Decluttering, reevaluating and a glittering ball in the mix

10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1

and the ball drops as a new year is ushered in.

Like millions of others, I'll attend a party tonight. In fact, I've gone to New Year's Eve parties every year since I was 15-years old. And every year, at the stroke of midnight, I have called my mom and dad. It's always been the first thing I think of at midnight -- never ever missing a year.
I'm sure I'll get emotional tonight when I don't have that call to make, but that's okay. The emotions I'll feel will be a lifetime of the fondest of memories.

Like millions of others, I've been assessing my own 2012, comparing it to years past and thinking about the year ahead. It seems as though everyone is always in a hurry for the year to end and a new one to begin. For the past week, I've heard people saying things like, "2013 has got to be better than this year!" or "I can't wait for this one to be over!"

When I hear statements like that, I wonder, "What's happening to actually change things? What are you doing in your life to make a difference?"

I'm not one to actually celebrate the end of a year, although being here to celebrate the start of a new one is - of course - a good thing. But, this year in particular, I don't want to see come to an end.

2013 is the year I turn 60 (I'm stll trying to figure out how that happened, because I sure don't see 60 when I look in the mirror).

My mother always seemed to enjoy her life as it was. She never really wanted for anything, accepted things as they were, and made the best of those circumstances. Almost instantly after my mother passed away, I began assessing and re-assessing my own life and came up with three changes I am making. You can call them resolutions, if you want to, but I'm seeing them as "You're-Never-Too-Old-To-Improve" life assessments.

1. Live in the moment

As the editor of a social magazine, my job forces me to work in advance, usually at least three weeks out from today's date. I never feel as though I'm living in the current moment, because I'm always thinking ahead and planning for news coverage of fundraising and social events that will be happening three to eight weeks out.
Since my mother's passing and even in my sadness, I'm learning to enjoy every waking moment. I'm learning to actually be in that moment. Yes, it's something that I'm having to learn.
I once heard a quote: “We're so busy watching out for what's just ahead of us that we don't take time to enjoy where we are.”

2. De-Clutter

That one word can mean so much, right? From the stuff in our houses to the stuff in our brains to the stuff in our hearts -- it can be overwhelming. There's nothing wrong with a little purging once in a while and this is my time.
I haven't been able to go through my mother's things, yet. But everyday I feel stronger. Everyday I feel more love coming through from her to me. And everyday I get closer to the inevitable -- removing her clothing and redecorating her rooms.
The stuff in my brain and the stuff in my heart are much the same. My brain and my heart are, unfortunately, occupied with the hurtful actions of a few people I thought were good friends, so I'm going to spend some time re-evaluating with whom it is I spend my time. Life is just too short to spend it with folks who either don't appreciate you.

3. Have more fun

Caring for my mother took a great deal of time -- time that I absolutely loved spending with her and would give anything to have back. But the fact remains that it also took me away from my husband, who - for nearly 12 years - was very patient, kind and understanding when I would say, "No, I can't go, because I need to (fill in the blank) with Mom." He loved my mother with all his heart.
Fun can be many things -- crafting, sitting with my husband eating popcorn while we watch a movie, camping (I love camping), bicycling, dancing, and laughing - laughing - laughing.

Okay, so enough about me. Let's craft.
This is a ball a friend of mine taught me to make. I have a red one completed, which is pictured, and this gold one is for tonight's party. This will be our answer to the Times Square Crystal Ball.

You'll need about 32 paper cups that are shaped like cones (you've seen them at water coolers), 32 plastic ornaments that are about 2.25-inches in diameter, tacky glue or hot glue, a stapler, a foot of ribbon, filler leaves or garland and spray paint.
The ornaments, ribbon,garland and spray paint should all be the same color of your choice. The leaves can be whatever you like. I'm using gold today, but the completed ball is red.

The first thing you will do is staple the coned-shaped paper cups together to form a ball, and after the cone cups are stapled together, spray paint the whole ball.

This is the hardest and most time consuming part of the project. Be patient.

Staple your ribbon inside two cups to form a loop.
Then begin gluing the ornaments into the openings of the cups. The reason tacky glue is normally used is because it gives, dries clear and doesn't have any glue strings. If you're in a rush (like me), you can use hot glue, but be careful about the strings.
Whichever type of glue you are using -- apply the glue to the inside edge of the paper cup, then insert the ornament as far as it will go.

Keep gluing the ornaments into the cups until all 32 ornaments have been used.

Once all the ornaments have been glued into the cups, you can hide your spaces by gluing in holly leaves, garland, or whatever you'd like to use. I'm using gold and silver garland, glued between the ornaments.

I'm grateful for this year that's about to come to a close. Although I lost my mother, she taught me to believe and have faith -- and I do.
I look forward to my call I'll receive tonight from my son -- who continues the tradition.
And I wish you all a year filled with blessings and love.

Happy New Year!

We don't have a chimney, but the front door worked fine

Santa came a callin'.
Yep, he came right to my house for a visit with my family and me, and it made my day -- my season.
Why?
Because the four "Very-Happy-To-See-Santa" children and 13 crazed adults (all of whom acted like children when they saw Santa come through the front door) put a huge smile on my face.
Their happiness filled my heart with joy.

