It’s nothing that I haven’t seen before But it still kills me like it did before

Tags

christmas, Connecticut, fear, guns, love, students, teaching

It’s been such a busy week–of healing and grading and socializing and baking and shopping…and I’m exhausted.

I’m using the app on my phone to write this again–which is a little tedious. BUT the songs on my phone are a smaller, more select group that I adore, and tonight’s list is apropos.

I’m packed and ready for vacation for two weeks. I made 15 dozen ginger cookies for my students on Sunday afternoon as a “because”, but it’s because they are wonderful, goofy, pain-in-the-neck kids. So much so, that after we made snowflakes on Monday when all work was done (11th year doing this), I discovered that the Connecticut PTA has requested snowflakes to decorate the temporary home of the Sandy Hook kids.

You’re looking at roughly 450 my students and some of their friends made, and I can barely keep it together when more and more pour in. There’s no quota or goal, but I told them that I started teaching when I lived in Connecticut and that I have a special place in my heart for this project personally. And the snowflakes flurried in.

I know like everyone, I will get through this. Last week after my post, my nephew L and niece H came for a quick visit, and I couldn’t stop hugging and kissing them and telling them how much I love them.

But right now I struggle to see how two

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We’ll Frolic and Play the Eskimo Way

Tags

cheeseballs, christmas, cookbooks, DPchallenge, festive, Friends, Gram, Hero, memories, nostalgia, parties, postaday, recipes

For the past week, I have been “coaxing” Christmas songs to pop up on my iTunes. And finally here they are! Perfect timing, after the best of the 8 Christmas parties I have thrown. The food was a hit all around. I’m very pleased. Salad was killed, no one left a bite of dessert, and I have only half a lasagne left. Mrs. Desmond’s cheeseball was even better this year because I didn’t have Worcester sauce and replaced it with soy sauce and sriracha. Wonder if ol’ Mildred, from Richmond, Virginia, would approve. Well, my friends did. It was really good.

We didn’t eat dinner until nearly 10. Not because it wasn’t ready, but we were too busy chatting and opening gifts and telling stories and drinking champagne. Most people left at 12:30 which is impressive. I moved the party from Sunday night to Saturday, and it made a difference. I began this party the first year I lived alone, which was my last year at USF. There were six girls, and it was a white elephant. We had a silver madonna boob purse, a scary wooden cat with real human hair, lottery tickets, and giant underpants. I didn’t have the cheeseball. I had a store-bought cheeseball. Until I didn’t.

The story of the cheeseball is that the year before Gram died, I interviewed her about her recipes because I wanted to write a cookbook for all of us. It’s actually a beautiful book, filled with awesome pictures of my grandmother in the 50s and 60s and beyond, in her kitchen, in her apron. I asked her about family recipes that we grew up eating, most of which I already knew how to make by heart. Each recipe in the book comes with a story, of the reason behind the recipe.

We sat for hours in her small assisted living studio, only furnished with a microwave. She told me who her cooking partner was in 7th grade. She recited her recipe for Hermits from when she was five. This was the woman who at nearly 90, was slowly losing her mind. The stories I heard that day from a woman who had always been my hero, always been my best friend, amazed me. How she could remember that if your fruitcake was too moist, stick half an apple in the tin and put it in a dark cupboard? And that you always press down ginger cookies with a glass dipped in sugar?

Mildred Desmond, or Mrs. Desmond as I had always known her, was Gram’s next door neighbor when they moved down from Canada. She was a lovely woman. We always

The Best Things in Life Aren’t Things; They’re Chosen to Believe In

Tags

christmas, christmas tree, Michael Franti, organized, party, writing

I have almost wrangled my life back again. This fall has pulled me in so many directions, I barely know which way is up lately. My papers and grading has dwindled down to a realistic number. My apartment is more organized than not. I haven’t been late for work because I overslept. And I have attended 6 yoga classes in the past 12 days. Not too shabby.

Friday night due to inclement weather, I stayed home to decorate for Christmas. Never mind that it was still November (this is a huge pet peeve of mine) but hell. I’m on a role, why stop now? More pieces picked up, including an entire drawer full of junk (I lost a vital piece to my christmas lights, assumed it was in there, then of course got sidetracked).

The result is glorious. I love my apartment more and more. Carrying the blessed tree up three flights of stairs by myself in driving rain was not the easiest task, but the suffering was worth it. Plus the guy at the lot threw in a quality stand for free.

I’m racing because I have my annual Christmas party on Saturday night. Usually, only 6 people show. As of right now, I am at 13. 3 still haven’t RSVPd. With writing class tomorrow night, an after school commitment Tuesday, an observation Wednesday, and an appointment Thursday, I need to get my butt in gear now. Honestly though, I have no idea where I will put everyone.

I have the menu planned which should be delicious. And I have a Christmas sweater that puts most to shame. Plus, having good girlfriends in on a weekend, no worries about time and work the next morning, is just priceless. I am beyond excited. Although let’s see how I am doing Friday night.

Slow news day around here, but wanted to get a pic up of my tree, especially because Dean Martin popped up. But the playlist tonight is magical for some reason to me. The Beck song and the Michael Franti song are both haunters.

So let’s see how long I can keep up the balancing act this week. Should be interesting!

———-

I’ll Be Waiting–Michael Franti & Spearhead

Without Expression–John Mellencamp

Come to Me (Fantine’s Death)–Les Miserables

Lonesome Tears–Beck

Off the Hook–Barenaked Ladies

I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm–Dean Martin