'Tis The Season

I'm not really sure what my problem is...for the past couple of years, I haven't been able to find my Christmas spirit. It's not that I'm a scrooge or anything like that, I love everything Christmas...getting together with family and friends, the decorations, wonderful food and not to forget Santa!

So what the heck is wrong with me? I just feel BLAH! My Mother loved Christmas, it was a huge production at our house, the baking, decorating the tree and all the other fun things associated with this time of year. Maybe that's why I feel this way, maybe now that Mom and Dad are gone, Christmas memories are on one hand a happy reminder, and a sad one on the other.

My mother-in-law loved Christmas, it was even a bigger production for her with five sons and daughters-in-law, fourteen grandchildren, five great-grandchildren and countless friends. Mom-in-law would start shopping the day after Christmas for the following year! We shared a house for seven years...now she is gone and I miss her.

I think I need a good kick in the pants to move me forward, to stop dwelling on the past! Now, I haven't been totally remiss in my holiday preparations, I have the makings for my Christmas cookies and I've located the tree ornaments...not much, you say, but it's a start.

Am I alone in my seasonal funk, or do you also experience overwhelming feelings of Holiday Humbugs?

Please Pass The Earplugs

Do you know what it’s like to try and fall asleep with the racket raised by two cats a dog and a husband?

The racket I’m talking about is snoring! Now I’m not saying that I’m not guilty of a few grunts here and there but the four of ‘them’ are a regular ‘out of tune’ symphony. The sound that Lilly makes resembles what I would compare to banging on a bee’s nest with a stick. Bzzzzzzzz!

Molly, switches between an asthmatic snore and the sound of someone gasping for their last breath of air. Lucy doesn’t really snore but is prone to doggie dreams that result in a very high pitched whimper accompanied by leg and face twitches.

Now my husband is a symphony upon himself, he has snores that start with a large inhale followed by a quick succession of exhales that sound likes peeps. If you’ve ever watched the Three Stooges you will know exactly what I mean! Then there is the huge inhale snort and then…nothing, this is when I check to make sure he’s still breathing. He also excels at the snore-mumble, a combination of snoring and talking in his sleep.

With the four of them all at once, all that is missing is Arthur Fiedler to conduct!

The animals are pretty easy to quiet down, usually with just a gentle nudge. My husband, however requires a little more effort but I have discovered one thing that seems to work. I very, very gently touch the end of his nose, like a fly landing on it; sometimes I have to ‘land’ several times but eventually he tries to swat it away resulting in all kinds of strange noises, gasps and grunts and then…voila! He rolls over and continues sleeping…like a baby!

This may seem like a mean thing to do but it beats an elbow to the ribs...don't you think? Ha-ha!

'Til Debt Do Us Part

I recently read an article about a woman in her 60’s that lost her husband to a heart attack. About a week after the funeral, she discovered that although she lived a comfortable life, she was now close to being bankrupt.

Through their entire marriage of 30 plus years, her husband had handled everything to do with their finances. She had been a homemaker; a stay at home mother that had never worked after they married. Her husband had always provided for the family and she never questioned anything about money.

Apparently he was an honest, hard working man; he had put their two children through college, put a cozy roof over their heads and was very devoted to his family.

Throughout his lifetime he had managed to legally juggle finances, including refinancing their home a couple of times. As hard as it is to believe, she never questioned anything, she claims to have had no clue that they were in so much debt.

I find this story hard to believe. Wouldn’t her name have been on the mortgage? Didn’t she have any credit in her name? How can you live with someone for over 30 years and not know what’s going on? Talk about a breakdown in communication!

When I mentioned this article to a friend, she said that things like that happen all the time; and even told me that she once knew someone that kept a secret bank account and would put a portion of her grocery money away each week so that she would never be penniless. Eventually she used her stash of cash to pay for her divorce!

So my inquiring mind wants to know…do you believe that someone could live their entire married life being totally clueless to the family finances? If you’re married, do you have an overwhelming urge to check your bank statement? Or am I just naive?

The Customer's Always Right?

My Mother loved to grocery shop, it was the highlight of her week, armed with her coupons it became an adventure.

I, on the other hand, hate to grocery shop, however, let me say that I’m a very frugal shopper, I use coupons and take advantage of sales.

The other day there was a sale on fruit juice…buy one, get one. It was advertised in store's flyer and the shelves in the market were loaded with stickers announcing the ‘deal’. I selected two bottles…a buy one and a get one. Simple enough, wouldn’t you think?

After completing my shopping, I proceeded to the self check out. I enjoy ringing up and bagging my own groceries, that way when my bread is flattened under the potatoes, I have no one to blame but myself! Well back to my story…when I rang up the juice, it didn’t deduct the second bottle, so I clicked the ‘help switch’ and waited patiently for assistance to arrive. Finally a woman showed up and after explaining to her what happened, she told me that the second bottle would be deducted at the end of my purchases. All the other buy one, get one items came off right away, but I didn’t want to argue, so I continued to scan.

This was a stock up week so I had quite a lot of groceries, and after I had paid and bagged everything, (in my eco-friendly green cloth bags), I checked my slip. Of course, it had not deducted the second bottle of juice.

