beyond the bag, it is about change, recycling, choice, connections…

It’s a good thing that I have to work during the day, otherwise I would definitely be addicted to daytime television. Between Martha and Rachel, Ellen and the Contessa, there are so many delicious things to watch. Landscaping and decorating, home selling and improvement - I love them all.

Since the newspaper delivery person could not make it down our arctic-like, unploughed road, I started the morning with a peek at the weather channel. I’ve always been a proponet of running outside to conduct my own weather check, but after a New Year’s Eve of blustery snow conditions and icy roads, I decided to consult the professionals.

Each New Year’s Day, members of my family join community members in a small parade called A Toast to the Coast.At this non demonimational celebration, we walk from the community center, around the Eel River, through the village of Woods Hole, ending at the coastline (and it’s all coastline, so it’s a very short walk). Wtih random bottles of non and alcoholic libations, we celebrate the end of the outgoing (and in this case, remarkable) year while recognizing the potential of the 365 days ahead. We toast ourselves, our families, and our political leaders, as we reaffirm our status as stewards of this beautiful village and a global committment to our planet.

It’s lovely to march and sing, to ring bells and dance in the streets. Some of us wear funny costumes while others just dress warmly. (I’m one of the inhibited members that only gyrate with proper lubrication.) All in all its a lovely celebration - a community based, open resolution to take care of ourselves, our families, each other, and our planet.

I am dedicated to making this a greener year (doing my best at wavyo.com), but today, I don’t feel a need to proclaim this publically. It’s 19.2 degrees, with a windchill of 6 degrees, so I think I’ll let the hardier souls gather and party outdoors, while I start my year inside, next to the woodstove.

Oh look! Martha is doing a show on bloggers: ahhhhh, research!

In my family, I am the oldest and there are six of us - all girls (well, women at this point), but I always say that, “yes, there were six of us, and no, no boys.” When you come from a large family, space is always an issue. In a small Cape, we slept three to a bedroom. (Actually, my parents had a brainstorm, finished off the basement, and put two of us down there. That worked well until I got caught sneaking back in at 5:00 am, but that’s another blog…).

As easily predicted, the sisters have multiplied. There are husbands and boyfriends, daughters and sons, in-laws and out-laws, so sometimes the Christmas parties feel like a trip back to the old bedroom: crowded, less than private, no place to sit, belongings stuck under the furniture to make extra room, loud, and claustrophobic.

Don’t get me wrong - my holidays were fabulous, but you can love your family and still need personal time and space.

So today, after all of the wonderful holiday celebrations, all of the wonderful presents, and all of the wonderful relationships that mean more to me than anything in the world, I am sitting in my car, watching the sun set, all by myself. Just me and my new seagull friend. Enjoy. Give Thanks. Breathe. Peace.

And now I can go back to my crowded and loving family.

It’s December 20th, and almost everyone I know is racing around trying to finish up their holiday shopping or worried because the snow is keeping them from racing around. Perhaps we should take a moment to relax, regroup, and regenerate like gardens in the winter.

I looks this is where old Santas and Frostys go to die; You’d think there would be a more dignified way.

Thank you for your service plastic friends. Perhaps wavyo can turn you into a lovely holiday bag. Reincarnation and dignity - legacy if you will! Give us some time, I think we’re on to something big.

x0×0x0x

Buy More, Buy More! is a pretty odd, blog title on a website that is all about recycling, reusing, and cutting back on consumables whenever possible (wavyo.comfor your recycled gift giving bags). Today, I participated in the exception to all of my consuming rules. Today I went shopping at the North Falmouth Elementary School.

A round-family e-mail was sent informing family and friends that Calvin (my 10 year old nephew) would be selling his bookmarks from 1:30 - 3:00, Wednesday afternoon. I love that kind of invitation. It breaks up your work day, you run in, buy a couple or five or six book marks, and then you run back out with a small people induced holiday buzz.  Good times. What I hadn’t considered were the 59 other children at their tables.

Their faces, oh my god, their innocent, cautious, sweet, guarded, hopeful faces. All of them looking at you, beseeching you to come and buy their home made handicrafts. Each one with their own tally sheet and cash box. You look for the daughters and sons of the children that you know. You figure you’ll buy from them, then make a quick get-a-way.  But you can’t run out because there are those 46 other children that you don’t know. The other 46 that are asking you, with their eyes, to recognize how much work and heart they put into their holiday treasures.

