This morning, Sam left to go home to Essex, VT; he is starting a new job tomorrow at UVM Medical Center in their Emergency Department. A fantastic opportunity for him to see and learn so much.
As soon as he left, I cried for a few minutes and decided to take down the Christmas tree. This is not new; I try to get the house back to normal as soon as possible. Last year, I waited until New Year’s Day since my sister Jennifer and her kids Sofia and Julian visited over the holiday break.
The tree looked great in the corner, but this is so clean looking!
It’s incredible how long it takes to decorate and how quickly everything gets packed away. Marty was also working on projects to keep ourselves busy and not sit around moping. Before we knew it, the house was sparkling clean, clean enough for a real estate visit, I always say.
While I was cleaning, I was sad because I realized when I decorated at the beginning of December, we had five family members living here; we only have three while I am taking everything down. I still can’t believe Otto isn’t with us anymore. Sam leaving at the same time has been a hard pill to swallow.
Such a peaceful space with good energy for Otto’s ashes.
I made a place for Otto’s ashes, his paw print, and photos on the shelf in our living room. We still haven’t been able to look in the bag everything came in. I put the bag on the shelf in the meantime. It is comforting knowing he is home with us. I touch the bag and speak softly to him in the morning and at night. I lose it every time because I miss him so much.
Marty and I have many winter projects planned now that Sam doesn’t live here anymore. His room will be a guest and music room. His closet will become my costuming closet. Marty will install electricity in both of my closets and put in lights so I can finally see things and find them easily.
The little vintage Christmas tree and manger are lovely, but this I love, nice and simple.
Marty said he didn’t think our house had even been so clean, organized, light, and airy. He is 100% right since that’s been our goal since covid started decluttering and minimalizing our home.
The house feels different without Sam and Otto’s energy here. The house is tranquil since Klaus doesn’t make any noise unless someone comes to the door. Otto was a big-time whiner and was needy. Klaus had started following me around the house like Otto did, which is funny because he never gave two shits about me before unless I was feeding him. LOL. Maybe he senses I am lonely and sad.
Hopefully, I will adjust to this new chapter of our lives soon, but I am still struggling. I do have to say, on the bright side, the house looks great. The new occasional chairs we purchased when we gave away the old sectional are comfortable and sleek. I put up lighter, gauzy curtains, and we bought a new shag rug to lighten the space further.
Today it’s all about eating the leftovers from Christmas Eve and Day; then, we can start fresh. I have to learn to cook for only two of us since I am not feeding two men anymore, plus I always made sure there were enough leftovers for Sam’s work dinners.
Have a great night; it’s back to work for us tomorrow, which is a good thing; keeping myself busy keeps my head out of my ass!
Wednesday our dance troupe had our annual Holiday Hafla which is basically a party.
In the past, we’ve had official performances with a potluck dinner and invited out of town dancers. This year, our Hafla was very casual without any planned performances.
We had small eats such as cheeses, fruit, spiced nuts and a few bite size desserts. Everything was delicious and easy to eat by popping the snacks into your mouth without utensils. Thanks for thinking of me with the GF snacks guys!
I began the evening in a circle and led our gratitude moving meditation which we do before every class and performance.
Each dancer took a turn leading with just a look from the person next to them . We didn’t plan it, that’s the beauty of improv, you never know what’s going to happen.
When the song was over I thanked the troupe for making me a better teacher and dancer and for coming in the first place.
The core group of 8 dancers are all at different levels but somehow everyone knows how to take care of their fellow dance sister on the dance floor and off.
I told them dance literally saved my life 20 years ago. At that time I was in a deep, dark place and suicidal. The boys were very young, thank God Marty recognized the signs and got me into therapy.
After many months of therapy my therapist told me before he would end my sessions I needed to find something that I would enjoy doing, something I was passionate about, something just for me.
When he asked what my thoughts were I told him I grew up as a dancer and missed it. The next month I learned about belly dance classes in Bennington.
