First World Supply Chain Woes

 NYE is a big deal in this house -

We've been hanging with our friends for 15 years - with each year devising new, inventive ways to celebrate cuisine and friendship.

This year- our theme is Bar Food. Essentially, if you were going to go hang out at a bar with your friends, what would you eat?

Our menu ideas start all over the board. On my end, I start to scour cookbooks from the library and graphics on Pinterest. I come up with 1/3 of the menu and several options to whittle through.

This year, I'm on tap (hehehe) for:

* Whipped Cranberry Feta

* Cranberry Brie Bites in Puff Pastry

* Wasabi Macarons with Smoked Salmon

* Chicken Pot Pie with Puff Pastry

* White Chocolate Cheesecake with a Peppermint/Vodka-Infused Cream

Sounds amazing, yes? Just 1/3 of the dishes.

I'm prepping, planning and purchasing ingredients as we go.

Until I get to Puff Pastry.

HOLY MACARONI, there has been a run on Puff Pastry. A trip to five separate grocery stores and calls to four other friends. 

None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. 

NUNCA!!

Oh for the love.

Fine, supply chain management woes, fine. I see you. And I'll beat you at your own game. I'll make it myself!! I don't need you, overpriced Athena's Puff Pastry. I've got my (other)bestie, Ina Garten, and a food processor.

I'll show you!!

Pictures to follow!

A Late Arrival

 A white Christmas - what we all sing about, and that I watch religiously every December 24th - did not arrive on the day the bells told of our Savior's birth.

It did arrive this morning, though, right in time to mess up a morning commute. Thank goodness I have super flexible hours and can work from home when I want! 

Alas, winter is now in West MI, at least for the time being, and the cold has settled in. There are only 94 days until Spring Break. Not that I'm counting.

I totally am.

 PLEASE OH PLEASE don't let Covid take that, too!

The Light Returns

 I've never minded short days - where the sun barely pokes through the grey West MI cloud cover. Winter comes, short days loom, the sun is a fleeting moment.

Frankly, it was even worse when I lived in Atlanta, being so far east inside the time zone. Darkness would start to fall shortly after 4pm. In good ol' GR, we're 30 miles from CST, so we can still see Happy Hour without a flashlight.

But yesterday, as we marked another solstice and we find ourselves at the shortest amount of sunlight for the year, I mused at how many social media posts I read that told me not to fear, the light was returning.

Or was it The Light. 

Maybe I just wanted to read it that way....that the Light was coming back. As though He had mysteriously wandered off somewhere with a need to scurry back to the party.

I'm not entirely sure that my friends who posted the meme saw any significant depth to their wording. But I did.

Non Sequitur:

Bubs and I were working through the lyrics to We Three Kings the other day. What does it mean to Traverse Afar? Where is the Orient? What gifts did they bring? He did pretty well...and then I asked him what it meant when we sang "guide us to thy perfect light."

It took him a minute, but he got there. That big brain of his soaking in poetry and nuance. He's a gem of a kid.

Alas -that said, maybe that's why I got to wondering about the social media posts and the return of the Light.

I do long for sunny, warm days ahead.

But I always long for the Light that brings me out of what ever darkness is around.

Happy Birthday

 Wishing my beloved Auntie who means the world to me - a very Happy Birthday! Love her to the moon and back - and around the sun again. She's the cute one on the right (not that my other aunt, uncle and Dad aren't cute, too!)

I Hate Covid

 It's been a long, hard road.

We can do hard things, I just didn't expect to have to do it for so long.

We were a few days away from getting KK's vaccine. I chose the store closest to us for convenience, but that meant an extra 5 day wait.

During which time, she became a close contact. And then you have to wait 10 more days. Good gravy, how I love having my doctor-cousin so close who deals with me. He's my brother from another mother and I am indebted to him. 

So the count moves. Ugh.

And Thanksgiving adjusts. Because numbers are huge again. With them higher than Thanksgiving last year...and 90% of people in the overflowing hospitals being unvaccinated.

I love Thanksgiving down to my bones. And I hate Covid.

Ok, there. I said it. 

Moving on now. Because it is what it is.

Where is Charlie Brown's "Arggggghhhh!!!" when I need it?

Perseverance

 I had an odd gut-feeling that my four remaining airline tickets on AA were going to give me trouble. Purchased in 2019 for April of 2020...that obviously didn't happen.

