First Blog Post of the New Year

Do you ever do that thing where you wake up on the first day of the first month of a new year in a new decade where you think, "Oh, the first text message of the new year"..."Ah, the first cup of coffee of the new year"....like that?

It occurred to me this morning, when I received aforementioned text (at 7am...but from someone in another time zone so I forgive her), that my kid self did it a lot. Almost obsessively compulsively a lot. I have no idea why I was so struck by the occasion of things being a first; particularly given that we're not talking here about significant firsts (like cars or kisses). It was all of the ordinary and mundane: "this is my first breakfast of the new year"... "this is the first time I'm making my bed in the new year"..."I am not going to yell at my sister Martha Stewart for that stupid thing she just did because if I did then it would be my first yelling in the new year and I don't want to start out the new year like that"...

Maybe it was (is) my latent Celtic DNA, something that makes me predisposed to embrace turnings, shifts and tilts and to look for some personal meaning therein. I will, very shortly, cease the running "this is the first time..." commentary because my brain will refill with other noises. But it is a reminder of the importance not so much of firsts but of mindfulness. It's easy to be mindful on New Years Day. Because all is quiet on New Years Day. It's a day for lying around, for recovering from the night before. And in the quiet and the not-doing of New Years Day it is much easier to be aware. And that's still a quality I'd like to better cultivate in myself.

You know what I just realized? I've been very mindful so far in the new year. Yay me!

Happy felicitated new year!

A Time to Remember

Today is the first anniversary of the passing of Mr. Stewart.

It's been a long year for Martha. She's had to walk a challenging road as she's rebuilt the form of her life. She sold and bought a house. She moved back to be nearer to family. She's taken classes and started an on-line business, fixed up her little cottage and started to pick up all the fragile pieces of her life.

She's done amazingly well, by the grace of God.

There have been very dark and lonely times. One doesn't lose a 28 year marriage and just "snap out of it". But she has had her girls and their husbands and her beautiful grandson to help her on the way. They've all helped - and continue to help - each other.

It's an amazing testament to the idea of family; that the founder of that family could be gone and they still hold as a unit. It's a credit to what she and Mr. Stewart created together. And a testament to Love.

On Sunday nights, after evening services, Mr. Stewart used to send his congregation forth with the charge to "go home and eat a lot of pizza and ice cream". So Martha decided that on this, the anniversary, that is what we would all do. Unfortunately, she lives far enough away from us that joining them would be difficult. So we are staging a "Pizza and Ice Cream Remembrance North". Jane Austin and her Mr. Darcy will join us and we'll phone in to the rest of the family.

This will not be an easy day for my sister and her girls. Please keep them in your prayers. And maybe share some pizza with someone you love.

It's Almost Time for the Macy's Day Parade! (And if you say it like that for real I will mock you mercilessly).

My Facebook account is "temporarily unavailable". I know what that means....more frakking changes to the site that I am not going to like. Stoopid Facebook and their constantly-changing-stuff-all-the-time-when-I-liked-it-just-fine-the-way-it-was.

So I'll blog.

The Spouse is making dinner (Alsatian Choucroute...which is about the farthest thing from turkey that there is). The Child is "cleaning her room".

Tomorrow we will dine at The House with MAB and the families. Both The Spouse and I have to work on Friday so we don't have time to go be with all the fam (much to the chagrin of everyone but there it is). But we had fun at The House last year so we're going again. Plus the food is going to be spectacular and hello? I don't have to cook any of it. Gotta love that.

The Spouse just waved a smoked pork chop under my nose. I am not a fan, generally speaking, of the chop. I'll deign to eat it, mostly because The Spouse loves a good chop. But let me tell you, the smoked pork chops from Bavarian Meats are pink and meaty little slices of heaven. Heaven, I tell you.

On Friday I shall wear jeans to work and spend the day hiding in the office while MAB decorates for Christmas. She brings to that process a rabidity that is rivaled only by the likes of Martha Stewart. In fact, when it comes to Christmas decorating, MAB makes Martha Stewart look like a hack.

And speaking of Martha Stewart, my sister Martha Stewart mailed us a shoe box stuffed to the gills with her home-made holiday candies. There's English toffee (for The Spouse), and peppermint meringues and fudge and peppermint bark and she even remembered the cinnamon crystal cut candies that are my personal favorite. Isn't she the best?

I shall leave you with a little Thanksgiving question: what is your very favorite must-have food for Thanksgiving?

I'll start.

For many years I'm quite sure my answer to that question would have either been dressing (not stuffing....I don't like the stuff from inside the bird) or cranberry sauce. But one year a friend and I were invited to a couple's home for Thanksgiving dinner. These women were famous in our circle for their foodiness and wine connoisseurship so we were pretty jazzed about the invitation. When we came to table the food looked and smelled fantastic. We had grace and a toast and I brightly said, "Pass the gravy, please". "Oh," said my hostess, "we didn't make gravy. We didn't think it was necessary. I mean, who eats gravy?"

Oh. My. Yord. Who eats gravy? WHO EATS GRAVY?????

