If You're Only Going to Have One Glass...

My friend knows I love a nice red.

My friend also knows I try to limit myself to one glass on a week night.

My friend found this glass and gave it to me for Christmas...because she loves me.

This glass holds an entire bottle of wine.

The entire bottle.

 If you're only going to have one glass...then...duh...this is your glass.

I gleefully showed it to my husband and opened the accompanying bottle of Mad Housewife merlot...then I had second thoughts.

"Honey, it seems irresponsible to drink this whole bottle all by myself."

He responded, "Don't worry love.  We'll be here with you."

Wink. Wink.

Georgia's on my Mind

Yesterday was not a good day sucked.  

From the minute I opened my eyes and realized what day it was, 

everything that happened was yuck 

because I knew what was coming and everything I did all day 

was only getting me closer to the point of the day that I was dreading.

Yesterday I put my dog to sleep.  

And we were all very sad.  

But we wanted you to know. 

So.  Yesterday is now over.  

And today is today.  And I'm still sad, but I'm supposed to be sad.  

It was a sad thing. 

I don't like the term getting over it.  

Like a hurdle or something you have to clear 

and then put behind you only to look back on.

The term seems to imply that you'll know when it's coming 

and exactly when you've moved past it. 

  

I rather prefer roll with it.  Because then you get to take it with you.  

You still have to figure out to how to roll.  

Figure out how to move forward smoothly.

With your new shape.

So we're not over the loss of our dear girl here in The Middle.

But we're rolling with it.

A Bit of a Blur

The last 10 days have been, to put it mildly, a bit of a blur.  No great wisdom here today folks, just a recap.  A look back.  A chance to see the events of the last days through a lens of "I made it!" versus, "Buckle up!"  And then, a bit of an announcement. 

30 pounds of turkey.  Including an appropriately sized feast of thanks.

250 ornaments.

19 Christmas trees...what, didn't you realize I have a thing for trees?

6 lit trees in the yard...at one point the middle one was only half lit, but it was early in the evening, and I often find myself only half lit at the start of a holiday evening...winkwink...it all worked out just fine.

 5 rehearsals for the Father.

1 new friend, a lovely lunch and 2 hours of calm before the storm...thank you friend. 

4 concerts, which you can tune into on your local PBS station closer to Christmas if you are so inclined...just sayin'...

3 cocktail parties hosted in our home after the concerts...maybe 75 people...or so...

100 pieces of stemware filled and washed, and refilled and rewashed...not sure how many bottles of champagne...lost count at 12.

2 unauthorized animals in the stable and 1 kitty in the manger.

1 snow storm.

13 days of house guests.

So many blessed people.  So many.


And this is just the beginning of our holiday numbers.  It's only the 8th of December! 



What am I sure of?  That it's not the number of things you cram in that matters at all.  It's the quality of each single thing.  If each one isn't important to someone, then it should be skipped.  Yes, that was a big turkey, but it fed us.  For several days.  Yes, I have a lot of trees, but I love every one of them and they make me smile every time I turn them on.  Yes, it made me crazy that there was one tree with two dark strings of bulbs, but I had a contingency plan.  Yes, it seemed counter productive to take a 2 hour lunch with a new friend just hours before hosting a party for 30 in my own home, but what the naysayers didn't realize was that I was getting myself ready to be the hostess.  Filling up my cup before I filled up everyone else's champagne flute.  Yes, 3 parties in 3 days is a lot, but I love it.  That's my contribution to the holiday concerts.  He makes the music, I make the merry.  We're a good team.  Yes, snow makes every bitter cold day more magical, and chills the champagne beautifully.

And yes, 7 gingersnaps and a glass of pinot grigio makes a perfect dinner when you're trying to clean out the fridge.







We have lots of days left in December and you will find me here, in theMiddleBit, regularly for the rest of this year.  But in the new year, I am going to focus on two new projects.  The first, a team effort with my sister, is a blog called The Shortest Distance, and you should look for me there.  I will be in the MiddleBit from time to time, but my weekly post will be there.  More about that exciting venture will be revealed as we get closer to our launch.

And the second?  A book.  Here's a tiny excerpt...

Introduction or Who the Hell Do I Think I am?

A memoir of parenting.  A motherhood memoir.  How can you write one when you’re not finished parenting yet?  Don’t you have to wait until you’re finished?  Until you can look back on all the experiences of your children and your mothering?  Until your daughters are women and you can sum it all up and assess what went well and what failed? 

Well I think that’s kind of like waiting until you know the football game is over and turning on the TV just in time to check the final score.  Who does that?  Not me, that’s for sure.  There’s a whole lot of awesome stuff to watch in the first half of the game that has a huge impact on that final score.  I am a fan of the game.  I want to watch to see who puts the first points on the board and who heads into the half down by 14.  And I'm a fan of mothers.  Mothers who are in the game.  I’m still in the first half of this game of motherhood.  There’s a whole lot of time left on the clock and I have no previous second half record that I can fall back on. 

This is the BFT era of my mothering.  Before Female Teenagers.  All of my friends that have grown daughters tell me there is no real way to be prepared for that, so I’m not going to worry about it yet.  A good coach will tell you not to focus on the final score when you are still in the first half…this is the mentality that drives a girl who has no special parenting training and already more to do that she can keep up with, to write a book on mothering.

Stay tuned...exciting things are happening here in The Middle.

Lead. Or be led.

Any minute now my husband will be simulcast to over 300 movie theaters across this nation.  In just seconds the live radio broadcast will begin.  The thousands that are there to see it live are taking their seats as my fingers fly across these keys.  And it's got me thinking about leading.  And following.

He's a conductor...but not the train kind.  He is a maker of music.  A shaper of sound.  A maestro.  Heh...it's kind of amazing actually.  He stands up in front of nearly 500 people who are all making their own joyful noise and helps them to make it even better.

Ah.  To make a joyful noise.  Raise your voice.  Toot your horn.  To remember that this horn we have been given can blow more than one note.  And to have a capable director, standing in front of us, reminding us when to come in.

Because we do know.  We've practiced it hundreds of times.  But sometimes we need to be reminded when to sing out.  Or speak up.  Or toot our own horn.

The Dalai Lama says, "Appreciate how rare and full of potential your situation is in this world, then take joy in it, and use it to your best advantage."

Use your voice.  Use it the best way you can.  And appreciate the potential of your contribution. 

Lead.  Or be led. 

But don't just go.