Comfort and Joy

Lately I remember the playgrounds of my growing up. Every playground back ‘in the day’ had a teeter totter; one of those long boards with a seat on either end, sitting on a fulcrum. It was a lesson in the laws of physics to play on that thing. Heavier kids moved forward on the fulcrum to keep the fun going with smaller kids on the other end. Or they would lean way out, leaving their tiny counterparts suspended in mid-air until they decided to let them down. Slighter children would team up, seeing if they could cooperate in holding their larger, usually older, playmates up in the air. Occasionally a mean kid would jump off the bottom and the smaller kid would come crashing down. Oh, the tears. Oh, what fun.teeter-totter

The solitary game to play was to stand in the center with one foot on either side of the fulcrum and see if you could get the balance just right so the plank stayed straight across. The goal was to make it look effortless. If one side started to go and it happened fast, you’d get this out of control situation where all you could really do was to keep pumping legs up and down, using brute leg muscle force until you could manage to get the thing in balance again.

That’s a little what it’s feeling like lately around the Little Cunning Plan household. We have one foot planted tenuously in the ‘comfort’ of our long-time family home with all of the physical manifestations of the weavings of our history right here at our fingertips. The bay laurel by the kitchen window that I bought as a tiny sprig when Andrew was just a baby. It brings rich flavor to soups and stews. The fig tree I bought for my father when he was ill and moved twice until it got planted in its current spot. It sprawls there, unloading fragrant figs by the bushel in early summer. The sofa we bought when Claire was a baby; still the most comfortable seat in the house, our first lesson in buying something of quality. My mother’s French Provincial, solid maple buffet that I don’t ever want to give up. Our dog, Skippy, who can live the rest of his days in his own place here with Andrew.   And even the new cat, Boots, who has decided to sit on my lap as I write. There is so much ‘belonging’ here. So much of how I know how to be.

Boots. She likes to bite.

Boots. She likes to bite.

Comfort, used here,  is a word of stillness; a word of warmth and security and sameness. It’s a word that implies a lack of stress, a calm certainty of how to negotiate the chosen way of life. It’s comfortable to feel a connection to the past and to believe that this will also inform the future. Unfortunately, it can also feel a bit, well, boring. I suppose on some level there is nothing more ‘comforting’ than doing the same thing every day for the rest of your life until you get the comfort of a nice, deep grave. Um…no.  That thought certainly brings me right down to earth fast. No thanks. Maybe that mean kid who always jumps off the teeter totter has a purpose. If you play with him, you’ll be living on the edge.

Having never had a permanent home as a child, I have cherished my home as an adult and have put down deep roots in this house, if not this town. Frankly, I don’t really know how to leave a place and know that I will return some day, even if it’s to visit. In my experience, when you leave, that’s it. All leaving is completely permanent.  You never see the place or those people who lived there again. They cease to exist. One day you leave, the world shifts and now you live in a new one. The only thing that is permanent is your immediate family, and some of your belongings.

It’s unsettling to face this as a well-matured adult and know that I have absolutely no idea at all how to negotiate this new emotional terrain. It leaves me more than a little breathless and takes all my will to move this forward. A transition that feels like just another step on the plan to most people feels in some moments like stepping off into the cold void to me; like I’m waiting for the mean kid to leap off the teeter totter leaving me hanging momentarily in space before I come crashing down. Not always, but there are moments. To be honest, I can’t wait until this part is over. Enough already. I want to be in the new world we’re creating for ourselves so I can learn a different way and stop being afraid.  The patterns of childhood are a bitch, I tell you. You can argue with them all day long, but until you deliberately face the experience and record over it, they’re going to get you.

One foot tenuously planted in ‘comfort’, the other foot is planted in the ‘joy’ of moving forward with our plans to cruise, with the excitement of the unknown and the spirit of adventure. The freedom of living on a boat that can go anywhere brings with it a certain feeling of joy even though we are still here in Tacoma, at the dock, even though I get afraid of the void. Joy is a word of movement, of exploration and discovery and sheer happiness. Joy is a word of living out loud and with purpose; of creating new and different things that we cannot yet foresee. I feel excited to be moving forward even as I look with occasional longing at Fred, the huge philodendron I’ve had for decades. If I let it, there’s a certain tenor of excitement that thrums just under my skin, waiting to be let loose. I think that is Joy. It just might be.

Fred

Fred

Today is the longest night of the year. We’ve deliberately chosen this date to move aboard because today the sun is returning. It is the ‘birth of the sun’ we celebrate. With that there is new life percolating invisibly under the surface of the soil, just as the joy thrums just under my skin. The roots of plants are preparing for their burst of energy come spring. They will thrust even more deeply into their patch of earth and find their purpose therein.

The solstice represents spiritual re-birth, the rekindling of the divine fire within. It’s a hopeful time of new beginnings as the sun begins its ascent back into the nascent year. So we move aboard with hope and with purpose, feeling the joy that is present, letting go of the fear that holds us in the past, and knowing there is comfort to come. We will not come crashing to the ground, but land softly and deeply on the fertile soil of our stout S/V Galapagos, our new home. I think it will be like flying.

