Turn! Turn! Turn!

A time to every purpose under the heaven.

It’s New Year’s Eve—when, almost universally, we stop to hear, Time’s winged chariot hurrying near.*

A bittersweet sensation. I don’t know about you, but I am often visited at this point in the year by a gloomy notion that I have not made the best use of my time. I could have done more. I could have done things better. It’s rushing by too fast, slipping away.

So, I thought I’d take a moment to celebrate that I have time at all. The miracle of existence, of being born into a world of choices and freedom to spend my time as I choose, freedom to waste it, even.

And, in spite of feeling that I waste so much of it, I look back on various accomplishments.

I’ve learned how to manage this (comparatively) enormous house and to keep up with the yard work.

I got my website up and running and launched this blog.

I helped set up a website for Classmates Care, which has provided numerous young people in Michigan with coats in its first year of operation.

I’ve contributed to other people’s website projects in ways that were helpful, I think, and make me happy.

I went to Maine for the first time with my play for the Northern Writes New Works Festival—a double miracle.

We traveled to visit family and friends in Kentucky, Tennessee, and New York—another double hitter, the traveling and the company.

I haven’t done as much writing as I’d hoped or as little as I’d feared. I can do better there.

I have read a lot of good books and become more informed about politics than ever before—a mixed blessing, that.

My office has been rearranged to work better for me, and I found a cool sofa for that room that converts from love seat to chaise longue so I can work at my desk or in more casual comfort.

There are countless small things that I can’t even remember that have moved us more smoothly into our new life here, so that I really feel we are emerging from the day-to-day hassles and struggles of getting this house in order into a new phase.

I’ll be spending the next period of time working on a plan for the new year. A plan to use my time better, to spend it wisely.

Because. . .

It’s time.

Have a happy and safe New Year’s Eve.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6jxxagVEO4

* Marvell, Andrew, To His Coy Mistress

In honor of

the fiscal cliff.

Today’s Smith Sunday entry is none other than. . .Adam Smith, the father of modern economics. Now, I’m not an economist, and I don’t understand economic theory. Clearly, or my own personal economy might be in better shape—and this post would be more substantial.

I’ll be using part of today to go off and read about Adam Smith both at the link above and at the Adam Smith Institute, and see if I can’t understand a little bit of it and what, if any, impact he has on the nonsense that’s happening in Washington just now. But I do wonder if the fact that Adam Smith lived from 1723 – 1790 might not be part of our problem.

Shouldn’t our economy have evolved over the last two hundred and twenty-two years?

The hazards of married life

They’re not what you think.

The MotH* and I have been married for 23 years. That’s a long time. A loo-ooo-ooong time.

Any of you who are married, have been married or have read any of the articles about marriage published in various magazines know that it is a widely accepted fact that marriage is difficult.

It is fraught with hazards. The articles give advice on how to talk to your spouse about money, how to present a united front as parents, how to cope with in-laws and infidelity. There are caveats and suggestions aplenty for those planning a walk down the aisle as well as those who have made it through the ceremony and are stumbling through the adjustment period (which, by the way, is the entire length of the marriage, as far as I can see).

None of them really address some of the more ridiculous things that happen.

Like Christmas Eve over here at Casa Lagarto.

My mom spends Christmas with us. Fortunately, the MotH doesn’t seem to have an in-law problem. He and my mother get along pretty well. So…good.

This year, Mom and I were watching a movie, and he wasn’t interested. He went off to bed. After the credits rolled and Mom went to bed, I read for a bit until I got sleepy. I crept into the bedroom and slipped oh-so-silently in and out of the bathroom and into bed. I drifted into a dreamless sleep.

And then….

The MotH turned onto his side and sighed.

I surfaced briefly and went back to sleep.

He tossed onto his other side and coughed.

I grasped the shreds of sleep around me and pulled them over my head.

He rolled over. Toss, cough, sigh. Pause. Bigger sigh.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“No. I’m stuck.”

My foggy mind begins to grapple with this problem. He’s stuck. Stuck? I start to review how he could possibly be stuck lying in bed. He’s been rolling around. Clearly, he can move. I am aware that I can get out of the bed if I want to do so. What could be preventing him from doing the same? Am I going to be making a trip to the emergency room on Christmas Eve? And why? What in the world could be the problem?!