I knew it was a sign since the classes were on Thursday nights at 5 pm the same time as my therapy sessions. I could trade one for the other since the time was already “my time.”
After that, I got my groove back. I felt like my old self again. I fell in love with everything about our dance from American Tribal Style Belly Dance. The rest is history.
I love the women I have danced with in the past and the ones I dance with now. We are all there for different reasons but the common denominator is we are taking time for ourselves. Dance is self care and works wonders.
We had a lot of fun at the Hafla and said goodbye until the new year. We only have a one week hiatus this year, most years were are on break for two. I am glad it’s only one since dance days are still my favorite days of the week.
Right now, we are on our way to the farmers market on Christmas Eve. At home I have my dinners for today and tomorrow prepped and set. I wrapped gifts at 3:30 am.
I have a couple more things to pick up at the market today, for the record I have NEVER been a last minute shopper, but we’ve been so busy with the business I haven’t had time to do much of anything else.
The few Christmas cards I send to my family members will have to be sent afterwards. A few years ago this would have been a tragedy, now, it’s life and I am grateful our business is busy and we count our blessings.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah and good tidings to all. ♥️
Update: The two vendors I was planning on finishing my Christmas shopping with are absent! 😫 Shit, shit, shit I’ll never be a last minute shopper again! Ugh!
We saw a rainbow just as we left Arlington on Saturday, a good sign.
Hey guys! It’s been a while since I’ve written a post but things have been busy moving Sam into his new place up in Essex, VT.
In addition to helping Sam, the business is crazy busy with holiday orders. Marty did the farmers market alone on Saturday and came up yesterday to help us finish with the move. He brought Klaus with him.
Sam and I worked non-stop for two days packing up his grandparent’s belongs which were either recycled in his decor, donated or had to be thrown out.
We grabbed bites to eat out and also did a lot of shopping to get the things he needed or wanted; like a system for a smart home.
I basically moved stuff out and he moved stuff in. At one point, I never thought I’d be done. When Marty arrived yesterday morning, team Irion kicked into overdrive.
This was Klausie-boys first time going to anyone’s house and taking a long car trip. He stayed by Marty’s side the entire time, even on walks without his lease.
Klaus had a hard time finding a place to sleep since this was his first real sleepover. He roamed the house going up and down the stairs until Marty slept on the couch with him.
Slowly, one room at a time was completed and gave us a sense of accomplishment to keep going.
While Marty and Sam worked on things I couldn’t help with, I pressed on and by 9 pm we were done!
While we were up north, when I say restaurant and store orders flooded in, I mean by a tsunami. I am always happy we are continually getting orders but it makes going away super stressful.
This morning, while I am writing, we are heading home. We have to go straight into production when we get back to start digging out of the mountain of spätzle orders.
Klaus is doing fabulous on the ride home, the instrumental Christmas music we are listening to is not only is beautiful, but has a calming effect on him.
In other news, my older son, Noah spent the weekend in NYC with his girlfriend, Aja celebrating his 27th birthday.
I saw a quick video clip of the view from their Times Square hotel room; holy shit what a view! It was spectacular!!
In the car this morning, I saw photos that Aja posted. I started crying because they look so happy!
My heart is overjoyed since I have never seen my son with such a happy and authentic smile before. It’s all I really want, for both of my sons; is to be truly happy.
Marty and I are our kids biggest fans and love watching everything unfold right before our eyes.
I am a weeping quietly on the ride home. Part of my tears are that Sam has a beautiful, clean and tidy place to start a new life and job position in. I am relieved it’s all done.
Some tears are from Noah’s happiness with someone very special. I am so proud of him and how great he is at his career.
A few sad tears are knowing that this is Sam’s new home and he won’t be around anymore.
A few tears are from being overtired and overwhelmed with the business and the holidays literally around the corner.
