"She's Making a List, Checking it Once"

Dave and I spent the week following Thanksgiving fevering, coughing, and sneezing. A good time was had by all by taking turns bringing each other mugs of hot broth or tea, and medicine; Dave would bring in firewood and I'd keep the fireplace burning. Now and then I'd venture out onto the deck to put my face into the sun and breathe in the cold, crisp air. The weather had been so mild a lot of the deck plants had started to turn green again. "Of all the weeks to be sick, and we could've been hiking on dry ground." I added that to my list of things to not be grateful for as I headed back into the cabin to once again take my place on the couch with my blanket and pillow. For some reason the cool of the leather couch feels so good when my skin is so warm.

Neither of us had any energy to do anything other than screen-time, so we got the old DVD player out and watched hour after hour of old home movies; a bit of our own version of "A Christmas Carol", visiting the past. The babies, toddlers, and then teens flashing across the big-screen, my eyes burning with fever and now with hot tears. The bitter-sweetness of a life so full of love, chaos, laughter, tears, the loudness of some scenes interspersed with a camera held by a teenaged Elisabeth who for whatever reason felt compelled to record her mama in a moment of playtime with her baby brother. The endless kisses in his neck, waiting for his belly laugh to erupt....I knew at that time he'd likely be my last baby; I wonder if, even at her young age of thirteen sensed it as well.

With Wyatt and Megan and their little girls recently moving to Florida, we were already set for a peculiar Christmas. The Utah grandies complaining that things just won't be the same without them here; and they're right of course. It's not the same at all.

The kids have been so excited about Christmas with their littles, creating the magic that helps them to relive their own happy childhood traditions along with making their own new ones. Going to the beach on Christmas day might be one of Wyatt and Megan's new traditions.

Having recovered from our little flu session, we invited our Utah gang to come up for dinner on the 23rd and whoever wanted to stay the night and have Christmas Eve breakfast with us could. About half of our people were able to make it, and we feasted, played games, and watched more home movies; the grandies getting a kick out of seeing their dad as a teen hanging out at our house back in the day and holding the littles. Natalie and Taylor calculated that in that home movie I was the same age as they are now; to which we all exclaimed was way too weird and we quickly moved on to the next DVD. Eli and Bronson stayed the night, and the older siblings and grandies went home to make final Christmas magic preparations.

So far this has been a rather mild winter with hardly any snow to shovel from the deck and driveway. My deck plants have even gotten a bit confused and started greening up again. I should have winterized all the pots; but maybe I won't regret it if the rosemary comes back just enough for me to make another little harvest.

The early afternoon sun shines in on the west side of the cabin and whatever magical mixture of sun and my best guess at watering, overwatering and/or neglect has made the Christmas cactus that sits in front of the window bloom non-stop since October.

Every year Dave and I say we won't get each other Christmas gifts. Every year Dave gets me a gift. Oh my gosh. He says "Every day just being with you is a gift!" and such and I never know whether to be overcome with guilt or overwhelm at how good he is to me. He has me unwrap a large box containing a blanket that is so soft and cozy and tells me we can both use it when we watch T.V. I present him with a plate holding a warm orange roll. We curl up on the couch, drape the blanket over the both of us and eat our orange rolls and watch and endless stream of movies; "Little Women", "Meet Me in St. Louis" he dozes on and off and I cry on and off. Teamwork. My guess is that the ambivalence brought on by an empty nest this time of year will likely never go away. Some of our older children see their own littles growing out of the "magic" and know this season of their lives is far too short.

I start contemplating the new year, and start making a little mental checklist of things I want to accomplish. Not resolutions or goals because that gives me all the overwhelm; traveling to the Amalfi Coast or not eating ice cream or chocolate or making my own ceramic tile for a back-splash probably need lots of little baby-steps in order to be successful. While Dave naps next to me, I browse my phone's photo gallery and come upon a photo taken of me at my paternal grandmother's graveside at the Grand Canyon. I look awfully happy for being at a grave-side service, but then again, I don't think I'd ever met her at an age old enough to have a memory of her. Besides noticing how happy I look, I'm looking at the outfit approximately six or seven year old me is wearing. And I....love...it. I want the coat that that child is wearing but in a women's size six. It's green. It's courderoy. It's perfect. And then I realize I have probably purchased (mostly thrifted) up to eight coats. Do I have a green courderoy one? No. Not I do not. Do I need one? Also no I do not.

So I now have my New Year's little checklist I think I'm going to work on. It's all the rage from what I hear. I'm going to try to donate about eighty percent of my wardrobe and create a capsule wardrobe. And I'm going to be sure it includes a coat like this one. But not purchased new. It must be thrifted because that's just who I am these days. Well, that's who I've been most of my days, but this is my goal (I mean check-list).

I tell Dave about my exciting new plan. He tells me he thinks it's great, and I sense that he probably is so relieved. The man is a minimalist and I am for sure the yin to his yang. Baby steps. Just don't ask me to ever pare down on my house or porch plants. Those are a need; as is this scarf I recently thrifted. The search for a green corduroy jacket begins, after I decide which jackets I need to donate. I'll start tomorrow. Right now I'm going to go have a little dish of chocolate ice-cream with a little drizzle of olive oil and flaky salt on it. Resolutions are so over-rated.