Ramble, Ramble, Ramble. (Someone take away her computer!)

 Hey!  Let's catch up!

It's a new year.  Which I guess is kinda cool.  But, despite all the crap that 2020 brought forth, I actually kinda loved that year.  A lot.

I went back to work in November after having been off since last June.  I really love my job and I work with the greatest people so getting back into that silly office made me so happy.  And as of last week, the kiddos were finally able to come back to school too.  It's a little hard to not hug them all, Covid be damned, but I keep my (social) distance.  😏  It's funny to me how much my job makes me feel like a real person now.  Especially considering all those years of not working and doing things like churning butter and knitting sweaters instead.  We're always evolving, aren't we?

I still haven't painted any rooms in our house and we've lived here for over a year.  But I have discovered that I love midcentury furniture.  Someone (who shall remain nameless) is kind of an MCM aficionado and is always searching for the perfect dresser, chair, swag lamp, or vintage stereo equipment.  Sometimes even at 1:00AM.  Jake has the most incredible eye for design and putting a room together.  And I am not even kidding.  I have been humbled by my pedestrian taste.  (look it up, it's the correct word!)

We really had a lovely Christmas, despite all the Covid stuff.  Maybe the Covid is allergic to turkey?  I mean, it's smart enough to cause massive communicability after 10:00PM.  Isn't that why bars and restaurants have to shut down then?  Anyway.....

Christmas was great.  I love my people and was surrounded by peace and love and an awful lot of happy.  I think it was the first time since I was a little girl that I actually looked forward to the holidays.  Feeling happy is still such a strange thing for me.  But I'm getting accustomed to it.

Gosh, there was that nasty storm one night last week and I actually got into bed and hid under the covers.  Jake laughed at me and couldn't figure out why I was being such a pansy, especially since the wind blew at my old house all the time.  I'm not really sure why it scared me either.  I lived by myself for years and wasn't ever particularly afraid.  At least not very often.  Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age?  Maybe.  But, Jake got into bed and held my hand until I fell asleep, and I made it through the night with little trouble.  He is the best.

Aren't we supposed to choose a word that expresses our intention for each new year?  I've done that before and the past words have been evocative of quiet or stillness.   I guess I craved tranquility back then.  I"m not exactly sure what my word should be for this new year.  Maybe truth?  Truth can mean a lot, not just as in telling the truth, though that is definitely something to aspire to. Living one's truth is definitely a positive and constructive goal as well.   Truthfulness, whichever direction you take it, is oftentimes painful and uncomfortable.  But it's real.  So maybe my word should be real?  What are some synonyms for real?  Genuine.  Authentic.  Bonafide.  Oh, man.  That definitely sounds like it could be my word!  I can't think of anything I'd rather be than authentic.  There are honesty and truth in being authentic.  And there's also reality.  So I guess it all goes together; one pretty package all tied up with a bow.   Authentic it is then.

Whew.  Glad we got that out of the way.  

So here's to a new year!  One that continues to be full of love and learning and humbleness and authenticity and truth.  Release the old and stagnant and embrace the fresh and new.  Love to you all!

Christmas 2020.

 I have celebrated Christmas in many different ways and in many different places during my life.  From my childhood home or one of my grandparent's houses.  There were the Christmases in Virginia.  There were celebrations at Grandma Barb and Grandpa Bill's house, the house that would later become my home for many years.  There was even a Christmas that was spent in an airplane, flying across the country.  And now this year, I have a new home to celebrate in.  

For this, I am both excited and filled with such gratitude.  I love this house.  I love the people with who I share it.  I love the people who spend time with me here.  I also love thinking about future Christmases that will be celebrated right here.  

But do you want to know something that feels bad right now?  I know it's really insignificant in the whole scheme of things, but it is still a niggling pain that I can't quite shake. It's the lack of familiarity, the absence of all those silly little things that appeared every December when I opened up their storage boxes.  One of the only constants, regardless of my address, has been the motley assortment of holiday detritus that has accompanied me.  I'm somewhat surprised that I feel this loss so acutely.  