I love cooking around the holidays; cooking it’s my zen all year and cooking holiday meals is my favorite time of the year! Feeling rushed and short on time is taking the wind out of my sails.
Maybe a couple of tears are realizing we can take Klaus on road-trips making traveling a possibility for us; something that wasn’t an option before. Poor little Otto never would have been able to handle it. Gosh, I miss my sweet boy so much, today especially. 💔
All of those tears are bittersweet. Marty and I have had a great year and made a lot of new friends. We began to socialize again on a weekly basis. I love entertaining and can’t wait to have my new friends over after the holidays.
We are moving forward and growing older together making a lot more great memories and having a millions more laughs.
Have a great week guys, I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can. I have to remember to take deep breaths and live in the moment.
Oh, last thing, I plan to drink plenty of Poinsettia cocktails which is champagne or proscesso topped off with a splash of cranberry juice. Float a couple of real cranberries in for a festive look.
***Update: It’s evening and we filled a shit ton of orders and brought them to our distributor. Tomorrow, we will work on our restaurant orders.
Current situation, I’m baking a dessert for our “shut up and dance” holiday belly dance party tomorrow night.
While editing this post I made myself a martini. I bought some bleu cheese stuffed olives at Trader Joe’s last night and they have been whispering, “make a martini” all day. ✔️
I still have a few gifts to wrap, cards to write and send out, plus a two hour playlist to make for the belly dance party, all are fun activities and the martini will bring out the crazy, happy Julz.
The dinner I made when Noah and Aja came over. Porchetta Pork Tenderloin, Fondant Potatoes, Acorn Squash Puree with Candied Bacon & Pecans. A monochromatic plating but very seasonal.
Part of my heart is completely shattered after losing my sweet boy Otto last Friday, but another part is so full of joy and happiness. Thank goodness the two are balancing each other out to keep me centered.
At this point in time, as a mother, I am delighted that both of my sons, Noah and Sam, are moving on with new chapters of their lives. Noah met a wonderful young woman named Aja, who is beautiful inside and out. We had them over for dinner the other night, and I don’t think I ever saw Noah happier.
It was a fun evening spent talking while sipping red wine, eating, making each other laugh, and getting to know each other better. We are learning to know Noah as an adult, and he is learning to know us as adults, not just his parents.
When they left, I had such a happy heart. I told Marty that our evening together was better than any gift I could’ve received. Noah and Aja seem like a great match, and we like her very much! 🙂
The two of them are headed by train to NYC on Sunday, Noah’s birthday, to see the tree at Rockefeller Center and to experience NYC during the hustle and bustle of Christmas time. They are going to see the Rockettes and are staying right in the heart of Times Square.
Even when we booked this trip with Noah, I was so excited for him! We talked about their trip when they were here, and I told them I was as thrilled and psyched as if I were going!
There is no place like NYC at Christmas time with all the shop windows displays and excitement in the air. Noah having Aja to experience with makes me so happy. I am sure they will have a fun and memorable time.
At the same time, Sam is moving to Essex Junction, VT, to work in the ER at UVM Medical Center. He has a beautiful place to live and is close to many outdoor activities, bars, restaurants, and other new places. There will also be more people and things to do.
I am going to his new place with him on Saturday morning to help him move the rest of his stuff into his townhouse. We have to clean and organize. He has to pick up a few things at a couple of stores then we get to the fun part, the decor!
He and I have so much fun together whenever we do projects and die of laughter. I am looking forward to spending some time, just the two of us, before he leaves for good.
The thought of his new challenging job and a fantastic place for a young guy to live makes me smile. I am genuinely as excited for him as if I were moving up there. This job is the next step in his career, and he will learn and see so much, things he would never experience at his current position, although he will miss his coworkers a lot.
Growing up and even in adulthood, I never once heard my mother tell me, “I am happy or excited for you.” I don’t think she was ever truly happy for anyone. She would find negative things to say when something wonderful happened to her friends or coworkers.
