Tips to being a good holiday guest (and keeping your Hostess sane)

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Tips for being a great guest:

1. Don't be late for dinner, or any other organized event. If your hostess says dinner at four, be there no later than four If it is a family thing, come early and offer to help or pour wine or put other guest coats away. Don't expect to be waited on.

2. Don't bring something that has to be cooked or assembled at the host's home. You will be in the way. I don't care if it your 'special' dish; this gathering is not about you. Save it for your own gig.

3. Don't expect to be waited on. This deserves repeating. You are not there to be one more job for the hostess. Unless otherwise instructed, offer to help.

4. Do not change the seating arrangement unless you consult the hostess. This applies double for small spaces. Not the host, the hostess. Chances are she has arranged this for best flow, best conversation, whatever... If not, she can tell you. I can tell you that I do not want to spend two days cooking a beautiful meal to see anyone but my husband sitting at the head of the table...(duh!).

5. If you remove anything from the refrigerator, ask first. That just may be the secret ingredient to some dish the hostess needs. If you remove it, someone may have to go to Alaska to replace it.

6. For God's sake, clean up after yourself and help clean up after the meal. You have heard that as far back as your childhood. Why am I repeating myself?

Let's see, have I covered everything? Well, I have covered things I shouldn't have to, but I apparently have to.

Eggs, easy

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The hens are laying again. One by one, they find suitable places (never a regular nest; god forbid!) and lay a lovely brown orb full of nutritious goodness. A popular place for Betty (or is it Biddy?) is in the waist-high brick planter by the back door.

Last season, it was in the seat of my dead aunt's power wheelchair that recharged by the backdoor, waiting for my sister's husband to retrieve it. That didn't go well. Winston the Wonder Dog ate every one of them. It wasn't a happy situation; how can a girl relax enough to pass an egg with a squished black face waiting eagerly to consume the next generation? She fretted, he gobbled (then farted), we were without eggs. But, she could not be dissuaded. Even when the chair was removed, she laid the egg on the patio where the chair had been. I'm telling you, it is no wonder these birds need the protection of humans.

So, here we have the sad tale of the modern small farm. Hen lays egg, Pug eats egg, farmer goes hungry. Farmer endures smelly companion.

Chocolate Christmas

We are a family of chocolate lovers. Not the sugary, oily stuff in cheap candy, but the real, rich, cacao laden miracle food. And, this Christmas, we indulged our love.

We exchanged bars and drops, fruit-filled, nut-bumpy, milk, dark, high octane. My Seattle son brought us chili limon chocolate, chipotle lime chocolate, and other exotics. We all had blissful expressions on our faces and bliss on our tongues.

I give thanks for its South American origin and the rainforest climates that sustain cacao crops globally.

Hope in troubled times

These are the words to a song by Jewell. They are an inspiration to me when I am down. I felt that this holiday season, during these difficult times, they might be a uplifting message for you.

We have so much to be thankful for, and we have control over many things, just not all things. That is when we let go and let God.

I hope you seek and find peace within yourself this coming year and change just one thing for the better. I hope you tell someone that you love them, and I hope someone tells you back that they love you. I hope you run out of fingers when you are counting your blessings.

I hope you know that you are important to me. Thank you for reading.

"Hands"

If I could tell the world just one thing
It would be that we're all OK
And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful
And useless in times like these

I won't be made useless
I won't be idle with despair
I will gather myself around my faith
For light does the darkness most fear

My hands are small, I know
But they're not yours, they are my own
But they're not yours, they are my own
And I am never broken

Poverty stole your golden shoes
It didn't steal your laughter
And heartache came to visit me
But I knew it wasn't ever after

We'll fight, not out of spite
For someone must stand up for what's right
'Cause where there's a man who has no voice
There ours shall go singing

In the end only kindness matters
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray

We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's mind
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's heart

Happy holidays and a wonderful New Year!

Anniversary thought

It may be more romantic to be the first love,

but it's better to be the last.

--from Grit and Gumption, A Cowgirl's Guide

Medical bonding time

My middle son is getting surgery again. This time on his foot, his heel specifically.

This follows scar revision of the hand, an ACL repair, appendectomy resulting in abscess and more surgery for placement of drain in abscess which wore a hole in an artery causing an arterial bleed and more surgery. He has had mono, bad flu, broken clavicle (2,) broken thumb (2), concussions (2).

We have spent a lot of time in medical facilities. We call it bonding time. We talk, joke, philosophize, dream, and actually enjoy the time. But, all the time, I worry. Until he is out of surgery, without complications, and stable, I worry.

Hey, he's still my baby.

High desert magic

We went to the high desert to celebrate our anniversary. We walked in mild sunny weather in soft sage-and-juniper scented wind. We followed tiny deer tracks trailing next to larger ones. We went back where we have spent so much of our best times, in the mountains.

It calmed and recharged us. We laughed and held hands. It was good.