Even though my husband pretends to be the original Scrooge, look at that smile on his face.
And he's happy for all the same reasons.
Laughter, whether from a child or an adult, is not only contagious, but it's good for the soul. For Christmas this year, laughter became my weapon against falling prey to that hole burning in my heart. As Charlie Chaplin said, "Laughter is the tonic, the relief, the surcease for pain."
Gosh, was he right.
Thanks to my husband, my son and his wife;
To my younger sister, her husband and their youngest daughter - all three of whom took over the kitchen;
To my cousin (whom my mother thought the world of), his wife, their two sons and their wives and each of their four children;
And to Santa and Mrs. Claus
For helping me get through to the other side of Christmas, not in sadness, but with fond memories and new traditions in the making. I'm hopeful that this gathering of family is the beginning of many more to come.

And guess what?
Remember how worried I was at Thanksgiving about who was going to make the gravy?
Well, my mother came through this Christmas and channeled through me.
I made gravy for the first time in my life. Not just any gravy, but Julia's really good gravy. I don't eat gravy. I don't even taste gravy. But, apparently, I did pay close attention to how she made it, because my husband, my son and his wife all said it was good, and they all had seconds.
Hmmm...

Thanks, Mom. I look like a hero.

Christ is in my Christmas

I just spent the past three days prepping for and having a colonoscopy. What fun! (NOT!) Right now my 84 hemorrhoids are singing a chorus of "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails, but that's probably too much information.
My husband has been wondering all day how many bottoms the doctor looks at each morning; but I was wondering why anyone would go into that field. The doctor is a cutie-pie, though.
My mother had her one and only colonoscopy when she was about 85-years old. Her doctor's name was...
 -- wait for it --
Dr. Ram.
Yeppers, that was his name.
He told her everything was fine and she'd live to be 95.
He was almost right.


Anyway...

Yesterday, I asked my co-worker if she thought this has been the absolute longest holiday season -- ever?
It feels like we've been living Christmas for months on end.

I have some very personal reasons why it's such a long and not particularly jolly season for me, but for the rest of the nation -- perhaps it's because Thanksgiving was earlier this year, and perhaps it's because that 'earliness' gave way to greediness. I'm sure retailers were thrilled at the prospect of more people buying more things for more days...a jump start to the annual spending spree.

But doesn't it feel as though we (in the broadest sense of the word) have turned the 'season of giving' into the 'season of help-increase-retail-profits?'
Most stores have their shelves filled with Christmas gift ideas before Halloween has passed. Christmas decorations go up in October, completely ignoring the fact that Thanksgiving comes up first. I won't even go into the phenomenom called Black Friday, which I'm sure will eventually become a national holiday of its own.

Regardless of what religion you may follow, the holiday season - not just Christmas, but the entire holiday season - is (in my opinion) intended to be a time of good fellowship, meaningful family time, treasured moments and memory building.
But, instead, we have fallen prey to the retail disease, spending money we don't have to buy gifts for people we barely know, or to bend to pressure applied by every single advertisement seen on television (bring back the political ads).

All of this is coming from a person who has only purchased two gifts, so far. Not only am I not in the mood, but my list is much shorter this year - now that I don't have to do my mother's shopping for her - and I'm just being a little more "picky" about on whom I spend my hard-earned dollars. Believe me, I know how selfish that sounds, but I just can't help it. I'm not in the mood.

What I am in the mood for, though, is meaningful family-time and memory building. And I'm going to get those treasured moments.
This coming Sunday, in memory of my mother, my sisters and their families, my cousin and his whole family and my own family will gather for some merriment of our own. My brother is out of state, but he would be here if he could.
I can't wait.
There will be 17 adults and four small children - a nice crowd my house has been missing.
There will be food, fun, fellowship and - yes - a visit from Santa!
I'm making a roast, a ham and my mother's recipe for her to-die-for cranberry cocktail salad (see below); my younger sister is making baked ziti and two salads (one of which is a roasted citrus salad that just the thought of makes my mouth water); my daughter-in-law is making dessert; my older sister and her daughter are also bringing a dessert and more; and my cousin's family is in charge of cheese, crackers and other appetizers.
We will eat, drink and be merry, and my mother would love it! As I've mentioned in a prior post, although she was hard of hearing, she loved it when we all talked on top of each other, getting louder and more excited with each sentence. To her, it was pure joy.
We will remember Mom, we will play games, we will exchange gifts in our version of the "White Elephant Gift Exchange," we will visit with Santa and we will build memories that will last long into the next generation.
I'm looking forward to seeing my family all together. And I'm looking forward to doing what I do best -- prepare for a party.

Here's Julia's Cranberry Cocktail Salad recipe. I love it. It's both tangy and zesty, and I like to serve it as an appetizer in shot glasses.

