From Grumbles to Gratitudes

Tea: Mandarin Orange with Honey

Music: Radim Zenkl, "Last Supper"

Time: Night.

I really hadn't intended to take this much time off for the holidays. But ... I'm back, even if not entirely coherent.

I suppose I can blame part of it on the Christmas whirl, another part on the bug I picked up a few days ago (which waited until last night to slam me and kept me in bed for most of today) and a third on the caffeine withdrawal headache that is only now going away.

But as someone wiser than I once said, the times when one feels sorry for oneself are the times to remember (and be grateful for) the good things.

So, I'm grateful tonight for the gift of the tea, which took away my headache; for a bed in which to sleep while I shook off the bug and for the message of peace that still manages to make itself heard if one can just turn down the carols and commercials for a bit.

Fourth out of three: Food, which I've had in abundance this holiday season and which a good deal of the world has to go without on a regular basis. A few rounds on Free Rice won't make all the hunger go away, but it's a step I can take right now while I'm thinking about it.

Not to nudge, but so can you ...

The Gift of Letting It Go

Tea: White Garden Aria

Music: The Pretenders, "2000 Miles"

Time: Night.

I ran into a former pastor at my church today, while we were both out getting some late-hour (not quite last-minute) Christmas errands done.

His departure was not a shining moment in the history of the church. There were factions and accusations, resigned memberships and broken friendships.

It was a sad thing to see. He's a decent, caring, intelligent man.

We talked for a few minutes, then I got called to another register to make my purchase while he continued checking out.

His wife came to the front of the store, and they left together. I remembered her as a smiling, gentle woman. Now, she looked angry, pinched, drawn-in. She looked at me, and I smiled -- and then realized that she was (or so it seemed) looking through me.

They left, a study in emotional contrasts. He had let go of whatever angers and pains (many of the latter unjustly afflicted) he might have taken from the split. She had not.

It makes me wonder what grievances I still hold that I would be better served to fling away. I have recently yanked out a deep-rooted anger -- and while the site where it grew is still healing, I know I am better (and can be better still) for it.

There are other grudges, small and not so, which remain to be uprooted. Seems as good a time as any to do it. Healing is a fine Christmas present to the self -- and to the ones we care about.

Jump, George, Jump!

Tea: Oolong No. 18

Music: UK, "Time to Kill"

Time: Night.

Call me a Grinch. Call me a Scrooge. (Both pre-enlightenment, that is.)

But I've had it up to here (indicates heart, three sizes too small) with heartwarming holiday specials.

I need something that doesn't involve someone learning (to the appropriate swelling music) that the True Meaning of Christmas is (a) Family; (b) Giving; (c) True Love (either with someone you've just met or someone you've known for years but never thought of that way.)

Not that family, giving or true love are bad things. They're just not the true meaning of Christmas, in my book. That's a longer, preachier post than I've time for here, though.

Ah, well. It appears I'm not to be spared. I'm being called to the living room, where "White Christmas" awaits.

Maybe this will be the year it doesn't snow, and the Big Christmas Show falls through, and ... yeah, right.

I'm telling you, the day after Christmas I'm popping "Night of the Living Dead" into the DVD player and it's not coming out for at least twenty hours straight.

Better yet, "Mad Monster Party." It was made by the Rankin/Bass same people who made all those Rudolph specials (which at least have some redeemingly creepy parts).

Couldn't go wrong with Godzilla, either. Atomic breath vaporizing entire army divisions?

Now that's heart(and everything else)warming ...

The Polenta Bridge

Tea: Mandarin Green

Music: Potato Moon, "Let's Ride"

Time: Almost midnight.

Mrs. Steep and I went to a Christmas party tonight, despite all the predictions of ice and freezing rain and whatever else the ratings-hungry weather-blatherers were yammering on about before we changed the channel.

Late in the evening, when most of those remaining had repaired to the living room to sing Christmas songs (a familiar moment in heartwarming holiday specials on the Hallmark Channel, but a new -- and enjoyable -- one for me), I wandered back into the kitchen to refill my cup of hot cider.

The woman who prepared the main dishes for the party (coq au vin, butternut squash polenta and Caesar salad) was there, putting away the last of her serving dishes.

We had never gotten on all that well in the past. Nothing hostile, mind you, but little that could even be called cordial. But I had enjoyed the dinner -- especially the polenta, which was lighter than any I'd ever had before -- and I told her so. No sense in withholding a compliment where one was due, after all.

She lit up, and talked animatedly of her search for a fluffy polenta recipe (which, when she found it, was simple: four cups water, one cup cornmeal and one 12-ounce package of cream cheese). I later learned that she had been a professional caterer but had to give it up. She seemed a bit sad about that.

The exchange wasn't a huggy holiday special moment, but it was a good one -- and it reinforces my belief that sharing food (both physically and verbally) can be a way for people to get to know each other better, to build bridges rather than walls.

