Crossing the line

When people asked me what was my goal for this year, I replied 'to survive'. Well, we're only a few hours off till the end of December, and so I can say, 'In this I succeeded'. And that's not to diminish all the special moments and experiences, small and big, touching and trying, joyful and anguishing, that my day-care duties brought me along the way.

Now I wonder how you will mark the closing of the year and the start of 2011. We'll be doing it quietly, not having any particular ceremony or tradition that appeals. In times long gone by, going to a formal dance was my best and most enjoyable way. Maybe we'll find a few old tunes and do a little slow dancing. Certainly we'll cook a delicious-as-we-can-make-it meal.

Anyhow, thinking about crossings, I remembered the ceremonies that used to take place on board ships between Africa and Europe when we crossed the equator. In fact, the divisive moment was also mentioned in earlier years during air journeys. As far as I know, no-one seems to notice this anymore.

But shipboard crossing the line was fun. Someone with enough weight to add importance to the occasion would be chosen to dress up as Neptune, complete with long, straw wig and a hula skirt. Someone else would be his wife, ditto long braids. Neptune carried the traditional trident to add gravitas. And there were surely some mermaids in their court, which was held on deck near the swimming pool. All those who'd never crossed the equator before were ordered to appear before the Lord of the Ocean and his Lady, and were usually ordered... well, you can guess the rest. Lets just say that most people ended up very wet. Not that that mattered at all, given the location.

Crossings of all kinds can be significant, even that everyday and everynight occurrence of falling asleep and waking up. I mark the start of my prayers and meditations by lighting a candle, and the end by blowing it out. During January I hope to mark the start of a New Year by clearing out lots of old clutter.

Have a good Old Year's Night, dear readers.

Journeys

It struck me that this time of year is all about journeys, both outer and inner. We think about Mary and Joseph going to Bethlehem, the shepherds and the Kings going to worship the Child. Then we have our own journeys through the twelve days and thirteen nights. Perhaps we travel to be with friends and family.

Journeys, even those of the inner kind, can be subjected to the dreaded Ds: delay, diversion and danger. These are not always easy to deal with, which is why I'm always grateful to arrive. My dad always marvelled at how wonderful a travelling companion my mom was. She'd be willing and ready to travel in the time it took to pack a hat. But more, she never complained or wrung her hands when things didn't go according to plan, but rather accepted the situation and then made the best of it.

I'm trying to take a leaf out of her book.

Not that my recent travels haven't gone smoothly. They have. Still, it's the general principle of acceptance and non-complaining I'm trying to work on... Okay, there's a ready-made New Year's resolution for me!

Then I was remembering all the different modes of transportation I've experienced in my life. I've had bicycle rides, camel, elephant and horseback rides. Tram and train rides : steam, electric, diesel and underground. I've been on rowboats, sailing dinghies, larger sailboats, small and large ships (but never a cruise ship). Small propeller planes and everything up to the large jets of today. And done a lot of travelling by car. Maybe, though, my best and favourite way of getting around is by bicycle. If the weather's fine, I don't think there's anything to beat that pace, the sense of being connected to the earth and sky around you, the sense of freedom.

Here's to fruitful and meaningful journeys for all of us in 2011.

Gifts and things

On this 26th day of December 2010 I wish you all blessed holy days and nights.

We had a happy time yesterday, and I'm delighted with my gifts. I now have Trax so that I can walk on ice, a folding knife and fork so I can eat the fruit I love whenever I travel (although not, of course, in an airport or plane), a book for relaxing reading and some other good stuff. Best of all, though, was being with the family and enjoying the turkey dinner my husband cooked... all organic and truly I believe this festive meal was the most delicious evah!!

No, we didn't do the traditional Christmas pud. I made meringue glace.

This morning I was topping up the water on a beautiful bowl of roses... yellow, actually, not red which would be more fitting for the season. But still, roses. I had to make several trips to and from the kitchen because the only jugs -- I mean, pitchers -- I have are small. A quick digression re speech... when I was a child my dear older cousin used to frequently admonish me, 'That's not a pitcher, it's a picture.' I had no idea what she meant!

