So now what?

Temperature: on the rise. #COP26 #WhatGretaSaid #AndSimonKofe

Drinking: Would some Beaujolais nouveau help? What do you mean it’s only Wednesday?

Eating: gingerbread. I made the first batch over the weekend. Lo and behold, Ebenezer and the Grinches had no problem helping themselves to a few and then some.

Watching: catastrophe movies and other artistic endeavors of the same genre come to life. This is an emergency, sweetie darlings, and we are all on call.

Listening: Don’t tell a soul but I’ve been listening to some Christmas-y tunes. Not like a full-blown playlist, just a favorite song here and there to lift spirits and help with the baking and other pre-Xmas chores. Oh, don’t shake your head, I warned you I’m going Stealth Elf. And I have. Sure, my cover is blown at home, but who’s gonna stop me? I would like to see them try. *pulls out a candy cane shaped and colored lightsaber*

Reading: Grand Hotel Europa by Ilja Leonard Pfeijffer. Read it if you’re European. Read it even if you aren’t. Available in several languages.

Writing: a letter to Santa asking him to bring me a candy cane shaped and colored lightsaber, if there’s a sustainable way to manufacture one, because that would be awesome.

Thinking: After the diluted outcome of COP26, there are reasons to be hopeful and cheerful, and there are reasons to be fearful and doubtful. I wish we had more of the former and less of the latter.

Feeling: like I let my children down, like we all let every single child on the planet down, when my youngest said that he hopes he lives to be a hundred because he wants to see how this ends. Sweet baby Jesus, sweetie darlings! And he didn’t sound as despondent as I feel, he sounded almost curious, as if he knows full well what’s coming in the not-so-distant future, but since he doesn’t know how and when he’ll truly start feeling the effects in earnest there’s no sense in panicking just yet. Oh but they see and hear everything, dearest denizens. And this is how we’ll be remembered. What do you think some future or alien species will make of our dogged self-destruction?

“Were they stupid? Was it an accident?”
“Doesn’t look like one. Looks like a 500-year-old long con they called capitalism got out of hand.”
“Hmm. It had its pros, it seems.”
“But they couldn’t contain the cons, apparently. Or wouldn’t.”
“So, we’re going with stupid with marks of greed and arrogance?”
“Well, no fully developed species does this. The other lifeforms seem to be thriving, though.”
“I’ll make a note of that. Okay, next sector then. Lunch first? I know a superb place near Tau Ceti. Far off, I know, but worth it.”
“Let’s go. Shame though. It looks kind of beautiful.”

Santa Claus ain’t coming to town (or so you think)

With the days growing shorter and with no Thanksgiving to celebrate (just an imported, materialistic Halloween clashing with a somber Scandinavian All Saints, not that fun and games is a bad thing but could we make it more sustainable, yes we could and should) it’s all downhill from September. Christmas is the light at the end of the tunnel. But why sit and wait when you could start celebrating say...two months prior? Gently smoothing your way in, slowly introducing elements, carefully selecting gifts, if you intend to give any. Surely a saner and healthier method than the mad last-minute dash and face-stuffing stuffed into a few days that causes stress, headaches and gastrointestinal problems. No one needs that, surely.

That’s what I proposed we do at Casa Dita. Start early! Imagine my surprise when my proposal lost the vote. Inconceivable! I was prepared to do all the work. I repeat: ALL the work, because it wouldn’t feel like work, I would enjoy every minute of it. [Alas, I am beaten but not discouraged. And if you’re in the market for an enthused and efficient elf to help you out, you know where to find me. Will bring my own PPE. Will work for rum raisin fudge and Irish Coffee.]