1 cup fresh cranberries, finely ground or chopped
1 apple, cored and finely chopped
1 small can of crushed pineapple, drained
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 orange, finely chopped with rind and juice
1/2 cup chopped celery
(I actually add 1/2 cup of chopped pecans, but mom couldn't eat nuts)
half of a 3 oz. package of red gelatin
1/2 cup boiling water to dissolve gelatin
1/2 cup cold water
mandarin oranges for garnish

In a glass mixing bowl, add the half of a 3 oz. package of red gelatin to the 1/2 cup of boiling water. Stir until completely dissolved, then add the 1/2 cup of cold water. Stir and place in refrigerator while chopping up remaining ingredients.
Combine all chopped ingredients in another mixing bowl. Stir in sugar until slightly dissolved. Pour partially thickened gelatin into the bowl of chopped ingredients and blend thoroughly.
Remember, the gelatin is intended to give the chopped ingredients a coating. It's not intended to be a jello dessert, although I'm sure it would make a good one.
Once everything is mixed, I spoon mine into small shot glasses and serve as an appetizer. My mother left the whole mixture in a glass bowl and served it as a salad. Either way, garnish with mandarin orange slices and enjoy!

I served this at last week's Crafting Sistas' Holiday Sweets Exchange & Craft Night and it was a hit.
My mom's cranberry salad will be on the table this coming Sunday, but she'll be with us in many more ways, too.

And, when I wish you a "Happy Holiday," I'm not ignoring Christ in Christmas, I'm wishing you the best of the entire season, including a heart filled with God's love.

I love you all.

Crafting Sistas - the glue that binds us together

Tonight was a night for the "good towels."
We all have them, don't we? Those special towels that are folded neatly and sitting on the shelf in the linen closet, just waiting for that significant someone to arrive -- waiting for the opportunity to show off...towels that hang in our bathrooms, but only when special guests are coming. We might even fold them a little differently, making the mere hanging of them that much more momentous.
Mine are pink towels with embroidered flamingos on them -- given to me one year for my birthday by my mother.
I love flamingos. Their long necks make them the most graceful creatures on this planet. And pink? Well, suffice to say -- I love the color!

Tonight was special.
It was my turn to host the monthly Crafting Sistas.
A group of my closest friends meet once a month to take on a new project, introducing us to new opportunities, so to speak.
December has traditionally been my month to host -- since the inception of Crafting Sistas. We have drinks, eat dinner, make crafts, exchange cookies and sometimes we exchange gifts.
I must be honest -- I was not looking forward to this night, but I threw myself into it and viola, it was fabulous.

My Crafting Sistas are just that - my sisters.
We are with each other through thick and thin, and this year, it's been mostly thick. One sista's husband was in a life-changing accident; another sista's mother died unexpectedly, forcing her to relocate out of state in order to care for her father and grandmother; another sista found herself unemployed only a few years away from retirement age. One sista had a beautiful baby girl, while another rejoiced in the birth of her granddaughter. One sista mourned her empty nest as her daughter left for college; another mourned her empty house as her mother's passing left a void needing to be filled.

There are 12 of us. And through it all, we've been there for each other...making tonight that much more meaningful to me.

As everyone arrived, we had Peppermint Martinis, with glasses rimmed in peppermint pop rocks -- what fun! For dinner we started with a cranberry/orange/apple appetizer, then salad, then the main course of Spaghetti Carbonara (I make mine with blood orange olive oil and sun-dried tomatoes), and for dessert - a pumpkin turnover made from this year's Halloween pumpkin. All yummy. Red wine, white wine - - and a twinkling light in each glass.

Then it was time to craft, and here's one of our projects:

Fill a white pillowcase with polyester fill and tie off the top using a rubberband. Create the head of the snowman by tying his scarf around his neck. Cut small, nickel-sized disks out of black felt and glue on for eyes and mouth. Make a small cone shape using orange felt and glue in place for his nose. Put on his Santa hat, or an old stocking cap and you've just made your own snowman. Great for those of us living in sunny F-L-A.

This one only took about 20-minutes, but we had a load of fun.
Then we made the cute little Cupcake Paper Christmas Trees that are detailed in my Dec. 1 posting entitled "I've got something in my pocket."  http://alwaysonmymindforeverinmyheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/ive-got-something-in-my-pocket.html

Mom loved Craft Night as much as I did. We usually make a huge presentation of our cookies/sweets and Mother has always been our judge, awarding big prizes. Last year, we all started with brownies, but as I always say, "It's all in the presentation." Last year's winner cut her very thin brownies, glued the pieces together with icing and made a nativity scene! That's how serious we take our "Cookie Exchange."

Finding ourselves without a judge this year, we played things a little lower, and had the normal, run-in-the-mill cookie exchange after crafting. Still fun!

While sitting with Mother during her transition into the Lord's arms, I knitted...another gift I learned from her. I knitted and knitted -- 12 scarves, one for each of the Sistas. So, tonight my sisters not only went home with new holiday crafts with which to decorate their homes, but they went home with a special hug around the neck from me.

Thank you to my Crafting Sistas for getting me through these days. I'm forever grateful to you for your love and friendship.

You definitely deserve the good towels!

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

Determined to escort myself away from the pity party I've been accused of throwing for "long enough," I have - for about a week, now - been celebrating what I was so fortunate to share with my mother; our years and years of being together through every walk of life.

As it's been pointed out to me by folks who seem to think they know far more than I do about the healing process and my relationship with my mother and even my father - I am very "lucky to have had her as long as you did;" or "how fortunate you had such a loving relationship with your mother;" or "she would never want you to stay sad."
And while all those statements are so very true, it doesn't change the fact that my best friend is gone and I'm lonely for her.

Still, I made a concerted effort to stay focused, cheerful and positive during this past week...
Until yesterday morning...

