Thanksgiving Memories

I remember being a kid and waking up to Christmas music on Thanksgiving morning. Food being prepared in the kitchen, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV. The chill in the air and for a kid - the sheer delight in knowing Santa was not far behind!

My dad worked on Thanksgiving. 40 years ago, still a young dad, he worked the holiday for that coverted double-time holiday pay and I remember counting the minutes till my dad came walking through the door around 2 in the afternoon.

My job was always to break the fresh bread into pieces for the homemade stuffing (something my daughter does now) while my mom melted the butter, sauteed the onions and celery and added all those seasonings that would become my favorite part of dinner - STUFFING.

The turkey would make it in the oven and the company would start to arrive. Though most of those people that I see in my holiday memories are gone, I can remember them vividly. My aunts perfume and the bags of goodies and groceries she would unload from my uncles car. My uncle handing out money. My grandparents eager to wrap us in hugs and warm kisses. The corny jokes, the football, the food and most of all the love that seeped into every corner and crevice of my heart.

Thanksgiving is more than just a huge meal where we sit down and stuff more food than anyone should feel comfortable consuming into our stomachs - it’s about just what that word implies - Giving Thanks.

I’m thankful for my past. I’m hopeful for my future. The saying that you can’t see where you’re going if you don’t know where you’ve been - has great meaning to me.

No my life hasn’t been perfect - really can anyone say their life has been or is? We’ve all made mistakes, done and said things we regret and we’ve had those moments that will forever shine brightly in our memories. This is the day to shine. To celebrate all the good, all the bad and all the ways we’ve all grown - day after day, year after year - becoming better people.

Take it slow. Inhale the scents, take the time to laugh and toast to love, happiness and hope. Because wherever you are, whoever you’re with - no one knows what time holds. Life is about the small moments, the memories you make now to take with you into the future. One day I hope to have a granddaughter breaking bread for stuffing, my kids will be grown, hosting family dinners of their own. What will their memories be? Will they remember the music, the smells of roasting turkey or our family’s tradition of watching “Christmas Vacation” when the last of the food has found a place in the refrigerator?

So my wish for all my family, friends, and the best critters on the planet, is for hope and enough of everything they could want! For memories to fill a lifetime. For love to overflow.

Okay, okay, I wish us all the big publishing contracts we can handle! (I can dream, right?)

Tags: Thanksgiving

November blue

I always find November to be a difficult time of year. It’s sort of a preparatory month. I’m preparing myself for The Big Meal. (Or, in my case, planning how I’m going to avoid eating too much at the Big Meal). And–for relatives.

I don’t want to say I’m not thankful for my family, you understand. It’s just…well. First of all, there are SO many of them. Three sisters, one brother, spouses, children, and then–the children’s children. And in the midst of ALL these people, I’m viewed as the Unemployed, Lacking Direction, Living in Near Poverty, Clueless, Pathetic and Wasting Her Time and Her Talent (When We All Know She Should Be Writing Children’s Books) Let’s-Tell-Her-How-She-Needs-to-Run-Her-Life one of the family.

Yes. I’m the family loser.

Except, I’m also the only one in the family who’s currently overweight (therefore, I only lose in the wrong parts of my life). Oh. Joy. Those not telling me how to run my life will be watching how I load my plate. That means I won’t be able to eat any of the foods made in the time-honor Thanksgiving tradition of butter, cream, bring on the fat and calories. So I’ll be eating…salad.

Now you’re probably wondering what the heck has this whiney stuff got to do with writing? I don’t know about you, but I always find that mining my personal muck is good for character building. Who doesn’t have angst? Knowing that a character has worries just like you (the reader) makes them more likeable. The trick is–you (the writer) can’t let them whine too much. Let them persevere beyond what they’re whining about. And for a really satisfying ending, let them win out over the angst.

In my case, that would be to make $1,000,000 from one of my romances and invite my family over for a Thanksgiving meal where I only serve salad and tell them what they should do with their lives. Oooooh. Satisfying.

And how does this tie in to the “Thankful Theme”? Easy. And I’m sure anyone reading this will agree. I’m thankful Thanksgiving only happens once a year!

Tags: angst, family, Thanksgiving

I’m thankful…

The Queen has decreed that this month’s theme is Being Thankful. So…

1. I’m thankful that we can only afford to keep one car. Because that means we’re polluting the atmosphere less than we did, before.