But no. Apparently, I’m married to Ebenezer Scrooge and my children take after the Grinch. What disappointments the men in my life are, dearest denizens! To say no to a no-brainer! Let them soak in the dark and see how that feels like after yet another year of needing all the pick-me-ups imaginable to keep you going. Or…is it just me who needs them? Because I’ll admit that once upon a time I felt as they do, super annoyed when Christmas started invading the stores in October. Now I grudgingly admit I don’t mind so much. Strikethrough grudgingly, I’m owning it. Yes, I’m one of those outlandish people who get a twinkle in their eye when they catch that first glimpse of Christmas. Just the thought brightens the darkness of November and December. After Christmas, the days will finally, gradually grow longer. For me, foremost, Christmas is a promise of light to come and proof that darkness will never get the last word.

Oh…ohh…I see…all this sentimentality…maybe I’m just…getting old? I can’t wait, sweetie darlings! I know some absolutely awesome older women. They have seen it all and done it all, and when they look at you and listen to you, you know, you just know they know something you don’t with how gently powerful they are, and you can’t help but envy them their peace and poise, hoping you’ll be half as wise and worldly if you ever reach their age. And I know aging means pains and aches, physical and emotional, but I know of no other way to live a long life! If you do, gmail me (ms.ditaparker), let’s talk. Okay, happy Friday, have an excellent weekend! Or a tolerable one.

P.S. I’m doing it, the Grinches and that Scrooge notwithstading. I’m slipping in a decoration here…a textile there…soon everywhere. One. At. A. Time. By the time they realize what’s happening…presto, it’s Christmas!

P.P.S. Book recommendation! Your literary Advent calendar in 24 chapters.

The mysterious Styles affair

Temperature: a drizzly 7.5/45.5 degrees.

Eating: almonds and raisins with some…

Drinking: …glögg!

Watching: Some documentaries I’d like to recommend and hope you have access to: Why Do We Dance?, Whose Streets?, A Word After a Word After a Word Is Power, and Bleed Out.

Listening: Don’t tell anyone but I’m already listening to some Christmas tunes.

Reading: Kleptopia: How Dirty Money Is Conquering the World by Tom Burgis. Dearest denizens, you should read this book.

Writing: Christmas letters overseas. I still enjoy writing by hand. Gives you time to think about what to say and presses you to write only what is pertinent.

Thinking: Watching my son getting dressed for a date and being really meticulous about it brought back the Harry Styles on the cover of Vogue business. And the backlash, which in most evoked a big fat what-so-what-calm-the-hell-down. This is a threat to men and masculinity, to family values and children, some opined. How? Explain to me how a man in a dress is a threat. How is tulle, or the color pink or old rose, wearing makeup or heels, going all out peacock or just putting on some mascara a threat? Let’s step back in time and put this into perspective and think Highlanders or Baroque and Rococo; or the more recent history of pop and rock with no end of examples of men in heavy makeup, ruffles and attention-grabbing colors. What is so wrong with expressing yourself, your personality and identity through your choice of clothes and accessories? What makes some so uncomfortable with the individual choices of others? I ask again: where is the threat? There is more than a little homophobia, transphobia and misogyny in these alarmed worldviews, I think. A sense of real men, manly men (whatever the hell that means, and if Putin, Bolso, Trump and the likes are your touchstones then you need to rethink your preferences or at the very least stop trying to hang them on the rest of us) being under attack. By light fabrics and lipstick? Pastels and joie de vivre? Displaying an ability to be all you want to be, not some limited, superimposed, conventional version of manhood? Because those limits have reached a limit, that superimposed role hurts men, and punishing those who defy convention continues but leads nowhere. Climate crisis is a threat. Harry Styles is not. If you feel threatened by Harry Styles, or by anyone who isn’t a real actual threat to your health, safety and life, then that is your problem, not theirs; leave them alone. And maybe talk to someone about your insecurities? People usually only want to help. If you let them.

Feeling: thankful. The extended family is healthy, either retired or still employed, and hanging on to the hope that we will meet again soon and give one another the longest hug in the history of embraces and big giant smooches that border on drool. If that isn’t something to look forward to then what’s the matter with you? The Grinch pinch your spirit? Go pinch it back!

