad. The team needs to get much better. We'll see how the season goes; I have a feeling today was not the last day that will be hard on the hearts of Spartans.

As for me, Elvis and I accidentally slept in. We were going to meet for the tailgate today, but by the time I realized I needed to go, it was almost game time. Sad. I would have loved to have gone, but apparently I needed the sleep more.

October (actually late September) brought chillier air. Many of my friends have turned on their furnace. I haven't yet. First, because I need to get a new filter (I always do at the beginning of furnace season), and secondly, because I'm a cheapskate. Last year at this time, I purchased a really nice fireplace-like heater by Duraflame. It's in the bedroom, which is where I spent most of my time when I'm home. Blankets and a very cuddly beagle also help to keep me toasty warm. In fact, this morning, I was so warm I ended up opening a window upstairs! I finally took the portable AC out of the window. It was wasting space anyway, since it really doesn't work too well (worked fine last summer, this one, well, not so much).

In other news: I'm a student again! I recently started a four-year course called Education for Ministry. It's through the Episcopal church and the University of the South, in Sewanee, Tennessee. Sadly, I won't be traveling to Tennessee for this, but rather, meeting every Monday for three hours during the school year in a room which overlooks the garden in which half of John's ashes are buried. I think it's fitting and that he might approve. This class, by the way, doesn't mean I'm going to seminary; it's not seminary, but rather, for the lay ministry, as we are all called to be ministers in some sort or another. It doesn't mean people don't go to seminary after this (I know a few people who have). And you never know where this journey might take me. It's the first commitment of this type I've made since John's illness. I'm not in any choirs or orchestras right now. Kind of miss it, but not enough to perform at this time.

Anyway, all the students from all four years meet together. We have some things we all study together, and the different year students study some things special to their time in class. This year, it's the Old Testament. I'm really enjoying the materials thus far; right now, I'm learning about the Hebrew Bible and its differences to the Protestant Christian and Roman Catholic Christian Old Testaments. I was telling a coworker about this class, and she invited me to synagogue at her congregation. I may take her up on it; it may feel more familiar than I originally thought before taking this class.

Second years study New Testament, Third years study history, and I believe the fourth years study theology. But the thing that's cool about this is that it's not really specific to the Episcopal denomination. We have varied backgrounds in our class. I'm loving it, though I'm struggling with a big assignment that's due a week from Monday called my Spiritual Autobiography, something that must be completed every year of this class. Each year, I'm told, takes a slightly different angle than another year. I have done one before in a class I was in called Speaking our Faith (based on our rector's doctoral work, a wonderful prequel, I think, to the EFM class).

So...I find there are too many distractions at home for studying. So, I study during my lunch hour at work and now at this little coffee shop that I've spent much time in (but not lately) since John's death. It's very busy (because of the cold rain, I think), but I think I'll be able to move on to my studying once I stop procrastinating with this blog. :) My favorite beverage is called Vietnamese iced coffee. I know the ingredients, but haven't succeeded in a good version at home. I'll keep trying. I might regret this drink today, because it is chock-full of caffeine. John would approve. :)

In some great news, one of my friends is out of rehab and moved back to her home. I'm just wow'ed by her courage and strength. But  I always am, watching people deal with what they have to deal with.

And of course, I'm very happy that my nephew, Will, has purchased his first house. It look very nice and appears to have a fairly large and pretty lot. Congratulations to him!

Well, that's all for this post. Blessings to you all...

Tam

Healing powers of animals.

It's been a difficult time for some friends of mine in the last few months. Att least two of them are undergoing months of rehab--one from a pedestrian-car accident, and another from a stroke. 

The friend in stroke rehab posts often about her amazing progress with occupational and physical therapy. I'm amazed but not surprised. She's a very strong and courageous woman. Both of these friends are. When you are faced with this kind of adversity in life, you can either fight or give up. I don't believe give up is in their vocabulary. It certainly wasn't in John's, either.

