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December 6
What Christmas smells like...
A few days ago Rik and I were at a Christmas party. We were drawn, like everyone else there, to the real fir tree in the corner. All of us kept standing around and saying, “doesn't it smell nice?”
In our house we have a miniature fake tree. It’s pretty, but lacks the aroma of a real tree. But for us, it makes no sense to set up a real tree because each Christmas we travel to spend the time with my parents.
Here are a few other smells that I like:
1. Shortbread baking - I don't bake a lot anymore. There are only the two of us at home now, and neither one of us needs to eat chocolate chip cookies or cake on a regular basis. Christmas, therefore, ends up being the only time I bake anything. But at Chrismtas I make daily batches of my mother-in-law's wonderful shortbread cookies. (A copy of this recipe is included in the cook book put out by Crime Writers of Canada: Dishes to Die For.) So, when the house is filled with the aroma of shortbread baking, it's Christmas. I put my shortbread in tins or decorative boxes and give these as gifts.
2 . This is a summer smell – but one that evokes memories: the smell of foil wrapped baked potatoes on a campfire.
3 . The smell of coffee – which always smells better than it tastes.
Let me know what smells you like, and I'll add them to this list.
December 3
Christmas? Holiday?
I don't remember a Christmas season in recent years where we’ve had so much kafuffle about semantics. I’m talking about this ridiculous notion that we’ve got to substitute the word holiday for Christmas.
My own city’s newspaper the Fredericton Daily Gleaner is carefully skirting around the word. I can’t find a Christmas in the entire paper. Also, the two catalogues that probably account for most of the clothes in my closet, LL Bean and Landsend have sent me Holiday catalogues this year instead of Christmas catalogues.
I’m sure you remember the story that unfolded a few weeks ago when the tree donated by the province of Nova Scotia ended up being called the Holiday Tree in Boston. Apparently now it’s back to being called a Christmas tree.
Now, if you know me, you know that I don’t normally align myself with Jerry Falwell, but on this ridiculous issue I did. Click here for a link to a news article about it.
Along these same lines, the town of Oxford, Nova Scotia have declared that in their town, at least, it’s called Christmas.
But some good news on the catalogue front. Sears and Avon still call it Christmas.
November 24
Real hands...
I went to my massage therapist today; my second treatment for a repetitive stress injury caused by sitting at my computer for the long, long hours necessary to meet a deadline a few months ago.
I lay face down on the table and put my face in that little round padded see-through thing, (there must be a name for it). It was quiet in the room, and very peaceful. I listened to a piano and a flute along with ocean waves and birds while she did her ministrations on my shoulders and arms.
It struck me as I lay there that this must be one of the few, if not the only time a health care professional touches you with bare hands and it’s okay. Dentists wear masks and gloves. Doctors all wear gloves. We would think them odd if they didn’t. Arriving at the scene of an accident, the first thing the EMTers do is to put on gloves. Ministers and politicians who shake hands as part of their job description are urged to carry little vials of hand sanitizer in their jacket pockets.
A few years ago I remember watching a documentary on Queen Elizabeth. She always wore white gloves when she worked through the crowds shaking hands A ‘lady in waiting’ followed along replacing her soiled gloves with fresh ones as needed. I seem to remember that she went through a couple dozen pairs of white gloves during an afternoon of glad handing.
I think that was part of the appeal of Diana. She is lauded as the royal that people identified with. I think it was because she touched people with real hands.
This also makes me think of Jesus who touched lepers and outcasts, people that others wouldn't get close to, people they would never touch without gloves and a couple of gallons of hand sanitizer.
To be touched with real hands. We all long for it. We need to do it more.
Here's a couple of links about touch and massage. Link 1 link 2
And by the way, the massage is helping.
November 22
Choir practice...
I just got home from choir practice. (I always enjoy Tuesday nights!) We’re working hard on Christmas music for our church’s musical which will be presented on the morning of December 18. I’m an alto, and have sung in choirs for as long as I can remember. Anyway, we went through our numbers, over and over for almost two hours, working through the hard parts, getting our breathing right, working on our diction, and timing and making sure we all cut off at the same time.
We will present it as an act of worship to God, this praise of the incarnation. Our goal is that we can lead the congregation in worship.
Something struck me as we practiced and practiced. This is worship. This Tuesday night practice when we sing and laugh and get the pianist to play our parts over and over again – this, by itself, is worship. Our coming together to present something beautiful, is by itself, worship.
November 14
Intersection...
I haven’t written here in a while. There has been some internal work going on in my website here and so my blog’s been out of commission for a while. But, I’m back at it now.
