Feeling Grinchy
Wed., December 24, 01:59 PM
I’ve been feeling a little grinchy over the last few weeks, and my mother’s teachings come into play. “Don’t spoil their holiday, just don’t say anything.” In other words, do not tell the gentile children that there isn’t any Santa Claus.
Most of the time I just hope you have a happy holiday and don’t mention that concentrating your sales hopes on one time of the year is not a good business model, nor is spending a lot a money at one time the wisest course of action either. This year I feel bad for everyone — except for a few, but I’ve mentioned them elsewhere — whose festivities are just a little less than they had hoped for.
On the other hand, I was grateful that my own plans were simple. I can give cash to some of the family, and the only present I felt I had to give was a birthday present, because, as I once explained, the important gift occasions in our house are the birthdays. I was fine.
Then the weather turned on me. I mean, I took it personally. For about a week I simply did not go out of the house. There was snow, and more snow, and then sheets of ice and bitter cold; we’re not used to single digits here. In between the bouts of weather was a little illness — I really don’t know what that was about. In any case, I was looking forward to today, rainy though it might be, because it would be warm enough for me to clean off the car and go out…
At 4:15 this morning, my nose began to bleed. I medicated as usual; it seemed to stop, and I went back to bed. And it started again. I would have to sit up until it had done its thing. I sat at the computer, amusing myself while I continued to clean up and listened to Husband’s radio across the hall, until I realized that it was time to give him his first pills (the first ones are an hour before breakfast). I managed to do that, as well as to start a pot of coffee and clear out some dirty dishes. I sat down with my first cup and… couldn’t drink it as my nose started up again with a vengeance. I just about lost it then. This is not a good idea, because tears dissolve clots and it’s even harder to stop the bleeding. But it certainly seemed as if the world was against me.
I pulled out the meds Husband was to have with his breakfast and instructed U.D. as to pills and oatmeal. He doesn’t care how I am as long as he gets what he wants. That was unusual, nearly four hours of bleeding, but it did eventually stop.
The front steps are still icy, but the driveway isn’t bad. Remember, I had it repaved last summer, and the black asphalt warms in the sun. Too bad it isn’t sunny today, but I will gladly take the rain that comes with milder temperatures. So I brought Husband down the cellar and out the garage to get on his van to the Day Care center. I can’t leave the nurses to do this task in such weather. He’s tripping along as if it’s summer, not watching where he walks, but he didn’t fall. (Thank you, G-d!) The nurse helped him from inside the van while I pushed him from the outside and he got in. Whew!
I did manage to get to the bank today, but the supermarket was impossible — not to mention the jacki on the road. So I went home. Despite the shortness of the trip, I do feel better.
There’s a daily segment on CBS radio called “Raising Our Kids,” and the other day it reminded me of why I don’t read ladies magazines any more. The speaker was explaining about how to manage Hanukkah, with the eight days of gifts. Almost word for word, she quoted what I wrote six years ago and practiced long before that:
At Chanukah, I gave useful presents — the kind of thing I would have had to buy anyhow. Tradition says “a gift for each of the eight nights.” It never happened when I was little; we got one big one (that outside pressure again).
But my kids got new slippers one night, and socks the next night. Underwear, pajamas, maybe school supplies or candy one night. My parents couldn’t wait to shower the grandchildren with all kinds of things, but it was one gift only from Gramma and Grampa at Chanukah.
On birthdays we did the big presents — bicycles, computers, contact lenses. My Musical Daughter got her first keyboard for her sixteenth birthday. My son got his driver’s license on his twentieth.
Anyhow, I don’t care that someone has discovered the same system; just don’t tell me it’s new.
