You know how some days you wake up and you have to get up and go to work?  And how other days you wake up and you don't want to get out of bed at all?  And some days you wake up and get up and sit in your jammies in your chair by the fireplace, lazily fooling around on the internet or watching meaningless DIY shows, in what could accurately be called wasting a perfectly good morning?

Today was not one of any of those days. 

Today thought it might be an internet/DIY wasted morning, but I had other plans for it.  A quick text to Jr and 20 minutes later we were on our way up the mountain, to the best-ever crunchy snow on the ground and the crystal sparkly flakes flittering and swirling around and the brightest, blue-sky sunshine I've seen this year.

It was a soul-restoring start to today.

 these are views from the lift

 this is how we look after skiing

 this is stick-rock.  so glad to see the stick is still holding up the rock.

one of these days, Jr and I are going to place a snowman built of quilt batting under stick-rock.

because we're funny like that.

reflection and resolution

re·flec·tion (rəˈflekSH(ə)n) noun

1.  the throwing back by a body or surface of light, heat, or sound without absorbing it.

2.  serious thought or consideration.

 

res·o·lu·tion (rezəˈlo͞oSH(ə)n) noun

1.  a firm decision to do or not to do something.

2.  the action of solving a problem, dispute, or contentious matter.

Reflecting back on 2015 confirms my belief that the only constant in life is change.  It was the year when we changed our living arrangements--remodeled the basement in order to move in Jack's brother, and moved his mother to new living arrangements, three times.  It was the year when people we love changed further, both Jack's mom and my dad, and to some extent, my own mother.  It was the year when our family changed again with the wonderful addition of two more incredible granddaughters.  It was the year when my daily work world changed when I stopped talking every day to my best friend at work.

Some of the changes were very hard.  Some were very good.  Some are still evolving.

A few days ago, I heard someone say that the reason why people don't keep their new year's resolutions is because we always make resolutions about things we don't really want to do.   I also saw a post on Facebook that suggested my 'word' for 2016 should be honesty (based on what, I don't know, but it seems like a worthy word for a new year, right?)

In 2016, I resolve (make a firm decision) to live honestly.  To recognize, acknowledge, listen to my inner feelings and emotions.  To communicate more clearly.  To be present with those I love.  To continue to take good care of the gift that is my physical body.  To see, appreciate, and glory in the beauty in nature.  To find peace and joy, while understanding there will be conflict and sorrow, and also, inevitably, change.

you might think

With all the posting to social media--facebook, instagram, selfies, us-ees, etc.--you might think I'd have one picture to post from yesterday morning of the visit to the pedicure ladies with Jessie, Shilo, Whitney, and sweet little Meredith tagging along. 

Just one picture of us all four sitting in the comfy chairs, soaking our feet, being tortuously tickled, and gently massaged.

Or a picture of our eight lovely softened feet with shiny new colorful toenails.

Or a shot of us walking on the sloppy sidewalks in our flipflops headed into the local Zupas for warm soup and tasty sandwiches and delicious desserts.

Or a picture at any time of us laughing and talking and enjoying the morning together.

But we were too busy having a good time to remember to take any pictures. 

We'll just have to do it again and try to remember to photographically document those moments next time.  Or we'll just laugh and talk and enjoy it again and forget the pics.

and then it was almost next year

The pie time is long gone. 

So many goings-on, so few blog posts.

That's how blogging goes I suppose.  And here I am, ready to post again.

The pie time began as always at the start of November and reached critical mass on the day before Thanksgiving.  I totally overdid it this year and vow to never again make 13 pies for Thanksgiving.  Never.



After Thanksgiving (and Stu's birthday, of course), the Christmas plans commenced.  Cookies were baked, gifts for neighbors were made ready, cards were created and sent out, cheeseballs were mixed and rolled, a tree was chosen and decorated, parties were planned.

In some amazing, never-before-heard-of-news, I finished my shopping and wrapping of Christmas gifts by the weekend before Christmas.  Well, except for the making of bracelets for all of the girls in my family and the additional shopping we kept doing right up to earlier this afternoon.  Yes, in another never-before-heard-of-thing, we were still shopping this afternoon.  Crazy.  I know.  But we realized on Christmas eve that we should have definitely bought model rockets for launching by all four of the adult men children, not just the two who have children who would find rocketry appealing, thus a trip back to the hobby shop this afternoon.

The clothes I bought for everybody in an unheard of burst of black Friday online shopping were all acceptable, except for that one sweater that the drummer thought I gave him already last year but it turned out that last year he'd exchanged a too-big one I bought for the one I bought this year.  So now he has two maroon cashmere sweaters.  Or perhaps he returned this year's sweater for a different one that I'll try to buy for him next year. 

