NEW WORDS FOR AN OLD TUNE

Let it Snow - A Song About Driving Home on Christmas  

Oh, the weather outside is frightful,

The ride home's not delightful.

It seems I've no place to go:

Hit the gas! You're an ass driving slow.

You show all the signs of stopping.

The veins in my brain are popping.

The light is still green, you know.

How I yearn that you'll turn -- You're too slow.

With one finger I wave Good night,

While you drive like you're stuck in a storm.

If you don't take a turn at the light,

My nerve endings start to get warm.

My patience is quickly dying.

I'd send you good thoughts, but I'm lying.

You're driving too goddamn slow:

Hit the gas, you're an ass. F*****g GO!

SIDE TRIP TO THE SAND

Every few years we are hit with late autumn temperatures that are single digit numbers with wind chills even lower. This is, apparently, that year in the cycle. It has been so cold that my skin is already rebelling, and there isn't enough cream or lotion in the world to make my poor fingers or toes feel any safer from the wrath of winter's approach.

To top all of this off, we had ridiculous weather Friday: mild morning, temperatures approaching 60 by lunch, then a line of monsoons so strong that roads flooded and lightning flashed and wind pounded and power was lost in various places across New England. With the line of storms, temperatures dropped rapidly, turning us back into icicles.

All of this, and Winter is just (officially) starting.

I have to be in Hampton, NH, today. Since it's along the coast, and since the wind is still being naughty, I'm not sure that visiting the beach is my brightest idea, especially with high tide. I stop along the way at all the old haunts: Salisbury Center, Seabrook, Hampton State Park, Hampton Strip, and, finally, the beach just north of the action, famously known as The Wall. I know all of these beaches so deeply that I can feel each different texture of sand as if the memories are etched into my skin.

I stop, snapping photos as if I've never seen the ocean before. Quite honestly, the ocean is fickle even today. In Salisbury, the water is so deeply blue that it looks almost like a dark sapphire. In Seabrook, the water is slightly lighter and less dramatic. Hampton, though, the ocean is a multitude of many blues, and the waves slap the sand with intention. 

As I drive along The Wall, I glance behind me just in time to see a wave splash over the concrete barrier and into the road. I just miss getting a salt-water car wash. It's not a dramatic wave; it isn't flooding the street. It's just playing, letting me know it can come over that wall whenever and wherever it wants, even if that means Route 1A instead of the beach and the rocks. I stop there, noting the many surfers in their wet suits, and watch the multiple swells roll in.

Eventually, I drive away from the water, inland a few miles, still close enough to the ocean that I can smell it but no longer see it. Once the holidays pass, the new countdown begins. Yes, I'm aware that Winter is just beginning, and I still need to put sledding, skating, and snowshoeing on my bucket list (since last year was basically a snowless bust). But, today's trip reminds me that summer is coming. In six short months, yes, summer. Neither the air nor the water will be wearing their winter coats, and I can hope that as cold as this season has been, the summer will be equally and conversely as warm.

WAX ON, WAX OFF

Big news around here is that Yankee Candle is closing its iconic South Deerfield distribution center, and, frankly, that news stinks (or, rather, smells faintly unpleasant in a pleasing, waxy way).

I used to be a Yankee Candle fanatic, especially the balsam fir smells since I have a fake, odorless Christmas tree. As I've aged, though, I've lost my affinity for all things smelly. Aromas I once liked in candles (lavender, apple spice, meadow -- but never vanilla) have become off-putting. 

I think this aversion started around the time that I discovered I can no longer go on twisty-twirly amusement park rides. I used to love the Tilt-O-Whirl, but not so much anymore. I can tolerate the Teacups, but only if we spin in an organized pattern. Oh, I still love a good Merry Mixer (Canobie's Psychodrome is one such animal), but that's one of the few I tolerate well.

It's the same with candles. Scents I used to enjoy and had stockpiled are suddenly offensive and stomach-curdling to me now. Oh, sure. I can give them away to other people, but I'm not really fond of re-gifting, and I discovered that the scent wafting through the air inside of my apartment is enough to set my tummy into dry-heave mode.

Solution? Purge. (The candles, not my stomach.)

I seriously can't even keep these candles inside my home nor my car long enough to donate them. Suddenly, the putrid smell is suffocating me like the overwhelming stench of popcorn inside a closed theater. Where is the air? I can't breathe in here!

