Why I should maybe have a blog called "Cheerful & Optimistic" or "Ecstatic about the Holidays"

My friend Mary Beth has two small children as well as three teenagers. On her blog this morning she posted about phasing the older kids out of the advent calendar activities. I gave a lengthy treatise on why I wouldn't do that.

But it is a good example of how I feel about the holidays. One thing my sense of irony and cynicism never effects is my love for holidays and celebration. I love Christmas and I love birthdays. I expect big celebration (and presents)! I also LOVE the 4th of July. Not the lighting fireworks part so much but I love the songs, I love the flags, I love the sentiment. At least one of my colleagues found this to be very surprising. Every 4th, I read or make someone else read an excerpt from Caroline Kennedy's book, A Patriot's Handbook: Songs, Poems, Stories and Speeches Celebrating the Land We Love. I hung the giant flag they gave me when my father died (a WWII and Koren War Veteran) on the wall a few days after 9-11.

I think my attachment to the holidays is probably the same as most peoples. They all have rituals and rituals are comforting. I am not good at creating everyday rituals and so I rely on the holidays. I am fortunate that I have the means to participate in these holidays in a way that creates ritual and memories for myself and family.

Yesterday, I was explaining to one of my staff that Christmas is a very middle class holiday. The rituals, even the religious parts, can be very expensive. Christmas trees are costly. Though a family could save money (and trees) by using an artificial tree, most low-income families don't have the money to make the initial investment of $100. If they have $100, the last thing they would spend it on would be a tree. And if they found one for $20 in July at the thrift store they'd be spending that $20 on air conditioning costs.

If you participate in an "adopt-a-family" type of program, you should be mindful of a few things: If you take over gifts wrapped, chances are the adults will unwrap them to see what is there. If you buy wrapping paper to give to the families to wrap on their own, don't forget tape and scissors. Some families want the chance to give the gifts to the kids themselves and probably won't be particularly invested in telling their children about the nice family who helped out. There maybe gratitude but it's going to be an uncomfortable, maybe even grudging thanks. All families just want their kids to have the same things as the other kids. So, if you really want to be helpful, buy and give what you give your own kids, not smaller, cheaper, less than right gifts.

I suppose I have lectured enough on this topic. Mostly I just want to say - Be grateful, celebrate with abandon and know that I love every present I get.

The Cynicism Part

I recently had an employee quit with no notice. I had helped put together her resume after she graduated from college. A couple of years after that she applied for an opening in our office and was hired. For three years, she was an incredible worker. Detail oriented, completed tasks without assistance, helpful, really great...when she was there. She came in late and experienced frequent absences. The position was one of importance and so created a lot of chaos when she was "unexpectedly" late or absent. I say "unexpectedly" because being absent might have been unplanned on her part, but the rest of the staff came to expect it.

On her last day she came in late, I sent her an email that said come see me and when she did she quit. Just like that. Handed me her time sheet and then left, leaving the office in a neat bind.

What did I expect.

You can always see your mistakes in hindsight and least most people can and I certainly can. But I really liked this person and felt that our friendship would last the mistakes I made. I had mentored her, we had socialized outside of work previously - though not for awhile because she always wanted to stay out much later than I did, especially on work nights - and I can honestly say I called her my friend.

Then I got this new job where I get to be the boss and that all changed.

What did I expect.

I shouldn't take it personally, I know. But my feelings are a little hurt. Someone asked me about the day when she quit, if it had been "emotional". It was for me. I cried for two hours afterwards and then more later when I got home.

She was my friend and I care about her. When someone else in the office suggested that the person receiving the emails might not answer them, she responded but "we're good friends". Well, we were too.

What did I expect?
SOMETHING DIFFERENT!!!
But then, cynic that I am, I should have known better.

My great apathy

I've spent all day reading and watching episodes from the first season of Six Feet Under. It's been a great day. Who needs clean underwear? Or dishes? What smell?

Genetics! Cake!

I have never liked writing. In high school, college and sometimes even now spelling, pronunciation, word usage, meanings and the like have always eluded me. Even blogging requires a lot of spell check, dictionary and thesaurus use. (It took me three tries to spell that correctly. And is that the right way to use tries? See what I mean.)

My daughter is brilliant. She actually tests for a high IQ. She's witty. She reads ALL THE TIME. She has a much better grasp of grammar than I do, and gets As in science and math. But she doesn't like to write. She says that she "can't write" but I really think she suffers from the same writers block that I do. I suppose it can be defined as "can't write" though the "can't" isn't tied to ability or even motivation.

We talked last night about how we write in the smallest terms possible. We think complicated but cannot put it to paper. So, a complex sentence about, say, eating, desiring, wanting a delicious, decadent, forbidden piece of cake is written - "Cake now." and loses something in translation. It results in many assignments that say "needs more detail" and "expand that thought."

I am truly not sure how to help my daughter except to say that the more you write the less difficult it becomes. I am blogging as a forum for emptying my head of all these complex thoughts. And hopefully, she will find a forum for all those thoughts that works for her. I certainly hope so, as frankly, she's genetically pre-disposed to running unpleasant thoughts over and over in her head. But that's her father's fault.

We rule the world. Why?

Today I am trying to help a Native American woman who lives at my housing authority (the one I work for not own, though as a tax payer, I might have partial ownership and I certainly own it emotionally but that’s another post) sell a flute made by her brother. She needs the money to pay a utility bill. The flute is beautiful and she is asking only $150 for it. But of course no one wants to pay that. So, I mentioned that her brother lives in Seattle. The only thing more romantic than a Native American, is a Native American who lives in Seattle. White people are so weird. And as one, I know. Just to prove my point, here is a picture of the Queen visiting Virginia for the 400^th Anniversary of the founding of James Town. Doesn’t she look smitten? (That's a Virginia Indian though not a Seattle Indian.)

Because I have things to say that aren't cheery

I am uncheery. I have another blog but it is cheery. I need another venue.

Welcome.