On the weekend Rik and I brought home a few movies from our local Blockbuster. We had two free coupons for old movies plus we brought home a new release. That first one we watched was THE STATION AGENT which is a fascinating look at how three dissimilar people are thrown together and become friends.
The second movie we brought home was Stephen King’s THE STAND
I remember watching this years ago when it was on television. I'm partway through the episodes and I feel blown away by the story. It’s like watching a Bible study, or some end times drama straight from the Book of Revelation. And in light of Avian Flu and everyone’s worry about the next pandemic, the thing is stunningly prophetic.
Every Christian should go out and rent and watch or read THE STAND.
I was watching the first episode with a friend, and we commented that some of what was being portrayed on the screen had actually happened in New Orleans. I’m speaking here of the looting and the lawlessness. A definition of lawlessness – what regular people do when there are no laws. As I watched the television news a month or so ago, I thought how close we are to total mayhem. A hurricane, a tornado, an earthquake and the egg-shell fragile system of government we have created with all its levels and ranks of law enforcement and law enactment breaks apart. We all crave something solid in our life, something spiritual and solid and whole and right, yet we don't know how to act when there are no laws.
The third movie we watched was CRASH. This very disturbing look at race and life and heartbreak and hope.
And yes, there is a common denominator in these three movies – the intersection of disparate lives. First, there were the three folks who become friends in THE STATION AGENT. Then there is the whole group of unlikely people who are somehow immune to the killer flu in THE STAND. (It reminds me of the way God chooses us – he doesn't choose the wise or the smart or the rich all the time. Those things mean nothing to God. Jesus said, ‘The first shall be last and the last first’.) And in CRASH, people who don’t want, especially, to intersect with people outside of their own little social and ethnic group, are forced to.
Change of subject, total change of subject here: These photos were sent to me by my mother. Click on: The Last Photo I Ever Took for some uh oh pictures.
Happy Halloween
October 31
Didn't get a chance to carve your own pumpkin this Halloween? Click on Pumpkin Carver.
I've been up to my ears meeting a book deadline, and now that its done (whew!) Ill be getting back to my blog. Ill be snooping around town to see what people are reading, and I'll be sharing what I'm reading and watching, and of course, sharing more of the mystery-writing life with you. So, stay tuned.
Meanwhile, in two days Rik and are driving to Ottawa for the launch of the mystery anthology, When Boomers Go Bad. Ive got a story in said publication, so if you're in and around Ottawa drop by.
And finally, here is my Halloween card to you. (Click on Halloween card.)
What Real People are Reading
October 5
Years ago there was a CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) radio feature every Saturday here that explored what real people were reading. The interviewer - and I forget who it was now - would walk up to random people who were reading books in public places, and ask them what they were reading, if they were enjoying it, and my personal favorite question - did this book change your life?
Being a reader myself (I always have at least two books on the go at any given time), I looked forward to this feature.
I travel a lot, and it cheers me when I see people sitting in airports actually reading good, old fashioned books. Too many people these days are plugged into those DVD movie players or talking on their cells.
While traveling home yesterday from a great visit with our granddaughter, I decided to pay attention to what people were reading. Im sure people thought me strange as I knelt down to tie my shoe and glance up at their titles. But after all Im a writer, and synonymous with that is nosy.
These were some of the titles I saw:
Dan Brown was the clear winner in the Minneapolis Airport. One woman was reading Deception Point and two guys, waiting at different gates were reading identical hard copies of The DaVinci Code. I think those were the new thick ones with all the pictures of the DaVinci paintings inside. Whoever thought of this idea was very clever as it saves you from having to run to the internet to look up those paintings every time you come across them in the book.
Another guy carried a paperback edition of the Hour Game by David Baldacci as he lined up to board.
While we waited for our delayed flight from Detroit to Bangor, a husband was reading Gone For Soldiers by Jeff Shaara and his wife beside him had her nose in Gracelin OMalley by Ann Moore.
On the plane it was easy to sneak a peak at reading material. As we walked through the first class section to the cattle car where our seat was, I noticed a nicely dressed fellow (as they all are in first class) reading The Case for Peace by Alan Dershowitz. Nice, high brow reading, I thought. Perfect for first class. I began wondering what he did for a living.
The fellow across the aisle from where we ended up was reading Passin Through by Louis LAmour and the person next to him was reading The Magicians Gambit by David Eddings.
I plan to make this a regular feature as I travel, perhaps in a box on the right side of this page, so stay tuned.
Life with Babies...