The best example I can give is our wedding day. My mother spent the entire wedding day hysterically crying. Maybe she couldn’t bear to have me in the spotlight. She was, however, highly successful in drawing the attention of all of the guests at the wedding. Meryll Streep has nothing on Eileen’s acting skills, even in Oscar award-winning films.
Instead of being happy that I married the love of my life and starting a new life with him in Vermont, she only thought about herself. When everyone asked Marty why his mother-in-law was crying, he told everyone she was upset because she was losing her cleaning lady. This was a hysterical answer, but unfortunately, it was the truth.
We never said “I love you” in our house when I was growing up. When we started saying it in our little family, my mother and father followed suit. I remember wondering why it took them so long to feel comfortable saying it or even thinking of it.
As the kids were growing up, my mother said, “I love you,” frequently to my family and me. After her stroke, she said it all the time. Those words, I love you, were just words. Words with no feeling attached to them or what they meant. (This was not because of the stroke.)
This I know because she handed out “I love you” to people like candy on Halloween. People she didn’t like and complained about behind their backs. It was a manipulative tool.
When the “I love yous” didn’t get her what she wanted or demanded, she could whip up tears quicker than Ralphie in” A Christmas Story” when he broke his glasses.
Sadly, my mother never felt joy in her heart for me, and she couldn’t stop thinking about herself. I’ve learned through meditation that I played a crucial role in her soul’s life lesson in this lifetime. My job was to help her advance in her earth school lessons.
In a mediation journey, a female Spirit Guide explained that I agreed to take that role as a main character before I was born. We all know how that lesson ended.
Thinking about it this way helps me not to take things as personally. It was a pack made before I came here, like a business contract. Thinking about it this way also allows me to take one step closer to forgiving her, but it’s still hard, and I have a long way to go.
Becoming a mother was the best thing I ever did. Was it easy? No. Was it extremely hard at times? Yes. Did I lose myself for a while? Definitely. While parenting our children with Marty, I knew what not to do from my childhood.
I quickly realized those bad memories from my childhood didn’t matter. I was not Eileen; I was me. It wasn’t in my nature to be capable of speaking so meanly to my boys. I would never dream of degrading or emotionally abusing them or using preplanned guilt and manipulation tactics.
I never hit or beat them the way I was or called them names. My name growing up was, “You stupid son of a bitch.” That is 100% true. Nice, right?
Why on earth would a mother do those things? Instead, we raised our boys with rules, manners, love, laughter, respect, and fairness. We were far from perfect, but we did the best job we could do.
I love being their mom and look forward to stepping back and watching them live their lives as they wish.
We are officially empty nesters, and my heart is full of joy. It’s time for the next chapter in Marty and my lives too. ❤️
Klaus and Otto share the couch in our back room. The two of them never sat or laid down together until recently.
***This is the perfect title for this blog post. Please click on the link to read my friend Jon Katz’s Bedlam Farm Journal blog post before reading ahead. I am the friend in the post.
Jon’s blog post says everything I can’t right now. Jon is a dog expert, all you have to do is go to your local library, and you’ll find dozens of books he has written.
Jon is a famous writer, journalist, photographer, and former CBS morning news producer. Hell, HBO even made a movie about him with Jeff Bridges playing Jon.
His blog is a joy to read and to follow what’s happening on Bedlam Farm. You will love his wife, farm animals, and dogs. I’ve been reading his blog everyday for 5 years and look forward to his posts.
Today, I am super sad. I’ve been alone and have felt down all day. Marty and Sam are still up in the Burlington area. I’ve had time to digest what’s making me sad; Sam and Otto will leave for good shortly.
I felt sad when both of my sons moved out of Arlington for school and work. Luckily for me, Noah moved back from Connecticut, and his place is only a mile from here, and he often visits, usually to have dinner with us. Nothing makes me happier than cooking for people I love.