My husband and I went to a local hot-spot for breakfast yesterday with some friends and ran into a woman whom immediately began talking about my mother, how sweet she is, how lucky I am, and then asked, "How is she doing?"
I found myself completely blind-sided, a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck. First of all, I honestly did not know who this woman was and second of all, everyone knew my mother has passed away. How could there possibly be anyone who doesn't know?
So, I told her that I had lost Mom.
She was apologetic and said that she didn't know and that if she had known she wouldn't have asked.
No kidding.

Of course, there I am in the middle of the restaurant, crying.

It was the beginning of what became "one of those days," as I then ran into two friends who really are lucky -- they both still have their mothers who are the same age as mine. I was quite jealous, having to excuse myself from them so I could get emotional and then re-group.
Then I tried to go Christmas shopping, where at every turn I saw items that I used to purchase for my mother's gift-giving list.
I'm sure we all have someone like this in our families: someone who faithfully gives the gift of jammies. My mom was that person. She gave all of us new pajamas every year. And for those of us who collect certain things, like my younger sister collects Christmas cookie jars, Mom would also buy an item for their collection.
Because the isles at most stores are packed solid with impulse buys during the holiday season, there's rarely enough space to get a wheelchair through, so mom had opted to stay home during the past two retail seasons. She would give me a list, and I'd shop for her.
Yesterday I found myself reaching for those items as I sauntered through the mall, much like I often find myself reaching for the phone to call and check on her. The pajamas were exactly what she would have wanted me to buy and check off her list. I saw cookie jars and aprons and ballet shoes and more -- all the things mom would give to my siblings and to her grand children.
The cool thing though, pajamas went into my basket. So, for some of the family, pajamas will still be under the Christmas tree this year.

Do I have moments when my breath is taken away because of a sudden memory?
Of course.
Is that wrong?
Nope.
And no one is going to convince me that my healing process should be completed by now. No one is going to convince me that they know what's best for me when it comes to this process of acceptance of loss.
No two people are the same.
Period.

While I was shopping, I found and bought a small, hand-painted sign that reads,
"Mirror, mirror on the wall. I am my mother afterall."
That's not such a bad thing.
Merry Christmas to me.

 

Sewing is cheaper than therapy

Tomorrow, Dec. 7, is a date remembered by most Americans as the day Pearl Harbor was attacked.
In my family, with all due respect to those who made the ultimate sacrifice for our country, the date is also remembered for another reason. It's my younger sister's birthday.

Tomorrow, she is faced with her first -- her first birthday without hearing from our mother. Only three weeks after Mom passed away, my birthday rolled onto the calendar. I intentionally ignored the day, hoping that would be my coping mechanism.
It didn't work - at all.

So, for my sister, I'm hoping she throws herself into a celebration of her life - a life given to her by  Mom (and Dad, of course); a life charmed by a childhood that really wanted for nothing; a life filled with talents resulting from the seeds planted by Mom.
My sister is amazing. She is the single most talented seamstress I've ever known.
I sew.
My sister is a seamstress.
Big dfference.
Like our mother, my sister has made clothes for her two daughters that rival the best designers in New York and France. I'm not kidding.
When her daughters were toddlers, my sister created one-of-a-kind, hand-smocked dresses embellished with handmade laces. I'm not sure, but I think I even remember her designs being featured in a children's clothing catalog. Anticipating seeing my sister's latest creations on her daughters, she gave us another reason to look forward to holidays. She continues today, making curtains, pillows and other home decor that would sell for hundreds of dollars in any boutique.

Look at my beautiful mother! And, how cute are my younger sister and I in our matching dresses made only by Mom? It's funny, I don't actually remember seeing my mother making our dresses; she must have done most of her sewing while we were sleeping or at school. But I do remember each of those special occasion dresses painstakingly made by her. Both my sister and I can tell you exactly what we were wearing at nearly any given moment in our lives. I loved these red and white checked dresses, but my favorite was our green sleeveless dresses with matching capes. Absolutely no one else had anything like them.

The roller coaster took a huge downward spiral today. So, when I got home from work, I thought I'd make some holiday pillows from fabric Mom and I had bought only weeks before she passed. I thought it would help me. The Plan (again with The Plan) was that I'd make some fun and funky pillows to put outside on the front porch, so why not?

I did it! They're cute, aren't they? They are exactly what Mom and I had envisioned, and between thinking about my sister on the eve of her birthday and making these pillows, it was just the therapy I needed.

Thanks, Mom, for teaching me how to sew when I was in the fifth-grade.

Happy birthday to my little sister. I hope it's a celebration she doesn't soon forget.

Do wonders and eat green cucumbers

I came home from work today with every intention of accomplishing great things. Well, maybe not 'great' things, but a lot of things.
So, for the first time since the beginning of September, I made dinner -- not a 'great' dinner, but I did make it, and it was nutritious: London broil steak salads with grated cranberry cheese and croutons. Both delicious and appreciated.
You see, my husband has been taking very good care of me -- making dinner, doing laundry, keeping the house tidy and anything else that needs to be taken care of. I say, "Jump," he says, "How high?"
So when he came home to dinner ready on the table, it was very much appreciated by him, and long over-due by me.
Amazing how much energy it took, though.

