Purging the Clutter




 
Husband returned a few days ago from a two week trip to Ireland. There were some plumbing problems in our Irish home caused by the unusual inclement weather that needed attention. So flights were booked and off he went.

The house was quiet after his departure, yet lacked serenity. I was unable to put my finger on the cause of the uncomfortable, stressed aura that surrounded me. Putting on the kettle…because this is what I do when deliberating about most everything. With tea in hand I walked from room to room  trying to determine the reason for this atmosphere of unease. It obviously wasn’t husband. After two mugs of tea and two visits to each room, inspecting closets, cupboards, refrigerator and drawers I came to the conclusion that house was burdened, weighed down and moaning under the clutter collected over the past months.

I was shocked at the volume of unorganized stacks of paper stashed in just about every corner. I gathered all the paper piles and placed them on the kitchen table. The purging had begun. Seven hours later I had wadded through the mountain of paper. I shredded four binfuls, sorted, filed or recycled the rest. My next area of attack was the refrigerator and freezer. Best before dates were carefully scrutinized. As I tossed things into the bin my surroundings began to feel lighter. I emptied the freezer finding things at the bottom I was hard pressed to identify. Deciding this was one mystery I had no desire to unravel, the unidentified frozen objects joined past best before dates in the bin. Now the freezer is neat tidy and all its contents are identifiable and usable.

My next target was the pantry. Again best before dates were examined. I am not a stringent best before dater. Call me cynical because I consider these dates a marketing ploy. I am meticulous about dairy product dates though.  All except yogurt that is. After all what is yogurt? Getting back to the purging. The pantry was now sorted. Each shelf had its theme and all products on the shelf were repackaged if needed, sealed and labeled. Closets, drawers, sideboards etc. were all subjected to the same. After two weeks of moving through the house like a bat out of hell, filling the rubbish and recycling bins along with boxes and sacks for Goodwill I took a breath  and put the kettle on.   With  mug of tea in hand I moved through the house to observe my handiwork. To my surprise and slight disappointment everything looked the same. I had to open doors and drawers to see the results of my efforts. The house looked the same and yet it felt lighter. As I moved quietly from room to room sipping my tea I was sure I could hear the house say thank you. Then husband arrived home and the dining room table  once again sagged under travel debris. I began to feel  restless and uncomfortable again. Thankfully the table was cleared within two days and calmness restored. 

There is still much purging that needs to be done. I didn’t have the time or the energy to tackle the basement. But it is on my list.



Not A Dumbell In Sight

Thank you Google Images

The New Year is moving along as time has a habit of doing and here it is week two of 2011.  How did that happen?  I have no idea where the first eleven days of January went!

Today marks the end of the Fiction Writing Class I started 12 weeks ago. As I was in the throes of this class I wondered what madness possessed me to take it on. I had assignments due every week which was good. A schedule to produce is much needed in my world. BUT isn’t there always a BUT! As I was saying but there were two major family holidays and two less major ones requiring organization thrown amongst the mix. Halloween and New Years (the less major ones), Thanksgiving and Christmas (the major ones). Now some of you might feel Halloween and New Years are also major holidays but…..there is that word again…It depends on how on you qualify a “Major Holiday.” For me hours of shopping, food planning, cooking and a limp exhausted plastic card are the criteria for a “Major Holiday.” So my point, well I stressed out over the holidays and I stressed out over the writing assignments. Today I realized just how stressed I was because today I am relaxed. So what did I do, I went looking for another writing class. I kid you not.

Friends of mine told me about this wonderful place called the Loft in Minneapolis. I went to the Loft website and as I was perusing it I came across a wonderful list of New Year’s resolutions. Resolutions that are not daunting or setting one up for a fall.   Best of all there is not a single dumbell in sight!!!

12 Literary Resolutions for 2011

January: Read a classic that has always been on your list. I’ve never read Virginia Woolf— embarrassing, yes. January is the time to conquer this hole in my education.