I was able to rescue a few items, albeit burnt, from the rubble.  The wise men from my nativity, as well as a donkey and a sheep, made it through the fire.  An old ceramic Christmas tree, no longer green, sits rather dejectedly on my hearth.  I can still see the love that went into creating this handmade treasure.   The stockings I made for the kids are no longer hanging.  But I've replaced them and added a few new ones to the mix.  That makes me really happy.  I can't play Christmas carols on my piano this year because, well, my piano is gone now.  So is the sheet music with the handwritten notes from my piano teacher. My kids' baby ornaments.  No more.   My favorite naked Santa ornament.  Also gone.  Christmas dinnerware.  The Santa shoes for candy canes.  The sleigh that Christmas cards are put in after we've all looked at them.  I guess it all had a good run for many years.

I am slowly replacing stuff.  And it is just stuff, I realize that.  There will be no more crappy lights for our tree.  I've purchased lots of (matching) new ones!  I bought gutter clips for the outside lights, which Jon put up for me (probably saving my leg bones from further duress), so our exterior illumination is now evenly spaced and consistent.  I've received decorations from family members and that absolutely makes my heart happy.  Those things will undoubtedly be special to me from here on out.  There are new ornaments on our tree and eventually, I hope to have a ridiculous representation of everyone I love on our tree.  Good things take time though.  

The things that cannot be destroyed are the traditions that we share, both old ones and new ones.  We spend a day cooking butter and sugar together to make the toffee that Jake has made for years. We cut a real tree, no fake ones for us!  We will drive around one evening very soon and look at all the Christmas lights.  I will play my Christmas records when I'm wrapping presents.  Everyone will unwrap new pajamas on Christmas Eve.  Cookies will be cut out with the same cookie cutters I used as a child.  Heavy metal Christmas CD's are added to our holiday playlist.  Christmas morning breakfast is now biscuits and gravy.   I can hardly wait to see where these new traditions take us.

New is good.  Old is good.  What we have going on here right now is really good.  There's just a little sting sometimes.  But honestly, that little bit of discomfort is, by contrast,  what makes the good stuff feel the best.  

  

Does My Vote Count?

  So I voted yesterday. Or I guess what I actually did was slid my completed ballot into the local dropbox. I'm not a particularly political person. That doesn't mean that I don't have definitive views on how our government should be run and where we could use a little (or a lot) improvement. I try hard to keep all of the current political discord out of my everyday life. The hostility that seems to permeate all things political, especially around election time, is something that I don't want pervading my mind. Not to say that my head is in the proverbial sand regarding this election. I do my best (good citizen that I am) to educate myself about the who's and what's and why's of the current governmental situation. Finding good, unbiased, truthful information is proving to be more difficult, but that's a subject for another day.

I honestly don't know what the results of this election will do to our country. Everything seems so divided and hostile. Sometimes I even wonder if my vote really counts? Oh, I know that voting is both my responsibility as well as my right as a citizen. I exercise that right with a certain amount of patriotic pride. And yet there is also a sense of embarrassment that nags at me when I consider how far we have departed from the Founding Father's intentions for governing this country.  

So does my vote count? Maybe.

Which got me thinking. What can I do, besides casting my vote, that can help create the kind of America that I believe in? The kind of country where there is true freedom and where each individual has the inalienable right to live according to their beliefs?

With my pocketbook. That's what I can do to promote my ideals. How and where I spend my money is where my power lies.  

How many of us spend time perusing the internet in search of "stuff"? It's easy. It's relatively quick. And without leaving the comfort of our homes we are able to find a multitude of options for whatever thing we happen to be looking for. Oh, I love me some online shopping!

But at whose expense is my congenial shopping experience?

Down the rabbit hole I go....

So, just as it's simple and easy to shop online, it's also easy to research the companies and conglomerates that we are buying from. Are you buying from a company that doesn't align with your ideology about life? What about their practices and treatment of employees? Can you say "sweatshop"? How about their political affiliations and contributions? Is it in agreement with how you vote or are you turning a blind eye and deaf ear because it's saving you $1.57?  

Recently I did a little fact-finding into Amazon. Since the corona debacle, I have utilized the ease of Amazon shopping way more than usual. Probably like millions of other Americans. Ugh. What I've discovered is that the founder/owner of Amazon is contributing to causes that I am opposed to. Not only that but when I buy from Amazon I am potentially taking business away from a more local, privately-owned company.

 How have I not considered any of this before? I suppose because I'm "busy" and I like a good deal. Blah. That's no excuse!  