Before I can rule out a giant squid under the bed with grasping tentacles (because I am half asleep, remember?), he says, “I can’t think of that song.”

“Song?”

“Do you remember the words to that song in Les Miz with the people in the hotel?”

I am wide awake now.

Through clenched teeth, I say, “No. I don’t. I will google it for you in the morning.”

He sighs.

“Do you need to know now?” I demand.

“No. I guess not.”

“Go to sleep!” I say.

And he does.

And I am awake for an hour or two wondering how it is I haven’t knocked him on the head before now.

And those, my children, are the hazards of married life about which no one ever warns you. Because, really, who would ever believe it?

* MotH = Man of the House

Cold feet

Real, not metaphorical

Such a find!

Since my nieces and nephews (hereafter to be known as “the niblings”) were just old enough to walk, my sister has taken them to the dollar store to pick out Christmas gifts. This has resulted in some interesting presents. (The year my mom got a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, because of its pretty pink color comes to mind!)

I have loved each and every present that came to me this way, and this year was no exception. All the gifts are great! Decorative, inspirational, useful. I am very pleased with everything the niblings got me.

One item, however, is very appropriate for a post on Friday.

For sheer, practical make-your-life-betterness, I must point out the microwaveable slippers. One of my nephews wiped the shelves clean this year of these things. I believe everybody in the family got a pair.

I love mine!

I get cold feet. Real, ice cold feet. The kind that cause a husband to yelp if you happen to roll the wrong way in the middle of the night. And, since I have moved to Florida where it is often so warm that the heat doesn’t cycle on, my feet are often uncomfortably cold.

But now, 60 seconds in the microwave, and these little booties stay warm for an hour. And they have a nice lavendar scent, too!

You do have to be a little careful not to overheat them. They are much warmer on the feet inside them than they feel to the touch of a hand. If you get a pair, please use caution and common sense.

In addition, they are awkward to walk around on. In fact, the directions say it’s not recommended—but to heat them up, slip them on, lie down and read a book? Sheer bliss.

I think they are going to lower my heating bill and make my winter couch potato-ing much pleasanter.

Such a find!

It’s always better

When I plan ahead.

Living in the moment is good. You don’t want to miss the present because you’re lamenting the past or worrying about the future. And bitter experience has taught me that plans come unraveled all the time. If you’re not flexible, you’re miserable.

That said, I am thankful today for those times when I plan ahead for those things that can make life easier.

It’s the little things.

Getting all the good china and silver out the day before the holiday meal. Having wrapping paper on hand before the gifts even come into the house. Encouraging my sister to test the online video call software before Christmas is actually upon us and my mom wants to see her grandchildren. (Okay. That’s a big thing.)

There are lots of little habits and “be prepared” actions that make life simpler. I’m not advocating OCD-like behavior, but the MotH* really wants coffee in the mornings, and he won’t drink it without milk, and he gets kind of grumpy about it. So, checking that we have milk—to say nothing of coffee—is one way to have a quiet life. (To be fair, if we screw that up, he’s perfectly willing to get on his bicycle and go down to the 7-Eleven.)

Today, I am thankful that I planned ahead about this blog.

Can you imagine having to interrupt a video call with the nieces and nephews or, heaven forfend, your own present opening to sit down and draft a blog post? When your mother is visiting?

That’s just not a good scenario.

So, I am a little bit proud of myself that I thought ahead. These may not be the best blog posts ever, but I got them done and scheduled before company arrived.

I am issuing metaphorical gold stars to myself.

I am also wondering a little what plainly self-evident thing I have forgotten to do that will have jumped up to bite me between the time I schedule this post and the time it appears. There’s bound to be something.

Oh, well.

Maybe it will make a good post for the future!

* MotH = Man of the House

It’s dippy

Sometimes.

So, I’m wondering…well, maybe not wondering so much as marveling. ‘Wondering’ implies a question, and I don’t even know how to phrase this question.

I’ll just tell you what happened, and you see if you can figure out what the question is.

It’s all about dip.

Some people love dip. A bag of chips, a bowl of dip is their idea of food fairyland.

I’m not so dippy for dip. For a long time, I didn’t eat any. Then, I discovered that I like bacon and horseradish dip. But it was hard to come by when I lived in New York. Very, very rarely, you could find it at the grocery store.