The thing is, I’ve never had an animal die before. After nine years of caring, nurturing, and always having him by my side, I am heartbroken. We’ve decided to cancel the vet visit we had scheduled for him.
Otto is traumatized by thunderstorms, fireworks, and wind. He freaks out when the power goes out and going to the vet. We have to give him drugs for most of these things since he is scared to death.
We respect that he is frightened of things and try to comfort him during storms and fireworks, but going to the vet is tough on him; that’s why we decided not to put him through that and a bunch of testing.
Whenever I look down, my boy is right there.
We are helping and caring for Otto since he can no longer hop on the bed or couch. We’ve made him comfy beds upstairs and downstairs. The stairs are getting harder, but he can still go up and down. He is still eating, drinking, and having no problem going outside to go potty.
Our boys never used the dog beds we got for them, until now. We put them together and covered it in his favorite blanket. Klaus likes it too. He’s been nicer to Otto in the last couple of weeks and not a dick.
I went back to making his food like when he was a puppy. He has lost a lot of weight and muscle. It happened quickly; I wasn’t ready for it since he seemed and looked healthy all summer. His coat was so shiny.
I know I’ll get to see Sam after he leaves since it’s only about 2 1/2 hours to Burlington. I won’t get to see my boy Otto again when he goes; this is terrible timing, with both things happening simultaneously. Death doesn’t give a shit about poor timing.
Thinking about the timing of death, is there ever a good time for a pet or someone you love to die? This is much harder than I thought it would be. I am a strong person and have been through a lot with human beings and will make it through this too.
Thanks for reading. Writing about what’s going on, both good and bad, helps me put things into perspective. My biggest fear is being the person who finds him dead and no one else is home.
Talking about it with my friend Maria the other night helped. She said I could call her if something like that happens and I am alone, she would be right over. I find comfort in that.
Everyone has their ideas when it comes to comfort food. I have several, but one of them I had a big craving for today.
When I was little growing up in New Jersey, I used to go to many diners with my mother, Aunt Claire, and Nana.
Two diners, in particular, stand out in my memory, The Linden House Diner and the Bayway Diner. We often went to lunch there when running errands with Nana or taking her to a doctor’s appointment.
I loved going to the diner! I never even had to open a menu because I knew what I wanted. It was on the children’s menu and was also on the regular menu in the deluxe form.
99% of the time, I ordered a pizza burger, and fries. When I got older, I ordered the pizza burger deluxe, which also came with coleslaw, a pickle, and fries.
This was me at 6.
We always sat in a booth with me next to the window. I kept myself entertained after we ordered our food by making faces in the mirror on the side of the jukebox at the table.
I would ask for a quarter to play a song, but that didn’t happen. When the waitress brought us our drinks, I would look at the placemat, the same one I’d seen a hundred times, but every time we went, I was able to read more about the businesses sponsoring the placemats.
My hair was always set in rollers for bolognie curls, which I hated. I didn’t let it stop me from playing outside, though. I wonder where I was going, all dressed up.
I would blow bubbles in my chocolate milk as I read the placemat. I loved to see how high I could get them to go without bubbling over the side of the glass.
I never got to that point because it was always when my mother would scold me, “stop playing with your food!” “It’s a drink,” I would explain to her. That’s when she would grab my hand under the table and crush it until the bones ground together.
My grandmother was blind and listened to conversations around our table while my mother chain-smoked until our food came.
Nana knew what was on her plate and where like telling time on a clock. The fish is at twelve o’clock, the potato is at three, and the vegetable is at seven. I liked being the one to tell her about her lunch “time.”
At 5 years old, on Halloween with Mema. She was my favorite person ever. I loved spending time with her. I posted these because they are the age I was in this piece. I love these old photos because I can tell by the smile on my face how happy I was on my favorite day of the year. It still is!
When my pizza burger was put in front of me, I smelled it first. It smelled so good! Then, I would pick it up and start eating it around the edges. Sam smells his food like I do. We smell everything, come to think of it, especially clothing straight out of the dryer. The bleach smell is our favorite!