The girls all seemed pleased with their bracelets


Not the actual bracelets I made because none of my girls has turquoise as her birthstone.  And those aren't my hands.
 
and Leo and Calvin loved their Hulk hands.  As did everyone else who put them on for a bit of Hulk-type smashing action.  Because hello(!) Hulk hands.


If only I'd been able to find the matching Hulk head.  And we should seriously have had video of the Hulk hands action on Christmas eve around the tree.  Totally appropriate reason-for-the-season stuff going on there.

The grandkids proved their intellectual skills by figuring out that the note cards they each received with one of the letters W G I S S T E N could be arranged to spell SWINGSET, which is the gift Jack and I gave to each family, to be assembled in their back yards as soon as weather permits.  Yet another never-before-thing this year is that we gave no Barbies or princesses or similar toys this year.  That was hard.  But swingsets and Hulk hands more than covered the absent Barbies and princesses.

We must have had a major snow storm on the 18th because I have this shot of Jo and Gus on the bench on the deck basking in the sunlight with deep snow in the background.  



JoJo loved/loves her Christmas squeaky ball even if it no longer squeaks, and Gus was thrilled with his pajamas that match Jr's pjs.  Yes.  You can get pajamas that match your dog's pjs.  Who doesn't love the internet really?  Still trying to grab a photo of the two of them snoozing in their jamms.

We've had several family get togethers this month including one with most of my family last Sunday and another planned with Jack's family tomorrow night.  Sadly, my parents were not able to join us for dinner and fun times last weekend, but hopefully we'll have Jack's mom with us tomorrow.  And then the five oldest girls and I will enjoy a sleepover and pancakes for breakfast on Monday.  Here are a few shots of the chaos that was my family party--

My younger brother and his daughter, son-in-law, and two sons



my older brother, smiling(!) holding his curly-haired grandson



speaking of smiling--







brothers--mine, Jack's, our boys




my kids--


he'll probably hate this picture
 

he'll probably hate this picture
 

She's barely in this picture
 

They are such serious men
 
Jack and me--both totally posing

Is it just my family or do all men look so serious in pictures? Also, I could post many more photos of blurry images, bunny ears, frowning and face pulling, but do I need to share those?  I think not.  Besides, I still have tomorrow's party to capture more of those moments.

Other brief thoughts--Did not love the mice that moved in just before the family party.  Definitely relieved they seem to all be dead and gone.  [don't judge me.  mice in the house is not allowed.  no good.  very bad.]  Also did not love the stomach flu the day after the party.  Barfing sucks.  Nearly overwhelmed seeing Stu working hard to (successfully) avoid a hospital stay over Christmas.  Definitely relieved he is perking up.  And totally love the new ping pong gaming and slot track racing going on downstairs now.  Looking forward to more family time tomorrow, pancakes on Monday, and pedicures with my girls later this week.  And a new year is coming.

yay!

The pie time is here.

post halloween

Trying to get a shot of Jessie's bunch--my robber girl with her sweet bag of loot, a distracted Batman, a posing angel, some minecraft character I don't know, and a worn-out darling devil.

Stu and Shi's bunch--Shi with a princess who I don't think was created by Disney, with a princess who was created by Disney, and their funny little monkey.

And this adorable little pink-eared sweetie with the Drummer's wife.

Jessie facetimed me last night while we were outside--Jr, his friend Joe, Jack, and me--massive quantities of frightening children--not tiny children or even small children, but older children, teenagers, and parents of tiny children who were being kept out way too late.  Dozens and dozens of visitors to Jr's  scary space.  I couldn't stop laughing--it was hilarious--as noted by Jessie.  Over and over. 

She is probably right, I do love Halloween.

ah halloween

Most of the time, I feel like I'm a good mom.  My kids are good people.  They're raising good people.

And last weekend I showed I've still got my mom skills by getting both tiny girls to go to sleep in my arms even though their parents all insisted the girls don't believe in sleeping anymore. 

But Halloween comes around each year and leaves me feeling like a lousy mom.  It goes on and on.  The costumes.  The decorations.  The makeup.  The visits to see the grandparents to show them the costumes and the makeup.  Those visits went on and on (but I'm sure they are not so bad for my kids and grandkids now that I'm on the receiving end of the visits.)  The parties and the parades and more parties.  The candy.  Okay, I kind of like the candy. 