2. I’m thankful that I need to belong to Weight Watchers, because it means I’m not starving to death.

3. I’m thankful that my kids annoy the heck out of me, because it means they’re healthy, full of curiosity and just plain normal.

4. I’m thankful that we’re experiencing hard times right now, because we’re learning how to live more with less, simply and efficiently. And we’ll appreciate what we have in the future because of what we learned, today.

5. I’m thankful that my husband and I were both laid off this year; we learned that we’re not ready to retire yet. (And when he’s working 50-70 hours a week at his new job in January, we’ll be thankful that we’re out of each other’s hair!)

6. I’m thankful when I get up in the morning and my body aches; it means I’m not dead, yet.

7. I’m thankful that I can’t find a full-time job because it gives me more time to write.

8. I’m thankful that gas prices were so high; it made me slow down, walk more and learn about my neighborhood stores.

9. I’m thankful that the leaves are falling and winter’s coming; it means Spring is right around the corner.

10. I’m thankful I’m a writer. Where others see doom, gloom and conflict, I see…a potential plot.

What are you thankful for?

A Really Bad Hair Day

Ever have a really bad hair day?

I went to get my hair done last week, my usual color and cut. This time, I decided I wanted a little change. I felt my hair was getting too blonde. Not that there’s anything wrong with being blonde. Although I do have my blonde moments – like the time my office was having the carpet replaced and I had to pack all my stuff up. The next morning, new carpet in place, I went to unpack and discovered that I had packed my scissors in a box and sealed it up with tape. Or the other night when my husband was working late and asked if I’d be awake when he got home. I told him, “If I’m not awake I’ll be asleep.”

My natural color is a sort of light auburn, and highlights over highlights were making me too blonde, so I told my hair stylist Olivia I wanted it a little darker, maybe with some streaks of light brown, like a caramel color. She was so happy! She was like an artist, brushing on different colors. When she finally removed all the tinfoil, shampooed, cut and blow-dried, I looked at myself in shock.

The back of my head was its normal reddish-blonde color but the underneath layer of the front was a dark chocolate brown, and the top layer was a very light, bleached blonde. I looked like a tri-colored skunk.

How could I tell this artist that her work of art was ugly and horrible? I couldn’t do it. I tactfully told her it was a lot blonder than I wanted, that I was trying to be less blonde. I guess she realized I wasn’t sure about the new look so she told me to give it a few days to get used to it and if I still didn’t like it, to come back.

I went home and looked in the mirror. And I cried. The blonde was too blonde and the brown was way too dark. I’d never in my life had such dark hair. It was so not what I’d wanted.

So I went to the drugstore. After spending about two hours examining every hair color product in the hair aisle, I selected a highlighting kit and a low lighting kit.

I went home and first tried the lowlights. I thought if I blended the blonde in with the dark color it might not look so bad. After another blow dry, I cried again. Now I looked like Morticia.

My husband, after twenty-three years of marriage, wisely knows what not to say about my hair. He would never say it looked awful, but he also knew better than to try to tell me that it looked nice.

Then I tried the highlights, trying to blend the dark in with the light. Another shampoo and blow dry, another facing of the mirror. Well, I could live with it. At least I looked more like myself. I didn’t do too bad of a job, if I did say so myself other than a few weird sideways stripes, and the underneath part was still way too dark and looked a little strange, but now at least I could go to work and face people.

The next night night, Olivia called, checking to see how I liked my hair. I was totally busted. What could I say? I couldn’t lie, unless I never wanted to return to her salon. I’ve been with Olivia longer than I’ve been with my husband, so breaking up would be hard to do. So I told her I’d done “some stuff” myself.

She was horrified. What kind of stuff? You should have called me, she told me, very upset. She got me to come in the next day so she could see what I’d done and if she could fix it. I felt terrible, like I’d betrayed her, but I’d been so reluctant to tell her I hated it.

Olivia told me that as a client, I am her walking advertisement. If my hair looks good, it reflects well on her (and vice versa - she didn’t say that, but I know she was thinking that I was walking around with sideways highlights and people were holding her responsible). She said she would rather I told her if I was unhappy about something to give her a chance to fix it.

When she looked at my hair, she was very tactful and she redid the color and highlights completely and didn’t even charge me.

I’d like to say the moral of the story is that being so upset about something like your hair is superficial and vain and I’ve learned that appearance isn’t everything. But …no.

Have you ever cried over a bad hairdo? Do you rush home from the salon to wash and style your hair yourself? Try to fix something you don’t like with dye or even - yikes - scissors???