Keeping your head up

I know it's three months away (that'll swoosh by like a comet, mark my words), and all the world doesn't observe it, and some absolutely abhor it, but it's about to get grim up north, so I need some Emilia Clarke & Emma Thompson & London & the music of King George. All the light and luster available to keep afloat. So indulge me. Or scroll off.

So is he a ghost? Or someone she has forgotten because of her health scare? Don't know, don't care, watching it. Even if you spoil it for me. Even if it's as cheesy as baked brie. 👅

"There's no such thing as normal. You're just being a human being. It's hard." 

Hear, hear.

Bake the world a better place

My children love gingerbread in any shape or form, and I love the holiday season, so I decided to surprise them with these tokens of maternal love and devotion and it's-almost-Christmas-why-isn't-it-Christmas-already. No, I didn't get up at the crack of dawn to bake. They're teens, barely conscious at noon on weekends, so I had p l e n t y of time. 

Happy December 1st!

When all is said and done

 
Warning: verbal incontinence ahead.

Year-end review time! So how did you do, compared to how you expected to January 1, 2014? I started out all eleison, all merciful, not too hard on myself. And ended up, well...as the Mythbusters will tell you, failure is always an option. It wasn't a catastrophic failure, this year merely confirmed an observation: I'm an on-off person. When there's work to do, I'm all over it. When it's time to kick back, shoes and gadgets go flying into the depths and won't resurface until it's time to go back to work.

So. Maybe I should apologize for the radio silence here at the den but I won't. True to form, I've been working hard so I can enjoy some rest and relaxation over the holidays. Be with family, visit friends and take care of the new addition to the family, Chloe the cat. I know horses and hounds but I've never owned a cat. [I know. No one ever owns a cat, not really...] I've envied friends with cats and I've wanted one for the longest time, and now we have one, and not just because I wanted one but because the whole family did. She's a European shorthair and the sweetest, fiercest thing.

All in all, my life hasn't been very tale worthy. Work. Exercise. Family & friends time. Chores. Not always in that order but always some combination of the above. There's been some backstage drama worth a post or ten but that's personal and a business matter and nothing I can go into right here right now. It has certainly given me pause and another glimpse at the unsavory underbelly of a trade I've worked in for a long time in many capacities. So hardly a surprise, just another observation confirmed. People are the best, kind, loving and compassionate. People are the worst, cruel, selfish and unjust.

What else? I've been thinking about memory and identity and our lives, the only shot we have at doing everything we'll ever do, and I've been thinking about time, how it's become a luxury item [although I do believe that's an illusion, a creation after our own selves; there's still time, we're the wasteful ones and always in a hurry]. There are no winemakers in the family, only people who enjoy wine. Should you decide to become a vintner, from scratch, buy land and vines, it would take you a minimum of twelve years to see a grape worth squashing. The prerequisite of a quality wine is a quality vine, and those can take up to forty years to yield their best produce. Forty years. Still wonder why some wines cost a fortune? Someone somewhere waited half a lifetime for a vine to reach its full potential. Sometimes they wait by the vine in vain. Sometimes it comes to nothing. You can make bad wine from good grapes but not vice versa.

Take your time. Wait it out. See what happens. No time like the present. Carpe diem. Strike while the iron is hot. One of the biggest lies we tell ourselves is that we make decisions based on cool careful calculation, on knowledge, the intellect, dollars, pounds and euros, the bottom line. Maybe lie is too strong a word, the wrong word. Maybe it's not a lie but a blindness to how much private emotions and past experiences factor. We like to think of ourselves as sensible beings who can keep our sensibilities in check when the limbic brain, the reptile brain gives the first and fastest response in any situation and most of us never learn to override it. Most of us aren't even conscious of it's workings but everyone knows the physical reactions, the swell of emotion that so easily takes hold of you when something unexpected happens, good or bad. If you have time, you reason. If not, you react.

Some are all emotion and reaction all of the time. No one is reasonable and sensible in everything they do. Feelings factor and that's a fact, one dictators have shamelessly milked since the first undecided human decided s/he needed a determined leader. How else would despots garner attention and gain followers? Why on earth would anyone raise a hand or their voice against another unless they're driven by a logic, a rhetoric, that stands and falls on the feelings they generate, the reactions that follow, the emotional satisfaction they can bring?

