BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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Thanksgivukkah

I hate the name. It cheapens both Hanukkah and Thanksgiving, but there it is. The year that Hanukkah came early and Thanksgiving came late and worlds collided. I’m not really sure it’s that much of a collision, though. The traditional Thanksgiving, as I understand it, is a feast of gratitude for survival. It’s a celebration of life and living, and its hallmarks are food, family, and friends. Maybe this is too Charlie Brown, or too simplistic, but that’s how it is in my world.1473899_10202115005023986_2078105089_n

To me, and this is my blog, so it’s my interpretation we’re going with here, it’s about getting up, watching the parade, cooking delicious food, eating early, drinking plenty of adult beverages, maybe watching football and maybe not, maybe going for a walk and maybe not, eating dessert later because right after the meal there’s just no room for it, and generally ending the evening on a good note with random family members and friends helping out in the kitchen.


Hanukkah isn’t a whole lot different, except that it’s more of a season and less of an event. Again, this is my interpretation. For a long time I was married to a man who was not Jewish. We did the whole Christmas thing, but we also included some Hanukkah in there. He’s out of the picture (more or less), but our son is not. There is also my sweetheart in the mix now, a man who loves Christmas, but was once married to a Jewish woman and now has me. He goes with the flow. The Hanukkah flow is generally something like this: one night (usually the first, but it depends on schedules) we have a traditional potato latke dinner, then light the candles and exchange some small gifts. Small. Like a magazine. A deck of cards. A flash drive. The other nights we usually light the candles (provided we get home at an early enough hour and don’t forget) and go about our business. 45957_10151869981686406_1006624489_nOne night we usually go to Mom’s house for the whole big dinner thing. That’s it. I love the candles. I love the latkes. I love the little gifts, but frankly they’re mostly for my son, and now that he’s older it’s hard to find 8 small things. I used to do dollar store stuff, but there’s no sense in buying stuff just to buy it.

The melding of these two holidays isn’t a bad thing at all. We eat, drink, and make merry in a spirit of gratitude surrounded by our families and friends. Who can argue with that, even if it does play havoc on the internal calendar? So I’m off to dust off the menorahs, line up the turkey baster, and pop the latkes in the oven. Oh, and I need to bake the cornbread for the stuffing and find the Hanukkah gift wrap. No problem. I’ve got this covered. Happy Holiday to you, whatever you may be celebrating.


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Small Thoughts, Small Things

I confess, my brain is mush. I’m working my tail off trying to finish my novel for NaNoWriMo and it’s leaving me with a mushy soft brain, incapable of earth shattering insights. I apologize for this, but I assure you it’s only a temporary condition. I’ve been here before, this land of mush brain, and I’ve always found my way back. I have no doubt I’ll do it again. In the meantime, I offer you 5 more small things that just make me happy.

1. A freshly vacuumed rug. Even better is when it’s one in my home and the dog hair has all been sucked up.

2. Looking through old scrapbooks. Ah, the memories. And the stickers, and the wavy scissors, and the patterned paper! Ok, they aren’t that bad, and they do make me happy, regardless of how well or poorly they’re constructed.

maui-jim-wailea-titanium-sunglasses3. My sunglasses. I love them. They’re Maui Jim’s and they’ve been repaired three times because apparently I have a freakishly large head and I’ve broken the bows three times. The last time they replaced them with titanium. That ought to hold.

4. Motown Music. It just makes me happy. I like to play it in the classroom from time to time when we let our hair down. The kids enjoy it as much as I do.

5. Freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I don’t really need to explain this one, do I? I didn’t think so.


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Reading My Writing

microphone-clip-art-9This morning I woke up a little bit anxious. I have a really busy day planned, and for that I’m glad. The day’s events will start with breakfast with a dear friend, whom I don’t see often enough. We will catch up on each other’s stories, and she will tell me about her recent trip, which I enjoyed vicariously through her online photos. I can’t wait to spend time with her.

The day will end with a small dinner party at the new home of one of my dear colleagues. The warmth and friendship and food and drink will be excellent, and I know it will be a memorable evening. I’m looking forward to seeing how they have transformed this house with their unique touches, and I’m so happy to be spending time away from the pressures of work with these wonderful people.

In between all that good happy stuff (and food temptation, oy vey) is my thing. My reading. Yikes. You see, I have been participating in a writing workshop for the past year or so, and each fall and spring the group does a reading. The workshop is in conjunction with a museum, and the fall reading is rather small and done in the museum. The spring reading includes past workshop participants and is held next door at the performing arts center. Gulp. Last year I took a pass on both.

The thing is, underneath my fun loving exterior I’m actually an introvert. The current personality type gimmick going around Facebook, based on the Meyers Briggs Personality Types, suggests that I’m a meerkat at heart. I’m not sure how accurate that is, but I’m not a big fan of crowds, public speaking, or fear. It takes me some time to warm up to new people, and I do best with a small intimate group (note the events for which I am excited today, above).  Still, I’ve been writing a lot, and I mean really a lot, between a novel in a month and a post a day, and keeping up with class, well, that’s a lot. I’ve also been sharing much of it with all of you. So why not put my big girl panties on (literally), take a deep breath, and step up to the microphone? I can do this. I’m a writer, and I write to be read. Why not face my anxiety and read my work to an audience? The worst that can happen is silence, and I know I can handle that.

Isn’t is odd that I can take on an auditorium of 500 kids with no problem, but a room with maybe 39 adults gives me the heebie jeebies? I guess because kids are more forgiving of mistakes (or don’t even notice them). Oh well, a little challenge here and there leads to personal growth, and I’m all for that. Now I’m going to print out my piece, put it in my purse with my glasses, and go have a relaxing breakfast with my friend. Today is going to be a wonderful day.