Of course I need a pen wrapped in a crushed silk (wait, I think it’s plastic) poinsettia. I have to have the Merry Christmas rock with the backwards r’s. What a great idea - sports magnets! Pipe cleaner ornaments? I can see you made those all by yourself!  A rainbow crayon - why that’s ingenious. Bennett will love the dog bone stocking. I bought the slap on reindeer bracelets because I needed instructions to work it: the lesson alone was worth the $1.50 I paid. 

With a portion of all of the sales going to a charity or non-profit of their choice (they vote in their classrooms) this really was a multi-layered lesson and event. This year, the Falmouth Service Center will be the recipient of their largess, and I hope someone tells them the story behind this very sweet donation.

As you can see, I left with a ton of holiday bling, a very full heart, and enough hostess gifts for all of my parties and stocking stuffers for Bruce. Hopefully, he won’t miss the Esquire and the chocolates as he gazes upon the poinsettia pen, the magnets, and the bookmarks….

If you work in the non profit world you spend a lot of time holding bake sales, writing grants, and looking for unusual fundraisers. Five years ago, Kathy said, “I remember going to this really fun fundraiser where they auctioned off pies,” and our Upper Cape Pre-Thansgiving Pie Auction was born.

The pies that we auction and sell (to supplement our family education and support grant) are donated by the members of our community. From the mothers in our baby groups, to the dads in our mixed age play-and-learn groups; from the grandparents who combine childcare and exercise in our Music and Movement classes, to providers who bring the children because the parents have to work:  teachers and friends, husbands and in-laws, collaborators and strangers, sisters and relatives, bakers and business partners, all contribute to making this day a true community success.

Each pie is infused with incremental measures of pride, love, and genius. Look at the personal pie that I purchased (sorry, I couldn’t resist). It is perfection in pie poetry (and its getting worse): this baker attached two millar P’s (for personal pie), two ribbons, and two forks. And she donated 10 of them! Ten, little, stand-alone creations to support our program. The overwhelming generosity is astounding.

Anyway, as I write the thank you notes and IRS donation letters, I have one thought: if my Christmas holiday is as sweet as my Thanksgiving season, I am in for an understated and look-for-the-magic type of holiday. It’s all there, under the flash and glossy inserts. It’s the smell of sugar and cinnamon and the generosity of friends, family, and neighbors.

P.S. My personal pie never got out of the parking lot. As I forced the last box of pencils and programs, signs and balloons, table cloths and sharpies, into the back of my over-loaded Mercury Sable, I ripped info my personal pie. I tore off the two “P’s” and the two ribbons; I tossed one of the two forks onto the passenger seat; The auction was over, and I was tired, proud, thankful, and happily munching on my very own pie.

Thank you, every one of you, who made the Upper Cape Pre-Thanksgiving Pie Auction such a lovely event and success.

All of pies, from the apples to the pineapple, the chocolate berry and the chocolate seduction, were spectacular. All of our friends participate in some way. Like Kerry and Nancy who came the morning of the auction bearing warm fruit, and to Amy who was late and we were worried.  My business partner, Kimberly, sent a note to my sister, “Tina’s causes are my causes. Please take this check and buy a pie from me.” All of the program specialists were making the auction look easy. These women who haven’t yet recovered from the 20% pay cut , but still offer our families 100% of their heart and expertise. And my family - who bid too high and too often - they sparkle in ways that make people ask, “who are they and how can I join that club?” For all of you - I am thankful.

My husband loves going to movie matinees, so yesterday, I called him at work and asked him if I could take him out on an early date. I think we both needed something to disrupt the rat wheel we’ve been living on. We walked into the theater to see Happy Go Lucky and the previews were playing: perfect timing. With a total of seven people in the theater I thought, “this is nice.” Unfortunately, one of the other patrons was very not as content. He or she started shooshing one of the other four patrons. His or her sounds were so loud that I assumed they carried in their own micro or mega phone for instances such as this or in case they are ever forced to make a quick citizen’s arrest.

There are few things more annoying than movie talkers (well, maybe seat kickers, but that’s a different blog) - but the previews? Everyone is getting settled, you’re trying to decide if the snacks you snuck in will be enough to get you through the movie, who sits where, if you need to purchase a $9.00 soda, letting the person closest to the wall out so they can go to the bathroom…. Some noise is allowed and expected.