September 30
For the past couple of days while we've been out here visiting, Ive been babysitting my 18 month old granddaughter while both my daughter and son-in-law work. Also, for the past two days my husband hasnt been here either. Hes had to fly to meetings, so the babysitting has fallen to me alone.
And suddenly I am transported back more than twenty-five years. First theres the walk to the park in the morning, and then chasing after her as she runs, tries the slide, runs back again, tries the swing, bumps her head on the swing, cries, has to be consoled, wants a hug, doesn't want a hug, wants to play with all the toys another child has brought, cant understand why she cant, picks up dirt, throws it on the ground. Ive brought a newspaper along with me to read, but fat chance of that. I shove it back in the stroller, and chase her.
There are other mothers here this morning; young mothers who congregate together. One of them is discreetly nursing a baby at a picnic table. A few have brought coffee. I wish Id thought of that. But, Im the grandmother here, the odd bird of the park crowd. We're different and we follow different rules. Its time to go and Im finally able to bribe her back into her stroller with a cookie. Rule #1: when youre a grandmother, bribing is perfectly okay. We havent read the books, we never watch The Nanny and to us a time out has something vaguely to do with sports.
Then its home to lunch which can last anywhere from five minutes to an hour, depending on how happy she is with the offering. Then she wants to color. Then we watch a Veggie Tales video. And then, finally, its naptime. I sit at my computer and work on my novel. But Im tired. I dont write well in the afternoon. At home my writing time is the morning. So, l decide to sprawl out on the couch myself.
Neither my son-in-law or daughter are home until late, so after her nap I take her to the grocery store coffee shop for supper. Its cheap and no one cares how messy you leave the place. I look over the deli offerings and decide on a sausage roll which I cut up, and cheese, french fries and one of those bottles of flavored water. Rule #2: Grandmothers are allowed to serve their grandchildren junk food.
Theres another grandmother and her granddaughter of about four here. We smile at each other, say hello. But she doesn't stay to talk. Shes having a bit of trouble trying to coax the little girl to make sure she goes to the ladies room before they leave. It's a long car ride, I hear her say. Finally, she bribes her with a candy bar. (See rules #1 and #2)
Back at the house I try to check my email on my laptop, but as soon as my granddaughter sees me open my iBook, she yells Me! Me! and crawls up onto my lap. The first day we were here I showed her all the pictures of herself in my iPhoto program. Now shes sure that this laptop is merely a great big photo box full of pictures of her.
I love her to pieces. There is nothing like her delighted giggle when we play some game or build things with her big Legos or play pekaboo.
But there is something else I need to add here. Although Ive been having fun with her, and saying goodbye will be difficult because we live clear across the other side of the country - at the end of the day I am so totally bone weary exhausted. I remember that feeling, too, of thinking I would never see the bottom of the diaper pail. (We used diaper pails in those days.)
And I want to tell the young mothers at the park that all of this will end. All too soon the children in front of you will be having their own children, and you'll be the grandmothers at the park.
But then again, its kind of neat being a grandmother. And at the end of the day, Im glad to be the age I am and the place I am in my life.
When everything is new...
September 25
I haven't written in this blog in a month because at this moment we are two thousand miles away from home. We are clear across the country where we are visiting our charming and very precocio us eighteen month old granddaughter (and her parents, too, of course.) The last time we saw her was a year ago when she was just a baby. Now she is an active toddler, but I'm happy to report that it wasn't a day before she was calling us Bappa or Pappa (for Grandpa) and Bamma or Amma (for Grandma).
Our daughter and son-in-law live near their citys trail system, so Rik and I have taken our little granddaughter for many walks. And its beautiful here with the fall leaves and the crisp air. But walking with her is sort of like herding cats - she stops at every leaf, every flower, every bug. Even in her stroller, she points at everything and says, Look! Look!
I will always remember when four years ago I saw underwater reef life for the first time. Im blind without my glasses and I cant wear contacts, so snorkeling has always been like swimming through a great cloudy blur. Then my husband bought me a pair of prescription goggles. On a spring trip to the Caribbean I remember swimming through the water, and staring and staring and staring. It was a world I never knew existed. Wow! I kept saying, and like my granddaughter, I kept pointing and saying, Look! Look!
Eleven years ago we moved to the east, and well, there is nothing on this planet as beautiful as a maritime autumn with its hues of reds and oranges. That first year we took many driving trips saying, Look! Look!
I have this feeling that Heaven will be like seeing everything all the time with new eyes. Each day with new eyes. Never getting used to things. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians that now we see everything as if we were looking through a scratchy and blurry mirror, but in Heaven we shall see clearly. Nothing will get old. We will be in a continual state of worship, of saying, Look! Look
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