Happy New Year! Twenty -Five Years of Blogging and Friendship

 I am thankful to be alive and relatively healthy, still here, wanting to do many many more things in my life! Being single at this stage of life is the best! And the worst.....Sometimes I think I'd enjoy the company of a man on a regular basis, then I remember cooking obligatory dinners (when I'd much rather cook together), checking with someone else before I make a decision (like I would), coordinating family plans and events with extended families...nd a million other small add-on stressors that you gloss over when you  live with someone else.
 But if I fall in loveI shall reconsider(wink)
After being happily alone for more than twenty years, I've realized how blessed I am in the Late Fall of my life. I retired from teaching six years ago. I love a life without alarm clocks, bells and cafeteria food.I enjoy my own company, but I do get lonely from time to time. 

From 2008 "The Christmas Meme" 

I love spending time with my kids and grandchildren, ages 20, 13 and 5 - college, middle school and kindergarten. Never a dull moment at the dinner table. 

Baby Boy is majoring in Computer Science, Beans is majoring in girls and BabyBree is majoring in Barbie. Perfect! They teach me about video games and I sneak in a peace globe conversation from time to time. I want them on that rain ya see......
Which season are you in?Which season have you enjoyed the most?
I've noticed, also, that people from my past keeping showing up.  I'm stumbling over them in the grocery store and thrift store. Long lost relatives with news to tell, high school friends, friends of friends and acquaintances that should have been more than that; maybe we'll get a do-over. Who knows?  Is it truly a coincidence? Or does the Universe have a rhyme and reason?That's to be determined. I'll keep you posted.Has this phenomenon ever happened to you?

                                                         Out on the river in 2018 with my Beans

As for you and I....I'm glad you're still here in Blogworld.I'm happy we met in the BlogoVerse in 2005when learning to decorate a blog with colored fonts and photos from PhotoBucket and ImageChef was as high-tech as we could go. But we helped each other through it and some of us even learned to code from scratch. Technorati was everything and memes rocked our world. ReMEMEber?
I wish you the best of health and true happiness in our twentieth year of friendship. I think I know most of you well. I've met several of you in the real world. A pleasure! Let's keep in touch. 
Tell me about your season.How's your life going?

2006 Blogging Meltdown at the computer
                   
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Monday Mimisms ~ Happy in My New Year

Mimi 2008 

Monday Mimisms ~ Happy in My New Year

Welcome to 2024 in the year of the blog. Thanks to the WayBack Machine (keep of old blogs!) blogs are infinite and eternal, omnipotent and omnipresent.  I wish people have one of those machines. We could crank up our young, newer, healthier bodies and go from there. 

Back in the day when I used to hide behind trees all day long and try to conjure a word or two, blogging was much more intimate. Our communities were a tight-knit group. We looked out for each other. When the occasional naysayer or troublemaker showed up, we (usually) shoooed them away and blogged on. With the exception of the peace globe bloggers (AMAZING you are!) most of my blogging friends are posting on Facebook or Instagram. I enjoy interacting with you on social media platforms, but sometimes it takes me years to put two and two together..."Oh! Cindy is really Blogging Catalina from Amsterdam! Who knew?" And then we have a small reunion.  There are those who do not want blog and real life Facebook to meet. Totally understandable. I try to honor those requests. I won't out you! 

But seriously, I'm amazed that the majority of my friends on Facebook are peace bloggers. We've gotten to know each other over the years in more personal ways (thanks, Facebook) but as many of us have discussed, it's just not the same as regular blogging. "Blogging is dead," we say....MAYBE....but that's not going to stop me from re-entering the arena.  Blogging makes me happy. Journaling makes me happy. Writing feeds my soul. And I PROMISE...this year I will publish a book off-blog...I PROMISE!! 

2023 was a loooooong year for me and so many of my friends. I've had perpetual health challenges and a car accident mid-year that I'm just now starting to recuperate from, realizing that blogging and living in my 60s is a different universe. Retirement is wonderful!! Aches and pains are not. It takes a little longer to recover from trauma than it used to. 

 Still, I'm determined to fully regain my health in 2024.