February: Write for at least 15 minutes every day. Take away the pressure and swear you’ll never show anyone this new work. You’ve heard it before, I’ll tell you again. Just get it flowing. Conquer the blank page. This is a short month. You can do it. If fifteen minutes turns into an hour, send yourself a valentine.

March: Go to at least two author readings at your local book store, library, or literary center. If your community does not have authors passing through, you can watch a reading online. After hearing from the author, read the book.

April: Celebrate the foolish. Find some of the best humor writing and see what makes you laugh out loud. “Right ho!” You can never go wrong with P.G. Wodehouse. Then, give yourself a humor writing assignment. After you make someone laugh from a quip or joke, try to write it down. Can you capture spoken humor in the written form?

May: Spend the month rereading your old work. I have a half-written novel waiting patiently for me on my computer. Why does this scare me so much to go back and read it? Read fragments, half-finished essays, and rejected work. Invite one piece back into your life for revisions, and a second chance.

June: Get an anthology of poetry and read the same poem twice every day—once in the morning, and once at night. Does coming back to it in the evening change it? Take June to think about language—what draws you in, what bores you?

July: Spend two hours a week working on one long piece. This could be a rescued piece discovered in May or something new. Take off the pressure: tell yourself just one month.

August: Reread your favorite book from childhood. Why did that book make such an impression on you? I often wonder if it is a coincidence that I fell madly in love with Robin Hood at the age of 11 and as an adult became a professional fundraiser.

September: Submit. Submit to your dream of being a writer. Submit your work to a contest, a local newspaper, a literary journal.

October: Read a best-selling mystery. What can you learn from a well-paced page turner?

November: Jump on the NaNoWriMo bandwagon and try to write a novel in a month. NaNoWriMo offers plenty of online resources and many communities have meet-ups. The Loft offers a weekend novel writing conference to offer inspiration in early November.   Ahem! Don't know about this one???

December: Buy books, give books, talk about books, and spread your love of literature throughout the holidays.

"In one painless year, you’ve become an active participant in the literary community. You’ve read a classic, you’ve created new work, and you’ve heard new work, you’ve supported authors and not once were you encouraged to get more exercise or cut back on sweets and alcohol."
Jocelyn Hale, the Loft’s Executive Director.

I love these resolutions; well all except November…

Thanksgiving people, Major Holiday!

Wishing all my blogging/writerly friends a very Happy and Prosperous 2011.

May all your publishing dreams come true!!!

Christmas Nostalgia

Christmas Eve, Ring Co. Waterford

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. When the children were young the house buzzed with excitement. The first indication that Christmas was approaching came with the making of the Christmas pudding. As I began measuring one aromatic ingredient after another the children pulled chairs up to the counter and watched in fascination. Once all the pudding ingredients were in the bowl, it was time to stir and wish. This was done with such concentrated determination. Each in turn with eyes closed tightly moved the wooden spoon around the bowl and made their wish. Children wishing on the Christmas pudding is as old a tradition as pudding itself. 

Daughter's hands visible in bowl. Notice sugar in Child #3's hair!

A few weeks later it was time to make the snowball cookies. A recipe handed down by my mother.  Chairs were once more pulled around the counter as I beat the butter and sugar into a soft creamy batter. While the snowballs were baking four large bowls were filled with icing sugar. Aprons were fastened on and the children sat anxiously waiting for the oven timer to buzz. The signal for fun to begin. I placed the hot butterballs into the first bowl of sugar for tossing and passing along. If I was lucky only a dozen snowballs would myseriously disappear in the process. No-one could explain this mysterious disappearance. "Mr. Nobody" a regular visitor in our house was blamed. But I had my supisions as I observed the mischievous sugar mustached grins looking back at me!

Husband, Firstborn, Child #3, Daughter's best friend & Daughter
Decorating the tree in Ring, Co. Waterford

The Sunday nearest December 8 was designated for decorating. Once Sunday lunch was over, snowball cookies, chocolate covered marshmallows and chocolate covered Kimberly biscuits were arranged on a Christmas Cookie plate, placed on the Christmas tray with glasses, a litre bottle of Cidona along with glasses of sherry, for mom and dad. Children waited anxiously for the tray to arrive. This signaled the decorating was to begin. Each year at least one ornament met its end and this too became part of the ritual. With the decorating done we would sit and watch the taped video of the Late Late Toy Show that had aired the night before. Christmas was now just around the corner.