Often, therapy dogs are involved. I know firsthand the amazing healing power of animals. Theyy made a huge difference in John's time at hospice. And actually, animals in general made a huge difference in John's life on earth. 

John was generally, by nature, a shy and reserved man. But if animals (mostly dogs, cats, and birds) were around or the subject of conversation, it was like someone flipped the switch. His eyes would light up and he would engage in conversation. That was generally John with any areas of interest: current events, music, movies, comic books, history, books, photography.

As soon as the staff learned of his love for animals, arrangements were made for the therapy animals to visit John. Mostly therapy dogs, but someone came in from Preuss Pets to show other animals early on in John's stay. 

Johnn loved to see Abbey and Elvis (and a rescue that my brother's family had for awhile--an adorable boxer girll), of course, but John had at least five (probably more) therapy dogs that made visits. John loved them all, but a special bond was formed between John and two of the rescues: A beagle named Buddy, and a Newfoundland named Elsa. Luckily, my dogs (particularly Elvis) felt the more the merrier...but particularly after Abbey died, Buddy felt he belonged to John more than Elvis and would get a little jeaous when I came with Elvis after work. Ha! And Elsa...Elsa would take her huge and lovely body and ever-so-gently recline with John on his bed. And they'd be like that for hours! I'm  told that Elsa and Buddy (and their human mamas) had a difficult time visiting the hospice after John's death--so tight was their bond.

In the weeks after John's death, I woudl learn things that John had shared during the visits with the pets. I think in his attempt to protect me from what was to come, he didn't talk to me much about things, but I know he did with at least one of the visitors-with-pets. And  I'm so glad.

I'll never forget what one of them said a few weeks after John's death, when I was having a particularly rough patch... "Tammy: John loved you so!"

You see, I can attest to the importance of pets in healing and in comfort and caregiving. I have living proof--his name is Elvis. I don't know what I would have done without him these past few years. 

He cuddles every night. He runs around like a madman in the backyard--especially when I am having a bad day, as if his goal was to make me laugh. He always succeeds. My own personal court jester. He waits patiently for me to come home from work everyday. He walks up the stairs and waits at the landing EVERY time to give me kisses. He sits with me on another chair in the backyard of my house or viewing the lake at my brother's house. He is velcro. He loves me, even when I don't deserve it. So Christ-like. Who says dogs don't go to heaven? Not me.

When birds sing...

It's a very muggy day, so I decided to go to one of the local coffee shops to do some writing.

It's one of those days that even birds are hiding in the shade.

I was thinking about birds this morning...saw a lot of them yesterday--both in my yard and out at the lake.

When I see either birds or butterflies, I feel like John's paying me a visit.

Not long after John's death, I noticed that every time I was in the upstairs bathroom (at least every morning), a bird would sit on the roof and sing toward the house, looking right at the window. Looking right at me. This would happen just about every morning, so I began looking forward to it. This went on for many weeks. A sort of ritual--looking out the window to see if my songbird was there.

One Sunday, I was in too much of a hurry to glance out the window. I was going to be late for church, after all! In I came...still at the point where I basically listened and didn't participate much in the music of the service. In those early days, I would sit on the far right of the sanctuary, near the memorial garden where half of John's ashes were buried. And occasionally, I would glance out of the window that looks upon that cloistered place.

So, during the sermon on this particular Sunday, I glanced out the window, deep in thought about the message. And on the roof overlooking that garden sat a bird, similar to the one at my house, over 5 miles from the church. Staring at me. Singing. Sorta looking like it was scolding me. Of course, I burst into (quiet) tears. I did that a lot those days (I do it quite often now).

I think that John was telling me, through that bird, that he was near and would always love me.

Now, I don't notice birds on the roof anymore. But I notice lots of things in nature and know that John, my parents, and my brother are all a part of it. And they all are happy and waiting for that day...hopefully a LONG time down the road...when we are all together again.