There's been a naked artificial Christmas tree sitting in the living room for several days. That's as far as I got last week when I had a sudden burst of enthusiasm and the desire to maybe put up some Christmas decorations. Normally, every inch of my house is smothered in Christmas and most of it is made by me. I've always taken great pride in what I've created because of the foundation laid by my mother.

We've always bought a real tree, but I'm using the one I used to set up in my mother's living room. Rather reflective of my own disposition, it's a sad tree this year, with a section of lights not working and many of the little "pine needles" shedding off as if it were real.

The Plan -- to decorate the tree and make it look brand new and to decorate the dining room. Of course, I had to accomplish this without climbing into the attic and bringing down boxes of Christmas decorations, because that - this year - is not an option. Also in The Plan was to finish writing my thank you notes and to transfer birthdays to my new 2013 calendar.

My mother had a saying: "You're going to do wonders and eat green cucumbers."

Although we could never find the origin of those words of wisdom, it was assumed that it meant one was going to get a lot done. She'd usually say it to me when it appeared I was taking on too much. Appeared, because I always proved her wrong. In any six-hour period, I could run to the grocery store, clean the house, make dinner for 20, create a masterpiece dessert, tablescape and placecards, have take-home gifts ready, take my own shower, do my hair and dress and be ready to greet my guests with a smile on my face. Most times, I would shift gears in mid-stream and perhaps change my theme or change my mind on a menu item -- something that would cause Mom to freak out and say, "You're never going to do it."

But I would. I'd always get it done.

Not anymore. Not since Sept. 26.
I'm lucky to crawl out of bed and get myself to work.
But tonight was different.
Tonight I was going to accomplish great things.

Luckily, I had purchased a few new decorations before my mother passed away, so I used only those items and began decorating the tree - even with the section of lights that don't work. It took me at least twice as long as it's ever taken me to decorate the tree -- using about a tenth of the decorations I usually use. But that's okay, I got it done!

I'm exhausted -- no thank you notes tonight and the calendar transfer is going to have to wait.
It may not be great things that I accomplished, but I did make a great accomplishment.

The roller coaster is up today.

It's not much to look at, but this scrawny tree with no lights in the top section is a symbol of  a great accomplishment in our household tonight.

I've got something in my pocket

The first Saturday of December is traditionally the big craft bazaar at our local community college. It's been held for 40-plus years, maybe even 50-plus years, and I've attended every year for the past 30.
Out of those 30 years, there was only one time I didn't attend with  my mother -- she wasn't feeling well. So, my younger sister, who had come into town, and I went without mom -- who had given her two adult daughters money to buy our own pre-Christmas gifts -- our annual Santa Claus.
Good times!

Going to today's bazaar was bittersweet.
It was wonderful to run into so many friends whom I haven't seen in a few months and receive their heart-felt hugs, condolences and wishes for a better year ahead. It was just hard to be there without my mother, but harder still when I walked into the college's gymnasium turned craft bazaar/social hall and became instantly overwhelmed with grief.
The funny thing is, though, my eyes immediately went to one crafter's booth who had made these delightful little Christmas trees using cupcake papers, and I was instantly transported back in time to when I was a Girl Scout Brownie, and my mother was our leader. We had made something very similar, but the cupcake papers had to be spray painted, because way back then, the papers only came in white and pastel colors.

I really give my mother credit. Our monthly dues were only 20-cents per child, and mom used that money to purchase the materials for whatever our project would be for that month. And, there were only 10 of us in the troop.
Like I've said, nearly everything I know, I learned from my mother. There is no doubt those projects from my years in Scouting laid the foundation for the adult I became.

Without even realizing, we learned the importance of recycling - using old copies of Readers Digest magazines to make angels; old newspapers to make our "sit-upons;" blown-out egg shells to make beautiful Easter ornaments; tiny scraps of fabric to make doll clothes; and so much more. As a seven- and eight-year old in Brownies (under the tutelage of my mother), we learned the basics of cooking, the need for good manners and etiquette, and most important - how to share and get along with others.

I have nothing but wonderfully fond memories of both my father and mother, my childhood as a whole. Today's little trip to the bazaar reminded me of that and took me to a warm and fuzzy place in my heart and in my head.

Since there's really no such thing as an original thought anymore, I wasn't surprised to see this project posted to Pinterest, but I'm still going to show you how to make the Cupcake Paper Christmas Trees, and along the way, I'll tell you the difference between the way we made them 50-years ago and how to make them today.

You will need 12"X12" white cardstock (back then we used a styrofoam cone), scotch tape (we used straight pins) and about 30 cupcake papers. Today you can buy them in every color of the rainbow and every fun pattern you can imagine, but 50-years ago they only came in white or pastel pink, yellow and green (hence the need to spray paint the finished product).

After you've gathered your supplies, you'll form the cardstock into the shape of a cone and tape it together so it will hold its shape. Back in the days of yore, we used a white styrofoam cone for our tree.

And then you'll cut through the cupcake papers and cut out the bottoms (as shown). All you're going to use is the cute little ruffles.

Then begin taping the cupcake papers to the cone starting at the largest end (which will be the bottom of your Christmas tree). In olden days, we used straight-pins and pinned the papers to the stryrofoam cone (apparently there was no concern about swallowing pins or sticking each other with them). Don't worry, the tape will not show.