"I'm going to slaughter 6 million people. Who's with me?" "I will give you a strong, proud nation, the greatest this world has ever seen, a glorious kingdom that will last a thousand years. Who's with me?" The power of words. The power of emotion. Words can be used to generate empathy and respect. Words can be used to create conflict, to divide and oppress. The very same words in some cases. Take the Bible, the Torah, the Koran, their words too often misused for personal gain, selfish purposes, evil. Just listen. Look around you. Here I babble but the world, oh dearest denizens, sometimes the world just renders me speechless.

Like dearest Europe, for example. Where are you going, old girl? Anti-immigration, anti-Islamic sentiments, anti this and anti that. Hatred disguised as nationalism. Nationalism disguised as patriotism. Egotism disguised as reason. This is your answer, your solution? What's the question again? You make them up as you go to justify your actions or should I say reactions because the only brain I can see at work and in charge is the reptile one. You feel threatened, you attack. Is there a reason to feel threatened? That's what I'd like to know but man is it hard to have a conversation with someone deeply immersed in a monologue. Take Erdogan whose new palace is bigger than the Louvre. The Louvre! And don't get me started on Orbán. One of my oldest friends is half Hungarian, and she's just... Well, not living in Hungary for one and probably never will be if this is their trajectory. And Putin... Putin explains Russia and Russia explains Putin. Don't be fooled, though. Russia and the Russian people are two very different things.

And I'm at it again, aren't I, soapbox out and foaming at the mouth... Great, just great. Let's talk about something else, shall we. The holidays? Yea! Whether you celebrate at Christmastime or not many around you do. I know it's a hard time of year to be alone. If you are, I still hope you enjoy the peace and quiet the holidays bring, even for a few days. I hope you do all the things that make you happy, things you enjoy, and if that's too much self-absorption to your liking, I hope you take up people on their invitations for you to come over for dinner, drinks, coffee... Maybe they're not asking because it's the Christian, Christmasy thing to do but because they really want you there. Life will resume normal programing in a few, you'll be swept away and full of excuses why you can't thanks for asking maybe some other time. Go.

We most certainly celebrate Christmas at Casa Dita. There's not much religious faith at the heart of our celebration because of the different individuals and denominations coming together, but there's love and compassion, there's empathy and respect, the moral compasses of die hard worshipers, agnostics and atheists alike. A religion, a life!, not rooted in love, compassion, empathy and respect...what purpose does it serve?

From soapbox to pulpit. Religion and politics? I just broke some social media rules, I believe, like all two of them. It's just that... Gah. 'Tis the season? Up next: New year, new gear! Are you thinking of a theme for 2015? Share if you dare. I've been on Facebook and Twitter, can you believe it, on-off as per this year's/this life's theme, but still. So find me if you want to keep in touch on a more daily/weekly basis.

I haven't had time or energy for writing fiction lately and that's a shame because I write in my head all the time. I intend to be a good girl over the holidays and get some words down on paper. Yes, paper. Still enjoy that, immensely, both writing on some and reading print. The computer and keyboard need a rest and I need some rest from them.

The dark days have been a drag but we got some snow yesterday and there's more coming in today. No more dreaming of a white Christmas, it's here and so is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. Which means longer days from now on, slowly but surely! Another cause for celebration, what our "pagan" ancestors celebrated before baby Jesus and St. Nick started facing off. Can't shout too loudly, though, this is the land of Santa after all. Since we live in the vicinity, he visits Scandinavian kids on Christmas eve.

You bet the wee ones are excited and so am I. I need a break and some downtime with family and friends. I hope you get some rest too or if it's an adventure you crave, I hope you find one. I hope you find what you're looking for. I hope you keep the faith, whatever lies at the heart of your belief/s, and I hope whatever it is, it's rooted in love, compassion and respect. It would be sooo easy to give in to despair and cynicism, the world bombasts us with reasons every day. But we're not quitters, are we, sweetie darlings? It's our world too and love is our resistance.