Rebooked for September of 2021 and Hubs got Covid 26 hours before we were to check in for our flight.

Boom, there they go again.

So, four tickets remained - and we have decided to go away for Spring Break. Florida - sun - sand - Fat Tuesdays. (if you know, you know)

And I thought "Hey, we can use them here!"

The agent on the phone was kind. And after my husband almost sent us to Baltimore instead of FL, we got some tickets sorted out....Spring Break is in April.

The tickets expire March 31.

Ohfortheloveofallthatisholy.

Mother pussbucket cheese weasels with a monkey on top.

But persistence paid off. He said he'd transfer us to the supervisor. Hubs said yes.

I walked away trying to figure out where we could go to not lose the tickets.

But the guy came back on the phone...and by the 54th minute of the call, said his supervisor didn't even want to talk to us...a week's extension was fine. We could rebook our flight. Again.

WAHOOO!

So now, we have something to look forward to - direct flight from Chicago to Florida - on the beach by 1pm.

Oh, yes, thank you.

#Don'tGiveUp #NeverGiveUp

Two Pennies

 I've established a relationship with a local athletic club, whereby once a month, I swing by to pick up donations for the nonprofit I work for.

More often than not, it's water bottles, sweatshirts, towels and bathing suits. Sometimes we get some t-shirts, once we got a men's suit and tie. In the end, I launder what we get, I throw out what we can't use and I bring the bags when I go back to work. 

This time, the contents were the same. A couple of bathing suits, a pile of goggles, some sweatshirts, a few pairs of shoes, and a backpack.

I liked the backpack - I thought it would be good for our Pop Up Shops when we go to serve those with housing needs.

Except that backpack was full. Stuffed to the point of hard to close. I opened it up, found three cell phones, a stack of papers, at least six tubes of toothpaste and some dirty work out clothes. I thought nothing of chucking the clothing in the washer, but wondered about the papers. My goodness, with these cell phones, wasn't someone missing this pack?

The papers and flyers pointed to a man who works here in town as a realtor. They dated back to late 2019 and early 2020. I thought "well, it's been there for a while, so that's why they finally donated it."

There was a prescription bottle. And an update on some routine bloodwork.

Hmm, this wasn't right.

Ok - so maybe I'll send a message to the contact at the athletic club, but something said to skip that step as I was already 7 lines into the email and it was coming out all wrong. The athletic club didn't look, they didn't care, it was out of their hands.

So I thought about googling the guy. I had his name, occupation and address...and sure enough, 30 seconds later, I found him! 

How cool! Ok, so I wonder if I could arrange to get his pack back to him.

But something didn't sit right. The bloodwork sheet had circles on it of elevated this and that. And it was from a local oncologist. Oh goodness, he hasn't sold a house in 2020 or 2021 and the market is raging right now. This isn't right.

How about I google his name and city - and in a hot second, there it was.

His obituary.

It spoke of his love of his daughters, his success as a realtor, his passion to help the animals at the shelter. He had a nice smile (all that toothpaste!) and a furry friend in his lap. The photo said a lot. He looked like a nice guy.

He wasn't survived by a wife, nor was one mentioned, but it did talk about two daughters. Several grandchildren and a great-grandchild on the way.

The daughter. I could start there.

\And yea, 30 more seconds revealed she worked for a bank here in town. 

I wasn't completely confident it was her. Her name was spelled uniquely enough that it should be, but it was plain enough that I found more women with her name all across the country. However, there was just one here in town.

A quick call to Hubs confirmed what I needed to do - I needed to place a call.

A short moment on hold and the woman on the other end picked up in a cheerful voice with a hearty "good morning, how can I help you?"

I responded with my name and place of work, stating I had a very odd question to ask her. Was it possible she was the daughter of the individual's name I had in front of me.

A tentative "yes...." followed - and I had to laugh. Did she think I was some long lost unknown sister? Was I a psycho? Crazy crap the internet tells us that happens all the time - I swore I wondered if that's what she thought.

"Well," I responded, "it's odd for us to get a backpack and I took the liberty of going through it. I noticed the cell phones and personal items and with an aging father myself, I thought if someone had found something of my dad's after he had passed, I'd want it back. Would you like to have it?"

You could see the smile on her face from 20 paces. "Ohmygoodness, yes, I would."

