Christmas Confession

I have a confession to make. Last month I wrote about decorating for Christmas and said that I “had” decorated after Thanksgiving. The way that my deadlines work, I actually had to write that column before Thanksgiving, fully intending on decorating the house the weekend after Thanksgiving so that by the time you read my column, everything would be as it should. But it wasn’t. We spontaneously decided to update the flooring in our kitchen and dining room, which began with the weekend of Thanksgiving spent tearing out hardwood flooring. Because of that, the dining room table and china cabinet made their way into the living room, where they stayed for about 3 weeks. As you can probably imagine, there was no room for a Christmas Tree and no motivation for decorating. This flooring project also turned into something like falling dominoes. Once the floor came up, we realized that some drywall needed to be repaired. And since we were going to be repairing drywall, we thought it was time for that huge bank of cabinets to be downsized, which showed a large spot on the ceiling that was cause for ceiling paint. And while we were painting, shouldn’t we change the color in the powder room? Changing the paint in the powder room means that dated wallpaper boarder needed to come down. And once we saw the powder room without a vanity in it, we decided that a pedestal sink would look really cute in there. Which brought us back to the flooring. Why would we put hardwood down again in the bathroom? So we decided to add some tile accents. As all of this took place, my Christmas decorating got pushed further and further into December. After all, besides the misplaced furniture, the house was a dusty mess. In mid-December I had given up on doing any decorating, other than the outdoor lighted stuff. Fortunately, my husband was not going to let us go without at least a Christmas tree. To my surprise and delight, one day he came home with a small potted tree, which we put little decorations on and placed in the living room next to the dining room table. As Christmas approached, things got back to normal as we picked away at the renovation project. Stockings went on the mantle and the table returned to its rightful place in the dining room. But our sweet little tree remained as we celebrated the season with our kids. The best laid plans don’t always come to fruition, especially when it comes to newspaper deadlines, but at least I came clean with you, which makes me feel better. Happy New Year!

When does Christmas Begin?

Here we are at the start of December, staring down the barrel of Christmas, which for me means decorating the house. Which has been met with less and less enthusiasm as the years progress, especially since we don’t have children in the house anymore and very few visitors. So who am I really decorating for, anyway? I was talking with a coworker who, with her young son, put up the Christmas decorations the day after Halloween. “I just love Christmas!” she said “I love the lights, the decorations! I love all of it!” I used to feel that way and I miss her excitement. I personally think that decorating before Thanksgiving might be jumping the gun a bit. I still like the fall oranges, yellows, and reds. I try to leave the cute fall swag that my niece made on the hearth through Thanksgiving so as not to mix holidays. But for me the tradition of decorating for Christmas begins the weekend after Thanksgiving. Call me a traditionalist, or a purist, but I just tend to think chronologically which means that Christmas comes after Thanksgiving, which comes after Halloween. But I understand her logic. If you love Christmas that much, only having the decorations up for 3 weeks really isn’t long enough, especially if you have a lot of decorations. I have a friend who used to even swap out her dishes. And let's face it, there are stores that start putting out Christmas inventory in August. That doesn’t annoy me anymore. Even when my favorite radio station, Mac FM, started playing Christmas music right after Halloween, I simply stopped listening to it and will resume after Thanksgiving. It’s kind of that whole idea of “If you don’t like it, don’t listen,” (or look, whatever). So in keeping with my own tradition, Christmas went up after Thanksgiving. The tree is smaller. There are fewer decorations put out. I minimalized my Christmas collection from 4 totes to two. But one thing remains true. When my kids come home for the holidays, they will have Holiday. There will be a tree, garland around the banister, and front yard lights. Perky the Christmas Penguin will be lit up out front, the giant wreath will be above the front door, and the stockings will be hung by the chimney with care. But it all happens after Thanksgiving and comes down in early January. Except the giant wreath, which usually stays up until the snow is gone and only because we’re lazy. I really do think it’s great that people stretch out the holidays because for me Christmas is so important to my faith life, and who am I to take that joy from someone else? It reminds me of where my spirit is grounded. It brings my family home. And it all takes place after Thanksgiving.

Who Needs Photo Albums? We've got Amazon!