That was the year I learned that my favorite food on the Thanksgiving table is gravy, the luscious stream of goodness that unites all the other goodness on the plate, bringing out their essential and truest natures and lovingly encouraging them to sing. I am always and forever thankful for gravy.

Oh Promise Me

On Saturday my neice, Jane Austen, got married. Jane was always a princess and on Saturday all I could think about was the little girl who used to love to play dress up. How do they grow up so fast?

The weather was, after 6 months of unmitigated bleak, pefect. The wedding was held outside and it just couldn't have been more beautiful.

It was also very emotional and not just because everyone was so happy for Jane and Mr. Darcy. It was also the first big family do since the death of Mr. Stewart and his absence was palpable; particularly because his youngest daughter, Keira Knightly, is in love and destined for her own wedding in a couple of years and she was clearly thinking that her daddy isn't going to be there to walk her down the aisle. My sister, Martha Stewart, is the bravest woman I know but she too had moments where she just had to remove herself from the festivities. It was very difficult, bless their hearts.

Of all the neicelet weddings so far this was the best, if only because I actually know the groom. We've spent time together and talked and have a relationship. He's delightful and they make a terrible handsome couple.



My sister, Audrey Hepburn, mother of the bride. (She looked way hot).



The Spouse did the video for the wedding. He looked handsome.



My nephew:



Martha Stewart, Moi & Audrey:



The Child, Martha, my neice little Martha and her son, my grand-nephew, Joshua:



The first dance:


Audrey and Mr. Hepburn kept dancing:



Nana and Jane:


Girl cousins:



Moi & Martha



And they all lived happily ever after:

Mr. Stewart

Mr. Stewart ended his earthly journey this morning at 4am. Fitting somehow...this is the 3rd Sunday of Advent, Gaudete Sunday...the day when we sing "Rejoice!" He died as he wanted, at home, with his family.

Mr. Stewart was the first in-law, a distinction he took very seriously. Sometimes too seriously. But then, he was a serious man. He was a thinker. Quiet. Where everyone else in the family would greet you with effusion and big hugs, he was the one who hung back a little before offering a subdued "Hey, Lorraine" and a quick embrace.

I don't know that Mr. Stewart was always that comfortable with the family. Given his quiet, serious nature, I think our crazy was sometimes a mystery to him. He liked it but I'm not sure he always knew how to get down with it. On the other hand, I'm saying this about a man who once dressed in drag and danced an Irish jig at Thanksgiving, so maybe he was crazier than he let on.

Here's what I do know: he loved his wife very much. He loved his daughters very much. And he was an awesome uncle. He was the one who would sign on to take all the kids off on some adventure when the rest of the grownups wanted to do anything but.

The last thing we ever did together physically was hold hands and pray. The last thing he ever made me do was laugh out loud for a long time. And ding dong, that's saying a lot.

I've played this before. The Spouse was just shooting random video at a family Thanksgiving. Mr. Stewart and his daughter Hannah, the one who made him a grandpa, were talking about her buying a car. Very mundane, but The Spouse turned it into something else. And somehow it seemed like a fitting tribute. Maybe because I don't have any video of that crazy Irish jig.

Rest in peace, Mr. Stewart. I'm so thankful your suffering is over. You were dearly loved. We'll catch you on the flip side.

Hannah Und Heir Papa

Something That Bugs Me

I'm a big fan of prayer. I do it all the time. I like to pray. Prayers are beautiful.

I am not a big fan of email chain prayers that have flashing pictures of angels and end with "Now make a wish, spin around 3 times and email this to 412 people and your prayer will come true".

I'm not a theologian, but I can tell you right now, that ain't how it works.

I admit that sometimes the prayers I'm sent are very lovely. If they are so lovely that I feel compelled to share them I copy and paste the prayer, just the prayer, into a new email and send it to those I think might appreciate it. But I'm here to tell you that I do not and will not, pass on a stupid, superstitious, pagan "don't break the chain" prayer email and I don't care who sends it to me.

And while I'm ranting, here's another thing. I have some friends who are not of my political persuasion. That's a good thing, for everyone. But with most of those friends we follow a policy of "agree to disagree". I don't send my W jokes to them, they don't send their "Bill Clinton is the anti-christ" crap to me. It works very nicely.

But I have this friend who has been sending me stuff lately. Not just me, other folks, too. A few weeks ago she sent me something negative about Barack and I responded with, "You do know I voted for him, right?" Her response? "Yes, and I love you anyway".

Well, thanks a crap ton for that, sweetie, but it did make me wonder if I was being too subtle. What would make a person think, Obama supporter that I am, that I would enjoy negative emails about the man's character? I'm not talking about a well-reasoned op-ed piece by a conservative journalist who has questions and concerns about the direction an Obama administration might take. Bring it on. No, I'm talking about half-baked dribble drabble that regurgitates Swift Boaty lies and distortions. And I hate that crap.

Right, so the other day she sends me something else, purporting to be from Newsweek magazine, showing all the demographics of the election: how the Republicans won more states, more land area, more counties nationwide were red than blue...like that.