Really, nowadays, Jr does all of the decorating.  He looks forward all year to the party and the decorations and the scaring people.  I just get to sit back and watch him frighten teenagers and moms and dads of little kids.  I never realized how much I could enjoy seeing somebody get a good scare.  So that's good. 

But I always feel like I'm letting him down a little.  My idea of Halloween decorations when my kids were little was to stick a picture of a cartoon black cat on the front room window.  Okay, we also carved pumpkins.  And I always managed to put together costumes my kids seemed to be okay about.  I'm kind of relieved I'm not a mom today.  I don't have that creative genetic material in me that allows you to come up with great costumes once you get past the cute kitten and bunny stage.

I think Jr may be a bit disappointed that he can't get me to dress up for his annual Halloween bash.  I'm sorry for that, but costumes and I don't really get along all that well.  We don't understand each other.  I have bad history with costumes. 

There was that one time when a local radio station ran some commercials on TV for a contest where you could win money by calling in at certain times and the woman in the commercial was a housewife wearing curlers and no makeup and a housecoat with a bunch of kids around her and she'd say, please, just give me the money.  The radio station next ran a contest where if you went to the airport dressed up in a costume when the Jazz arrived, you might win playoff tickets.  So I got this great idea that I should dress up like the radio station's commercial and went to the airport in my curlers and no makeup and housecoat. 

It seemed like a sure thing. 

It was not.  Oh no.

Humiliating.  That's what that was.  No Jazz tickets and dragging my little kids through that huge airport.

I should have learned my lesson about costumes right there.  But, you know, why would I, right?

Tonight for Zumba, the instructor posted on Facebook that we should wear costumes to class.  I did not wear a costume.  There was one girl with a zombie face and another two girls dressed like kittens. 

I'm pretty sure the last time I could have gotten away with dressing like a kitten was when I was five.  But those girls pulled it off.  It reminded me of a story the drummer's wife told me a few years ago.  She said in Jr High, they were supposed to dress up like fruits or vegetables for Halloween--maybe it was for a party, maybe school, I don't remember.  Anyway, she came up with what she thought was a great idea, dressing as a particular vegetable like an eggplant or something?  All of her friends dressed like kittens.  She pointed out to her friend that they were supposed to dress like fruits or veggies.  Her friend pointed out that boys don't like clever girls.  They like cute girls.  And girl kittens are cute. 

Sigh.  Those girl kittens at the gym tonight were pretty cute.  But still.  Costumes are so tricky.

There was the time a few years ago when we were invited to a singing party.  A singing party.  But somehow in my mind, I got it confused with a costume party.  It was not for Halloween, but amazingly, I found a great costume that went along with the singing we would be doing.  Neither Jack nor Jr had a costume.  But I did.  A great 1970's maxi dress.  No mistaking it for anything I'd have worn after 1980.  But wear it I did, to that singing party.  Can I tell you what it feels like to go back to a Jr High nightmare when you're in your 50's?  Perhaps you can imagine.

So.  Costumes.  Not for me thanks.  You simply can't trust them.  They can go so very wrong in all kinds of ways and you could find yourself in the huge airport in curlers or in a 70's maxi dress at a singing party.

So.  Sorry Jr that I don't love Halloween as much as you do.  But you get it.  The costumes.  The decorations.  The excitement.  Me?  I totally get the candy.  And the laughing off my fool head when teenagers and parents of little children are terrified by you and your antics. 

I love that Jr loves Halloween as much as he does.  I really love that he has a job that pays well so he can buy all of the incredible decorations he loves.  I love that he has a fog machine and robots and tombstones and skeletons, lots of skeletons, and things that make scary noises when you walk by them.  I love that he and Jack have made a life-sized coffin and a witch that stirs her cauldron.  I love that his friends come over and he is the director of the decoration placement all over the front yard.  I love hearing kids scream and other kids say he made them cry last year but they're back for more.  I used to worry about the kids whose parents kind of forced them to come get candy from the bowl up on our porch, but nowadays I realize that being scared a little when it's really safe may be a good thing for kids because they see they can do somewhat hard things and be proud of themselves (and get lots of candy).

I tell myself I'm a good mom for supporting Jr's love of all things Halloween. 

But me?  I'm looking forward to getting out my apron (my own form of comfortable safe costume) and using one of my best mom skills by baking pie.  After all of the Halloween chaos, I look forward to the easy as pie, calm part of autumn that is November, which gives me a moment to catch my breath before the chaos that is Christmas, which Jr also loves, second only to Halloween.

Sorry Jr.  But did you hear we're going to have a big snow year this year?  No costumes, just deep white powder and that crunchy slippery surface we both love.  It's coming as soon as we get through Halloween.