Merry Christmas, sweetie darlings, and a most excellent new year.

December will be magic again

I'm sorry for the radio silence, sweetie darlings. It's all good, promise! It means I've been hard at work. It means I hope to have good news to relate in the coming weeks. 

So much to wrap up before Jesus faces off with Santa, but I deny being stressed out. There is no need to panic. Not yet, anyway. I'm on schedule with deadlines, even the self-imposed ones, and I've got a Teflon suit to don if the sound and the fury of the pre-X-mas fuss starts feeling a bit too much.

Mad Men beware, we have read our Seuss at Casa Dita. "Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more." The kids have written Santa (and once again, he does not, I repeat, he does not live on the North Pole. At the Arctic Circle, okay?). They know Jesus put the Christ in Christmas. But what they're most excited about, what they anxiously wait for all fall, are the little things they remember doing last year, and the year before that, every year a bit more.

Tradition. The scourge of change and progress, and a source of comfort and continuity. Some traditions I've introduced, some come from Hubby's side. The best by far are the ones the whole family has had a hand in creating. New ones. Ours. Decades old or brand spanking new, traditions put the Christmas in my Christmas.

I will catch myself at the intersection of chronos and kairos, teaching something I remember being taught, having a meaningful conversation over a mundane task, hands hard at work, minds wide open. In the middle of giving instructions, telling a story, answering questions over the counter, I will look at my children, their faces glowing, cheeks full of cookie dough, hands breaded in flour, and see myself. In that instant, the past, present and future bleed into one. I'm a girl. I'm a woman. I'm an old dame. And everything makes such perfect sense.

P.S. Thanks for all the best wishes I've received during the year, Special Mention: chain letters promising fortune and fame. Alas, they didn't work. Maybe I jinxed them. Never passed them on. We'll never know. But. I've devised the perfect plan to ensure next year is glitch-free. Next year, just send me a check, some bourbon and bonbons, a Marlies Dekkers gift card, or an extra hour to my day. Or make a donation to your favorite charity. Support your favorite authors, buy their books! Get some for your friends, too!! Much appreciated!!! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have lunch.

Burn after reading

I have a confession to make. I hate the pre-X-mas fuss, the commercialism, Santas on every corner driving the kids nuts (yeah, they still believe and mum's the word, you buzzkills, this is, after all, the land of Santa, and no, he most definitely does not live on the North Pole, whoever gave you that idea?!). I mean, whose party is it anyway?

With no Thanksgiving, High Holy Days or Diwali to celebrate, and with the local Mad Men shoving a carnivalistic Halloween down the throats of nations used to more somber All Saints' Day celebrations on November first with all their might (the MM are winning, BTW, ain't consumerism grand?), there's only one holiday to look forward to on these ever darkening northern latitudes. You guessed it, sweetie darlings, and hence it comes early every year.

I have another confession to make. I hate loathe detest to admit this, but I'm already looking forward to it. Maybe I've had better years, lighter ones, and I could use a little bling right about now, some extra brightness. Even the artificial kind would do, and that's all we'll soon have anyway with daylight fading fast only to gradually return after the winter solstice right around... Well, you know, that holiday that comes earlier each year.

I want the snow we had last year. It was so atmospheric. Romantic, even. I want my kids going berserk waiting and planning and waiting and guessing. I want to see them happy and giddy with the holiday highs and to hell with where it stems from because for a few weeks it's heaven. I want light. I need it. Fluorescent, incandescent, LED, sun, moon, snow, bling... Give it to me. More. More! More!!

So I'll be a shameless enabler, the enforcer-in-chief, and if you hear me say I hate it, don't believe a word. Claim I'm loving it and I will disavow ever having said so. Are we clear? Crystal? Crystal... Crystals hanging from a chandelier as big as The Ritz. Yeah, that would do it. One, please.