'Tis the season

'Tis the season for giving. Although Amazon shipped most of my packages, I got to wrap a few things, sign a few cards, and send them off with the kids for teachers and such

'Tis the season for singing. A few people are trying to get caroling going this Sunday, and I'm ready to join in.  In the meantime, Cady Gray is belting out "The 12 Days of Christmas" every time she's near a calendar.

'Tis the season for cheer. Thanks to Noel, whose cooking and baking get more ambitious by leaps and bounds, our home is full of delicious aromas of food and drink.

'Tis the season for children.  While Cady Gray has decided that Santa is a fun story we enjoy telling at Christmas, Archer has twice told us, with great seriousness, that he knows Santa is real but thinks the flying reindeer are just fiction.

'Tis the season for taking stock. It was a good year, 2011 -- for me and for our family.  As we march toward its end, I'm looking forward to looking back.

'Tis the season for family.  We're going to be our own reunion this year; grandparents and siblings and cousins and in-laws won't be with us.  But that's all right, because ...

'Tis the season for home.  Ours is lit up brightly, filled with anticipation, warm and happy. What more can anyone ask at Christmastime?

Summer's last moments

I've never completely understood why we let the calendar have such dominion over our lives.  No wearing white after Labor Day, Memorial Day as the official start of summer, New Year's Day we have to eat black eyed peas.  I used to roll my eyes when people would talk about what they needed to do on this particular day or another -- things they could do at any time, but felt compelled to do along with everybody else because the calendar said so.

Now I think I'm getting the hang of it.  On Labor Day weekend, for the last several years, one or another of our friends has organized a picnic at the lake or invited everyone over to grill out.  It's an extra day of leisure, to be sure, but it's also a reminder.  We need to gather with each other, feast, play, communicate, empathize, connect.

As a loner by nature, I always resented the times that tradition took away my freedom to keep to myself.  I'm glad my children, at least in their pre-teenage years, don't have that attitude.  They love going to others' houses for parties or having people over at our house.  They look forward to those special days on the calendar that signal celebrations.

I still prefer to stay away from the big locations on the big days -- the crowds, the traffic jams, the hassle and expense.  But I understand much better why these red-letter days trigger people to make special plans and special efforts.  It's because the calendar can remind us to take time for each other, and to take time to mark time.  As time begins to pass quickly in our children's lives and in our lives with them, I begin to see the value of that attitude.

Celebrations

This time of year comes with so much to celebrate. My oldest nephew graduated from high school and will study and run track in Maine this fall. Father's Day is this weekend. And birthdays of friends and family continue apace.

August, as is well known, is the only month without a major holiday. For us, though, it's the biggest month of the year, with both kids' birthdays occurring in the same week. July has Independence Day, which is a big deal for some families, but usually passes quietly for us with maybe a picnic, and the scary fireworks safely confined to the TV.

I mention celebration only because I'll be passing the run-up to Father's Day in an unusual situation -- as a single, childless woman. Noel and the kids are going to visit the Tennessee grandparents on Thursday, coming back on Sunday. I'm looking forward to having the time and space to work on some projects around the house, like reconfiguring our computer set-up to be centered in Archer's room, getting rid of the huge desk where it currently sits, and clearing out the space for my planned crafting center.

When they get back it will be Father's Day, and I'll only have a few hours to make the day special. Getting the kids to make cute cards or breakfast in bed is out -- they won't be here. A nice present (that Noel knows about) is underway but won't be ready in time for his return. It will be special for me to see him and the kids again after a few days apart. Maybe enough of a gift would be to take the kids off his hands and leave him to enjoy a special dinner in solitude.

Remembering

In my youth -- as I suspect it was for most of my readers -- Memorial Day was a holiday that had drifted from its roots.  Yes, it was always more prominent in the South, given that the Decoration Day tradition originated there.  And I remember the large (and beautiful) national cemetery in Chattanooga being covered with flags on this weekend.  I have dim recollections of a military parade, too.

But in the seventies, the armed services were definitely an ambiguous subject throughout the American culture.  Not so for kids coming of age in the first decade of the twenty-first century.  Supporting and honoring the troops has become an activity closely associated with civic virtue, promoted by all segments of the media and never questioned in public.

My family doesn't have a strong military background or tradition, unlike many of the students I teach.  My father was in the reserves, and my mother's brothers served in World War II; I'm sure my grandfathers and on back had military experiences that I don't remember hearing about.  But other than a few souvenirs and stories, soldiering never entered my upbringing.  By contrast, it's rare for my students to have a family without a conscious, active, and meaningful association with a branch of the service, base life, and one of the present or recent deployment zones around the world.

Many commenters have noted today that the distinction between Memorial Day and Veterans Day seems to have been lost.  It's a natural result of the pro-military attitude of the times.  We take every opportunity to praise those currently serving, and any day with patriotic meaning becomes another chance.to place them front and center.  We do remember the sacrifice of those serving on Memorial Day, but the sentiment is not sharply distinguished between the living and the dead.  Perhaps that distinction no longer serves our culture well in an era with lengthy wars and occupations, when the line between the absent and the present is thin and raw.