Then I started looking into the affiliation of many other stores that I frequently patronize. Hmm. Not so good. Again, how did I so easily just hand over my money to something that was so contradictory to my principles?

Baaaa.

With this Christmas season quickly approaching, I know that I will NOT be shopping through Amazon. Or Target. Or a lot of other stores. Sure, I might still shop online but I will be looking for a smaller, hopefully more local business that sources its products domestically. I want my money to support a business that aligns with me, creates jobs for Americans, and that produces a product with American materials.  

Is this a tall order? Maybe. But I'm going to put my money where my mouth is and give it a go.

Ho Ho Ho

 Not THAT kind of ho....let me preface this post with that disclaimer.  (Seems like my moral character has been questioned as of late and it was just too perfect to use that title! 😆)

Back before the fire, I had sent Jon to the old house to bring home our boxes of holiday decorations.  His car is small so he wasn't able to fit all the boxes in the trunk.  No worries.  We really just needed the fall/Halloween decorations.  We could go back and pick up the Christmas stuff another time.  

Yeah, that didn't quite work out as anticipated.  

We've sifted through the rubble a few times, finding the occasional recognizable (though charred) memories.  A piece of the nativity set here, a teacup there, maybe a shard of glass that was once a Christmas ornament.  The handmade stockings are gone.  So are the silly ornaments each kid had created through the years. A few special, one of a kind ornaments are also gone forever. All the Christmas books I had collected,  just ashes now.  The entire mismatched, motley collection of stuff, gone.

Well, damn.

So last night Jake and I walked next door to his parent's house to visit with his brother, Jed and his wife, Julie.  (Two Julies?!?  Confusing, but awesome!)  I was so happily surprised to find boxes of Christmas decorations waiting for me.  Really.  Boxes of stuff!  Jed and Julie had put together the "Pennick/Summers Christmas Starter Kit" to help offset our loss.  

I could've cried.  Something so insignificant as compared to other people's losses, yet still so paramount in our lives.  Their thoughtfulness and generosity made my heart happy.  Very, very happy.  Sarah was so excited sorting through those boxes, commenting on how some things were similar to what we had  lost, but even cooler. 

So thank you, even you, Jed, for the great surprise.  I love you guys!

#doublebucklemeJed

Some Times You Just Gotta Cut Them Down.

I spent the day in the mountains yesterday.  Or the hills, if you'd rather.   Jake, Sarah, his parents, and I went up to their mountain to meet with the logger who will be cutting their burned timber.  We had a lovely picnic and spent the afternoon sorting through the rubble, rescuing any items we were lucky enough to find.  Some of us exercised our logging skills and cut wood.  That would not include me.

It really was a nice way to spend a Saturday.

Bittersweet though.  To look around and take in the destruction that surrounded us was heartbreaking.  To see the loss of property and the ugly, burnt scar of the landscape is rough.  This place was a respite from the "real world" and the beauty and peacefulness there were palpable.  As we sat at the picnic table (which made it through the fire!) eating our sandwiches, we all, silently, considered which trees would remain and which trees must be culled.  I'm sure each one of us reflected on how different things would be from here on out.  

But then as I walked among the burned out stumps and piles of ashy fir needles, I saw bits of green poking through the forest floor.  Fern fronds were unfurling.  Sorrel was growing in its clumpy patches.  Blackberries were everywhere!  There were even new leaves on the apple trees.  

This place would recover.  And it would be beautiful again.

Jake and I have spent hours looking at pictures and plans of cabins.  He has ideas to improve on how things were before the fire.  I know his parents have been searching for their own updated version of a cabin as well.   I think we are all feeling optimistic and maybe even a little excited at the prospect of how this mountain will look in the future.  Yes, it will look different but different isn't necessarily bad.  

That mountain was beautiful before the fire.  And, like everything in life, sometimes things beyond our control force us to transform our reality.  Just like with burned up trees.  You can't save or hold on to them.  Sometimes you just gotta cut them down and replant.  And there will be beauty in both the process and the end result.  

 

A Ramble

 On the eve of my birthday I suppose I shall ramble for a bit.