Merry Christmas to all of you, dear readers who have seen us on this journey so far. And a very rich and lustrous solstice to you. May your creative fires burn brightly.

Merry Thanksmas, Everyone!

Ah, Thanksmas! That time of year when people put giant blow up snowmen in their yards,  string sparkly ornaments on trees,  bake festive treats, and contribute their share to our shopping economy by reaching deeply into their wallets.  It sure is a special time of year; one special day when families get together to eat too much, play games, exchange gifts and generally just have a hoot and holler. Just the way we like it.

This year's Christmas Cave. Yes, the bar is pretty high in terms of gift wrapping at our house.

This year’s Christmas Cave. Yes, the bar is pretty high in terms of gift wrapping at our house.

That’s right, we’ve invented a new holiday that is dead useful for people who have found that celebrating the Thanksgiving/Christmas holidays so close together has  become too much of a good thing. Sometimes as families grow, the burgeoning calendar of social engagements, family gatherings, and myriad expectations around the holidays begins to be more of a burden than a celebration.  It’s one thing to add new families and traditions to all the celebrating. But when you start adding other countries into the mix, as we must do in our family (since our daughter divides her time between three countries), expecting to have everyone together for the ‘holidays’ is not realistic. All that stress takes its toll on the ‘specialness’ this time of year.

When holidays are ‘too much’, it’s time to do something different. We wanted to be able to celebrate with our kids and their partners and also with my extended family without having people dividing their time between households on one specific day. Thus, Thanksmas was created. Thanksmas is celebrated after Thanksgiving, but before Christmas. And here’s the brilliant part: YOU GET TO CHOOSE YOUR OWN DAY!

Plenty of wrapping paper amusement for Boots, all day long.

Plenty of wrapping paper amusement for Boots, all day long.

On Thanksmas, you get the best of both Christmas and Thanksgiving. Okay, it’s mostly Christmas. But really, Thanksgiving is all about the food anyhow. Well, plus giving thanks, which you should be doing every day, right? So really, when you think about it, EVERY day is Thanksgiving Day…so what’s the problem with combining the holidays if it makes life less stressful for everyone?

At this point you might be asking, “So, Melissa, how do I know if it’s time for my family to combine holidays and have one big celebration filled with gifts, food, drink and games with prizes? What are my criteria? What’s my motivation here?”  Well, I’m here for you to make this easy.  Take a look at this handy  list of symptoms that may indicate an overly stressful holiday season is upon you.

  1. You consider store bought pie to be just as good as home made pie. (It’s not.)
  2. You consider a brown paper bag to be gift wrap enough. ( It’s not. Please see photo of appropriate technique above.)
  3. You’re planning to roast only a turkey breast, not the whole bird to save time and trouble.  (If you are vegetarian or vegan, just go directly to Thanksmas because you’ve already messed with tradition so you may as well go all the way.)
  4. You are starting to rely on Pillsbury sugar cookie dough and all its variations for your holiday cookies. (See item #1. If both are true…well.. you know who you are. I don’t want to embarrass you in public. Just do Thanksmas and make real cookies.)
  5. You get irritated at stores who put Christmas decor out before Halloween is even over. (I know, right? What is wrong with them?)
  6. You start reminding people that Christ wasn’t even born on Christmas Day, actually, questioning out loud 2000+ years of tradition.  (Or however many. It’s a lot.)
  7. You turn down invites to parties where you have to bring a gift because you just can’t think about that right now. (If it’s a White Elephant gift party, subtract one point because you just get to get rid of something from your closet and that’s a bonus.)
  8. Getting all of your family members to do things together at the same time is about the same level of difficulty as herding cats so you can bear to do this only once.
  9. You really look forward to that week between Christmas and New Year’s eve; you know, that time when all the stress is over and you are going to lay around in your pajamas and eat leftovers with impunity, watch bad television, and gain a lot of weight. (Why wait? You could be doing that all season!)
  10. You toy with the idea of being the only house on your street without Christmas lights and that seems a reasonable idea to you. (Really? Do you see how dark it is out there?)
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Old school Munsters Dvds. For the Rumpus room on Galapagos. . I wonder if it’s as great as I remember?

If you recognize yourself in over 3 of these symptoms, you might opt for Thanksmas in the next few years. If you have over half of them right now, well, I’m sorry you’ve missed your window of opportunity for this year. Lay low, get plenty of rest, drink lots of water and consider combining your holidays next year.

When you decide on a Thanksmas celebration, it’s a strange but freeing feeling. There are all the trappings of Christmas, some of the foods of Thanksgiving, but no one else is celebrating. It’s like your own private holiday. Then, when you are supposed to be gearing up for all the stress of the season, it’s all over and you have nothing to do but enjoy all the holiday goodness without the muss and fuss. Don’t worry. You can still put up your holiday lights, keep your tree or cave up all month, go to Christmas parties and drink too much. It’s just more leisurely because the big part is already done. Plus, all those Christmas sales where you wanted to shop for yourself in previous years but didn’t out of guilt and fear that someone else would buy the same thing for you? Guess what you get to do? Yeah. Now you get the picture.

