CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS

Maria, Maria, Maria. Give it a rest. You are going to wear everyone out.

She was up at 7:00 a.m. and found Rocky (maintenance man) working around here somewhere and got him to unlock the storage door so she could get the Christmas decorations. She now has boxes sitting in all the public areas. Looks really messy. I wouldn’t be surprised if that doesn’t set Olivia off I don’t know what will. Time to hide out.

The boxes would be open and decorations going up (at Marias direction) if she had her way. She found no recruits. So she began herself. If she does do it all-alone, she is going to be one angry puppy. She has set around some of the bigger decorative items downstairs, but let me know I was responsible to get the tree up. I didn’t answer – I smiled.

I distributed the December newsletter today. I listed a day to decorate all the spaces. We have our monthly residential meeting and birthday celebration on Thursday. A lot will be gathered, so I scheduled decorating after the meeting. May as well take advantage of recruiting from a larger group.

This morning I had to get all my doctors visits lined up and make sure I knew when the appointments are and where they are. I have five meeting in December. It was a good thing I checked. I had them all mixed up. A couple appointments were changed, one by the doctor and another by the weather. I have no idea how I got them all twisted around. It turned out that I did not even have an appointment with the podiatrist. Who knew? I was convinced that was my Friday appointment. No that’s for a mammogram. I have steadily growing and spread pain in my chest. Of all the things I am being referred for, this is one of two for which I have pain. The other is my left foot (good title for a movie).

I’m sure Maria was looking for me this afternoon, but I had much to do in my own apartment today. Since I am rarely here I guess she never thought to come to find me at my apartment. I did slip up stairs late this afternoon and she had nearly everything up. No one will need to help and she will be mad. I may try to put the tree up Wednesday during Bingo. That way there will be no one leaning over my shoulder telling me how to do it. I know how, really I do.

REAL MEN CRY

I just finished watching the Hallmark presentation of “November Christmas.” I can’t go to bed yet. My eyes are still watering. I love the Hallmark specials. They always make me cry. Real men cry. I only said that because I cry. Hallmark used to have a series a commercials (long time ago – maybe a 100 years) that made me cry. They have always been able to suck a tear out of me within 60 seconds.

I think there is nothing like a good cry. It clears the tear ducts and drains the sinus. I don’t know if they need to be cleared on a regular basis, but all I need is a tender moment. It has never taken much. I have never tried to hide my tears. They have become a badge of courage. Of course, I come by it naturally — my dad was a crier.

I do find it hard to believe how much I’m like my father. There was an extended period in my teens (those horrible obnoxious years) when I was absolutely convinced I was adopted. I saw myself as so different from the rest of them that I just have to be adopted. It’s a natural time when teens begin to pull away from out parents. I wanted to run away. But then, where would I go. I liked my bed and having food on the table.

I was not like my brothers and father. I did not repair things, building things or ever became handy with tools. U never wanted to fight and never carried brass knuckles just in case there was a great fight after school. I liked art, any kind of art. I drew and, loved clay, building things with Lincoln Logs, my Erector set, or the little tiny white blocks that that were a predecessor of Lego’s.

I did not see myself going bald like dad. My hair was too thick. Well, I have kept my hair but almost everything else is just like him. I walk with the same limp. From the back I look just like him, I’m told. My family says I laugh just like him. I’m looking more and more like him and can now see myself in him when we were both in our twenties. I am my father’s son. I’m proud to be like Dad. He was a very godly man and read the Bible through every year. I haven’t done that. I have accepted everything about being like my dad — especially the tears. I feel terrific after a great cry.

AFTER THANKSGIVING

I’ve returned from a couple days with my daughter’s in-laws. They are very warm, loving and accepting people. They have included me in family activities since my wife died. They always have a houseful of activity with plenty of kids running around.

I returned to have my ear bent by those enjoying the activities at The Home. I flew under the radar for the rest of Friday, but had to get some laundry done. I went to work on the puzzle while my wash was going. People pass and gather in this lounge.

The first report was what I wanted to hear. The group who go together for a Thanksgiving potluck had a great time. There were nine, ten or fourteen depending on who was reporting. I’ll just say there were eleven. Maria was frustrated. She wanted people told what to bring so there would not be an abundance of the same dish. This ticked the two primary organizers, as they did not want that kind of pressure on anyone. It turned out well anyway. Most people just ignored Maria and did what they wanted, and a good time was had by all.