I had a fantastic healing beautiful Christmas visit with my kids and grandchildren in their home (as it should be). I have room for a little more hope these days. Let's stay on this path, shall we?

***wait a minute....I thought I wouldn't have anything to say this morning when I decided to crank up the blog; instead, I'm a regular bloggermouth (that's blog + blabbermouth for all your non-blog speakers)....**

I truly hope that if you are still blogging or have a new platform, that you will leave a link below so that we can stay connected and supportive. 

This morning, after meditation/prayer, washing dishes, making bed, starting laundry, feeding Snickers, organizing a drawer...I stopped mid-chore and asked myself, "What creative thing have your done in three hours? Exactly how are you spending your time, Mimi? Priorities seem to be askew!"

And while all those things must be done and I am content to do them, the only thing remotely creative was my silent time (essential to my day) but then I jumped right back on the To-Do Train. This must stop!!!! And it must stop now. 

THIS was dangerous and exciting...

While I don't think meme--stealing is exactly my vibe anymore, I sure am thankful for the fun times right here on Mimi Writes. But that book has been writing itself for awhile in my pencil head, many chapters here in the Blogosphere with you. So much more to tell. I think the crux of the matter is that with age comes wisdom. How much to blab? What to camouflage...But I think I have the perfect balance between privacy and authenticity in mind now. The latter always wins. Always.

 Not to fear, the "old" (vintage!) Mimi will show up soon enough with new pencil skirt tales of craziness. 

It's already happened.

I just posted on Facebook, "New year, new routine. Before I sat down to write the first blog post of the year (new routine) I reached for the bottle of Vitamin C serum (on the right below) and smeared it all over my face...except...ummm....what's that smell??!

It was CBD oil.

I'll be happy all the day long. 

This is going to be one doozy of a post. 

They look alike, right? In case you're wondering, No, I did not wash it off."

Ananda Full spectrum hemp extract 300.
Ten mg cannabinoids oil for nerve pain.
Works for me! Let's see what it does for my wrinkles.

Some things never change.

Welcome to my vintage blog and all the memories it holds. 

Let's make some new ones.

You can smell the cannabis from there right? 

Snickers won't come near me.

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Memorial Day 2023

Honor and respect
Some gave all

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Monday Mimisms ~ Like He Just Walked Through The Door

Papa's box 1974

Somewhere in the attic is a box....and another....and another......that looks like this one. Every year of my life until the year that he died, on Valentine's Day, he brought one home with him - one for her and one for me.

It was the same every year.

Wonderfully the same.

A red medium sized heart-shaped box of chocolates
with a red silk rose and a ribbon.

From Papa

It wasn't the chocolate I craved. Nor the box.
It was this....

As if on cue, he would enter with an eager smile and a faithful gift for both of us on February 14th. He would kiss my grandmother on the cheek as she hugged his laughing belly, cup my uplifted adoring face with the other hand and ask, "How's my girl?"

What a silly question.

He knew I was his girl.

I still am.

Today I asked my own sweet three-year-old granddaughter the same question: 

"How's my girl?" 

Her answer was a big sloppy kiss on the side of my cheek, and then the other, as if she knew I needed affection that only she could deliver, with an extra smack of "wipstick" smeared from one end of her face to the other now transferred to mine, she laughingly commanded, "Go look in the mirror, Mimi!"  And there it was. Two big love lips on both sides of my face, purposely planted by none other than "my girl."

It was the faithfulness of those boxes that made me love him so.

It's the memory of that faithfulness that teaches me how to love my own.

It's why I make sure she has heart-shaped boxes on Valentine's Day. She will have seasons in her life - as I have had recently - when there is no tangible presence of sentimental gifts, times she'll feel alone. I hope she keeps the boxes. This one from Papa has a reflecting surface in the middle. I can see my own face clearly in the box year after year. For the past forty years, no matter the season I'm in, when I pick up the box I not only see myself..... I see and feel how he loves me 

Still

And it feels like he just walked through the door

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Quicksand and Mistletoe ~ A Holiday Card From Me

The Christmas Holiday season is not happy for all. At times in my own life it has been bittersweet. 