We chatted for a few more minutes, I said I'd be happy to get it to our office on Monday and that I was glad I took a chance to call some stranger out of the blue. How odd and how quick social media can work.

I hung up and went back to place all of his items in the backpack. As I lifted up the first set of items, I saw a little shimmer at the bottom...two glistening pennies. 

I snagged them out, packed the bag and grabbed a notecard from our stash. I wrote to the daughter that I was delighted to have found her....that I've always heard that pennies are good luck, and at the bottom of the backpack there were two. Two pennies, two sisters. Right there in the bottom of her dad's bag. It was meant to be. And I wished her heart peace.

*******

The kids came home early - it was a half day. And if the backpack was going to be ready for this woman on Monday, I had to get it over there right away. 

They listened so attentively - they shared in my desire to get it ready for this woman - they wondered about what photos might be on the phone. 

We wondered, we smiled - and we wished them all luck.

Tomorrow will tell - did she text her sister? Are they overcome with joy? Or maybe sadness? Perhaps both.

There will be countless donations to come in and out of our door...but this one will stay with me for a while.

May your memory be eternal, sir. 

Well, That's a First

 From me....to the principal, Speech Path and Counselor...

Good Morning, All,

A note of follow up from Monday - first, thank you so much for your generous offer of time. It is a commodity so scare for educators these days. I appreciated our conversation.

Second, Hubs and I had our conferences last night. It was obvious from the start of each meeting that the teacher was well-aware of specific challenges that Bubs may or may not have had as school started, or as he might transition to group work or a different activity. Each teacher knew, was aware and gave specific feedback on our concern. That would not have been possible without the diligence of Mrs. C and Ms. H. Further, Bubs seems to be starting off on an excellent foot. May I share with you that Bubs has never started off on a good foot at school? It would take until Thanksgiving or even second semester for him to feel comfortable and acclimated to his surroundings. He has not once come home in tears, he has not dissolved into a mound of fear, he's come home happy, enjoying school, liking his new surroundings and actually thriving. He has friends. This is directly correlated to your efforts to help him succeed and create an environment where he can be seen for who he is as a student.

When our final conference finished last night, Hubs and I almost gasped. This was unlike any conference feedback we've heard. This is our 11th year of 1st semester conferences and it was the first time we smiled. We're grateful for the time you took at the beginning of the year to help us sort out the best path for Bubs to succeed - please know....it worked.

Again, thank you for your time, we look forward to a productive and engaging second semester.

Jane Says

 Jane, my dear, dear, friend, says that writing is good for me.

She also said "this isn't the book you thought you were going to read, but this is the book you're reading and the page you're on."

I'm not sure I like the book I've got right now - two steps forward....two steps back, progress is hard to measure. 

But this is the book I've got.

Ugh.

Writing is Cathartic

 They say that writing is cathartic.

Who is this "they" - and are they right? I think they just want to be published or famous. But perhaps, they are correct. Getting out the words that bubble down deep inside seems to help make sense of all the noise.

All that noise in my head leads to stress - on my breathing, on my blood pressure, on my sanity.

Too much noise in my brain doesn't allow me to focus on the things I really need to right now. Like my husband, my children, that silly dog and the house. There is value in focusing fully on those people - and with all the noise in my head, all the stress I push down to work on those things - eventually, I need to complete that stress cycle and just get the stuff out.

But the problem is, I'm not sure how I am feeling - or moreover, how to put it into words.

How do I understand that people thought it was ok to storm the Capitol and do the heinous, vile things they did. In the name of patriotism and a misguided sense that our country was anti-democratic and socialist-leaning. I'm just trying how to figure out how to keep my anxious child from overwhelming himself, keep my husband firing on all cylinders as he takes on yet another role, albeit temporarily, keep the dog from chewing up things and my daughter from not falling apart if she can't get something to go her way.

And keep them informed, aware, doing better than I did or my parents before me...but yet keep them from having to process why a woman got shot for climbing through a Capitol window when she was never supposed to be there in the first place.

Oh, and deal with the neighbors who are railing so hard and so loud at the world right now - right at their bus stop. Which makes them quite uncomfortable.

I want to write - and get it out - and sound mildly educated and working towards a better country, county, town, neighborhood, street and home...

But I'm just not quite sure what to say.