Continue doing this until you get close to the top. Then, using one of the bottoms of the cupcake papers that you've cut off, cover the top of the cardstock cone and tape it down securely. Continue taping the paper ruffles to the cone, until you reach the top.

Basically, you've just made the cutest little Cupcake Paper Christmas Tree in all the land. Now imagine this same project 50 some years ago, using the pale yellow, green and pink papers. We spray painted them green and added some red and gold glitter to some of the rows of ruffles.
You can add some bling to your tree, too.

I bedazzled mine by adding some self-sticking rhinestones and a bow on top. Fun!

I nearly cancelled my plans to go to the annual bazaar today. Thank goodness I didn't, because I'm grateful for my trip down memory lane...a trip that took me to such a happy place.

I've got something in my pocket, it belongs across my face.
I keep it very close at hand, in a most convienient place.
I'm sure you couldn't guess it if you guessed a long, long while.
So I'll take it out and put it on, it's a great big GIRL SCOUT smile!

Reality bites

Pain.

I've had a particularly hard day today.
There's no evidential reason for it. This date has no special meaning; no birthdays, anniversaries or holidays. But today, it seems, the reality has hit me like a ton of bricks.
Today I reached for the phone to call her at least a dozen times.
Today I know she's not just away visiting one of my sisters; she's not where I can physically go and visit her.
Today I realize that.
Today I want and need to see her, to touch her, to talk to her.
Today I want to fall asleep, then wake up to find all of this a bad dream.
Today I'm impatient and want whatever it takes to soften this pain to actually soften it...now.

Yesterday was two months.

Perhaps that's why I'm feeling what I'm feeling today.
Perhaps it's just part of that roller coaster ride others have told me about -- one day up, the next day down.
Perhaps it's because when coming out of the movie theater the other night and a friend asked if we'd like to have some dinner before going home, I realized for the first time, that my husband and I don't have any reason not to stay out. We don't have anything to go home to.
Perhaps, for some unknown reason, tomorrow will be a better day.
Perhaps it's because when I asked my friend, whom also lost her mother about six-months ago, if she ever reaches for the phone to call and check on her mother, she said, "No. I'm relieved that I don't have to do that anymore."
And when I asked her if she misses caring for her mother, and going to her mother's house every Sunday, doing household chores, running errands and taking her mother shopping, she also said, "No, I'm relieved that I don't have to that anymore."

My friend sees no gray. Everything is black and white, so I knew to drop the subject at that point, because there was not going to be any understanding on the part of either of us.

I cared for my mother -- helped her to bed, to the bathroom, to get dressed; took time off work to take her to doctors and other appointments; and took her everywhere I went. The friend and former Methodist minister who performed my mother's funeral told me that I, too, would likely feel relief at some point, and he warned me not to feel guilty. That certainly hasn't happened; I don't imagine that it will.

My older sister, whom loved mother very much and also misses her, believes my pain comes from the fact that mother lived with me, that we did most everything together, that we were so much closer than she was to mom. Although my sister misses her, too, she says it's not the same, that she didn't see and talk to her everyday.
So, is that a mistake? Being too close?

Mom became the purpose to my driven life -- not just after she moved in with us -- but long, long before that.
Today, I feel as though I have no purpose. My house is a wreck (totally out of character for me); I move in slow-motion; I'm unable to concentrate on anything at all; I have no desire to go anywhere or do anything; I haven't actually cooked a meal in more than 10-weeks; and I just want to stay in bed.

I fear talking about this with family or friends, because I don't want anyone thinking I need "help - asap."

Today is the first time I've called for my mom and she isn't there.

Hurdling the first 'first'

Yes!
The Pecan Pie was absolutely delicious and my mother would have been proud!
Now, wait 'til you taste the Pumpkin Pie (see below).

We had a lovely Thanksgiving - just the four of us at my son and daughter-in-law's beautiful home. She went all out, baking a turkey with dressing, fresh green beans, sweet potato gnocchi, roasted carrots and parsnips and - of course - gravy. The turkey was so moist it just burst with flavor with every bite. The steamed green beans were cooked with bacon, pecans and pepper, making them (for me) the surprise of the day with their spicy deliciousness. And the sweet potato gnocchi and roasted carrots were just as tasty.

My son and his wife were both so kind to understand the hurdle of "my first 'first.'" And equally as kind when I presented them with two of Granny's cross-stitched ornaments, and cried.

It's funny - there are things in my house that I don't want moved, and then there are things that I want to share with the rest of the family. I can't explain the difference.

Mother called her portion of the house her apartment -- her bedroom, a bathroom and her living room. For the most part, her rooms remain basically untouched, and I don't want things moved around or removed just yet. Other than a few small pieces of jewelry, she didn't have anything of any value, but she did leave a will with instructions on which of her children where to receive which items that were of extreme value to her. Jewelry went to daughters, but her marble coffee table was to go to my brother, and since he lives out of state and was here during my mother's transition into the Lord's arms, it only made sense that he would take the table back home with him.

