Tucked Away!

Trying to quiet my over active mind last night was somewhat of a complete failure or lack of discipline on my part.  How can I expect anyone to listen to me, if I won't even listen?  Moments of restlessness seemed to continue into the wee hours of the early morning with every breath and other movement within and out of my domain, seemingly amplified.  Yet despite all this mind commotion, some great inspirations appeared if only briefly.  Some returned to intertwine with others making absolutely no sense, yet strangely and rather meekly I admit, I totally get that!

Christmas 2011, now just a memory, has been tucked away in that special place and all that remains are the trimmings.  Working into the wee hours late last night, I was weary.  Walking my last lap around the location, making sure all was done and snugly tucked in for the night, I began the nightly ritual of powering down the brain.  Not an easy process, a mutiny in progress, rogue brain cells rush forward, resisting all efforts on my part to lay to rest the day's conversations, activities, feeding frenzies and any unsolved circumstances that hopefully will not result in "multiplication complication!"

The forty eight hours leading up to the actual holiday somehow seemed more peaceful.  Reflecting on the events of the past year, I feel a sense of accomplishment but the unsettled brain resists.  Living alone for many years, my grandmother would often talk to herself. When questioned about this habit, she seemed surprised, "doesn't everyone?" How could one small, seemingly preoccupied elderly woman's question have had such an impact on my life? Occasionally, throughout my adult life, that conversation with Memere, travelling at warp speed from the far away galaxies that criss-cross my sub conscious being, bursts forward, leaving no time for "beam me up Scotty" or "shields up!" 

Trans-Siberian Orchestra's  "Christmas Eve/ Sarajevo" at full volume, windows open, seventy-five tropical degrees and a matching speedometer at two in the morning, are my solitary Christmas tradition.  The simplistic nature of the Christmas season, with glitz and glitter removed, beckons tradition.  As my children read their Christmas messages, my hand carefully outlines the small gold locket that my mother cherished.  Two very old and worn pictures live within this tiny heart shaped pendant, yet pry open this delicate case and the memories that spill from within are endless. For the next year, I will have the luxury of this precious treasure chest of a lifetime in my grasp.  Mom and Dad have made their annual trip between their two daughters, a tradition my sister and I cherish.

As for Memere,"thank you", I get it.  Perhaps a talk with the "evil twin" brain would help, it can't hurt.  I don't recall my grandmother ever answering her imaginary visitors, but as the drive home with my Trans-Siberian friends reaches it's final destination, I understand that small unassuming elderly lady.  Ever the politician, she answered a question with a question, she was never lonely.  Do I believe some traits are a learned behavior? Absolutely, do you?  



   

Bountiful Pleasure!

"Do I miss snow?"  No! As Arctic air marches southward, the northern climates now stark, frozen and tucked neatly into their beds of sweet and cozy winter time dreams, I will explore the land of a "southern winter."  Yesterday's visit to the local Farmer's Market, yields a bounty of winter produce that beckons all to begin their New Year's resolution of healthier lifestyle prematurely. The luscious vibrantly colored fruits and vegetables are most definitely a feast of mesmerizing proportions for the senses. Ruby Red grapefruits, enormous in size with a delightfully sweet taste, will not only tingle but refresh the palette. One can see the patron "tapping" melons, sampling all the vendors products which they cheerfully share, while everyone seems to be breathing in the freshness of the multitude of aromas present.  Even fresh baked breads are available, local honey, roasted peanuts and nuts, of all types, making their annual holiday appearance.  These weekly bounties will be available throughout the winter and spring months in the land of the sun!  When super hot tropical days reappear, these markets, although smaller, still yield a plentiful harvest of goodness.

Did I mention, the first crop of sweetness is now available from this strawberry mecca in central Florida. Just in time for the holiday season and without a frost in sight, these berries are now being harvested in gigantic proportions and are ready to dazzle the holiday tables! Yesterday's purchase, already fifty percent consumed, were just the perfect touch of "dessert" and instant energy for a round of afternoon golf!  As the new year rolls in, the harvesting  revs up, continuing through much of February, depending on weather!

Everything citrus, also in full swing, creating hues of golds, oranges and greens, a great visual delight as well.  On a cool morning we can smell the oranges being processed for juice, even through the processing plant is about ten miles away.  In another month, when the trees have been striped of their bounty, the delicate and heavenly aromatic smells of orange blossoms returns.  So easy to understand the craziness of the honey bees pollinating the massive groves covering the landscape of central Florida. Orange blossoms are almost overpowering, yet the senses seem to yearn for more!

Although tomatoes are plentiful, more red than Santa's suit or the rosy cheeks of child playing in the cold snowy climates, the taste is good, but the acidic soils of New England produce a far better tasting product.  Once you've eaten a homegrown Connecticut tomato, nothing else will do!  So some things are missed but as I downed the second ear of Silver Queen corn, I allowed my thoughts to re-group, re-assess that thought and come to a definite conclusion; family and friends are missed, food, not so much and cold and snow,NEVER!

 

'Tis the Reasons

 Christmas cards have been arriving here in "paradise". The neighborhood is alive with thousands of holiday lights.  Sweet strains of Christmas music can be heard throughout the region.  Here in the land of the sun, folks love to share their holiday music, setting up speaker systems for all to enjoy.  Every radio station alive with Christmas tunes.  Along with the standard carols, I have been introduced to many new ones or at least new to my ears.  Perhaps in the hustle and bustle of past holidays I never really listened, but my quiet time drives to and from the most magical place on earth allow, for just such an experience to happen.