I'm currently drinking a mug of coffee on our back patio.  I do this almost every morning, rain or shine.  From my vantage point I can see the cows milling about in the field below our yard and the Friday morning traffic driving on the highway.  I can see my large, albeit failed, corn patch (WORST corn ever!) and our fruit trees, still loaded with ripened fruit.  There's my garden and my flowers and an assortment of pretty rocks that we have both brought to this house.  I can hear the washer humming along inside and the birdsong this morning is the usual cacophony of noise.  There's no breeze and it's just chilly enough to warrant a robe and slippers out here.  The day ahead holds the promise of excitement and fun with my dearest girlfriend; massages, a little shopping, a little day drinking.  And later tonight holds the promise of a weekend filled with hunting, cheesecake, and family.  Amongst other things.

Do you know what's missing?  

What's missing is agitation and distress.  There is not conflict hiding in the wings anymore.  There are no people who I must avoid.  No, what I feel is a deep peace and contentment this morning.

And man, that is a relatively foreign feeling for me!

This past year has brought lots of changes into my life.  Actually into all of our lives.  Sometimes it's uncomfortable and hard.  Kinda like gardening.  You get dirty and it's physically hard and the weeding seems to never end.  But in the end, you get to harvest.  I believe that gardening of any kind keeps a person honest.  There's always something to humble you (like corn!) and there's always a lesson to be learned from the garden itself.  And, you're often at the mercy of things beyond your control.  You just have to stay committed and put in the work.

I really, really love this life we are making.  I love this house and how we are making it ours together.  I am thankful for the influence that Jake has on us.  His wisdom and insight amaze me daily.  Wickedly smart, that guy!  Watching my kids grow and become their own people is the most rewarding feeling (frustrating too!) as well.    

I used to dread getting older.  I also used to dread change.  Probably because I wanted to stay in a place that was familiar to me, even if it was painfully so.  Having to relearn things or restructure or replace was an exhausting, daunting idea for me.

Now I look ahead and am not afraid.  I'm rather excited at the prospect of going down my path now.

Proud

I'm proud of all my kids.  Each one has made me proud at some point in their lives.  Repeatedly.  I'm proud of how they've dealt with change and death and being ignored by people who shouldn't ignore them.  I'm proud of their accomplishments.  I'm proud of what makes them each a unique human. 

But in the last few weeks, I've been especially proud of Jack.  This kid has experienced so much adversity in his short life. Death, abandonment, disappointment, destruction--he's had his fair share of crap. More than I ever had at his age, that's for certain.  Don't get me wrong, he's not perfect.  That's also for certain.  He says a particular word that rhymes with "duck" all too often.  He hangs up on me with regularity.  Sometimes the things he talks about make me cringe.   And I don't think he brushes his teeth often enough (after all that money for braces...).

But I'm a little in awe of his ability to know and recognize what he wants out of life.  And he does this with a teachable attitude.  This means that he knows what he wants but he's also willing to listen and heed another's advice or suggestions or ask for help.  I would say he's also humble and doesn't like being in the spotlight.  All and all, he's a pretty simple guy who doesn't require much to keep him happy. After losing everything in the fire, I think he now only owns a couple changes of clothes, 2 bath towels, and a toothbrush (that I bought him).   He seems to know when to fight for something and when to walk away from the fight.  He can fix just about anything.  And he works hard.  Very hard.  (But he also sleeps.  A lot.  His nickname is "Nappy Joe.")

Jake and I went up on the hill with Jack the other evening.  Back story:  Jake's family owns some beautiful property in the mountains/woods that was destroyed by the recent fire.  Jack (and his friend) will be cutting and logging some of the burnt trees in order to keep the property safe for family to enjoy and to create a new place to rebuild.  As I was sitting on the tailgate of Jack's pickup, watching him cut trees, I actually started to cry.  Here was my kid, the little blonde one who I remember so vividly packing around his toy power saw, doing what he always wanted to do.  Now he was packing a big saw, complete with all the accoutrements, felling timber like a pro.  Ah, but now he actually is a pro.  

I don't have to tie "tightening loops" for him anymore or string rope across his room to create a makeshift yarder.  I don't have to feed him or do his laundry or fuss at him for leaving his bacon pan on the counter anymore.  I can't read him a story on my lap, in my rocking chair before bed.  I really can't even tell him what to do.

But I do have the privilege of watching him actualize his dreams.  

And that makes this Mama very proud.