A few weeks ago Tom was asking me about a motorcycle phone holder he once had that he would like to replace. Since neither one of us could remember when or where that particular item had been purchased, I offered to review Amazon. Ah, Amazon. The modern day answer to the brick and mortar stores of yesteryear. Where would our lives be without the ability to purchase literally anything we need with the touch of a yellow button? When I look back on technologies like Facebook or Amazon, I can’t believe how long we have had those conveniences. It seems like we just got them, and yet, when I went back to my Amazon history, I have been using Amazon since 2002. 2002? As in nineteen years? As I searched for that phone holder, my review of 19 years of purchases was literally a trip down memory lane for me. It was like hauling those Creative Memories photo scrapbooks out of the attic and thumbing through them. 2002 and 2003 only referenced that I had made two purchases, but didn’t show what they were. Apparently, I didn’t buy anything from Amazon in 2004, but in 2005 we must have ended our Columbia Records membership, because I bought some cds, probably for the boys, based on the artists. By 2006 I was purchasing Guitar Hero, complete with guitar for a Christmas present. From 2006 to 2008 was mostly books or videos (remember when Amazon only sold media?) and the random cold coffee filtration system. At that time I was still teaching special education and wrestling must have been the main sport for our boys because those were the books I was buying. 2008 went to 2 pages of purchase history and we went from just media, to now adding band t shirts. 2009 continued with books, books, videos, and more books and a Sirius satellite receiver. Remember when we needed those to get music? As I continued on, I could track what I was teaching, what our sons were interested in, and my husband’s hobbies. I can see Christmases, birthdays, and the addition of everything from kitchen supplies, to toiletries, to vitamins. I can even see the waste. How many of those books did not ever get read? How much of that stuff fell victim to minimalization and decluttering? These days it’s a little bit more difficult to track my life via Amazon. The app has been taken off of my phone and I need the 13 character password to log in if I want to buy anything on my laptop. And the phone holder? Never found it. I guess we bought that in a brick and mortar store. Black Friday is coming. Delete that app and shop local!

I'll Know when I'm Old

In my younger days, one of my sayings was, “I’ll know I am old when K-Tel puts out a compilation record of 80’s songs. For those of you too young to know what a K-Tel record is, this was a company that released greatest hit songs for a specific decade. It was usually the decade following the one with the songs on it. So you can probably understand that Ultimate 80’s was released sometime in the early 90’s. I was only in my late 20’s by that time.” Certainly not old. Yet. I didn’t really update my “I will know when I’m old…” saying after that. However, there are some significant events that take place to put you in an upper generational category, whether you like it or not. For instance, your high school car is now eligible for historical plates. Recently, Tom and I wandered in a really cute antique shop in Indian River called Antiques Roadhouse. As we wandered in the door, we saw the usual antique store items from the 30’s and 40’s. Old furniture, housewares, cookware. As we were wandering about, something caught my eye. It was a display of old metal lunchboxes. “Oh wow! I said! I had one of these!” And then I looked down and saw a Barbie doll accessory case. I had once owned one exactly like it. A little further into the shop was an original Atari game, all set up on a TV that looked a lot like the one we had in our living room growing up. There was one thing, after another, after another that stirred up childhood memories. When did those memories cross over from garage sale finds to antique store treasures? Are they antiques? Am I antique, or should I say, “old?” One thing I can say for certain is that I definitely do not feel old or antique by any stretch of the imagination. Even so, the evidence is there. The camper I camped in as a child is now “vintage” and highly sought after. The banana seat bicycle I rode is collectable. The high waisted jeans I wore are in style again. As they say, “Everything old is new again.” Yes, I have creaks and crackles and wrinkles and grey hairs taking over my head. But I don’t make, “I’ll know when I’m old…” statements anymore. That ship has sailed. Fortunately, there is some good in being able to say “I had a Addams Family metal lunchbox just like that!” and “I carried my Barbies around in this same case!” I enjoy those memories because for me, they are happy.

The Minimalist Leap

When I started on this decluttering/minimalist journey, I figured I’d have to put my minimalist money where my mouth was, but I didn’t ever imagine it would mean living in a 25 foot travel trailer for 5 weeks. It all started when my husband, Tom, was talking to a friend in mid-June. That friend was sharing about how he and his wife live on their boat while they rent out their house for the summer. Tom came home and said “Let’s rent out our house!” I told him that that was a great idea and that we could spend the year getting the house ready to rent. There is a lot of wear and tear on a 15 year old family home that can’t be erased in a matter of weeks, or can it? Tom replied with, “No, I mean this summer! It’ll be great! I’ll take the month off and we can live in our camper,” (insert forced-smile emoji here). So what we embarked on was 4 weeks of furiously cleaning, painting, updating, picture-changing, towel and linen-buying adventure, culminating with our cats living with my son and his wife, and us living in our camper with our dog. For. Four. Weeks. Four full weeks. I have to admit that if you want to learn how to live like a minimalist, or if you want to see what tiny house living is really like, try it out in a small travel trailer for an extended period of time. Everything takes thought and planning. Grocery shopping was a very thought-out process because the cupboard and refrigerator space were at a premium. I had to decide what to make and then only buy food for those specific meals. Clothing had to be whatever could fit in a tote small enough to slide under the fold-out couch. We also had to accommodate for somewhat limited internet service and go back to reading old fashioned paper books and play old fashioned card games on the rainy days. What I learned though is that albeit cramped, I was forced to keep up with dishes and stay on top of clutter daily. I spent a lot of time finding ways to maximize space. Luckily for me, Tom likes organizing things and within the second week all of the cabinets were organized with additional shelving and plastic totes. So when it came to shooting my mouth off about all of the decluttering and minimalism, I found out that I really could downsize into an incredibly small space for a longer-than-usual amount of time. Now the question is, will we do it again next summer for two months instead of one? Stay tuned.

