And - the tree has been trimmed

With a little help from my Christmas angel

 

Magic!

❄ 🎄 ❄ 🎄 ❄ 🎄 ❄ 🎄 

Today's Plan

 

It's snowing here in Meat Camp. 

A sweet gentle snow.

Perfect for my plans for the day.

Today I will decorate our new little tree with some favorite precious old Christmas ornaments.

And set our Christmas table with our Christmas china.

'Tis the season.

But first I'm going to enjoy another cup of coffee while I finish reading Christmas at a Highland Castle by Rachel Barnett

Cheers, everyone!

Happy Thanksgiving

 

I usually spend some time writing a heartfelt Thanksgiving post.

I tried to write this morning, but put it aside when I realized I was not sounding very thankful.  (I am thankful, but it's mixed with many other emotions).

So.  I leave you with the simple words -

Happy Thanksgiving

And be sure to check under the table - who knows what might be lurking there waiting to snatch your turkey.

Kay Ritter

 

Margaret Berry speaks words straight from my very soul as I turn 76 today.

Old age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now,

probably for the first time in my life,

the person I have always wanted to be.

Oh, not my body!

I sometime despair over my body -

the wrinkles,

the baggy eyes and the sagging butt.

And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror,

but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life,

my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly.

As I've aged,

I've become more kind to myself and less critical of myself.

I've become my own friend.

I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie,

or for not making my bed,

or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need,

but looks so avante garde on my patio.

I am entitled to overeat,

to be messy,

to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon;

before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read until 4:00 am and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50s & 60s,

and if I,

at the same time,

wish to weep over a lost love, I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to,

despite the pitying glances from the bikini set.

They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful.

But there again,

some of life is just as well forgotten and I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken.

How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one,

or when a child suffers,

or when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion.

A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. 

So many have never laughed and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

I can say "no" and mean it.

I can say "yes" and mean it.

As you get older,

it is easier to be positive.

You care less about what other people think.

I don't question myself anymore.

I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question,

I like being old.

It has set me free.

I like the person I have become.

I am not going to live forever,

but while I am still here,

I will not waste time lamenting what could have been,

or worrying about what will be.

And I shall eat dessert every single day,

if I want to.

-  Margaret Berry

https://alcalde.texasexes.org/2015/07/old-age-is-a-gift/

- - -

 These words from Mário Raul de Morais Andrade resonate with me, as well

 I counted my years and found that I have less time to live from here on than I have lived up to now.

I feel like that child who won a packet of sweets: he ate the first with pleasure, but when he realized that there were few left, he began to enjoy them intensely.

I no longer have time for endless meetings where statutes, rules, procedures and internal regulations are discussed, knowing that nothing will be achieved.

I no longer have time to support the absurd people who, despite their chronological age, haven't grown up.

My time is too short:

I want the essence,

my soul is in a hurry.

I don't have many sweets

in the package anymore.

I want to live next to human people,

very human,

who know how to laugh at their mistakes,

and who are not inflated by their triumphs,

and who take on their responsibilities.

Thus human dignity is defended and we move towards truth and honesty.

It is the essential that makes life worth living.

I want to surround myself with people who know how to touch hearts, people who have been taught by the hard blows of life to grow with gentle touches of the soul.

Yes, I'm in a hurry, I'm in a hurry to live with the intensity that only maturity can give.

I don't intend to waste any of the leftover sweets.

I am sure they will be delicious, much more than what I have eaten so far.

My goal is to reach the end satisfied

and at peace with my loved ones

and my conscience.

We have two lives.

And the second begins when you realize you only have one.

                         Mário Raul de Morais Andrade

                       (Oct 9, 1893 – Feb 25, 1945)

                        Brazilian poet, novelist, musicologist, art historian and critic, photographer

Little Me

Some things never change.

I still love pretty dresses and nice jewelry.

I will often end my posts by saying

❤  Life is good  ❤

I'm not feeling that way since our most recent presidential election.

My feelings now are more in the realm of

Life is . . . precarious

As Joyce Vance reminds us in her latest column, "We live in times where courage is called for. We already see signs that some people will not be brave, that some people will obey in advance. But I take heart from the following quote, a line from the film “The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey”—that speaks forcefully to how I am feeling as we enter this holiday week: “Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love."

But, for today - remember to breathe

Happy Birthday to Me

Photo by Parisian Moments

Happy Birthday, Annabelle!.❤

 

 Princess Annabelle Turns Eight Today!

