Pax et bonum

Christmas (said Mary Ellen Chase) is not a date; it is a state of mind. We could get into an argument over what sort of mental state we are talking about here, but my blog, my choice, so I submit to you that the golden rule, the drive to do good, to lend a helping hand, to be of service is what it’s all about. In a perfect world that’s what it would always be about, but we’re not quite there yet.

Anxiety and stress is what (too) many are feeling right now, and not just because the holiday season is here and there are a quarter to infinite things to do before you can put your feet up for five seconds only to realize that nope, there's something you almost forgot, and off you go again, and again, and again. I remember my mother reminiscing about her own mother and what an endless list of chores Christmas was for her. My maternal grandmother, now there was a hardworking woman. Too hardworking for her own good. Fingers-to-the-bone type, like so many of her generation.

What my mother learned was that the sheer amount of work that went into the holiday season was a senseless exercise in housekeeping. It was, however, the measure of her mettle as wife, mother, homemaker. Woman. My mother did not grow up to be that woman, and she did not raise me to be that woman. My grandmother did end up teaching me what she knew and had been taught, but I get to choose what to incorporate into my own life and home, motherhood, womanhood. I am immensely grateful to both women. I had a window to consecutive but very different generations.

I’m am neither the workhorse my grandmother was nor the rebel my mother was. I am me with my own traditions, new and old, and my own way of doing things. And that’s how it ought to be and that’s how I hope it is for you now that the holiday season is here. Do what you deem necessary, not what you believe is expected. (And no one expects more from us than we do, I know, but seriously, does everything have to be pristine and perfect? No.)

I’m about to put down my tools and go spend Christmas with family. If, for whatever reason, we never meet here again, you know life, full of surprises that one, some happy and some downright tragic, live with love, sweetie darlings. Love of life, love of others, love of yourself. So many crises weigh upon us, big ones, global ones, and I know it sometimes feels like our personal sorrows and problems pale in comparison. But it is your life we’re talking about here, your unique I-shall-pass-this-way-but-once life, so your wellbeing matters, very much. And you won’t be of much help to the world and everyone in it, if that’s what you’re worried about, if you don’t look after yourself first.

So, all I want for Christmas is for you to work on some new year’s resolutions that turn into the rest of your life resolutions that revolve around you taking good care of yourself. Start with that and everything else will fall into place. Or at the very least not bother and burden you like they used to (and that is a huge help, trust me). And if indeed we never meet here again, may I haunt you? I promise to be a friendly ghost; a reassuring hand on the shoulder, a gentle whisper to calm your frayed nerves.

I think that’s all for now. Be well, dearest denizens. Be good, have fun, be kind. I do love you so don’t go giving me a reason not to, okay? Okay. Happy holidays and shine on.

O Natal tá chegando! 🎄

Temperature: 2/35.5 degrees with more snow on the way.

Eating: Greek chicken gyros. Yes, we do still eat meat on occasion at Casa Dita. I ruined the boys by taking them to a churrascaria. On every trip to Brazil. My infinite bad. Which I’ve been trying to rectify. But what did they ask for just the other night? Poulet au vinaigre aka Lyonnaise garlic vinegar chicken. It’s a process.

Drinking: a wrappucino. What’s a wrappucino? I have no idea, but I bet if I had one, I’d have extraterrestrial wrap-it-all-up energy oozing out of every orifice. Which sounds like sci-fi gone horribly wrong. Maybe just a cafezinho then. (Yes. Afternoon coffee. Again. It's a process.)

Listening: Kissing and a-hugging, dancing and a-loving, wearing next to nothing, burning hot as an oven… That would be the B-52s, folks, proud purveyors of love and unity through music and pop culture since 1977. What Christmas with my sister’s family will look like. On a scale of one to are-we-there-yet, how excited am I? Stoked, sweetie darlings.

Watching: I have never been less excited about the World Cup. As if the tournament in Russia wasn’t bad enough. Much ado about nothing or genuine reasons to boycott? No one does pissed-off-and-for-all-the-right-reasons-ones-I-will-explain-in-an-educated-yet-entertaining-fashion-if-you-can-focus-for-more-than-a-TikTok late night better than John Oliver.

Reading: Everything the Light Touches by Janice Pariat, and Corruptible: Who Gets Power and How It Changes Us by Brian Klaas. Highly recommended by yours truly, madly, deeply.

Writing: up a storm so that everything gets wrapped up before the holidays. Hmm, so that’s why I concocted that stimulant of a wrappucino...

Thinking: ...not that I’m in need of a stimulant, the smiles, giggles and shenanigans of my nieces...ai meu Deus, that's motivation enough.

Feeling: There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart. (From the poem A Grateful Heart by Celia Thaxter.)

P.S. I will stop by before Christmas. 🤝