The way it oughta be

On Memorial Day weekend, you should get together with friends.  I'm glad we have friends who are generous enough to invite us over.

You should have a special cold beverage to sip while you chat.

Your kids should make a secret clubhouse somewhere in the backyard.

There should be grilled meats and baked beans and fresh herbs.

The sun should shine and the heat should remind you that summer is here.

Kids should run in and out of the house to get lemonade refills and always forget to close the door behind them.

By that standard, we just had a perfect Memorial Day afternoon.  Thanks, friends.

A holiday of our own

Noel invented his new favorite day of the year -- the day after Thanksgiving, when there is mail delivery, everything is open, and there are delicious leftovers to eat.  He named it Noel Day.

I like the days after a holiday, too.  Even though our Thanksgiving feast was awesome this year, it still comes with some stress, at least on the day itself.  On Friday, with nothing but a long weekend ahead of me, I took a morning to go to an empty office and get work done that was necessary for Monday's return to classes.  We watched football all day Friday and Saturday -- great games, too.  I knit practically nonstop and finished a one-skein triangular scarf out of sock yarn in four days; as soon as it's blocked my mom, who admired it while it was still in progress, will get it.  With Granny Lou and Papa's help, the tree was up and trimmed in a couple of hours Saturday afternoon.

The next three weeks will be busy.  Two full weeks of classes (one more than we usually have after Thanksgiving), an administrative planning retreat on the designated study day at the end of the second week, the culmination of two service learning projects in one class and a collaborative final exam in the other class, two parties during finals week to celebrate the end of those endeavors, a summit with my teaching assistants to debrief this semester and plan for the next one, and a full day of thesis presentations on graduation eve.

Thank goodness I'm not having to prepare for Christmas travel during that madness.  The campus doesn't even close until the day before Christmas Eve.  It will be tough enough just to get all the gifts planned, wrapped, and on their way to their recipients, but I'm infinitely more sanguine about it knowing I'm not facing interstates or airports over the holidays.  As busy as we'll be, there will be time for everything -- including enjoying the season.

Busy relaxing

Like a preview of summer comes Memorial Day. Its salient feature: the need to find something for the kids to do.

I dreamed up three special activities for their school holiday -- one for each kid, and one for the whole family. This morning right after breakfast, Archer and I went running at Tucker Creek Trail. Then after I got back and changed clothes, Cady Gray and I went to Starbucks for a knitters' retreat. And after lunch, we all went down to North Little Rock for a minor league baseball game.

I've never been one to make big plans on holidays that are supposed to be about relaxing. All the organization feels too much like work. But even thought we had to make the half-hour drive to Little Rock and back for the ball game -- driving is not my favorite way to unwind -- everything else was exactly what a holiday should be. I spent quality time with each of my children, doing something we share a love for. And we all got out into the summer sun with our fellow Arkansans, cheered on some ballplayers, ate some funnel cake and frozen lemonade, and wore ourselves out.

I'm ready to get back to work tomorrow, though. To be honest, I've been looking forward to this week's two half-day prep and research retreats since the weekend started. The summer is here, and it's time to take the wheel.

Holiday onramp

For as long as I can remember, the complaint has been about how early Christmas displays start going up in the stores. This year it doesn't feel too early -- not by a long shot. Black Friday is the day after tomorrow, and even though I don't partake in that madness, I'm already starting to feel behind.

Christmas is exactly one month away. We need to get through this weekend; can't really think ahead while the festivities are in full swing here with the in-laws. Then next week is the last week of classes, and the following week is exams. Then the next week is grading and finishing up. At that point, there's one week until Christmas. Why didn't I start on everything in September?

Now, it's not like there's much to do. Noel and I made a list last week and started to brainstorm gift ideas. I'm knitting like a fiend. But there's still a sense that the season is rushing at me headlong. Or maybe what's barreling my way is next year and next semester. That's what I'm really not ready for.

Let me entertain you

My mother is a consummate entertainer. How many dinner parties did she hold around the big table in our special-occasions-only dining room? How many bridge nights did she host? How many nights did we kids eat at a card table set up in the den -- or on bar stools in the kitchen -- because both the dining room and the breakfast nook were occupied by my parents' friends?

I'm nowhere near that standard (as with most endeavors on which I can be compared with my mother). But I like the idea of having people over on occasion. Noel's parents are coming over for Thanksgiving, and while I have a lot of things to do between now and then -- like grading, teaching, and writing -- I'm already starting to plan the meal.

All I really have to plan is the turkey; it's my only responsibility. As the centerpiece of the meal, that means I'm the cornerstone of the entertainment edifice, or at least I flatter myself as such. Usually I'm at the American Academy of Religion meeting the week of Thanksgiving and only get home in time to thaw the turkey in the sink using the last-ditch change-the-water-every-30-minutes method. But because the conference was earlier this year, I got to move the turkey from the freezer to the fridge this morning and start dreaming about a platter garnished with apples, rosemary and sage.