Friday was another story. All personnel from the executive offices had the day off. It was an extended weekend. That meant our maintenance man also had the day off. Maria went around getting people together to decorate for Christmas. She wanted someone (meaning Gail) to call him and request that he open the storage cupboard so they could have access to the decorations. Gail pointed out that it was his day off and they her request was not an emergency and she would not call him. Naturally, this upset Maria. However she had another reason to be upset.

It seems people got tired of her orders and directions. Several told her that if she wanted the place decorated she could do it herself. They had no intention of helping. When she asked why, one woman told her directly. There is only one way to do it and it is your way. We put things out and you move them. Or you tell us where things go and how you want them set. It is not a building activity, it is your activity and we want to cut out the middleman and just let you do it.

Maria has competition from the first floor. The resident directly under her also likes things her way. The two will continue to move things around, or remove things they don’t like until the season is over. Then they will both adjust things for the next several months with each accusing the other of interference. They are two of a kind.

Rachel has other problems. On Tuesday she had a run in with Chas. Chas had a slice of pie and cup of tea. It was 4:00 when he noticed Olivia had not yet come down so he went to the kitchen to begin cleaning up. As he was coming out into the commons room, he ran into Ruth at the garbage can and asked, “Where did you get that plate.” “What difference does it make?” “It’s mine.” She was about to throw away the plate. Chas had intended to continue using it. He told her that he would appreciate it if she did not touch his things.

She asked why make such a big deal. It’s not a big deal just leave my things alone. Stop yelling. I’m not yelling. Verna, am I yelling? Don’t get anyone else involved in this?

Chas went back to the fireplace. After Olivia apologized to Verna for being forced into involvement, she came over to the fireplace. She told Chas that he was rude and owed her an apology. I was not rude, I simply asked you to leave my things alone. You are turning everyone against me because you don’t like me. That was not the point. I just asked that you leave my things alone. You have made complaints about me at the office and someone from there just laughed it off and told me not to worry. She denied saying she had ever expressed concerns about me being on the second floor, I laughed.

She lied about that. On multiple occasions she has tried to get me to agree that Chas should not be in this building.

From there an explosion occurred in which Olivia told Chas that he had no business being in The Home on the first floor, on the second floor or any floor. She told him she was going to file a restraining order against him and wanted him out of the building, out of this complex and out of this city.

Chas went down to the office to see if someone was there, and then went back in about five minutes and Olivia started the attacks all over again.

This may backfire on Mrs. Perfect. The people on top are weary of her complaints and constant requests of an extremely minor degree. This may not be the final nail, but it will become another nail in her coffin. It was of her that out last maintenance man said, I just wish she would wake up on day and decide to be happy. Amen!

BLACK FRIDAY

Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving in the United States, is historically one of the busiest retail shopping days of the year. Many consider it the "official" beginning to the holiday season. I call it the official beginning of complete hysteria. Most retailers will open very early and provide massive discounts on a select number and quantity of their products. You must be the first in line and wait all night to get the deal. The opening times vary and are complete insanity. Just tonight TV commercials reported stores opening at midnight, 3:00 a.m., 4:00 a.m., 5:00 a.m., 6:00 a.m. and 7:00 a.m. One store (I cannot remember which is opening Thanksgiving Day at 4:00 p.m. Others will be open most of the day. Soon we will have to cancel Thanksgiving so as not to interfere with the Black Friday sales.

Although Black Friday is typically the busiest shopping day of the year in terms of customer traffic, it is not typically the day with the highest sales volume. It is just the craziest day. The highest sales are usually either Christmas Eve or the last Saturday before Christmas.

The origin of the name, "Black Friday" does not come from any color or movie title by the same name. Back in the very olden days when accounting records were kept by hand, red ink indicated financial loss while black ink indicated profit, thus coining the popular fiscal terms of being "in the red," (losing money) or "in the black" (profitable). This term only dates to the 70-s and came into popular use in 2002. I guess they have been struggling all year and in this last month they make it all back and can go home to a good Christmas. Of course, the nest day they have to go back to work and take all the things back again.
Canadians don’t have to deal with all this nonsense and maniacal behaviors, lucky people, then neither so I. I don’t receive the 10 pounds of newspaper ads on Thursday so don’t wade through them. I have no reason to head out in the middle of the night to shop. Sanity and safety is more important to me than standing in a line for two hours to save a few dollars. Besides, I can’t stand that long any more.

No, I will sleep in. I will roll over about 7:00 a.m., shut my eyes again and go back to sleep. I’m in not hurry. My Christmas shopping is done. I did it last month. A habit I picked up from my wife.

LET IT SNOW.

Winter has arrived in the northwest. While it is often cool here in the winter, there is rarely much snow. It’s going to be different this year.