I sit here now with a longing in my heart and tears brimming my eyes remembering these sweet moments. The years flew by way too quickly. My children are now all grown. But all is not lost! My daughter is expecting her first child in February.....so in a few short years I will have another mischievous sugar mustached grin looking back at me.

I would like to thank you for reading, commenting and following my blog. Your support and encouragement has meant the world to me this past year. 

My warmest wishes to you and your family for a very Merry, Peaceful and Happy Christmas.

Be Jolly By Golly Blogfest

Stockings all hung in a row!



What a fun way to celebrate!  Thanks to Jen at Unedited and Melissa at Through the Looking Glass for this Christmas Cheer Blogfest.  I have collected a number of wonderful recipes already and the day is only beginning! Stop over at Jen's and Melissa's and catch a glimpse of bloggers beautiful Christmas decorations and discover new holiday recipes.

Husband's Snow Village

Child Number 3 is placing the angel on the "Ring Tree."  This tree travelled with us from Ring, Co Waterford, Ireland.  It has its own special ornaments some of which also travelled from Ring. 

It bears the Children's school and homemade decorations.    



Ring Tree

Firstborn is putting the finishing touches to our second tree.  In previous years this tree took pride of place in the dining room......but our family is expanding so it has been designated to the family room.  I have to say it is looking very much at home in its new corner.

Family Room Tree

Onto food.......

We have a number of traditional Christmas foods. But the fare with rituals or stories attached (some of which will be revealed in next post) are the Christmas Pudding, Trifle and Snowball Cookies.  Snowball cookies were a family affair.  Children donned aprons in the futile attempt to reduce the mess. A large bowl of icing sugar was placed in front of each child to toss and coat the delicate butterballs. These powdered sugar treats were brought out during tree decorating, the exchange of Christmas presents on Christmas Eve and  were the treats left out for Santa.  This recipe is my Mom's given to her by her best friend from our time in Chicago eons ago.  That's as much as I am going to say about that except thank you Mom and Betty Issac for giving us and our children this wonderful fun tradition.

Snowball Cookies
Cream 8 ounces of butter and 1 ounce of icing sugar
Add 2 teaspoons of vanilla
1 Tablespoon of water
8 ounces of sifted flour and mix well
add 2 ounces of nuts (optional)
Form small balls and place in fridge until firm
Bake on an ungreased cookie sheet  in a slow oven.  300*F/150*C for 20 minutes or until golden brown
While hot roll in icing sugar.  Makes 3 dozen.

When dinner is finished and my work is done, I love to sit curled up in front of the fire and sip a creamy topped Irish Coffee.

Irish Coffee
1 tsp of sugar
Powers Irish Whiskey
2/3 cup of coffee
Heavy cream, lightly whipped

Preheat the glass with hot water. Dump the water out and add the hot coffee with the teaspoon of sugar and stir. Add the Power's or any other Irish whiskey you might have, and top with the whipping cream. Pour the cream over the back of a spoon so it doesn't sink.  Dark coffee's are best for this recipe.

Enjoy!!!!

And It Snowed, And It Snowed!

Did someone say snow?

At nine o’clock on Friday night the snow began to fall, twenty-two inches of it. As you might imagine our weekend was spent drinking tea, hugging the fire and shoveling. Well I wasn’t shoveling. Thank God for small mercies. That task was left to Husband and the snow blower. Thankfully the children had the foresight to give their father a snow blower for his birthday two years ago. But even with the snow blower it was arduous work. Pushing that snow blower through the first five inches of snow wasn’t too bad. I even braved the elements to take a photo. Once the driveway and paths were cleared a bowl of porridge, toast and a pot of piping hot tea seemed in proper order. A quick look out the window, when breakfast was over produced a groan from Husband. So much snow had fallen it looked like the driveway and the path had never been cleared. Husband donned his partially dried coat, boots and gloves and headed out to battle the snow accumulation with his new best and constant friend the snow blower. Pushing the snow blower through the next five inches proved a bit more difficult and took longer. This became the routine of our day with two more forays outdoors. Son telephoned to inquire if he could use Husband’s snow blower. A short time later Son arrived and Husband helped load the snow blower into Son’s truck.  At some point during this effort Father and Son bonded resulting in Husband offering to help dig out Son’s driveway and path. En route they stopped to pull people out of ditches and help others dig their cars out from under the snow. Husband arrived home three or four hours later red faced and breathless. Hot whiskeys by the fire were the next order of business.