At our house, we had a regular ‘Christmas’ morning on our Thanksmas, complete with stockings, our traditional Christmas cave, mimosas and French Breakfast Donuts for breakfast, and gift exchanges. The grandparents came, the auntie and uncle and cousin came, even some friends came over. We had a houseful of laughter and games. We sang karaoke. We ate too many cookies and pie, we drank too much champagne, we played indoor miniature golf. It was completely overwhelming.  It was great!

My collection of miniature ornaments makes perfect holiday boat decor.

My collection of miniature ornaments makes perfect holiday boat decor.

Now we get to enjoy this entire season stress free. We will go to movies, maybe a holiday performance or two, or perhaps a Messiah singalong. I have decorated Galapagos and Mike and I will spend Christmas morning there together in our new neighborhood. Thanksmas was a rousing success. We all had our day together. Now Claire and Dan can go spend Christmas with his family in Edinburgh. Andrew and Jill can do Christmas with Jill’s family. No one has to split their time on Christmas Day and travel between houses out of obligation to more than one family. Traditions are great. I think we may have started a new one.

Since I’m sorry that you missed your opportunity this year to celebrate Thanksmas, I’ll make your holiday breakfast menu a little easier for you. Here’s my recipe for French Breakfast Donuts. I’ve been making these tender and delicious muffins every Christmas morning for 34 years. They involve nutmeg, sugar and cinnamon. How can anyone go wrong with that combination?  We have mimosas and scrambled eggs with them. Mix up the dry ingredients the night before to make these easy to pop into the oven on Thanksmas morning.

French Breakfast Donuts

Preheat oven to 400F and grease a muffin tin.

1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg

1/2 cup milk
1 beaten egg
1/3 cup melted butter
1/2 tsp vanilla

Sugar and cinnamon in a bowl for rolling the hot muffins. I use 1/2 cup sugar to about a tablespoon cinnamon.

Mix the dry ingredients together. In a separate bowl whisk the milk, melted butter, and vanilla together. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and stir with a fork just until mixed. Do not over stir or your muffins will be tough.

Fill each muffin cup 3/4 full. Bake at 400F for about 20 minutes. This makes about 10 regular sized muffins.  When done, roll hot muffins in cinnamon sugar. They are extra delicious if you brush the top with melted butter before rolling them.fullsizeoutput_20c

Finally Landlords

This week will usher in a flurry of activity around the old homestead as we prepare for our first, and probably only, experience having strangers living in our house. We had pretty much given up on that idea of how to make a little extra sweet mullah. We had a number of inquiries over the last few months, but at the end of the day, no one had come through with an actual deposit of money to hold the place. C’est la vie. No harm, no foul, and not much lost in the preparation in terms of money. After all, we’re content to live in our house and have no one to care for Skippy yet.

Skippy with one of his many hedgehogs.

Skippy with one of his many hedgehogs.

Now we have a fish on the line and so this week will see us scurrying doing a final empty of drawers and closets, getting rid of more stuff because that just makes good sense, and cleaning the bejesus out of everything. I actually have a list and a schedule in order to make this deadline. Who knew I was so capable of being organized?

The long term plan still remains for our son Andrew and his girlfriend Jill to find jobs here in the Tacoma area and join another young couple (best friends forever) in renting this house.  Andrew just finished that GIS certification to add to his Bachelor’s Degree in Archeology/Geology. He’s looking for his first GIS gig. He’s a hard worker and plays well with others. Keep your eyes open, okay?

Five years of full time school. He is so ready to be done. With dualing computer screens, he is seriously a chip off the old block.

Jill graduates from Western Washington University today. Go Jill! We are so proud of her. She’s a fine artist and her degree is in alternative Arts Education from Fairhaven College of Interdisciplinary Studies. She went to high school at the Tacoma School of the Arts. I think she must have known her general destiny for years. We are looking forward to seeing how her career evolves.

How can this have been an entire year ago? Dan and Claire are back in Guatemala, Jill is wearing the mortarboard this year.

How can this have been an entire year ago? Dan and Claire are back in Guatemala, Jill is wearing the mortarboard this year.

It’s kind of amusing to me that this idea of the younger generation living in the family home is turning out to be the actual plan because years ago, before any of them had finished school, much less had jobs, they all fantasized about living here together when we went gallivanting over the sea. We scoffed. We couldn’t see how they would pull that off.  Now, that’s actually the plan. Why would we scoff at the machinations of youth? Stupid middle aged people. Have we forgotten youth’s magic? Sheesh, I hope not.

So we will get a week of living aboard at the end of the month while our house makes us a little money to earmark for something required on the boat.  We are allowed to spend up to 8 nights/month on board without being considered ‘live aboards’, so that’s perfect. We are looking forward to it.