Overshadowed by schmaltzy Hallmark Christmas movies, rife with Walton-Family-Like dinners around a flowery table, carols and presents and music and smiles. Christmas. Right.Wrong. For some, just wrong. To me, holidays can be fraught with landmines and quicksand. When I was growing up, the holidays brought long white-tableclothed layers of southern cooking with scores of cousins and aunts and uncles. Tight squeezes in the bosoms of very large aproned women I only saw once a year. "My, how you've grown! Now go take Grandma the baking soda." 
Somewhere in between the sweet banana pudding and Uncle Joe's smelly cigar, there were happy car rides with  Daddy on Christmas lights hunts and Mama (who hated Christmas) throwing hissy fits (it's a southern thing) with wooden spoons full of cherries meant for the meringue pie that landed on the linoleum floor instead.

I learned to dodge.
It also brought worries over money, arguments that kids shouldn't overhear through the bedroom door, and the ever present reality that some adult  somewhere would get too intoxicated or high as the evening progressed and old family scores to settle would ruin the last of the whipped topping goodness in my impressionable soul.Stomach aches. It always happened. 
So be careful when you longingly dream over those perfect Christmas candid shots on Facebook and Instagram. Nobody's family is perfect. Nobody's life is immune to addiction or alcoholism, depression or stress - even when they try to hide behind a filtered screen. Now that I have my own crew of flawed holiday traditions, I see those generational threads of dysfunction pop up occasionally in the midst of mistletoeing and whispered conversations at the kids' table. I hear them. And I remember. 
Children and adults need a safe place to Christmas. Over the years I've managed to re-purpose my unpredictable lineage into happier spaces for my own kids and grandchildren. That's the thing about painful memories. We have the power to change the way we create the future.
Whatever your situation - and God bless you if you are lucky enough to have one of those Walton Family scenes at your address - I DO believe it's a good thing to honor our spiritual and festive traditions, spiritual or secular. But for some, the season is excruciatingly lonely and sad. Pressured in the quicksand, memories rise to the surface. 
 Not everyone will celebrate this day or this season. There won't be a card for them, so I wrote one. 

To All .....
......whose children are not coming home and will never come homeI wish you peace and fragrant memories
...who never knew their father or mother I wish you nighttime visitations in the form of dreamswords and whispers in your knowing placeto help you understand
...never had a happy childhood ChristmasI pray you make your own holiday so beautiful and full of wonder as an adulton your own terms, in your own way, wholly and deeply meaningfuljust. for. you.
To All...who live with abuse, chronic illness, poverty or griefI wish you strengthin leaving,  strength in staying, strength in rememberingwisdom and abundance and self-care

And if you are alone

I hope the Spirit of Christmas makes you rich with palpable joy with NEWNESS and anticipation (!) 'til it bubbles over right down to your socksmelted like hot chocolate that lost its cupand keeps you warm at night
Know that life is full of wonderful peoplejust waiting to know who you are

To All ...whose children will call from jail or rehabI wish you calm in the midst of your fear
....who children are sick and in need of a miracleI wish you words to pray and an audience with your Maker
To All.......who felt as though an alien ship dropped you into the house of your birth parentsmay you learn to parent yourself with the kindness and insight that comes from loving YOU and then give that gift to your own children may the cycle be unbroken
To All whose homes are silentwhere no none speaks but in angerMay you only speak in loveor not at all

To All....whose empty nests are emptier than they'd hopedI wish you years of bringing your parenting to a new level where letting go feels like flying
To All...whose families live far far awayI wish you warm breezes that speak of hugs
To All.......whose children will sleep in a car tonight, under a bridge, or in a shelterI wish that you will only see the quiet adoration in the trusting eyes of your childand that every star in the cold night sky leads you HOME 

To All .....whose time is shortI wish you arms of Love and whispers of the God-kindso that your family will never be alone and you can leave in peace
And to All..who hear "I love yous" but know it's just an annual Christmas ruseI pray you speak loving fire that burns and pierces and calls for nothing in return but truth 
To All...

whose child became a casualty of addiction or mental illnessI wish a reunion with a healthy child
To All who knows not where your Loved One is tonightI wish a phone call
If your fresh-faced child fights in a warI wish an end to the insanity and a laying down of arms
And To All..whose arms are empty today for whatever reasonI wish a visitation
of peace

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Pumpkin Pie and The Man at the Window

Holidays can be the best of times for families where lifelong happy memories are made...or they can be excruciatingly stressful times full of unhappy memories to unpack through the years. I hope your clan experiences the former. If so, you are truly blessed. But let's be real. Holidays are tough for a lot of people. We're not all The Waltons! 