Someday, I'll try the recipe. And it will be a reminder that whatever our relations with others, sometimes it doesn't take a grand gesture to make them better.

Seasoned with Unseasonability

Tea: Christmas

Music: Elvis Costello and the Attractions, "Accidents Will Happen"

Time: Night.

In a couple of weeks, it'll be October -- which means it will be time to put away all my Hallowe'en gear away for a month.

See ya, Gashlycrumb Tinies sweatshirt. Hasta Novembre, black T-shirt with the little glow-in-the-dark Reaper and "I see dead people" lettering. Hiatus for the Great Pumpkin boxers.

Come the day after Thanksgiving, I'll have to stash the Charlie Brown Christmas tee (and the one with Snoopy in a Santa suit). Same goes for my Christmas Story shirts, my Garfield Christmas sweatshirt and all my Grinch stuff. After January 6th (the 12-day statute of limitations for Christmas), it can come back out.

February means no candy-hearts underwear, and the Cat in the Hat socks with shamrocks go away in March.

I don't get the unwritten rule about not wearing a music group's T-shirt to one of its concerts. Never have, probably never will. I do understand not rocking the colors of a hometown coffeehouse, burger joint, etc., unless you're out of the area. (So, for example, I can wear New York (or Manhattan, Kansas, for that matter)-themed shirts here, but not in the respective Theres.

So I'm ignoring one rule, obeying another -- but I like things in threes, and so I have my own rule to complete the set: "Thou shalt not wear holiday clothing during that holiday's season, because enough people are doing that already. Besides, it will give thee a laugh to see the doubletakes."

Notice I said "clothing." My Gashleycrumb Tinies lunchbox is exempt.

Because it's cool, that's why.

Away in a Strip Mall ...

Tea: Hot Chocolate Cinnamon.

Music: Everclear, "Amphetamine"

Time: Night.

It is the end of a long day, filled with holiday preparations. Tomorrow will be the same. And then it's off to the other end of the state, to see family and friends at Christmas.

With all of that, sometimes it's hard to remember just to stop and breathe -- to be open to detours and laughter and to listen to what's being said instead of leaping ahead to what has to be done.

With this many people rushing around, doing their penultimate-minute shopping, it's easy to be ruled by what my late father called "the tyranny of the urgent." Instead of "peace on Earth, good will to men," we find ourselves singing (okay, I find myself singing) "God rest ye merry knuckleheads, now get out of my way ..." Instead of following a star, we follow the message of "Only (insert number here) shopping days left." Instead of gold, frankincense and myrrh, we have Visa, MasterCard and Discover.

But there's peace in all of the chaos, if we just take the time to find it. Or maybe it's more a matter of taking time to show it ...

Santa's Not So Little Helper

Tea: Black Fruit

Music: Veggie Tales, "Angels We Have Heard on High"

Time: Night.

My family has long been into making Christmas gifts.

Four-fifths of my family, that is. Until this year, I've been the lone exception. The last time I made a Christmas present for anyone, I wasn't even old enough for a learner's permit. But for the first time in decades, there's going to be a bit of me under a few Christmas trees.

And you know what? I'm loving it.

Part of it is that I know I'm giving something nobody else can. But mostly, I've discovered that doing things this way -- and participating in the selection process for the family's other homemade presents -- has helped me be more aware that giving any gift should be about more than "I have an obligation and a credit card. Time to hit the mall."

I'm not advocating the overthrow of the retail system. But as harried as Christmas seasons always are -- with programs, traffic and the like -- this one feels merrier than it has in a long time.

Now, the challenge is to carry that over to the rest of the year -- to look for ways to give of myself, not just give stuff. Here's hoping ...

More Time to Give

Tea: Pu-Er Dante

Music: Band Aid, "Do They Know It's Christmas?"

Time: Night

Thanksgiving came on the earliest possible date this year, which means the Christmas shopping frenzy -- sorry, season -- is already in full swing.

Nothing wrong with gift giving, or receiving. This isn't a rant on materialism. But while you're out searching for that perfect somethingorother for that certain someone, please don't tune out the sound of bells -- and please put whatever you can into those famous red kettles.

The Salvation Army does a lot of good. in the United States and around the world. When I went to Greensburg, after the tornado there this past spring, Salvation Army volunteers were there, handing out sandwiches and bottled water. When floods submerged a big chunk of Osawatomie this summer, the Salvation Army fed and clothed people who had lost everything to the water. Bringing it closer to home, when an ice storm knocked out power at my house several years ago, my family and I had a warm place to sleep -- on cots set up in racquetball courts at the local community center -- thanks to the Salvation Army.

And that help goes where it's needed -- no matter what the recipients believe or don't believe.

Aid costs money, though. Lots of it. That's where you can help.

It's a long shopping season. That means plenty of chances to stop, check your pockets for change and drop something in. It all adds up.

Or if you'd rather point and click to give, here's your chance.

Not because someday, you could be the one needing help. Because it's the right thing to do.