Southern people and many of our midwestern and northerners from the mid section of the country now live here. As people theyare very outspoken about the true meaning of the Christmas season.  Although they too get caught up in brouhaha of shopping, their yards and homes decorated with everything glittery, the true nature of the season, their enormous committments to spirituality and Christianity is most evident.  Statues of baby animals protecting the newborn child's manger, lights depicting the journey of the three wiseman, all nestled in amongst the smaller palm trees, tastful adorned with thousands of small white lights, are all the evidence needed to understand "tis the reason for the season!" With distant strains of "Mary did you know?" or "Breath of Heaven" you quickly realize, they get it.  Many small churches in are area host Chritmas plays, live Nativity scenes and open their doors for all to enjoy these annual celebrations.  They are passionate in their beliefs,  their willingness to act upon those beliefs and "educate", is relentless.

As a child, my devoted parents made sure the reason for Christmas celebration was known.  Visiting holiday nativity scenes and attending services were always a part of my upbringing as were Sunday school and attending weekly mass. Remembering midnight mass, thoughts of Christmas snow begin to creep in.  Many an early Christmas morning was greeted with a fresh sprinkling of snow.  Looking up into the heavens, the world asleep, watching each tiny intricate flake float to the ground, was truly exhilarating.  As the years have passed, I find, a warm clear and expansive southern sky filled with the brightest of stars, brings forth the same feelings, I am truly blessed to be able to experience both!

 My decisions to send my own children to Catholic school were based on teachings from my younger years.  On a recent trip to a local department store, I passed through the aisle with linens piled high.   One set of sheets, decorated with bold stripes, conjured up heartwarming memories of my kids, dressed as wiseman and shepards during their holiday school play. Smiling to myself as I remembered them running through the front door all excited, wide-eyed, jackets unzipped in freezing temperatures, "Mom, Mom I am a shepard in the school play, I told Sister you could make our costumes!" Outfitting two or three children perhaps but the entire "herd,"  so be it!   To this day Mom is thankful for: those little boys with their wholesome innocence that Mom could do anything, bold stripe sheets, uncut craggy jute cord and of course JANUARY WHITE SALES!     

"The Box"

While pulling out boxes of holiday decorations, that somehow seemed to be overshadowed by much larger heavier boxes, a lone box, sealed and simply marked books, seemed to appear out of nowhere.  I do not remember putting it on top of the boxes of fragile ornaments.  The only other person in this household looked like a deer in headlights when I questioned the origin of "the box." What seemed to be an uncomfortably long silence as our brains re-booted, was really a senior moment.  As the proverbial light bulb appeared as somewhat of an apparition, we both, as if on cue, reached to open "the box." Much like a child were tearing open his bounty from Santa, the big reveal about to take place, I make mention, "perhaps it is the other half of my food processor!" Sheer disgust is the best description I can conjure up in regards to the look I received from the Egg-Nazi.  As for myself, I would be pleased to find the other half of that small kitchen appliance, it was last seen in Orlando!  That being a totally different and untold story."What, what's wrong with wanting to find it?" I snap.  "Give it up, time to let go, that baby couldn't take the abuse from you and knew when it was time to sign off!" he sarcastically replies.

No jewels, no long lost valuables, no highly anticipated items or excitement that we'd found something we had misplaced, proper labeling said it all, "BOOKS."  After the big letdown, I noticed a few older magazines at the very bottom.  Most of the ads on the perfectly preserved glossy pages, did not have web addresses and coupons were outdated by ten years.  In the spirit of the season, they were holiday magazines.  I must of kept them for the cookie recipes, one can never have enough cookie recipes.  As I browsed through the pages, paying particular attention to some of the ingredients, familiarity seemed to be jumping from page to page.  Different colors of sugar now, a few added shapes, pistachios instead of peanuts, espresso instead of coffee crystals,  penuche instead of dark chocolate, which is soooooo much better for you and there you have it, a new and improved magazine of  holiday baking.  Change the decor, plates, kids helping with the baking, update the packaging, add re-cycled containers, a mug shot of Martha, Stewart that is and we are ready to go for 2011.  Oops, forgot the www.something to order everything shown and this year's magazine is good to go.

As for the do-it-yourself treasure chest of holiday crafts, the pages screamed of, oh dear God forgive me, senior center crafts!  Angels made from plastic dish soap containers, pipe-cleaner snowmen and reindeer and.........my all-time favorite,  the doll pillow crocheted in holiday colors, "Golden Girls" revisited!  Understand my sarcasm, I have seen these articles for sale........NOW!  I'd like to think I have progressed farther than that.  I never understood why someone would cut a perfectly good dish towel in half, crochet a top to it and attach to your oven door. Couple of things I find quite bothersome......unless you have a wall oven, every time you open the oven door, the thing drags the floor, very sanitary don't you think?!  Can't use it as a means of protecting your hands when removing hot baking sheets of cookies, it's attached to the door! Alas, if the dishtowel is terry cloth and the top is crocheted with a yarn,  machine washing makes those irritating little white balls all over the yarn.  Now that I think about it the Egg-Nazi has a knack for doing that to the laundry as well!

Perhaps my New Year's resolution will be "bury the pack rat!"  In the depth's of our walk in closet there must be more unexplored boxes. I'd like to think that as follow through with my resolution,the better half of the food processor will make an appearance. Wishful thinking, perhaps!