My brother will learn today that I didn't really want the table removed, that it changed the feel and makeup of mother's living room, and that it seemed like a piece of my parents (as well as my childhood) went with the table. Isn't it funny how we attach ourselves to some things and not so much to others? My mother's wedding ring, a watch my father had given her when she graduated from high school and other pieces of jewelry went with my sisters, but the coffee table has had the most effect on me. Both of my parents enjoyed that piece of furniture. It's where my mother would put her treasured hurricane tracking maps every June through November; as a child, I'd lay on the floor in front of the coffee table and fall asleep watching TV with my parents and sister; it's where mother put her crystal candy dish that she'd store her hard candies in for those times she'd lose energy; it's where she put the flower arrangements she receive monthly from her church; and it's where she placed her magnificent Nativity at Christmas time.  It isn't the table. That can be replaced. It's the fact that something as inconsequential as a coffee table can have such unforseen value to one.

Just like my mother's recipe cards. I'm not ready to part with them. They are small index cards all in her hand-writing and, for me, each one tells a story of how much she loved caring for her family, how much she enjoyed cooking, how much she looked forward to trying new things and how much she taught me.

I lost quite a bit of weight during the month before and after my mother's passing. It's certainly not the way I'd like to lose it. I'd far rather have her here and the weight on my hips.

Unfortunately, since the reality of her passing is hitting home, I've eaten my way through each dark cloud of blues, gaining all of the weight back. That's another question I can't answer -- why some of us find so much comfort in food.

My Pumpkin Pie is one of those things. I've been baking this pie from scratch, using our carved Halloween Jack-o-lantern, for about 38 years. Mom encouraged me back in the 1980s to enter the pie in the local county fair. So, I did, and for nine years straight (until I stopped entering the pie) I won blue ribbons for my Pumpin Pie. Here it is:

Sydney's Pumpkin Pie

Mom and I go to the local pumpkin patch that is hosted by a small Methodist church and buy a bunch of pumpkins every year. Since I no longer have any children at home, I don't carve them -- but I do use them as decor throughout the house. These were used as a centerpice on my dining room table, but once Halloween was over, they became pumpkin smoosh.

Cut the pumpkin in half or quarter and place face down on a cookie sheet. Put in a 350-degree oven and bake until a knife inserted comes out easily and clean. No need to remove seeds at this point.

Once the pumpkin is cooled, scrape the seeds and strings and remove the skin. Cut into smaller chunks and put the chunks (a few at a time) into a food processor. You'll need about 2-cups of processed pumpkin.

Here's rest of the recipe:
2-cups of freshly processed pumpkin          3/4-cup of sugar
1/2 tsp. salt                                                   1 1/2 tsp. of ground cinnamon
1 tsp. ground ginger                                     1/2 tsp. ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp. ground cloves

3 slightly beaten eggs                                   1 1/4 cups of milk
2/3 cup of evaporated milk

1 9-inch unbaked pie shell

Combine the pumpkin, sugar, salt and spices. Then blend in the beaten eggs, milk and evaporated milk. Pour into the pie shell. This is a big recipe, so be sure to have the edges of the pie shell crimped high.
Bake at 400-degrees for about 50-minutes or until a knife inserted halfway between center and edge comes out clean.

Using leftover piecrust pastry and small cookie cutters, I make leaf shapes. Bake them for about 10-15 minutes and after they have cooled, I place on top of the cooled pie.

Mom would have enjoyed our quiet Thanksgiving - especially the new recipes shared by my daughter-in-law. I do believe -- and hope -- that we've begun a new Thanksgiving tradition. Spending the holiday with my son and his wife was more joyous than they know, making the 'first hurdle' easier to bear. I'm thankful for the decades of memories resulting from the long line of family traditions, but I'm also grateful for new traditions in the making.

Sure is good pecan pie

On this day before Thanksgiving, I woke up in a panic. Who's going to make the Pecan Pie and gravy for tomorrow?

Although as a child, I remember my mother being responsible for making the entire delicious Thanksgiving feast, it was her Pecan Pie and her homemade gravy that she'll always be remembered for at this time of year.

And of all the things I learned from my mother: sewing, cooking, baking, crafting, raising a child (and a husband), house-cleaning and so much more, I never paid any attention to how Pecan Pie was made. Can you believe it? Frankly, I assumed it was something I didn't want to know. It's always been my favorite pie and yet, there was some kind of mystery that surrounded its mushiness, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know what the ingredients were. What if I found out and then suddenly didn't like it anymore? I know how silly that sounds, but it happens.

Side bar: My husband was eating what he thought were meatballs at a wedding reception, when I said, "When did you start liking mushrooms?" He nearly choked and couldn't spit the one in his mouth out fast enough, after chowing down on a half-dozen of them.

Until today.

Today is the first of many firsts still to come in the next 12-months.

Today is the first time that my mother and I are not in the kitchen together preparing for what would have been tomorrow's full-house. Back at the start of September we had already decided to ask my brother from Texas, my sisters from central Florida and their families, and my son and his wife to come to our house for the holiday that traditionally brings families together. It had become a chore for mom to travel -- so everyone agreed. It had been years since we all spent Thanksgiving together and mom was really looking forward to all the chatter.

That's what she liked the most -- when her four children would start talking and reminiscing and the girls' voices would begin to move up an octave and then another octave and we'd be talking so fast it all sounded like one continuous sentence and it became increasingly difficult to keep up with us. She'd just laugh and laugh.

