Hope you survived one of our most stressful self-inflicted rituals in the US – holidays and all that is wrapped up in that. I plan every year to downsize the hype – no tree, no over the top spending, limiting the amount of time spent in crowded stores. Best laid plans and all that…and here I am half way through the month and I still have visions of sugar plums dancing in my head.

Damn those sugar plum fairies…

In spite of my mantra to keep it simple, my calendar filled up with fun get-togethers. Becky, Sylvia and I gathered for our annual Tree event at the Davenport; Kathy and I enjoyed a competitive game of Upwords and a good helping of laughs; Lindsey joined me for our weekly Friday download in the hot tub. There were poker potlucks and writers group gatherings, and as usual I made too many commitments, became overwhelmed, and a little depressed about the whole diet-be-damned mind set that takes over. By the time the ball dropped I was exhausted from being so damn cheery, not to mention the checking account blown all to…
Why do I do this to myself?

I sit down now with a second cup of coffee and recall my season’s blessings, for in reality, that is where the joy lives.

There has been some progress over the recent years, and especially since COVID as I have traded all that time standing in line at the mall and shopping till I drop for easier methods – shopping from my couch in jammies. It’s so much more comfortable, the only real drawback is that it is so easy to over-shop and this practice just feeds the ever- greedy Amazon Dragon.

Our one snow event was a memory by December 25th. We suffered through rain that turned to ice, leaving my holiday spirit dampened, and body bruised from a fall down the front porch steps. I found every step with the back of my head, so no real damage done. But as a result, I now have railings on those steps.

I took my poker coach and main squeeze, Greg, to see the Van Gogh Immersive Exhibit for his Christmas mainly because I can’t think of anything he needs. He has more clothes and shoes and hats than I do. Besides, I like the idea of something we can do together that is not poker based or requires buttered popcorn. The artwork was stunning, the experience was a little heavy on standing and reading Van Gogh’s history.

My most original gift was when I opted to fund a legit drum set for Josh, Summer, and Blue. JK has been wanting one for years, since his Break-Off band days. I asked Summer what she thought of the idea (making sure I would not be instigating service of divorce papers) and was blown away by her enthusiasm.

…pa-rum-pum-pum-pum…

He found a decent deal on Craigslist, brought it home, set it up, and boom! Blue immediately picked up sticks and demonstrated her ability to keep a beat. She loved it so much they found a kids set for her so she can play along – I can hear the dueling, but thankfully not banjos. (You go, girl!) I’m sure she inherited her drumming abilities from me…after all, I did play drum for two full months at the start of my freshman year in the marching Highlander’s Bagpipe Band. I offered to include noise canceling headphones, but remarkably no one was interested. Brooke sent tie dye paints for the white T-shirts she had printed with I’m with the band for Josh and Summer, and one for Blue that says THE BAND; included in the package were three pairs of obligatory “Cheap Sunglasses” (circa 1979, ZZ Top),

guaranteeing era-authenticity. Band names are being considered…Pink Hearts is top of the list at the moment. Can’t wait for pictures.

Moezy’s held a potluck and poker tournament memorial for one of our most beloved players. Jim, aka Highlife, was a Purple Heart veteran, and had been a drummer in a band for decades, the most recent being “Old Bones” I think. He’s gone now so I can’t confirm that. Smoking weed was his way of dealing with pain. He reminded me of Pig Pen of Peanuts fame, only the cloud that surrounded him was smoke.  He was a sweet soul and will be missed.

Robyn and I prefer to celebrate by not cooking; the historic Davenport was our choice in 2024 – I had already enjoyed the experience of the Christmas Tree Elegance with Becky and Sylvia, but certainly worth a second look.

As is evidenced by this newsletter wrapping up two weeks late, I’m having a slow start and the year is showing signs of being long indeed. No travel plans for me as yet, regardless of my threat to move to a different country. I did look into it, but there are so many obstacles. Still I may hit the road once there is no threat of ice… perhaps a yoga retreat in British Columbia, or a camping expedition with friends and family.

Wishing safe travels back home to all of you that escaped to warmer climes hoping to preserve your hip bones and sanity! It always sounds enticing until I remember the time required with my feet so far above the ground. Take lots of pictures! I live vicariously with my feet firmly planted in the Pacific North West.