When I Write about Riding

In the 11 years that I have been writing this column I know of exactly two people who have read every single one; my mom and my friend, Scott. I know for sure that Scott has read them all because it happened this past winter. He was telling me how surprised he was to learn that I wrote for the paper and that he wanted to read more of my writing. After a quick conversation about all of the ways he could access past pieces online, I offered to let him take my scrapbooks. I have this old-fashioned habit of carefully clipping out my column each time it is published in the paper and then placing it in a scrapbook. I have kept them all. So Scott took Volume 1 of “The Flip Side: Life After 40”, and then two weeks later, Volume 2. He was very complimentary of my writing, but inquired as to why I don’t write more about riding my motorcycle. The answer to that question is simple, yet complicated. I actually do write about riding my motorcycle. Those pieces just never seem to make it to my laptop. One of the most peaceful things I do in my life is ride my motorcycle. And as I ride, I compose. I think about how lucky I am to be able to ride around Northern Michigan anytime I want, all summer long with the beautiful blues of the lakeshores to my right and the stunning views of the rolling hills to my left. I smell the amazing scent of the Lilacs in June and marvel that I can hear the spring peepers above the rumble of my motor. I write and write and write words which will never see print because when I come to a stop and swing my leg back over my bike, what I was sure I’d never forget, gets lost in the lunches with friends, shopping downtown, bike nights, and festivals. What started as a hobby that my husband introduced me to as a passenger soon became my love also as a solo rider. However, as the years go by and I have a few more close calls, get a little more fearful, see yet another driver stopped at an intersection looking down at his phone, I think that maybe it’s time to sell the bike. But selling the bike would not only mean a loss of the enjoyment I get from riding, but it would also mean the many hours of writing that take place without my fingers ever touching the keyboard would end too. So Scott, you may not see many columns about riding, but you can know for certain that they are being written.

Practice Makes Better

I’ve never been much for practicing anything. When I pick up a new hobby I usually just start making stuff. I don’t really put forth the effort to ever get really good at it. And for someone who considers herself to be somewhat of a perfectionist, I don’t get much perfect. I don’t even get better. When I was a kid it was important to my mom that all of her children take piano lessons. She acquired a beautiful second hand upright that was missing a bunch of ivories and wasn’t tunable. Try running your 10 year old hands down a keyboard with no ivories. Not fun. Only one out of 3 of us kids actually put in the practice and got good at music. It wasn’t me. I was always in awe of my piano teacher, Mrs. Dvorak, when she would say, “You didn’t practice, did you.” How in the world did she know? Apparently practicing for 15 minutes before I rode my bike down to her house didn’t do a whole lot. Needless to say, my level 2 rendition of Journey’s “Open Arms'' didn't make the cut for the spring recital. Last year, during the COVID shutdowns our younger son stayed with us. Both of our sons are amazing musicians, but I never realized the amount of practice that it takes to become really good at guitar. He would practice for hours every day, playing these short riffs over and over and over, (not gonna lie, it got on my nerves a little). But the first time I got to see he and Robby play together I couldn’t believe it. They were amazing. This spring a few friends and I are taking tap lessons. You might remember I took tap lessons several years ago but it was mostly for fun. There was no practicing as is customary for me. But this time I was thinking about Sam and his endless practicing and about how much better his guitar playing has gotten. So I decided I’d take on the example he set. I took a video of my tap teacher and set up a little make-shift dance studio in my laundry room. I have been practicing both the dance she is teaching us and what are called “rudiments'' which are short steps practiced over and over and over. I can’t believe how much more confidence I have. I go to class feeling like I can keep up. I know the dance and don’t feel like the awkward 5th grader confessing that she hasn’t been taking it seriously. I may not be ready to audition for Riverdance, but I can say that practice does make better. And I’m getting better.