The thing is, I did have a beautiful old cutglass pitcher that I bought for a small price at a little antique shop in Cape Town, down a narrow curvy road with old, cottagey buildings. I loved that jug, but sadly it got broken in our last move. This morning I remembered it and thought, 'I might have liked a new pitcher for Christmas'. The trouble is, I haven't found a shape I like. So I'll wait.

But this set me thinking how the few items of glass and crockery we've possessed and that I've really loved have all been broken, one way or another. It's okay, though. I use this as a reminder that they were, after all, only earthly possessions. I can give them a nod of regret and then acknowledged how abundantly blessed I am in many other ways.

Run up to Christmas

Actually, in my case it's more like a crawl! Although I have been busy, especially as school's out. That means I have two energetic grandsons to take care of between 8.15 and 5.15. They keep me on the run, and after that, yes, I feel like crawling!

Also, I suppose that's kind of mandatory if you're going to 'trim the hearth' as in the carol 'People Look East'. 'Setting the table' is fine. I enjoy going down to the basement to dig out some of my mother-in-law's beautiful old linen. Apart from being the best cook I've ever come across, she excelled at presenting a beautiful table. As for me, design and decoration are not my strong points. I can't set a particularly attractive table, or even a tray, for that matter. So what is the sense I'm missing, I wonder? Is it a sense for arrangement or something to do with spatial awareness? Who knows. Maybe I'll figure it out sometime. I met a woman once who gave courses in L'art de la Table at the Cordon Bleu cooking school in Cape Town... an unusual and lovely career to have, wouldn't you say?

But it's really true that having children around at Christmas time brings an extra and special dimension. This year we have our tree up already, which is unusual. Dear daughter who's visiting was the one who decorated it, helped by the elder grandson. She did a beautiful job and if I can figure out how to add a photo to my blog I might even post one. (Don't hold your breath).
I was happy to have to her do this because (see above)...

On another topic, I was hoping to see the Solstice eclipse. Unfortunately, the sky was cloudy when I got out of bed and looked out the window. I wonder though if the sight would have eclipsed (!) the time years ago in South Africa when we had a total eclipse of the moon one New Year's Eve. We were at our holiday home in Knysna on the Garden Route. We all (parents and children) took deck chairs out onto the front lawn and sat watching the sky during the complete process. Yes, it was warm enough to do that, which is hard for me to imagine right now.

Going outdoors

When the weather is freeeeeezing cold and there's snow and ice underfoot, I'm reluctant to stick my nose outdoors. Hibernating inside and huddling by the fire feels so much more appealing! But I know it's important to be out. Looking after the grandsons brings encouragement and I soon feel the benefits of being under God's heaven... when I gear myself up and actually go.

Science has now corroborated the benefits to mood and health of being outside for even ten minutes a day. And yes, there is a most beneficial time. I discovered this yesterday when a dear friend called. She's what you call 'tuned in'... and I can give you proof because I thought of her in the morning. Lo and behold, about an hour later there she was, on the phone. I had to laugh, and, as she herself said, 'It's good that we're always connected'.

Anyhow, she told me at this time of year especially, noon is the best time to be out. Some years ago I was in the habit of getting up from my writing desk and taking a walk around our crescent just before lunch. Seems that would be a good thing to re-institute.

On an incidental note, the grandsons' dad was born at noon. An unusual time of day for a birth, but surely significant. I remember when I was a young teenager and attending a high Anglican school, how the bells would ring for the noon Angelus and we'd all pause for that short interlude. It felt good. It seems to me the day can easily run on without any such breaks these days, unless I actually make the conscious decision to stop... or to go outside!

How frugal can we be?