Stay strong, carry on. Much love and wishes for a better year all around!

Carla

PS…can’t bury that body yet, Punxsutawney Phil says the ground is too wet, and a deep-freeze is in route. We’re looking at February for the services. Maybe I’ll hire some help to dig the hole for me…

Seasonal Poetry…

T’was the night after new years,
stockings still empty, no presents to boot.
when Santa finally shows up,
holiday’s over, his arrival is moot.

Seems the runway was missed
when his GPS failed
the result was a crash
and into the hedges he sailed.

Addled and shaken
he threw the sleigh into reverse
finally parking the damn thing
on our roof with a curse.

His boots in the air, as well as
hooves and antlers of deer,
stumbling, unbalanced
he no longer could steer.

Naturally, things didn’t get better.
It all went down hill with great speed
like hell in a hand-basket it got hotter,
and still hotter indeed!

Grumbling and cursing,
“Damn it,” said Clause.
The hefty elf had just tumbled
down our chimney without pause.

Mistletoe was now hanging
from his beard as he swore;
hot embers burned holes
through the red suit that he wore.

Balance evading him
he’d dropped his sack,
and the force of his fall
made him throw out his back.

Confused by the clatter,
those reindeer up top
peered down the chimney till…
with a crash all eight did drop

Smokin’ Santa was here
in our family room venue,
the deer felt grateful,
Venison was not on the menu.

Choking and gasping,
all eight covered in black,
and blinking their eyes,
the beasts trompled his sack.

Not a gift could be salvaged
all were broken and burned
Eight embarrassed reindeer
up the chimney returned.

Resigned to our fate,
I took down another mug,
filled it to the brim,
then watched as he chugged.

That settled him down
and I offered my seat,
He brushed at the ashes
then sat and put up his feet.

Quickly snoring he napped
till he rose with a groan,
He whistled his team to attention,
and I heard all eight moan.

Turning back to me then,
I heard him exclaim,
“I hate all the hoopla,
that damn Bezos is to blame!

So much money is wasted.
And I’ve gained a few pounds

from all those cookies I’ve tasted…”
His beard formed a frown.

“This season’s gone wrong,
I can’t help but complain.
Costly gifts… cutting trees…”
He shook his head with disdain

“Money’s better spent
on healthy cooking lessons
and a gym membership,
aerobics, and maybe some

fun fitness sessions.
(check with your physician
before making this decision)

Things gotta get better, I tell you,
they just can’t get any worse.
I know we said it before,
and yet we’re back under this curse.

Now, thanks for the break
And your kind listening ear.
But the Mrs.’ll have a BOLO on me.
Better fire up them deer.”

Then I heard him exclaim
As the sleigh limped out of sight,
“Bah humbug to all!
and to all, my dear, hang on tight!”
(We’re in for real bumpy ride, I fear.)

Year of the Snake

Food for thought…

Food plays an important role in celebrating a new year around the world. In cultures around the world traditions include foods that symbolize good luck and fortune, and a long prosperous life.

Let’s try these…

As I contemplate the menu, I never stray far from the southern comfort food of my youth; after all, I was raised by an Oakie and a hillbilly. We cooked a pot of black eyed peas, seasoned with a ham hock or bacon, and served with sides of corn bread, and collard greens.

Eating black eyed peas on New Years Day doesn’t guarantee good luck or I would be getting better poker hands on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The expectation for good luck is questionable, as Longfellow, a very dreary fellow, pointed out — into every life a little rain must fall… I like rain, so we’re all good and I will continue to eat black eyes on New Years Day and throughout the year with or without evidence of good luck because I like ’em.

Corn bread – a country staple, can be dressed up to go out (jalapenos, cheese, bacon bits) or made plain and hardy the way my dad preferred it. If there was any left over, he had dibs on it for his breakfast the next day of crumbled up corn bread in a glass of buttermilk. (I shared a lot of things with my dad, but his love of buttermilk wasn’t one of them.)

Collard Greens – Another dish you’ll find on a southern table, are a a tasty and savory dish that can be made spicy if you desire. I am looking forward to trying this new recipe…

Here’s wishing you good luck, fortune and prosperity, and sending out all my love and best wishes for you and yours in the coming year!