It snowed throughout the night. In the early hours of Sunday morning, the city plows made their way down our road. This meant all the snow from the road was pushed into the entrance of our driveway. Packed heavy ton weight snow. With a sigh of resignation, Husband once again donned the winter gear hanging over chairs to dry in front of the kitchen and mudroom heat registers. An hour later I turned on the 24/7 weather channel to learn the temperatures were dangerously low. Getting Husband’s attention over the roar of the snow blower to warn him was a chore in itself. When he finally looked in my direction I gestured for him to come in. I did not relish the thought of trying to navigate snow laden roads on the way to an emergency room due to frostbitten digits. I related the warnings and asked that he not stay out for long intervals. Clearing the paths and driveway took up the rest of the day. There was nothing for it but to make a hot chili and some homemade New Zealand beer bread for dinner. I made it extra hot. Lip throbbing hot according to Husband, which didn’t deter him from refilling his bowl! So that was our weekend. Everyone I have spoken to has a similar tale. A weekend revolving around keeping up with clearing the snow. Thankfully neither we nor any of our family or friends lost power, there is always a silver lining. But I can’t end this tale on the silver lining, because in the early hours of this (Monday) morning the plows came down our road again. Pushing more snow into the entrance of our driveway and every other driveway on the street. Guess what Husband was doing at 4:30 this morning!

Comforts

Last Sunday I was feeling a bit sorry for myself. Actually I felt very sluggish and deflated dissolving into tears at the slightest provocation. But the grocery shopping had to be done. Husband said he would drive me as he needed to get another one of his bargain basement haircuts. I was relieved because there is nothing like driving in snow to put the heart crosswise in me.


Husband pulled up to the doors of Festival asking how long I would be. Tears began to spill down my cheeks. Why this simple inquiry reduced me to tears is beyond explanation…..I managed to say “half an hour if I’m lucky, an hour if I’m not,” to a very bewildered looking husband!

I moved through the fruit and vegetable section struggling to keep the tear flow under control. I quickly went up one aisle and down another until I came to the shampoo/cleanser aisle. I slowed down because I needed some cleanser. Casting a glance along the shelves searching for Ponds a blue jar caught my eye. I stopped right in front of the blue jars stacked on the shelf and felt a little smile threaten to supplant the tears. The big white letters on the blue jar read “NOXZEMA”. I have not seen or maybe just not noticed a jar of Noxzema in years. The white letters on that blue jar plummeted me back in time. I was a small child watching my mother open her jar of Noxzema and rub the white cream all over her face and neck and then dab a smidgen onto my cheeks and nose. Well what do you think I did….I grabbed one of those blue jars and placed it gently into my cart. Not with the rest of the groceries…Oh no….it was carefully placed in the child seat.

When I got home I sorted out my pantry and put the shopping away. I began to feel a bit light headed and chilled. I just couldn’t get warm. Was I coming down with the flu. I discovered I had a fever of 102. My weepyness was now explained. Whew! For a while there I thought I was losing my grip! I decided the best place for me was bed. Grabbing my Noxzema jar I headed up the stairs. I opened the jar, held it under my nose and breathed in the scent. There is no way to describe the Noxzema smell, it has its own distinct scent in the same way Vicks does. The very mention of Vicks and one can smell the vapours. Well I smeared a big glob of that cream all over my face and neck. Closing my eyes I felt soothed by the scent and the tingling sensation on my skin. The overwhelming emotions that had gripped me washed away as I rinsed the Noxzema from my face.