When I awoke yesterday I looked out the window about 7:00 a.m. It looked like frost on the sidewalks. About two hours later I left to join the coffee group in the other building. To my surprise, it was snowing. There were beautiful, light and very tiny snow-lakes accumulating on the ground. And it was cold. The cold reminded me of my college days in the prairies of Canada when we dumb students ran between the dorm and administration without coats. It was chilly, but we were tough.

As we sat around a table yakking it up about the snow and how pretty if was becoming. It was really beginning to sick. It’s early for snow in this area. The ski resorts are happy, but we are at sea level. We should be seeing this in the mountains above out heads. The snow would pick and slow down, but it never stopped. The wind began to pick up and at one time it reminded me of Canadian snow. It was rushing past the windows horizontally. It reminded me of some Canadian snowstorms I in which I had been caught.

By the 5:00 news the TV stations are reporting heavy ice, crashes, sliding and horrible conditions. The tenants from the Midwest and northern states began the normal belittling of drivers from the west and south letting everyone know these people don’t know how to drive in weather like this. Frankly it was getting so bad few seemed to know how to drive. The roads and sidewalks were all ice. There were traffic jams and stranded motorist everywhere.

My daughter gets to work in about 30 minutes. It took here nearly 3 hours to get home. This was the story everywhere. Out power went out and a small party gathered outside my door. There are emergency lights in the hall. Most of us ignored the “no candles” rule just so we could see. Using my cell I reached my family to see how they were doing. They had also lost power. Ours came back on about 30 minutes later. It is now Wednesday night and there is still no power in their area. We learned that 200 transformers were out in our county and at noon only 30 were back on. They came in to my place to get warm and have supper, but nothing I did could convince them to stay. They went back home to sleep. They like a cold room. Good, temperatures remain in the teens. Personally, I like heat.

They are projecting this weather to last through Thursday — thanksgiving. I expect the traffic to be unforgiving. We will leave for the other grandparents house and pray the heat stays on there. If I were going to freeze, I would rather do it at home.

THE ROYAL PRISON

This post is much longer than usual. I didn't write it, but I thought it was funny. With all the women who have dreamt of being a princess some day and even possibly marrying Prince William, this description of Royal life will give pause.



Millions of young women may envy of Kate Middleton’s engagement to Prince William, but Andrew Roberts says they should be relieved to miss out on the onerous, boring, and unending life of being a royal.

Across the globe, socially ambitious young ladies are sighing over the fact that Prince William, the world’s most eligible bachelor, has finally gotten engaged. Their wild hopes that perhaps he might have repeated his April 2007 breakup, leaving Kate in the lurch once again, are now irrevocably dashed. As their gaze now swivels elsewhere—to pop stars, hedge-funders, social networking tycoons, even Prince Harry—they are awaking from the dream of marrying the tall, blond Adonically handsome cavalry officer prince at Westminster Abbey. Yet even as they cross off Prince William from their little black address books, they can console themselves with this thought: being a royal in the 21st century is appallingly hard work, where the disadvantages easily equal, and probably outweigh, the advantages.

In the calendar year 2009, Her Majesty the Queen undertook no fewer than 409 official engagements, i.e., more than one a day. She is 84 years old. Except for Christmas Day and Easter Day, she never has a day away from her government red boxes, which follow her everywhere. Although Kate will obviously not be head of state, it is an indication of how busy her husband will be, and she will be expected to be with him on all the most important engagements. Yet she will also be expected to undertake hundreds of engagements on her own as well, and will be minutely judged on each of them.

She cannot say anything controversial, or indeed particularly interesting, for the rest of her life, otherwise she will be castigated in the press. She can never again express a political opinion of any kind whatsoever, because the most important constitutional duty of the royal family is to be above politics. Even if she winds up knowing much more about a subject than government ministers—as is often the case with the royal family regarding conservation, environmental, agricultural and heritage issues—she must keep resolutely silent about them in public. Even in private she must be highly circumspect, otherwise the politicians or civil servants will leak her letters, as has happened recently to Prince Charles.
• William & Kate: Photos, News, and More Her income will be publicly picked over to the last pound sterling in House of Commons committees, and she cannot spend lavishly even her own private money. Every item of expenditure at her wedding will be subjected to intense media scrutiny, especially at this time of austerity. Almost every holiday—and there are precious few—will be a “working” holiday of some kind where she will have to meet and greet local worthies. If she is ever once caught yawning during an interminable tribal dance in Papua New Guinea, the photo will haunt her for decades.