I guess turning my burger around in a circle after every bite wasn’t considered playing with my food. I ate it like this to get every bit of sauce and melted mozzarella cheese oozing out the sides. Clever for a 5 or 6-year-old!
Next, I would start working on one of my favorite things in the world, the fries. I still love fries today and would always choose them over any other starch. I love all kinds, especially bowling alley fries, which are greasy, golden brown, crinkle-cut sticks of deliciousness. Crispy outside and like mashed potatoes on the inside.
I am usually a giving and generous person until it comes to my fries. Whenever someone doesn’t order their own and thinks they can pick some off my plate, they are wrong; very wrong. I share my fries with no one, ask Marty.
Back at the diner, when I dipped my fries in the marinara sauce that was on the plate, I would run them through, pretending it was machinery driving through mud or something. I stopped quickly whenever my mother looked over at me because this was considered playing with my food. One hand crushing was all I could take. Lol.
Today, I had some leftover “sauce” and made myself a pizza burger before belly dancing. It came out perfectly, and so did the fries. I didn’t have coleslaw or good pickles, so it wasn’t a deluxe version.
I ate alone since Marty and Sam were on their way to Burlington, VT, to start to move Sam into his new home. During this trip, they are working on some repairs that need to be done and moving out the old furniture and in with Sam’s brand new stuff he bought. They won’t be back until tomorrow night.
This afternoon, I automatically started eating my pizza burger in a circle like when I was little. One night when visiting my biological mother, we ate in a diner. I ordered a pizza burger on a plate with coleslaw.
The diner didn’t have a gluten-free bun, and their fries were fried in the same fryer where wheat items are also cooked, contaminating the oil, so I only could have coleslaw.
To my surprise, my mother also ordered a pizza burger deluxe. She said it was funny that we both ordered the same thing and loved them! This kind of stuff was and still is fascinating to me.
This also happened the first time we met in person several years ago. We went to an Irish pub to have a drink before dinner. We walked into the pub and realized that we both preferred to sit at the corner of the bar. That amazed me because I’ve never experienced this kind of stuff before.
I immediately went to the restroom, and she ordered a drink while I was gone. When I came out, the bartender asked me what I wanted, and I told him Captain Morgan and Gingerale. That was the same drink that she had ordered. Holy shit!
Another thing I want to mention about pizza burgers is while they are popular in Jersey and downstate NY diners, no one up here has ever heard of them.
Years ago, we ate at a diner in the Pittsfield, MA, area. I asked if they could make me a pizza burger. It was as if I was speaking Swahili or something. They didn’t know what I was asking. Even after I explained it, they still didn’t know how to do it.
My last noteworthy comment about pizza burgers is how they are in the lyrics of a Rolling Stones song. It goes like this, “I’ll never be your pizza burger.” I was shocked when I learned the actual words were a beast of burden! What does that even mean? I know pizza burger doesn’t make sense either, but a beast of burden?
Back in the day, you had to guess the song lyrics since there was no way to look them up. You would figure out some lyrics, and your friends would figure out other ones. We weren’t doing it to be funny; we really didn’t know what the fuck they were singing.
I knew Marty was a keeper when the song “Beast of Burden” came on the radio, and we both sang the pizza burger version. I thought it was only me who heard pizza burger, but apparently not. 😂
Today, my pizza burger and fries brought me back to my Elizabeth, NJ, days when I was a kid. I wish I had a glass of chocolate milk and a straw when I ate it. Of course, I would have still blown bubbles in it!
By the way, I let my boys blow bubbles in their chocolate milk when they were little; they never made a mess, and the world didn’t end. So there!
***I’ve been searching for a box of old photos since I started my blog almost two years ago next month. I found them this week and am excited to be able to post more old photos in future posts.