I was peeling carrots for lunch today, making a salad, and I suddenly thought, 'I could/should be popping these scraps into the pressure cooker to make veggie stock. I have celery, parsley and onions that could all go in...' Not that I actually went that far, but sometimes I do. It always feels good to be frugal!

Soon after we went back to England in the mid-Seventies, I bought a slim, brown-paper covered book called 'The Frugal Cookbook'. It was put out by the Friends of the Earth (where are they now??) and over all the years of feeding the family I've found it truly useful. As I remember, there was only one recipe I tried that didn't go down well. Mostly there are vegetarian dishes, but included too are a couple of recipes for lamb and fish... considered more sustainable in those days.

At Christmas time we're more inclined to be lavish, and why not, seeing as it is the festive season. But in between the feasts we can still be frugal. I suppose the secret is to make the most of what we already have around.

Lennon and McCartney

Today I'm thinking about John Lennon and his death thirty years ago. Was that truly his destiny or a random happening? Who can say.

Yes, I'm a Beatles fan. We were lucky enough to live in London during the early '60s and swinging it was. Those were the days when I reveled in striding down Bond Street wearing my newly-sewn Courreges-style mini-dress and my knee-high (flat-heeled) white boots. Those were the days of discos when I could twist the night away. Ah yes! Ah youth! If it came down to it though, I was more for Paul than John. Seeing as Paul's squeeze (Jane Asher I believe it was) lived around the corner from us, I hoped to catch a glimpse of him on my way to Oxford Street or the British Museum, but it never happened.

Recently I've read a bit about the Beatles' history, probably on the Guardian. The commentator mentioned what a miracle it was, given the extreme pressure on the group, that they didn't split up earlier. I started to think then about the different life directions John and Paul took and how they influenced the culture of the day and the entire world. And I'd say my preference is still for the latter. How about you?

the frugal girl's best friend?

'Whasis for, Nana?' asks my two and a half year old grandson. He's sitting on the floor of our closet, and has just found a shoe tree.
'I'll show you,' I say, and root around for its mate.
Although I have a pair or two of plastic ones, these are old-fashioned, the business-end wooden and painted silver. So I demonstrate by sliding them into my one pair of closed summer shoes, and I start thinking how much I owe to this simple device. Or rather, how much they've saved my shoes over the years.
For instance, I have a pair of high-heeled (3 inches at a guess) brown leather boots. Made in Brazil, I believe. These are now more than a dozen winters old and I still get compliments when I wear them. But they'd probably have been in worse rather than goodish shape, maybe even long cast out, if it hadn't been for my shoe trees.
I don't have any of the fashionable extremely high-heeled shoes, especially as I'm sure I'd never be able to walk in them. Still, years ago I had a pair of 6 inch heels. They were Italian -- Amalfi I think. My mother passed them on to me because they were just that bit too big for her. Also they were white. No, don't shudder, rather trust me when I say they looked good. Anyhow, those shoes were amazingly comfortable and easy to walk in, even when I was pounding London city pavements.
These days of course you'll mostly find me in 'haus shuhe' in winter and sandals in summer. My one pair of closed shoes for rainy days are waiting patiently, having a rest while improving their shape for whenever. Thank you, shoe trees!

Christmas music

I have to confess, now and then over the past week I've heard the Chipmunks singing in my mind: 'Christmas, Christmas time is here'. Fortunately, though, other music soon comes in to replace their chirpy chorus. This morning I was listening to 'Espace Musique' - a Newfoundland and Labrador children's chorus from an album 3 NOELS, CAROL-SINGING SEA - and I thought how lucky we are to have such an abundance of seasonal music within easy access in our homes. That, of course, is thanks to modern technology. So I can immerse myself in the sounds of the old and the new, of the whole range from classical to pop and everything in between... whenever and whatever I like, whatever the mood.

It seems to me we have much more Christmas music and song than when I was a child, teenager and young woman. Maybe, as so often today, we almost have too many choices. Still, I can choose. And when I've had enough, I can switch off. (unless it's those pesky Chipmunks sneaking into my head of course!)