It became sort of a holiday tradition because I would have it when I went to my parents’ house in Delaware. Their grocery store stocked it around the holidays. If you were in Delaware for Fathers’ Day, you weren’t getting any bacon-horseradish dip.

Then I moved to Florida. The grocery stores here have it all the time. This was an unfortunate development until a little self-discipline kicked in. However, I haven’t had any in quite some time. But, here we are, in the middle of the holiday season. Time to buy a little dip to have some during the days of celebration.

And guess what?

I’ve been to two grocery stores. No dip.

Now, of course, that is not quite true. Both of them had French Onion Dip and that cheese stuff. One of them had a brand new (to me, anyway) concoction called Black Bean and Onion dip. I seem to recall jalapeños figuring in several selections. All of these, I am sure, some folks find delicious.

All grocery stores, everywhere, seem to have salsa at all times. That’s good. I like salsa.

But right now, for the holidays, I just wanted bacon and horseradish dip.

For some reason, I am fated to have difficulty with that. And I had thought one of the smaller entries on the plus side, of the ledger I use when figuring whether the move was good or not, was the easy availability of the dip I like.

Apparently, it is not to be.

I guess I’m just wondering why that is.

Christmas Counsel

Good advice for every day of the year.

One of my favorite Christmas movies is White Christmas. Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney, Vera-Ellen, Dean Jagger and Mary Wickes. Music, dancing, Vermont, Christmas. What’s not to like?

And one of the songs is an excellent tip for this Tuesday.

I hope those of you who celebrate are having a very Merry Christmas, and I hope—while you’re counting your gifts—that you take just a moment to count your blessings.

Magic, grace and power

Begin.

Whatever you think you can do or believe you can do, begin it.
Action has magic, grace and power in it.

The miracle lies in action.

The universe really does fall into line behind you if you start to move toward a goal. I’ve seen it happen—and I’m not especially given to airy-fairy new age metaphysics.

But that quote from Goethe—that’s one of the things I believe. I forget sometimes, but something always reminds me. I’m working on a project now, and once again, I see the magic, grace and power in evidence. I’m quite sure there will be more before I’m finished.

It’s no good sitting around expecting miracles.

I think the miracles are subject to the law of inertia. Objects at rest tend to remain at rest. But objects in motion…

The trick is to move. Take a step. Do something. Anything.

And watch the magic happen.

The Empress

of the Blues.

Smith Sunday! In which we investigate other folks with the same last name as mine.

Today’s topic will be Bessie Smith, the Empress of the Blues (because, you know, with a name like “Smith,” you very rarely get to be associated with royalty). Bessie’s ‘title’ comes from her extraordinary popularity in the 1920s and 30s. She’s got recordings in the Grammy Hall of Fame, was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame, the Big Band and Jazz Hall of Fame, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame among other honors, had a commemorative postage stamp, figured in a short story by J. D. Salinger and a play by Edward Albee. She appeared on Broadway and made a film.

Not bad for a busker, I’d say.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6MzU8xM99Uo&playnext=1&list=AL94UKMTqg-9Dff4ysz1YcPDSwUOhL1xB3

The style

Southern and Otherwise.

I don’t know if you can really call Jeanne Robertson’s style something suitable for Saturday Silliness, being as it’s not really that silly. Hilarious, but not silly. However, there’s a lot of fun to be had, so we’re going to go ahead with it for today’s post.

Just a little background: Ms. Robertson is a former Miss North Carolina. And she’s 6′ 2″.

It’s not entirely clear whether it’s her height or her obvious intelligence that shatters all my stereotypical notions about beauty queens, but she is not what I expect when I think of pageant participants.

She’s made a living for quite some time as an event speaker. Meetings, conventions, clubs, I guess. I suspect she made quite a decent living because she is very good at what she does. In recent years, however, I think she has found herself more in demand than ever, thanks to YouTube.

Since I am always thrilled to see smart women succeeding beyond their ingenue years, I totally love Jeanne Robertson’s story.

And since I can relate to many of the incidents she relates in her appearances, I totally love Jeanne Robertson’s stories.

All of them.

If I absolutely had to pick a favorite, I couldn’t do it. I’d be torn between “Never send a man to the grocery store” and “Men don’t know the style in New York City.” So, I’ve linked to both of them here. You can see for yourself.

And then you can go on over to YouTube and listen to whatever else you can find because she has no bad material. It’s all good!

Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

Monthly Archives: December 2012