Most of the candles I have are votives, the smaller ones that fit into glass cups, as opposed to the candles that are already in glass containers. Throwing these candles out is painless from a "cut yourself on broken shards of crystal" way, but extremely painful from a stench angle. After all, I have to sniff, really and truly sniff, each and every candle to decide if it's a keeper. Some of them are borderline, but the ones that are bad are really, really bad. The aromas actually get trapped inside of my sinus cavity. 

Every time I open the trash can lid, I am assaulted by the smells of discarded waxy votives. It reminds me of the last trip to the local Yankee Candle store where my friend and I were basically thrown out for gagging over candles. So, I drag out a couple of zipper baggies, dig the candles out of the trash, and secure those bad boys inside protected plastic.

If I receive candles for gifts this holiday season, I will graciously accept them, and I may even like them. But, to be honest, I tolerate them a lot less than I used to. Then again, I tolerate a lot of things, including people, a lot less than I used to, so candles should be no surprise. Regardless, I'm sorry to see Yankee Candle hit the skids. It has been an icon around here for as long as I can remember. It makes me sad that people will lose jobs and more storefronts will be vacant.

I suppose I'm "waxing" poetic. but now the only smelly waxing is coming directly from me rather than the baskets of candles in my living room.

HOLIDAY BY CANDLELIGHT

I had to order new outdoor lights to decorate my porch railing for the holiday. I get the battery-operated ones because whoever lived here before me set the outside power outlet on fire, and I'm terrified to try and plug anything into it. I order four short strings of lights since the longer strings are a pain to wrap in and out of the railing rungs. After putting two sets out there, I am reasonably happy with the results. If I have a chance, I'll pick up a small potted tree, decorate it with the other lights, and put that outside, as well.

Window candles are another problem, entirely. I had some a few years ago, but two of them melted when the batteries overheated due to some kind of cheap wiring malfunctions inside the candles themselves. For a long time, back when I had about twenty windows in my townhouse, I couldn't have the plug-in kinds because I lived in a very old house with wall outlets in stupid places and far away from the windows. 

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

But, if I'm going to have outside lights, then I need inside ones, too. Right? I debate ordering electric window candles online. Or, perhaps I risk more expensive candles and hope the battery problem doesn't do a three-peat. (Seems foolhardy to me.) 

This is when I remember that I still have a few LED tealights from Michael's Craft Store. They're not the tiny ones, but they're not tall, either. I rummage through the toy baskets and find a set of wooden blocks. I build up a little stand for each candle by stacking the blocks, then . . . voila! . . . Window Candles (that even flicker realistically). I could go buy taller ones, but these will do. I take a quick walk outside to see how silly these little candles look, and, gosh dang it, they look pretty decent. 

Maybe next year, I will use taller ones, but this maneuver has convinced me not to bother with the traditional "candles in the window" schtick. Now, if I can just get off my lazy butt and get that tree for the porch table . . . 

GRINCH + SCROOGE + CRATCHIT + MARLEY

It's Advent, and this first week is Hope. I feel like I'm hung up on hope without really being able to sort it all out in my head.

The Christmas tree went up several weeks ago so my granddaughter could help with the decorating. I just finished the rest of it today. Well, except that I forgot about changing over the shower curtain, so I guess I'm not 100% there just yet. 

But, I'm close. I'm at 99%.

As I've downsized my living space, I've downsized everything else. The tree has shrunk, ornaments have been discarded, strings of lights have been tossed (okay, so I had to order new outdoor lights, but that's because I wore the old ones out), holiday towels have been repurposed or donated, and I have stopped buying holiday candles except for Advent ones, but, to be honest, I am reusing last year's Advent candles but in reverse order.

I don't like when Thanksgiving is so late in the month, though. It throws off Christmas prep by a week. Add into that the fact that it is pitch dark, and I mean nighttime blackout, but 4:30 in the afternoon, and all sense of motivation is out the window. 

At my age, I don't want things. And, the more that I don't want things, the less motivated I am to give things. I want experiences. You want to give me something? Take me out for a cup of tea. Meet me for lunch. Join me at the beach. Dare to get on an airplane with me. Let's take a walk. Let's take a drive.

I still want the experience, and it's not about the expense. It's about the stuff. The accumulation of it, the passing it around. The preciousness of it all. The guilt of receiving something that I really don't want or the giving of something the other person greets with "Oh, you didn't need to" when what they really mean is, "Now, what the heck am I supposed to do with this?"

We finally agreed to stop Secret Santa when we realized as adults that we are basically passing around the same $25 gift card from person to person like some demented Yankee Swap. 