And all I could think was, "What is your frakking point?" Are you suggesting that Barack Obama isn't really the president-elect? That the election was somehow stolen? Or is it just that after 8 years you can't handle the fact that for once the election went the other way? Because the bad news is, the other demographics suggest that all that "land mass" that went Republican is inhabited by 13 red necks who graduated 8th grade and haven't had an original thought since puberty. (Am I stereotyping? Why, yes, I believe I am). I for one am relieved that this time around we as a nation weren't subjected to the tyranny of the undereducated & hyper religious.

Anyrant, I was so mystified by this email that I didn't even know how to respond. So I didn't. Because the one think I refuse to do is mix it up with someone who I otherwise care about but who is clearly so partisan that she can't even give the guy time to be inagurated and mess up before she starts lambasting him. (Oooh, that's a good one...I shoulda told her that). But turns out, I don't have to. At least not this time. Someone else on the email thread did it for me.

Her response was calm and well-reasoned. It included the Snopes link that demonstrated that the "article" in question was a rehash that's been going around for years and then she summed up with "So what? The election is over. Move on".

I liked it so much I wrote to her to thank her and she wrote me back to thank me for thanking her and it was a nice little bit of closure.

And that reminds me of something heartbreakingly amusing. Martha was telling me a story the other night about Mr. Stewart. They'd adjusted his pain meds but it gave the poor guy hallucinations. Mostly it was members of the family kept coming to visit him (which is sweet if you think about it) but sometimes the hallucinations took another tack. Once he told Martha urgently that they had to go vote.

"No, honey, we've already done that. The election is over".

"But I have to go, I have to win the race".

"Honey, the only race you're in is the race for heaven".

He looked at her perplexed and asked, "I'm not Obama?"

Takes some serious meds to make my dear Republican BIL think he's Barack Obama. But it handed me quite a laugh, for which I'm grateful. And yeah, they've since readjusted his meds.

(Insert Clever Title Here)

I think I'm going to pop into the office a little early today. MAB took a comp day yesterday and I was consequently very busy but didn't finish any of the things I needed to finish because so much of what I do tends to be emergent. My desk looks like downtown Kabul.

My niece, Jane Austen, is engaged. I told her that I am very much looking forward to being her matron of honor, singing "O Promise Me" and performing the ceremony. (I could do that...I'm a Universal Life Minister. Which is kinda like being a notary, without the nifty seal. It's not that big a deal but it could come in handy some day). She is marrying a guy I really, really like and I think it's all pretty superfantastic. (However, thus far the three nieces who have married have chosen guys whose names begin with the letter M and that is getting tedious. Jane's sister is also dating an M. The Child and her remaining girl cousin, Keira Knightly, have been forbidden to even go for coffee with anyone whose name begins with that letter. Really. Come on. It's too precious in the not good way).

Meanwhile, my sister, Martha Stewart, is maneuvering through uncharted waters. Her husband is dying. This has been going on for a few months now and it's been hard to find a way to write about it because, well, party because it sucks so much. Mr. Stewart is a young man...my age if you want to be specific. He's always been crazy fit and healthy. But he has melanoma and the end is near. Frankly, I still don't have much to write because we're all still wrapping our heads around it. Some of you already knew this anyway and you've been praying for them -which, btw, continues to blow Martha away...knowing that people all over the country and the world who they have never met are holding them up is an awesome thing. And she is at peace. She attributes that peace to nothing other than grace because she knows that on her own she'd just be a blubbering mess (her words). But she's not. She's amazing. Anyhoodles, anyone else inclined to offer up thoughts and prayers for my BIL and the fam would be greatly appreciated.

On a happier note, coffee is really delicious and hugging is good.

The Livin' Is Easy

We had guests last night: my sister, Martha Stewart, and her husband, Mr. Martha Stewart and their youngest daughter, Keira Knightly. They were just passing through but Martha and I sat up last night with tea, talking. Keira and The Child were tucked away in The Child's room, laughing and planning The Child's ensemble for the first day of school. Then this morning Martha and I sat in the cool of the morning with our coffee, talking some more. Martha and I have led very different lives, made very different choices, but in essentials we share far more in common than I sometimes remember.

They are gone now, off to visit their eldest daughter, the one who is going to make them grandparents in a couple more months. I need to get to the market, to pick up olives and chevre and some peaches. I haven't made a cobbler yet this summer and that's just wrong. There are just a few weeks now before school starts and before I will, hopefully, be working. Just a few more weeks to sit in the twilight with wine, smelling the rosemary and lavender scented air, pretending that I'm really in Provence and not the back garden of a Seattle neighborhood.

As the family were leaving, Mr. Martha Stewart bent his head to one of the roses in the front garden. "Look!" I said, "He's stopping to smell the roses". It was a joke but it wasn't. It was, in fact, a powerful symbol, a reminder that none of the things we all have on our agendas today are more important that being mindful.

It's still summer and today I feel particularly inclined to remember that and enjoy all the uniquely summertime treasures before schedules speed up, leaves start to fall and sweaters reassert their prominence in our wardrobes.



Janis Joplin "Summertime"