I stare at my 'in box' where scads of mails from good friends and family are waiting for a reply
and I sigh
and I think that this is not really the way to start the new year, owing so many a line or two
after all, I replaced the sponges in the kitchen
and threw out books and magazines and other out dated items
to make room for the stash of things to come
so now is the time to sit down
and answer the mails.......
and then again
maybe tomorrow, the first day of the new year is a better start
that is, if I don't have a nasty hang-over
in which case I will just wait another day.
After all, it will be a new year with 365 unused days to fill with chatter and emails.
See...I got around it.
Happy New Year.

It is the 24th. Traditionally the celebration of Xmas, at least for we who grew up in Europe.
Chuck was always amenable to celebrate this night rather than the morning of the 25th, and for so many years that was the rule of the house.
Like eating the salad after the dinner rather than before.
Chuck has been gone for eight years now and I have survived many Xmases by myself.
So why, I wonder, why is this year so difficult.
I have done my preparations. I have even baked a bread to go with the dinner. I have cooked and I have imbibed. Without that I am not sure I would be able to get through this.
So I fill yet another glass with cheap red wine, check the pots a'cooking and wonder
why?
I could have gone to McDonald's or Kentucky Fried Chicken and gotten a meal that would be filling if not exactly nutritious, and with a wide circle of losers like I with no other place to go, quietly getting through the evening maybe remembering better times, maybe not remembering at all, just filling a need.
But here I am, in my house with The Worthless Ones, some of whom have not even bothered to show up for din-dins, slowly emptying the gallon sized bottle of cheap wine and thinking of all my friends and family, all so far away.
Merry Xmas.

I don't know if this qualifies as a Christmas gift or merely a treat.
Many, many years ago Chuck bought a tea kettle, and not just an ordinary tea kettle. This was in the shape of an eggplant complete with the right color and top and handle in green.
And I didn't like it. Not one little bit, and yet is has been with first us and now me for a long time.
I have checked stores for tea kettles, I have visited websites checking for tea kettles and then, out of the blue, today as I was pushing my cart in Sam's loaded with nothing but a bag of dog food, I saw "The Kettle". There it was. Sparkly steel and clever design with a handle that won't get hot and a whistle to tell me the water is boiling and a price I could afford.
I got it. I love it. And more that anything I love throwing the old one out. Wave my wand and say
" Be Gone".
That is what is either a gift or maybe merely a treat.

well listen to this, said Jane when I told her that at times when I go to Sam's all I buy is a big bag of dog food.
When I go to Costco, she said, all I buy is napkins, toilet paper and paper plates. That's all.
Paper plates ?
I suddenly had visions of Jane, who lives alone in a small apartment, having wild and boisterous parties, maybe with some of the other senior citizens who live in the complex.
What, I asked her, if you don't mind telling me, what are you doing with the paper plates ?
Eating my dinner she said, as if the question was silly. I don't want to do dishes.
But Jane, I said. You already eat TV dinners and there is only one of you. How many plates could you possibly use. Real plates.
I just don't want to be bothered, she said.
I fervently hope it will be long time before I find that I don't want to be bothered.
A very, very long time.

I made a wreath.

Christa mailed me a photo of a wreath she made and which won 1st prize awarded by the ladies in her Connecticut neighborhood. A lovely wreath it was, and so I decided that I wanted to make one too.

And I went to the jungle for vines for the basic part and scoured my drawers and shelves for left-over scraps to use as flowers and ribbons and bows.

This is the result.. my one concession to Xmas. It was fun to make, so enjoy it as did I.

I like watching cooking shows on the telly.
Not the kind where some mad queen is having all kinds of fits and using language that even I--and I am tough--blanch at
no
I like to watch the shows with people who really love to cook and want to share their love and knowledge with folks like me.
And so I caught a show with a Cuban lady ( skinny, but then she might have been away from her native island for many years ) showed how to make chicken with a Cuban flavor.
I love this, I thought; I can do this.
And so I did. Today. But when I counted the bowls holding chopped, minced and otherwise cut up ingredients, I said to myself....
all this for just one person !
Am I so despondent that I have to fill my counter with chopped, minced and otherwise cut up ingredients to prove that I can cook, that I have not yet succumbed to the easy way out and just getting frozen dinners.
Whatever.
It gets me working, and if the result is a deliciuos dinner, who is complaining ?
Not I.
Bitching a bit maybe. Complaining ? NO.

Funny what things are important to one.
I have been proud of the fact that I still, at my age, can put on my pants standing up which requires some kind of balance and skill.
And that had made me feel a little less decrepit, to be able to stand on one leg whilst hoisting up the shorts .
That is, till a few days ago when my back was feeling tricky and one knee a bit tender and I had to sit down to put on my shorts.
Forget the minor aches and pains, the attack of gout and the constant battle with gas; sitting down to put on my shorts made me feel old.
Very old.
My back is better and the knee back to normal and I dress standing up again, but I know there is a limit. One day I shall be glad I can even get dressed by myself, forget about standing on one leg.
Till then I will stand proudly on one leg putting on my shorts, one leg at a time.