Our small tree in a corner for the first time since we bought our home in 2004. We love it there; it’s out of the way and not blocking the precious light that comes in during this dark time of the year.
I haven’t written about my youngest son Sam, who works as a nurse in the ER in Bennington and accepted a job up in Burlington, VT, at UVM Medical Center’s level 1 trauma ER.
Level 1 means the highest level of care for severe trauma patients, which is right up his alley. It’s the next step in his career, and we are excited for him.
Over the next couple of weeks, he will be packing, moving, and unpacking, getting everything set for his start date of 12/27. Long before Sam got his new job, I’ve been throwing out tons of shit and donating many other items.
It’s a daunting task, but after having to go through all my parent’s things twice and getting rid of their stuff, I don’t want our boys to go through that. It overwhelming and makes you feel guilty when you start chucking stuff.
While I will miss Sam after he moves, I will gain a new closet for my belly dance costuming and other pieces of clothing like coats, jackets, and shoes. Yay! We will also gain a proper guest room and not have to squeeze company into our tiny office space. Yay!
While he is packing, I am cleaning out and organizing things on the main floor. I genuinely feel like I did when I was pregnant with both boys, getting the nest ready but this time cleaning it out.
So we will officially be empty nesters, which is bittersweet. Knowing that both our boys, now men, are on their own, successful in their careers, are hard workers, and are polite and have manners. Yay!
This year when Marty and I went to get our Christmas tree. We wanted something small, which was still expensive. We were shocked to see how much the prices rose on trees was this year, like everything else.
We have low ceilings in our 1832 post and beam, showing how small the tree really is.
Many people may bite the bullet and buy an artificial tree for a one-time purchase, but I vowed when I moved out that I would never have one; I would do without but not go the fake route.
Our first real tree was back in 1989, the year we were married and moved to Vermont.We slowly collected ornaments from our families over the years. Now they are put away for when Noah and Sam have their own families and Christmas trees. We went with purple, silver, pink, and white after my mother-in-law passed away and my mother had her stroke. I couldn’t look at them after that.
Why not a fake tree? Growing up, we had a fake tree that my father never took apart. Instead, he would carry it down to the basement with the lights and tinsel still on it.
Me and the infamous Christmas tree.
He would shove it up under the basement stairs and throw a big green garbage bag over the top. The following year, he would carry it back up to the living room for us to decorate. The tree looked exactly the same every year.
Me and the same tree; the tinsel held up well over the years, I guess. 😂
I didn’t realize how pathetic that was until I was an adult with my own kids. I guess my father hated putting up a Christmas tree.
We also never had Christmas lights outside. My father said he decorated once and that “little son of a bitch paper boy” unscrewed bulbs and smashed them on the sidewalk.
How did my father know it was the paperboy? It was his exact reach at his height, he told us. So no Christmas lights growing up, but I do every year because I love them.
This week has felt long with my colonoscopy on Monday; the pathology report showed everything was normal! Thank God! On Tuesday, we had deliveries to make and an echocardiogram for Marty. Thursday after production, we made more deliveries and got our little tree.
It took me on Thursday night 5 or 6 hours to clean and move shit around to make room for the tree and my other decorations. Next came dragging all the totes upstairs from the basement. Putting up the Christmas tree is like, “the ankle bone is connected to the knee bone” kind of thing for me.
Once I finally get to start decorating, I am in my glory! I put on Christmas music for the first time of the year and drink wine. It’s one of my favorite things to do. I hate taking it down, but through past experience, I always do it neat and organized.
One year I must have been having a bad day because when I opened everything up the following year, I literally threw everything in the totes; ornaments broke, and lights were tangled beyond belief. True to my form, I threw them away and bought new ones. Lesson learned.
We were back in spätzle production on Friday; we had our farmers market today; I am completely exhausted. Tomorrow we will be in NY again, searching for a pair of swivel armchairs for our living room. It’s a long story, so I’ll tell you about it soon; until then, have a great rest of your weekend.