Yeah, I'm all about celebrating. But, please. I hope that we stop with the stuff for the simple sake of stuff. Just think: In the time it takes someone to find me a gift, wrap it up, and deliver it, we could've had a nice meal together or gone to a coffee shop or sat in our beach chairs or walked along a stream or gone to a museum or taken a train ride to nowhere just for fun.

Grinch? Maybe. I'll own it. 

Have I finished my shopping? No, but I've started it, along with the realization that it's just stuff. As I sip my cooled tea and surf the internet for just the perfect gift, I think that I could be sharing a hot mug with a friend or relative instead. We could be putting that time, effort, and expense into filling our gas tanks and meeting somewhere when we actually live hours apart. 

Color me green this holiday season, but don't forget the candy cane stripes. I'm Scrooge and Cratchit with a bit of Jacob Marley thrown in for good measure. Happy First Day of Advent -- I hope to see you all over the holidays and beyond so we can chat about . . . stuff.

STRESSED WORK IN PROGRESS

Stress.
One of my least favorite roommates. 

Stress lives rent-free in professional life.

Stress lives rent-free in my personal life.

Stress lives rent-free in my social life. 

Some days 

Stress takes up a huge space and should be

Paying a larger portion of my emotional expenses. 

Some days I am lucky enough to get by without 

Stress

Because Stress seems to be taking a vacation. 

(Perhaps I just trampled it with overuse.) 

Either way, I have mastered several ways to 

Keep Stress at bay most of the time. 

Not always, but 

I'm a work in progress.

SAME OLD SAME OLD TRAVEL BLIPS

Whenever I travel, two things always happen without fail: 1. Some stranger accosts my personal space; and 2. My glasses break.

The first happens when I am minding my own business at Logan Airport. Regular readers of this blog will recognize the same old story. I am in a near-empty gate, sitting alone and away from humans, charging my phone, and generally minding my own damn business. Apparently I have a neon sign above my head that says, "Come! All ye who are loud and obnoxious, all ye who chew loudly, and who speak on your phones as if the whole world needs to know your life choices. Come, sit near me for a long, long while because I certainly don't wreak of 'Leave me the fuck alone' vibes."

A man, probably about my age, sits in a seat directly behind me (remember, the gate is near empty, so at least fifty other seats are completely unoccupied), starts up a video call, and proceeds to tell a woman (his poor wife?) all about everything from his travel woes to his pus-filled hemorrhoids. I know she can see me on the video call, and I've half a mind to swivel my head and scream, "Who are you talking to, you two-timing bastard?!" 

Finally, he says mercifully, "Let me put on my headphones so we can have a private conversation." Then, and this is the ridiculous part, he puts on the headphones but does not plug them into his phone. He continues on his very loud video call, only he's louder since he cannot hear clearly because he is basically now wearing mufflers on his ears. I turn, glance over my shoulder but am disappointed to see that he has angled the phone to the right so only half of his face is on the video screen (and none of mine). I shake my head and move two aisles over in the same waiting area because there is no one else here.

The second problem I have when traveling is that my glasses always break. Oh, they never break when I'm home or near a store -- only at the most inconvenient times and places. I have learned my lesson of having to wear driving sunglasses in the dark because my distance glasses broke during a road trip, and of not being able to read anything because my up-close glasses have lost a lens. Now, I always bring two pairs of driving glasses and two pairs of readers with me on trips. Simple. Problem solved.

However, on this particular trip, I will be going someplace sunny. At the last moment when parking my car at the long-term lot, I grab my driving sunglasses (the ones that saved me during that night driving incident) and pop them into my bag. Thank goodness I do. because I am wearing those constantly while driving around the neighborhoods of North Carolina.

I leave my glasses in the rental, no problem, and proceed to a park and to lunch. Until, that is, I get back in the SUV. Remember -- I have not been near the sunglasses for two hours; they are merely sitting alone in the vehicle. When I open the car door and ready myself to leave the parking lot, I grab my glasses and a random chunk of the temple tip of the frame has merely detached itself. I can't even pretend to use the glasses because they will fall right off the side of my face.

Thank goodness I still have two sets of driving glasses with me in my backpack in the car (I'm headed to the airport soon, anyway, so everything is with me). It doesn't help that I am driving into the sun, but it's okay. That's what car visors are made for, right?

When I get back to my own car at the long-term lot, it is dark, so I don't need my sunglasses. I have my spare pair in the car, anyway, but now I have to buy a spare spare. All in all, one random freakazoid headphone man and one set of broken glasses are not nearly enough to dampen a great trip, and it's reassuring to know that my travel blips remain steady. It almost feels like good luck!