So even before our relax-and-get-away-from-our-work-world movie started, I envisioned the shoosher being sent to Happy Go Lucky by their therapist. “Go, enjoy, observe, relax, forget, breathe in….” 

So Dear Movie Shoosher,

I would suggest another therapy session before venturing out to the Nickelodeon, and maybe even a different movie. Start with Quantum of Solace and work towards Happy Go Lucky. During this potentially beautiful/difficult holiday season, we must, to the best of our abilities, avoid overload disasters like the recent Wal-Mart tragedy. Good luck finding the Happy.

Tina

that I have a sister hot line to call (no waiting) for my first time cooking turkey blues. I truly did think that the gizzards were missing. Why don’t they just put them in the same place they put that nasty looking veiny neck?

that my cranberry sauce was outstanding (we won’t talk about the thin and grisly gravy).

I learned the mystery of stuffing - you just do it - although it’s never as good as your mother’s.

that appetizers lengthen the day and that progressive eating (dinner here, dessert there) is a great idea and gives everyone a chance to breathe, rearrange, settle, and continue.

for the enforced mini vacation. Taking a break from work is healthy and necessary.

that in my book, it’s better to attend yard sales on Black Friday that be trampled in the mall.

that i have a loving and ever-changing circle of family and friends. Overabundance sort of sums it up.

that i love my husband’s family (phew!).

and

finally, that although my job has been cut and i am wrestling with the ramifications, that I am not the Port “o” Potty (Johnny on the Spot, BausHaus, or whatever you call that outside, no-flushing, holder of all that is smelly receptacle) cleaner-outer.

On the way to celebrate the holiday with my husband’s family, I saw two men wrestling with and spraying down one of those blue monsters (hopefully they only had one, which would give them something to be thankful for, too).

As I traveled from the Cape to Connecticut with my forehead pressed against the passengers window, listening to Alice’s Restaurant on WMVY, I tried to tally everything that I am grateful for; thankfully, I’m still counting, which makes me one lucky woman.

Funny how things go or come full circle. My friend Kristen was the first person (outside of my family) to purchase a wavyo bag. She bought the Pasteur Nafnaf, and every time I see her carrying it, I smile and think, “now that woman has great taste.”

I had three back to back meetings at the Cape Cod Hospital yesterday, and really, it is challenging to stay present and interested for all three. I took a bathroom break between meetings two and three, and walked back into the meeting room with, what I hoped was, a look of interest.

Because we were between meetings, there were only a few people in the room when I returned. I was shocked to see one of our August West bags sitting on the meeting table. Wait, were my work-for-insurance and my work-for-pleasure worlds colliding? Who was carrying this bag, and how did they get it? (I always tell people on the Cape that I will drive their purchases to them, saving on shipping and handling.)

In a six degrees of separation situation, it turns out that my smart and savvy friend Kristen (from paragraph one) had attended a green workshop to which I had donated an August West bag, and she won it in their green raffle. Carrying both bags, she dropped her bags on the table and ran out to make a quick phone call.

Pretty wild that while I was looking for the adrenaline to make it though meeting number three, the inspiration showed up in the form of a wavyo bag. Okay, okay: I’m paying attention, follow your dreams, it’s all a sign, and there is no place like home, there’s no place like home….

Even though I am a yard and estate sale addict, I have certain rules that I try to adhere to. One, if I’m able to go on Saturday, I do not go on Sunday, and I really try to stick to this rule. But Fridays - well Fridays are a big, huge, bonus day! I used to try to fit my sales in before I started my workday, but now that our program and my hours have been cut by the state, I can go to Friday sales and peruse for hours; no more rushing.

Last Friday morning, I found these odd glass bottles. I wasn’t exactly sure what they were, but the lady in charge told me that the owner of the house used to own a restaurant, and they were actually individual wine carafes. I love them, and at $2.00 each, they were a total bargain. They have that round, full bottom, a long and elegant neck, and a full and beautiful lip. I can see them on my Martha-like Thanksgiving table, amidst the twinkly votives and my oddly, but coolly, unmatched table settings. (In other words, I don’t have enough real plates to go around.) Perhaps this Friday I can find enough silver ware to feed my family. With wine decanters like this, I cant use the fall-back plastic, even if it does have that lovely holiday shine.