Now the woman that assured me “it will be taken off at the end”, sent me to the service desk, and I explained my juice tale to the young lady there. From that point the conversation went like this:

Clerk: You must have read the sign wrong.
Me: I don’t think so, there are several signs on the shelf and I made a point to read them.
Clerk: A lot of people don’t read the sign right.
Me: The sign is not that difficult to understand, it says BUY 1 GET 1.
Clerk: (Sighing.) I’m going to have to look it up.
Me: Okay, thank you.
Clerk: (Grabbing the flyer and unable to find the ad, calls another young woman over.) This woman bought the wrong juice, she says it’s on sale.
Me: Your flyer says it’s on sale along with the signs on the shelf.
Second Clerk: Well you must have bought the wrong juice.
Me: If you can’t find it in the flyer, why don’t you check the shelf?
Clerk: (Practically yelling.) Here’s the problem! You bought a Cranberry and a Pomegranate that’s why.
Me: The sale is on all flavors.
Clerk: If it were, it would have taken it off. I’m going to call that department.

I was trying my best to be patient but I was really getting annoyed, the tone of the clerk’s voice was so condescending and she must have thought I’d understand better if she spoke louder, or maybe she thought I was deaf. Several minutes go by, and I know my ice cream was melting.

Clerk: (Having checked with department.) It’s just the 100% juice that’s on sale.
Me: (Pointing at bottle.) That reads 100% juice.
Second Clerk: Then you must have picked up the wrong brand.
Me: (Totally ticked, at this point.) Excuse me, but I do know how to read. If you would just check the sign on the shelf you would see for yourself.
Clerk: We had them check the signs.
Me: Please just give me a refund.

Meanwhile another woman comes out of an office and both clerks practically pounce on her, she spots the juice bottles and before they can speak, she announces. “If you’re going to ask me about the juice, there’s a problem with the computer, it’s not taking off the second bottle.”

With that, the clerk glares at me, goes to the register and gives me back the money for one bottle of juice. Then she bags one bottle and hands it to me, “You’re all set.”
Me: May I have my free bottle please?
Clerk: I just gave you back your money.
Me: Yes, thank you but you still have my free bottle.
Clerk: (Loudly.)But I gave you a refund.

Thankfully, the woman from the office returned, and after she explained it twice to the clerk, she handed me my free bottle. Neither said thank you or sorry for the inconvenience…so much for customer service.

Neat To A Fault

Okay, I confess…I’m a neat freak! During the course of my adult life I’ve probably driven a few people up the wall; some will readily admit it, some have sealed their lips. I don’t mean to be that way, honest!

I’m not sure if it’s a result of the cursed trait of being a Virgo or being the daughter of a perfectionist; whatever the reason I know it can be annoying. Sometimes I even annoy myself!

You’ve heard the old adage ‘A place for everything and everything in its place’; well I might have well written that. Now, don’t misunderstand me, I don’t spend every waking hour vacuuming and dusting, I actually only do a housecleaning once a week. It’s clutter I can’t stand, stuff piled up, that kind of thing.

Well my neat ways have come back to haunt me! A while back I bought a small wooden easel, the kind you could display a picture on. When I purchased it, I had an idea to use it with a picture that was still packed away from our move. I put the easel in a ‘safe place’, a place I could readily retrieve it from. HA! Over the weekend I unpacked the picture and do you think I can find the easel? Everyone that said, “Nooooo”, gets a point!

I have hunted high and low, every closet, cupboard, nook and cranny…with no luck! It’s times like these that I really dislike being me! I dare not ask my husband if he remembers where I put it, or I’ll never hear the end of it.

Have you ever done something like this or am I the only nincompoop in the bloggisphere?

Always In My Heart

My Dad was born in London, and at the age of 16, wanted to join the Royal Air Force; his attempt was thwarted by his parents. However, in 1943 at the age of 18 he eventually signed up.

Stationed just outside Burn, Yorkshire, during WW2 , Dad completed 34 sorties as a Tail Gunner aboard a Halifax Bomber. For his courage and devotion to duty, he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross in 1945.

I could write volumes on my Dad’s military career; and life after his decision, in 1954, to leave the RAF in order to provide a more stable life for his family, but I will share the condensed version.

My Dad has always been my hero, a strict but loving father, a devoted husband, a perfectionist, an honest and hardworking man. I couldn’t begin to list the life lessons he taught me from a very young age and I will always remember the original bedtime stories he would make up. Even as a grown woman, I was always his ‘little girl’.

We now move many years ahead from when our family came to the United States in 1958. Dad had been diagnosed with Emphysema in 1990 and within a couple of years his health had really declined. In 1993, as I have written in a previous post, with both parents needing care, we were in the process of having them move in with us. Then, unexpectedly, at the end of September, my Mom passed away. Our family was devastated, my father crumbled.

After several weeks of hospital care and respiratory rehabilitation, he was ready to rejoin us. We were so happy and I readied our spare room for his homecoming. Equipping the room required quite a bit of modification but I was so looking forward to having Dad come home.

It was 2 a.m., the morning of Dad’s discharge, when the phone rang, my heart formed a lump in my throat as I reached for the receiver, I could barely speak. Sometimes you just know things, I can’t explain it, but you just know.

On November 5, 1993, at the age of 68, my hero, my Dad was gone. I know my Dad had several medical issues but I truly believe that he died of a broken heart, just six weeks after my Mom.

I doubt that I will ever get over losing both parents in such a short span of time, even after the years that have passed, there is an emptiness that never goes away.

In his memory, I would like to share one of my Dad’s favorite poems, it’s called ‘High Flight’.

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor even eagle flew—
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
~John Gillespie Magee, Jr.