Most people assuage their well-being with “Comfort Foods.” It seems I am not one of those people. I have discovered to my surprise my well-being is soothed by “Comfort Scents.” Which begs me to wonder what other little mysteries am I hiding from myself???

Talli Roland's "The Hating Game"

Talli Roland's "The Hating Game" Kindle edition is now available on Amazon. Help make Talli'e debut novel soar on the Amazon bestseller list at Amazon and Amazon.co.uk by spreading the word today!

A delightful read. I was gripped instantly! Anxious to find out what trials and tribulations where in store for Mattie Johns with the turning of each page.

A very cleverly written book filled with witty sarcasm and just the right amount of tenderness. I read this book in three sittings. I recommend "The Hating Game" to anyone!!! Talli Roland is an author to watch.

Writing Assignment

I wrote this scene for my writing class this morning. The premise of the assignment was to  flesh out a scene from a list of verbs that one person or animal can do to another person or animal and then randomly assigning words like “boy,” “girl,” “man,” “woman,” “dog,” “cat,” etc. to the left and right of the verb.
I chose man loves girl from the list. 

He scans the hall searching for his wife among the crowd. He catches sight of her face looking anxiously towards the door. She smiles with relief when she sees him. Pulling his coat off he quickly makes his way up the aisle to the front row where she is waiting for him.  The musty odour of soggy wool permeates through the hall. The sounds of people shifting in their seats, coughing, sneezing and clearing their throats fills the air. He settles into the seat beside her just as the lights in the hall begin to dim.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it,” she whispers

“Traffic,” he replied

“Did you bring your camera,” she asked.

“Oh no! I left it in the car,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay, I brought mine.”

"Was Amy nervous?"

"Once I told her you would be here she seemed fine."

The hum of hushed voices and polite laughter is silenced by the darkness.
A sliver of light is visible through the gapping curtain. The silence is shattered by a microphone voice from behind the curtain.

“Is this thing on?”

Laughter ripples through the hall. The principal appears through the gapping curtain microphone in hand and welcomes the parents, grandparents and family members to this years Christmas concert production. She steps back behind the curtain to the sound of pounding feet on the stage. The curtain opens in short jerking spurts to the claps of the anxious and expectant audience. The band begins to play under the supervision and direction of the band teacher. The concert is underway.


The chorus sing and the band play a selection of popular Christmas songs. Parents are bopping up and down in their seats and making their way towards the stage with cameras to capture and record another milestone event in their child’s life.


The band and chorus fall silent as a piano is pushed onto the stage. A young man rushes out and places a microphone at the centre of the stage. The principal walks out and announces a special treat for the audience, a young soloist who possess the voice of an angel the music department discovered purely by accident. The principal lowers the microphone and backs off the stage with arm outstretched by way of introduction.

Amy walks across the stage taking her position in front of the microphone. He reaches over and takes his wife’s hand in his and gives it a little squeeze. Tears of pride and love pool in his eyes. He wills the nerves and stage fright he knows Amy is feeling to ease. The band teacher sits behind the piano and begins to play the first chords of Pie Jesu.


She scans the hall looking for her parents. Finding them her eyes lock onto his. She clears her throat takes a step back from the microphone, takes a deep breath, opens her mouth and the hall resounds with the sweet and pure timbre of her voice. He holds her in his eyes until the last note. The silence is shattered by the sudden crash of chairs being pushed back. The audience is on their feet clapping and shouting for more. She bobs a curtsey and blows a kiss towards her parents and with a nervous little giggle runs off the stage.

If I Were......

When I stopped over at  Rainy Day Wanderer  for a bit of a visit I found this great list.  I thought it was fun and so decided to take a leaf from the The Words Crafter's post. Pop over and check out her very interesting list.