I still crave the Thanksgivings of my childhood, as do we all. I want those side dishes -- my grandmother's stuffing, the pea and asparagus casserole, the apple and cranberry bake. But Noel and I put on a pretty good feed. And even though I'll never be half the hostess my mother is, I take pride in playing the part on rare occasions.

Smackdown

Today's post, in which I raise the championship belt above my head after illegally swatting the referee with a folding chair, is at Toxophily.

Tomorrow is the university's day off for the July 4 holiday. I'll be celebrating by helping take the kids to the dentist, watching NewsRadio, and writing a book review. Hope your holiday was freedom-filled!

Suddenly I'm an artisan

On three separate occasions in the last two weeks, I've received requests for knitted items. Up until now, I've knit for myself or for gifts. But I suppose there's a moment when (a) it becomes widely known among one's circle that one knits, and (b) one's knitted items are admired as rivaling professional quality.

First, a colleague organizing a craft fair as a fundraiser for our church's preschool asked me if I wanted a booth to sell my handmade goods. The distance between my actual work (piecemeal and slow) and the perception that I might have a stockpile of stuff I could use as inventory for a small storefront really threw me for a loop.

Recently as I was walking Archer into the speech therapy building for his usual Tuesday appointment, the mother of a tweener who often comments on my knitting came running out of her van. She asked me if I could knit her daughter some fingerless mitts like the Endpaper Mitts I was wearing, and offered to pay me.

Just yesterday, a student approached me at the end of a co-curricular event and told me the story of a lost scarf a friend had brought her from Peru. She had put colored hash marks representing the scarf's colors and striping pattern on a sheet of paper. "I don't know anything about yarn, but could you possibly make me one like the one I lost?" she asked. "I'll be happy to pay you."

I promised to do my best for all three petitioners. For the craft fair, I said I'd try to make something to donate, knowing I couldn't stock a booth in a year, much less three weeks. I can whip out a pair of fingerless mitts quickly for the mother, although not colorwork ones in sock yarn like the ones she admired. And I'm willing to take on the challenge of recreating the lost scarf if the student can provide a picture of her wearing it, to give me an idea about the yarn weight, stitch pattern, and fringe style.

Of course I wouldn't want to be paid; I'm not that good, and knitting isn't my business, and these are acquaintances. I'd only do it if I thought I was doing them a favor. It would be nice to get a favor or gift in return, but I wouldn't make it an exchange.

It seems I've crossed the threshold of semi-pro knitting. Will the requests come regularly from now on, or is this some kind of holiday madness? And as nice as it is to have one's handiwork admired, I'd hate to spend more than a small fraction of my knitting time filling requests, as it were. In the unlikely event that this isn't a fluke, I'd have to learn some polite way to decline. "No, I don't take commissions," perhaps?

Long weekend

For single and childless folk, holiday weekends are times to get away and escape a day or two of work. For those of us with school-age kids, it's an added day that we have to entertain the rugrats instead of letting the teachers do it. To add insult to injury, places that we depend upon for weekly rounds of kidutainment, like the public library, close all weekend long. Even getting some chores done -- like the haircut Archer needs -- have proven beyond our powers, as service establishments shut their doors in our faces and fire up the barbecues.

So we've made do with a rather steamy playground visit and a largely unnecessary Target run to get the kids out of the house. Tomorrow, though, we've got bookings -- a picnic by the lake and a birthday party -- backloaded in the late afternoon. Zilch for the long, long morning, though. Probably another trip to Target for birthday presents (nothing like going on a whim to produce three or four more trips, since you have no idea what you really need to get), maybe a stroll down the Tucker Creek trail, and lunch at some establishment too strapped for cash to be able to close down for the holiday.

And then le deluge. Tuesday Archer and I are back in school, both kids have their yearly check-ups, and Noel will be making final preparations to fly to Toronto early Wednesday morning for his annual TIFF vacation. 10 days, 2 kids, 1 grandma (for 4 of those days), 4 schools (Archer's, mine, and 2 different ones for CG depending on what day it is), 10 breakfasts, 8 sack lunches, 9 what-am-I-going-to-make-for dinners, 13 drop-offs, 11 pick-ups, 18 bedtimes. Number of wet or soiled underpants, toy crises, trips to the emergency room, etc. yet to be determined. We've been mentally preparing ourselves for a week -- Noel to leave (he's been collecting clothes and toiletries for his suitcase since this past Wednesday) and me to stay (rehearsing as I walk to school the order in which I need to take the kids to their various destinations for maximum timeliness, and resolutely refusing to think about things like dinnertimes).

Since I'm still enthralled by my polygamy memoir -- in which the writer spends months at a time in Mexican adobe huts caring for the 25 children in the plural brood on her own, while the other wives and her husband work in the States -- I'm not inclined to exaggerate the difficulties I will face. Nevertheless, I'm sure the burden will be quite enough for my pampered behind.