Today I want to re-post a story I wrote in 2007. It seems highly appropriate for the societal climate we find ourselves in some fifteen years later. And to be honest, I need to revisit for personal reflection. 

The years in between give me much to be grateful for. Sometimes it's good to be reminded of beginnings.
Mama's Jail ~ CLICK HERE TO READ.

Have a wonderful holiday with those you love!

Have an extra slice....

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Thunder In the Snow ~ Welcome 2022

Back in the blogging day, I'd fall into an antique house of menagerie, put an upside down hat over my face and call it a day - silliness and revelation all in one adventure. Now it's masks and Omicron and vaccine status checks and Booster debates before even thinking about roaming about unsupervised - which even on a good day is  perilous for me. But oh.so.much.fun.

I used to take my camera out-and-about writing "news pieces" in laundromats, interviewing unsuspecting suspects witnesses and covering the storm of the century in red hats and boots. I don't know how CBS has managed without me since the pandemic began.
Since it's supposed to get cold next week and I heard thunder today while I was out on my walk (in 70 degree weather!) I'm going to assume that snow will follow exactly ten days after the sound of thunder in winter. That's the old wives tale, anyway....usually on point. Better find my boots and wash my red hat, just in case. 
I think I may have a fever.It's the blogging bug. I've been bitten. And smitten. Again!I've suddenly acquired a taste for wordiness and wailing inside a blogger box of blankness. I've missed the mojo moving through the intrawebs. And the sexy sound of alliteration. Have you noticed? 
Lockdown was otherworldly and weird, like I'd been thrown back in time for a full two years of do-overs - make that three-overs. Four? The planet jolted to a screeching halt.  The Universe said "Start here, Mimi. Start all over. Again. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Start here." And so I did. The do-overs I did were doozies. It was a doozy of a dance. On so.many.levels.you.have.no.idea. And then I got to use the word doozy in a blog post just as my dizzy spell ended at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve.

However, I'm heartened by the feeling I had about three minutes past the vertigo on January 1, 2022. Just as I heard and saw folks kissing and laughing and trying not to fall down happy-struck on the dance floor, as I waved bye-bye to 2021 with nothing but a passing ultra-confusing glance, I felt something more profound...a gigantic earth-shattering sigh of relief
Like thunder before snow
 The pandemic years created a population of people who became a menagerie. Weren't we just that? The dictionary explains the word Menagerie as: A collection of wild animals kept in captivity for exhibition; a strange or diverse collection of people or things. I don't know about you, but some of my longest days were wild and strange!
Dr. Sanjay Gupta (my secret crush) is declaring new variants are clinging to the old variants which are stuck-like-glue to the original strains who have the NERVE to bypass any and all antibodies despite the dreaded vaccinations we've endured ad nauseam to be the next challenge we face in this crazy battle. Aren't you glad I'm NOT a medical doctor after that layman's explanation??? But 'til March, maybe???  Say it ain't so! Since I am in cyber-love with the good doctor (those eyes...) I'll take his word for it that there may be trouble ahead, but more flu-like than the end-of-the-world news we're used to hearing.
 For two years we've lived in an invisible cage fighting an unseen enemy all around us, in us, over us, under us, through us.  Aren't you weary of doomsday? And yet, if you are reading this you can say that you lived through the apocalypse. Thus far. I'll take that as a good sign for 2022.  

"Dampteurin in "Kreutzbergs Menagerie" public domain
aka Bloggingham Palace

After all, the issue lies with the virus's ability to change and morph into some menacing unpredictable behavior at the drop of a sneeze. 
That sounds a lot like me.
It's who I am.It's what I do.
I can adapt. And so can you. If it brings the beautiful snow, I'm ready for the thunder. 
ACHOO!
Images: Mimi Lenox, Pixabay, Public Domain
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