The Christmas Butterfly

Living in the country around my Ohio hometown, as I did for many years, major holidays were a time for family dinners.
A relative would offer up their home, everyone would bring something to eat, we’d joke around a lot with each other and make people laugh, and most of us would then sit at a big table together and play a simple card game that might cost each person a dollar. That pretty much explains every family dinner I’ve attended in the last 40 years.
There was a time, in my childhood, when not just my aunts and uncles, but distant cousins of my father and great-aunts and great-uncles would gather at Uncle Lonnie and Aunt Mae’s farmhouse. That was the home of my father’s uncle, the brother of my grand-mother.
Once a year, I would see blood relatives that I barely knew. But the atmosphere was fully welcoming to all. I can’t imagine anyone coming onto the farm that day and not being totally engaged.
At Uncle Lonnie’s and Aunt Mae’s, the activity of the day was a softball game in the cow pasture. The cow patties came into play either as obstacles or bases. We just accepted them as something in the field.
Afterwards, the meal was served by the women. I can still see the soft cotton aprons over their Sunday dresses as they bustled around the small farmhouse kitchen, making room for the many dishes to be shared. No one table could hold all the relatives, so the older crowd sat around the sweetly set dinner table, while the rest of us found benches and other perches outside.
As a kid, I mostly went for my Aunt Effie’s home-made noodles with chicken. Thick, firm, short. egg noodles in a creamy broth with tender chunks of chicken cooked just right. I’d fill up a whole plate with just that. Then I’d go for a cake, probably also Aunt Effie’s. She was a self-taught master cake baker and decorator. Her creations always made desserts a highlight.
As time progressed, Lonnie and Mae passed on and the summer-time softball playing family reunions ended. I rarely saw my once-a-year family members again. But my dad kept up a smaller family reunion of his four brothers and sisters.
So the tradition continues to this day. Though many close relatives have died, my Dad enjoys a full house of children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nieces and nephews at least twice a year to celebrate a holiday.
However, I rarely attend. Over eight years ago, I moved 1100 miles away to a southern state. No other family members lived nearby, though in the last few years, two nieces have moved into the state. Holidays have become just a day off from work for me.
Single with no children, I view holidays as downtime where I could lay around the house in comfy clothes, visit a casino for the day, sleep late, go to the dog park, clean the house, or watch a rented movie.
Even Christmas-time was non-celebrated, other than the generous gifts sent by my dad, mom, brother and sister, so I would have "something to open."
Lately, however, my non-planning manifested itself into a busy social season! Having free-time over the holidays with no family obligations to commit oneself leads to acceptance of lots of invites.
So far this week, I’ve attended two Christmas parties and have another gathering of friends on Friday night and Sat morn. I even have a Saturday night date with a male friend in the same familial circumstances as I. I have become a social butterfly!
Keeping oneself open allows for many more opportunities to present themselves. I already knew that lesson, and it’s so nice to be positively reminded of such things.
Living in the moment, enjoying life as it comes, carpe diem; all good things I strive for.
Sometimes, the results are obvious, sometimes barely palpable, sometimes more rewarding than others, sometimes fun, sometimes horrible, but always life in action. It’s a wonderful life in action.
Life happens, even when you don't plan on it.
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GOOD NEWS BAD NEWS

Things I learned from watching my plumber digging up my yard while looking for a water leak:
Stand at least 20 feet from your plumber while he’s digging in a wet ditch.
They earn every penny they get for the work they must do.

For those who read my holiday depression post before I deleted it for being too depressing, my worries about a huge plumbing bill creating havoc with my finances were unfounded. The bill is much less than I thought it would be.
Just goes to show ya, it's a waste of time to worry. Wait till you know.

I OUGHTA KNOW BY NOW
The local news reports two men paralyzed and one man dead. Hanging Christmas lights. Tragedies, all three.
The information highway lets me know every time someone bumps their nose or breaks their spine or dies even while in the holiday mood.
I’ve declared to no one in particular, mainly for my own sake, that the day I stop learning I’ll be dead.
But lately I’ve been asking how much do I really want to know?
Is this how one grows old in spirit, by fearing knowing more? Not just fearing danger, but fearing depression, fearing frustration, fearing heartbreak, fearing changes?
Does information always equate change? Is information we receive that is compatible with our present or intended actions always more welcome than information that isn’t? No matter how factual or truthful the non-compatible info is?
I like to think I’m open to real information, and not unwelcoming of it, but there seems to be a lot of people who aren’t. How easy is it to get that way?
The only thing that never changes is that nothing stays the same. By fearing change, one fears time itself.
The more information I get, the more I know, the more I realize how little I know. I also realize how much I know by knowing how little I know.
So how much do I really want to know? That question and what the meaning of life is seem like foundational questions I oughta know by now.

BAD POETRY

RELUCTANT LOVE

This isn’t a dress rehearsal
This isn’t about when and if
I don’t have a life to live over
This life is the one that you’ll miss
This life is the one that you’ll miss

If I don’t care for you
If I can’t see you grow
If you won’t let me love you
You’ll miss the best part of what I know
You’ll miss the best part of what I know

This isn’t about the future
It’s not about the past
It’s about living for real, for now
Living life at last
Living life at last

Let me love you
And love me back
Don’t be afraid
I’m good in the sack
Repeat, I’m good in the sack.


BLUE COWBOY

A fantastical female with a feminine mind
Met a cowboy in quite a bind
He’d loved and lost and was feeling low
He’d been taking it easy, taking it slow
Yet here he was with hat in hand
And talking about a No Promises land
of sex and fun
and more sex, too
But with no strings attached
Cause he’s feeling blue
My, oh my, what’s a woman to do?
So, sweetly and softly, she took his hand
And showed him the door to a Promise land
He shook in his boots at the thought of more
than just sex and fun behind that door
He felt relief when she went on through
He wouldn’t explore, he liked feeling blue,
So the fantastical female with the feminine mind
waved goodbye at the cowboy with hat in hand
who decided to stay in No Promises land
And the fantastical female moved through the door
Craving a land of so much more.