And now here she is, The Heart of Our Home

Happy Birthday, Annabelle

❤❤❤

The Room of Ancient Keys by Elena Mikhalkova

 

The Room of Ancient Keys

Grandma once gave me a tip:

During difficult times,
you move forward in small steps.
Do what you have to do, but little by little.
Don’t think about the future,
not even what might happen tomorrow.
Wash the dishes.
Take off the dust.
Write a letter.
Make some soup.
Do you see?
You are moving forward step by step.
Take a step and stop.
Get some rest.
Compliment yourself.
Take another step.
Then another one.
You won’t notice, but your steps will grow
bigger and bigger.
And time will come
when you can think about the future
without crying.
Good morning.

              - - -  Elena Mikhalkova

Snow Day!

 

I do love a pretty snowy day.

Now that we're retired and don't have to leave the house, what's not to love?

We got 5 or 6 inches here at the house.  Hard to tell, really, with the snow blowing as hard as it is leaving some spots bare and others with all drifts.

AND a perfect day for soup!!

I revised an existing recipe for Slow Cooker Potato and Corn Chowder that I had already revised once (maybe twice).

Here it is as best I can remember.  There are many versions available on the web. Find one to play around with and make it your own, or follow mine, although I'm not a person who is devoted to measuring my ingredients.

Slow Cooker Potato and Corn Chowder 

Ingredients

• 1 large onion chopped
• 4 or 5 cups of diced potatoes 
• A stalk or two of celery chopped
• 1  15.25 oz. can of corn, drained 
• 5 cups chicken broth
• 1 pound bacon cooked and crumbled
• Some garlic
• some dried sweet basil
• A dash or two of smoked paprika
• salt and pepper to taste
• 12 ounces evaporated milk 1 can
• 3 tablespoons butter optional

Instructions

• Place everything except for the evaporated milk,  and butter into the slow cooker.
• Cook on high 5 hours or low 7-8 hours until vegetables are softened.
• Stir in the evaporated milk along with butter 30 minutes before serving,
• Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper to taste.

P.S.

It also snowed in Paris ❤

Purging and Moving Ahead (baby steps, but moving ahead)

 

Like so many of you, I needed an outlet for all the post election feelings.

The feelings continue to run the gamut.

Somewhere in the mix I'm cooking a lot, baking a lot, and eating a lot.

And, without a plan, started tearing up our sunroom.

All the stuff you see in this photo

Has been successfully allocated a new spot - either kept, donated, or thrown away.

And Voilà -

Our beloved sunroom is once again available for living.  Yes, it's cluttered, it has always been and will always be . . . cluttered.  I like pretty things. 😊

See that red and green basket in the floor next to the loom?  That's little hint as to what starts happening out here next . . .

We're not really feeling much in the holiday spirit, truth be told, but dammit, we are gonna make it happen.

Where am I and What am I Doing?

Like so many, I'm just not doing so great right now.

The battle of feeling the need to know what's happening versus maintaining positive mental health is challenging.

Honestly, I'm scared.

Scared that things are going to go completely off the rails once the next administration takes over.

Scared.

I never imagined a time would come when feeling scared would be my new default setting.

And it's pissing me off.

So what AM i doing?

I continue to read articles by smart, knowledgeable people to gain understanding. 

And comfort.

 Understanding is knowledge.  

Sadly, knowledge does not always equate comfort so my search takes me down different paths.

My comfort lane includes writings by Connie Schultz and Anne Lamott.

My knowledge lane includes Heather Cox Richardson and Sherrilyn Ifill, among others.  Many others.

I'm searching out novels for escape, and have stumbled into a few jewels that allowed me a much needed escape.

My non-fiction includes some much-loved old standbys; mostly essays and poetry.

And I've pulled out my art books so I'm able to stroll through Monet's gardens, disappear into Rothko's color fields, and pretend I'm wandering though Paris museums.

I'm baking cakes, making pots of soup and spaghetti sauce.  I'm eating everything within reach.

I'm rearranging furniture like a woman possessed.

I'm throwing old stuff away, wondering "what is this and why is it here?"

Placing boxes of stuff at the top of the stairs to go to the storage building. (Not wearing my hearing aids so I'm unable to hear Donald's grumbles about what the hell . . .).

 

I am, come hell or high water, going to hold tight to my beliefs and values, remembering these words:

“We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Sometimes we must interfere. When human lives are endangered, when human dignity is in jeopardy, national borders and sensitivities become irrelevant. Wherever men and women are persecuted because of their race, religion, or political views, that place must - at that moment - become the center of the universe.”

― Elie Wiesel

And, dammit, I am fighting to hold onto my dreams.

My heart might be breaking, but I'm going to fight for healing.

Banksy

I am NOT giving in - they are NOT stealing my joy.

I am going to

Remember this!

And try, always, to do this

we are in this together.

Sadly, I'm afraid there are some people out there who are not yet aware of just exactly what they voted for, and what's in store for all of us