-If I were a season, I would be autumn
- If I were a month, I would be September
- If I were a day of the week, I would be Friday
- If I were a time of day, I would be twilight
- If I were a planet, I would be Neptune
- If I were a direction, I would be East

- If I were a tree, I would be a Cherry Blossom
- If I were a flower, I would be a lily
- If I were a fruit, I would be a peach
- If I were a land animal, I would be a horse
- If I were a sea animal, I would be a dolphin
- If I were a bird, I would be a dove

- If I were a piece of furniture, I would be a sofa
- If I were a liquid, I would be water
- If I were a stone, I would be pearl
- If I were a tool, I would be a hammer
- If I were a kind of weather, I would be stormy

- If I were a musical instrument, I would be a piano
- If I were a color, I would be royal blue
- If I were a facial expression, I would be a smile
- If I were an emotion, I would be uncertainty
- If I were a sound, I would be lapping waves
- If I were an element, I would be water
- If I were a car, I would be a 1920 Stutz Bearcat.

- If I were a food, I would be Black Forest Gateaux

- If I were a place, I would be Florence
- If I were a flavor, I would be cherry
- If I were a scent, I would be lavender
- If I were an object, I would be a Degas painting
- If I were a body part, I would be an eye
- If I were a song, I would be Tapestry by Carol King
- If I were a pair of shoes, I would be a pair of  heels

- If I were transportation, I would be a horse drawn carriage
- If I were a fairy tale, I would be The Little Mermaid
- If I were a holiday, I would be Christmas

- If I were a novel, I would be Tale of Two Cities
- If I were a movie, I would be Gone With The Wind

All About the Zip and the Geese

The voice on the radio this morning told me it was only 31degrees outside and I didn’t doubt him for a second. I felt the chill in the air as I moved about the kitchen filling the kettle in anticipation of my first and favorite cuppa of the day. Once breakfast was finished I went in search of my down lined winter coat that had been stashed in the storage wardrobe last spring . Once I located my coat I next rummaged through the winter hat and glove drawer. I eventually found my woolly ruby red cap and gloves. The voice on the radio warned me and I was taking the warning seriously.

I struggled with the zipper on my coat for a good five minutes. The coat is in perfect condition but the zip….well the zip is temperamental to say the least. It is a nylon zip, need I say more. The worst kind in my estimation. It likes to split from the bottom as I zip it up. I struggle to re-zip by forcing the zipper down and starting over again. I tug and I pull. I huff and I puff. It can take many attempts and usually does especially when I am pressed for time and rushing for work. This morning to vent the frustration welling up in me, I cursed the zipper and gave up. With the zip separated half way up, I resorted to snapping the snaps and out the door I went.

The sky this morning was a wonderful soft blue and nearly cloudless, expect for one lone cotton puff that seemed to gently glide by. The air was crisp as promised by the voice on the radio. My exhales visible bringing to mind smoke signals from old black and white movies and that’s when I heard it. The first time this season! The honking sounds of Wild Geese and flying in formation directly overhead. I don’t know if this is early or late for the geese but a silly thought crossed my mind. Had they heard the voice on the radio this morning? I shivered slightly as a gust of wind caught my breathe. Shoving my hands into the pockets I pulled my down lined winter coat closer into my body.

So the geese have decided it is time to get out of town. I looked after them longingly thinking there go some pretty smart birds. The sight of the geese overhead flying out of town heralds the impending arrival of winter. I wish I could pick up and fly off to avoid the approaching winter. How I would love to head for warmer climes. My restless spirit once more coming to the fore. My mother often told me she thought I had gypsy blood flowing in my veins as I was only happy when packing a suitcase. I smile at the memory as I make my way across campus. The honking of the geese fills the air as I dream of flying away.

I look with envy at the geese as they fly off into the horizon. They are free to go. To migrate away from the bitterness of the coming winter. While I will spend the next months struggling with the annoying nylon zip in my down lined winter coat. Oh but to soar free. I look up towards the sky again as the geese fly further away and the sound of the honking fades in the distance with each step I take. And then I hear it, the clack, clack, clicking of my coat’s zipper separating again. I look wistfully at the geese. With a deep sigh I resign myself to being earth bound in my down lined winter coat with the temperamental and very annoying nylon zip.