After she moved in with my husband and me, Mom and I did everything together -- especially at holiday time, and that included working in the kitchen with her walker (we called it her Cadillac) in tow. We might have worked together on one recipe, or we might have worked separately on two dishes.

But when it came to pies, mom's specialities were most certainly Pecan Pie and Apple Pie and mine was the Pumpkin Pie. So, I set out in search of her recipe.

I know what you all are thinking. "Can't you just find the recipe online?" or "Are you kidding? Pecan Pie is easy to make."

Well, how would I know it's the same unless I found her recipe?

So, I spent this afternoon in the kitchen, all alone - missing her more today than the day before - and attempting my very first Pecan Pie after 39-years of marriage.

Mom's Pecan Pie
Beat 3 eggs in a bowl, add 2/3 cup of sugar, a dash of salt, 1 cup of Karo dark corn syrup (I know. There's a recipe on the back of the bottle, but it's not the same), and 1/3 cup of oleo (Yep, that's what her recipe card said, but I used butter) melted. Mix thoroughly and then add 1 cup of pecan halves. (I actually used 1 cup of pecan pieces.)

Then pour the whole mixture into a 9-inch unbaked pie shell. As you can see, I cheated, because I wasn't in the mood to make my own pie crust.

I put my own touches on it at this point and strategically placed pecan halves on the top of the pie before putting it into a moderate oven (350-degrees) for 50-minutes or until a knife inserted halfway between center and edge comes out clean.

And the finished product...

So, I hope it tastes as good as it looks. Right now, I'm pretty satisfied, but we won't know until tomorrow.

All of our plans for a huge Thanksgiving of family togetherness fell apart after mother passed away. I'm not up to all the company and still would prefer staying in bed with the covers pulled over my head. But my husband and I will be going to my son's house tomorrow. There, he and his wife will see to the feast this year, and who knows? Maybe a new holiday tradition will begin.

Truth is, I've never made gravy, either. I don't eat it, I don't make it. But for some reason, I did pay attention to my mother when she'd make it, so who knows?

Mom, I love you and miss you. Today has been tough and tomorrow will be tougher still, but I'm grateful for all you taught me and I promise we'll toast our Pecan Pie to you!

How Sweet It Is

The picture in yesterday's post was taken in 2007 at Dixon Springs, a park in southern Illinois for which my father had great passion. As a surprise for my mother, the Willow-Oak tree (a mere sapling at the time) was planted by my sisters and me in 2002, in memory of my father -- he'd have loved it.

The trip back to southern Illinois in 2007 was just my mother and me and was an opportunity for her to share stories I had never heard and for me to listen.

                                          Photo taken at a one-room school house that was
                                          converted into a two-room bed&breakfast in
                                          Metropolis, Ill.


We had an absolutely great time. We (I) drove there, stopping along the side of the road for lunches we had packed; pulling over to take photos any time we felt the desire; and reminiscing about my parents lives both in southern Illinois and later in southern Florida. We laughed, we cried, we listened to country music for the first time, and we talked and talked and talked.

That is, of  course, what I miss the most -- talking to her about anything and everything. I cry in the silence of my hollow home, but trust that time will soften this pain.

Today is the Monday before Thanksgiving. Normally I would be helping my mother wrap the hand stitched Christmas ornaments she's made for each of the girls in the family for at least the past 25-years, if not longer. She would give them to daughters, daughter-in-law and grand-children at Thanksgiving. We all look forward to receiving them and have special places for them during the holiday season. I have a small artificial tree, that I've had for as long as she's been making the ornaments, that I smother with the little cross-stitched delights.

The night before she passed away, my mother had one of those "awakenings" you often hear about. She was completely pain-free for about three-hours and was filled with life, spirit, joy, smiles, energy and the will to see how many ornaments she had completed this year.

She could only find three, but kept insisting she had made five. We stopped looking for them when my husband announced he had made dinner, (maybe there will be more on that and my mother's "awakening" at a later date) and we never got back to looking -- until last night when I found 12 completed ornaments!

I can't believe there are 12 of them and I'm so excited to have found them. The actual ornaments are not made, but the cross-stitching is completed and now I have a new "mini" purpose: to do the finish work and mail them out to my sisters and my brother to surprise them and their daughters!

                                                                   How sweet it is!

The Reason

Blogging...a new adventure for me. One that I'm hoping will help me heal.

I lost my mother less than two months ago. The pain of losing her increases everyday.

My mother was 94-years old and led a long and fulfilling life. I am, shall I say, of boomer age, and I feel as though I should not be struggling with this as hard as I am. But...

My mother has been the purpose to my extremely driven life, my best friend and confidant, my advisor, my teacher and my biggest cheerleader.
She encouraged me, fought for me, appreciated me and loved me unconditionally. She is the reason I am who I am today.

When we lost Daddy to Alzheimer's disease, she was there to help me through it and I was there for her. She lived with my husband and me for the past 11-years. She went everywhere with us -- even a Sunday afternoon shopping at Sam's Club was a fun family-day outing. We took her on cruises, camping, to concerts, movies and everything in-between. She was there when I got home from work, ready to hear all about my day, and I was there when she'd wake up each morning, ready to hear about her dreams.

So, my hope is to talk about my mother in ways I cannot share with my husband and to find a new creative outlet for sharing the talents my mother passed on to me.

I look forward to my healing journey.