Everything she wears every single day will be commented on and picked over and judged in the newspapers day in, day out. In this era of the telephoto lens, she can have no bad hair days for the rest of her life. The days of mildly malicious gossipy lunches with friends are over, as are nightclubbing, flirting, and drinking more than two glasses of wine, for fear of the paparazzi snapping a flushed face. Yet however glamorous she dresses and lovely she looks, it could be decades before she is allowed to emerge from the shadow of her iconic mother-in-law, as she will be reminded whenever she looks at her engagement ring.
When she visits her in-laws in Scotland, she must pretend to enjoy being woken up at 6:15 every morning by bagpipers at Balmoral, and enjoy the cold and damp and Wellington boots of the House of Windsor’s hearty outdoors life. She must deal with the inanities, bitchiness, and pettiness of life at court, and she must also be a role model for millions of women, who will look up to her and expect her to say the right thing all the time. She must personify honor, duty, and diligence, otherwise she will be compared unfavorably to the present queen, who promised on her 21st birthday to dedicate her life to her people, and then spent the next 63 years doing exactly that.

So Kate must open schools, hospitals, and community centers, whether she feels up to it or not, scores of times every year for the rest of her life, and be seen to enjoy it. She must be bland when she does so, but also compassionate, interested, and caring. She must shake hands with hundreds of thousands of complete strangers and show interest in their lives, even though she will never see them again.

She must have at least two healthy photogenic offspring, preferably more, of whom at least one is expected to be male, whom she must try to bring up as normal children even though patently obviously they are not. She and her husband and children could well be the target of assassination attempts, and will certainly receive constant death threats. She will almost never be praised in public except by oleaginous flatterers desperate for social advantage. She will not genuinely know how she is doing in her new job; there are no objective career assessment programs for royals.

When she visits her in-laws in Scotland, she must pretend to enjoy being woken up at 6:15 every morning by bagpipers at Balmoral.

When, after half a century of not putting a foot wrong in this most taxing of public roles, Queen Catherine of England becomes a national treasure—as I am certain she will—she will have more than deserved it. But in the meantime, all those young women around the world who were dreaming of becoming princesses should instead be thanking providence that Prince William chose someone else.

Historian Andrew Roberts' latest book, Masters and Commanders, was published in the UK in September. His previous books include Napoleon and Wellington, Hitler and Churchill, and A History of the English-Speaking Peoples Since 1900. Roberts is a fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and the Royal Society of Arts.

THE MANIPULATOR

The controller is always the controller — right up to the end. It was Maria in all her anguished glory working her magic behind the scenes. I call it manipulation, but she has a way of framing it as help.

I wandered in on her and a group sitting around the table trying to organize car rides for our meal out today. It didn’t seem to matter that most of those people had been whining about the Housing Association making the van available to us for a longer outing and that they had all signed up to ride n the van to take us to the best fish and chips eatery in the area. Humongous pieces of fish!

At that time, I was trying to explain that we needed that van to be full or there may not be another time to use the van. We need their van because it will carry wheelchairs. I thought everything was settled and that group had agreed to ride the van. Wrong!

I stayed away from people for the weekend. My granddaughter came and helped me get my place cleaned up. I love having her around. But at coffee this morning the manipulation to take cars was back on. Maria calculated that there were at least twelve taking the van. Yes, but she was trying to get most of them to switch to cars. I questioned her again and she said she was on track to ride the van. Wrong.

At time to go, the big van was in front loading Chas (a big man), and I brought my van around to take another wheelchair resident. Our driver was nervous just getting Chas loaded. She tried several times to get the lift to go up and nothing happened. I prayed silently and the lift when up. Whew! Two others got in the van. After checking it out, I went to the crowd at the door just hanging out and guess what. You guessed it. Maria was organizing cars saying there was not enough room for everyone in the van. I began talking over her and said we have room for ten more in the van. They stood there and looked at me with their eyes saying: ”Are you crazy?” Well no. I don’t think so. I just wanted the Housing Association to be willing to use the van again in the future for us.

I need ten more people for the van. The driver asked Maria if they should go in the van. I didn’t wait for Maria to answer I said take the van. Let them pay the gas. Finally all moved and boarded. There was still one empty seat.

The rest of the day went great. There was one waitress who handled 22 of us in a separate room and another dozen or more in the dining room. We were in and out of there in 70 minutes. I thought that was terrific. Naturally there were some complaints about slowness, but after I stuff a whole piece of boiling hot fish down their throat, the complaining stopped. The ambulance arrived quickly to take the two women away. Then it was a better afternoon.