Old blanket

I have an old beloved blanket. It was a Christmas present in 1975, it went with me to college and has lived in all the homes I have lived in - sometimes on the bed, sometimes on the couch, sometimes in a closet. When I look at it I remember people and places long gone but fondly remembered.

My husband and I have a good partnership. We own and run a household, we have three much-loved, gorgeous children and share in their upbringing and daily care. On a practical level it works very well. We seldom have major disagreements, although we do bicker constantly. The reason for the bickering is that we are almost opposites in every way and that what is interesting to one is of no interest to the other, so too often conversations are stopped dead in their tracks and we must each find others with whom to share our minds and souls.

So what has this to do with a blanket? For the past two years he has been putting it on his side of the bed and it annoys me that now I am losing past associations with it and thinking of it as his blanket. I won't allow myself to be sad though, because the past is in the past and it shall never be again. It's just a bed-covering after all.

Saddam goodbye

So Saddam Hussein has been executed. Truly I feel sorry that it had to come to this and I'm a little apprehensive about the aftermath. I'm sorry for the people he hurt and killed, I'm sorry for the people who believed in him as a leader and I'm sorry for him because he never actually understood that the things he did were wrong. I don't believe in the death penalty but it's hard to know what else to do with someone so innately evil who is also still idolized by many misguided people.

I often feel grateful that the world isn't relying on me to make big decisions. I often find it easy to see both sides of the coin and can seldom come down on one side or the other. In this case it is clear that the man was evil, but at the same time I ask why. Was he a cruel child? If not, what made him become a cruel man?

What really makes me angry though is that GWB's so-called "war on terrorism" was supposed to find the perpetrators of the 9/11 attacks and they are still at large and probably laughing up their sleeves. I know the war has rid the world of another dictator, but at what cost? We hear stories of torture, wrongful imprisonment, young men (military) being shot at and blown up and others (insurgents) who blow themselves up just to make a point.

We live in a frightening and dangerous world but it's no more frightening and dangerous than the world we and our parents were born into.

comedy?

Last night we watched "Thank you for Smoking". I had wanted to see this since it was advertised as being in theaters so I was glad when we got it on dvd. What a disappointment. I sat down for a good laugh but did little more than smile once or twice during the whole thing. We agreed that some of the deleted scenes were funnier than what was left in the film and we were both disappointed not to find the whole thing more entertaining. It was "ok". Nothing more. I think some of the deleted scenes were too far from being "pc" and the producers were scared to put them in. However as everyone knows, that is why comedy is funny - often it is the outrageous that makes us laugh.

Back in the 70's when I was a teenager in England, Monty Python, Fawlty Towers and the fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin were what made us laugh. things like that were also watched by the next generation of comedy writers and performers such as Rowan Atkinson, Ben Elton, Richard Curtis, Dawn French, Jennifer Saunders and others. They didn't get laughs because they were pc, they got laughs because they exposed the truth. A bit like Borat really, although Sacha Baron Cohen takes it even further.

A politically correct world isn't a fun place to be if one has to follow the same rules in comedy. You can't mock racists without imitating them. During the second world war it was perfectly acceptable to ridicule Hitler on stage, in public, in polite company, but nowadays it is thought not to be in good taste to put a Hitler impersonator in a show - although it is still done.

a taste of home

This morning I did some good old British baking. Talk about comfort foods: I made 2 dozen mince pies, a spotted dick and a treacle tart. Heart attacks will be served on New Year's Day to the brave and foolhardy who wish to taste these delectable morsels!

Boxing Day.... sort of

I guess I have got used to the American way of treating Christmas as if it's all over at the end of December 25th, but I miss the British Boxing Day - for me it was always a day to relax, play board games have visitors or to go visiting. Sometimes we'd spend the day writing Thank you letters and be happy to get them done so we could enjoy our gifts. I am not feeling morose as I was a couple of days ago. On the contrary, I am enjoying my gifts and am pleased not to be making packed lunches and having to rush out the door to go somewhere.

This year we have decided to invite friends and neighbours over for New Year's Day. There are still a handful of people I would like to invite, but I don't quite seem to get around to it. I don't want to be stressed over it so I plan to get the place cleaned by the end of the week and just think of food and drink over the weekend. For now, though, it's time to organise and archive my photos and documents so that will take me a while.

a better christmas

Christmas Eve didn't end up being nearly as bad as it started. I managed to fight off the gloom and doom feelings and we went to the early church service. Since I was in charge of the sunday school pageant, so to speak, it was not without a little apprehension. However, it went well aprat from one disgruntled parent who flet that her child should have been allowed to play Mary despite not having attended a single rehearsal.

We had dinner with friends and returned for the candlelight service, with the kids in tow. It went very well in the end but it was 2:30am before I finally laid down to sleep.

Christmas Day proved to be mostly a happy one. Everyone was happy with their gifts and apart from a spousely squabble (which happen annoyingly often) we had a fine day. Dinner was brilliant and I chose to ignore the kids' long faces because I simply cannot understand why they dislike the food of Christmas dinner. It was hard to get them to help clean up but a happy few minutes was spent watching some classic Tom and Jerry cartoons.

We finished the day at the home of some neighbors and a pleasant time was had by all.

dealing with feelings

I don't recall feeling so depressed at Christmas time before - except for the Christmas immediately following the death of my mother, although that was more to do with being in a fog of grief, coupled with the breakup of my sister's marriage and knowing that Christmas would never be the same again.

I try very hard to do the best I can for my husband and children but all the time I feel that my efforts are inadequate. I have less confidence and I am less decisive than when I was young. I don't know where these feelings of failure come from. I can hardly blame my childhood and upbringing - although I am sure a psychologist could find a way to do that. It all comes from within and that fish-out-of-water feeling.

I have a twelve-year-old daughter who assures me daily that I haven't a clue, that I know nothing, that everything I believe in and am interested in is of no consequence. In turn, I assure her that she is a self-centered brat. We neither of us do the other any favours when we talk like that, but she continues on her way with an air of arrogant confidence while I sit in a corner and weep, wondering where I went wrong.

I have got to get myself together before church this afternoon and keep it together until after the late night service. No tears, no emotion and that means no thinking. Shut off my mind. Dwell in the moment. Forget the past and forget my troubles.

pre-Christmas thoughts

I'm a tail-end baby boomer, hating that label and fearing for what it means for my future if I should live to be old. The generation after mine already has children and some of them are older than my own. I have had a fish-out-of-water feeling on and off for many years and suddenly it's worse than ever. Why is that, I wonder. This will be my fourteenth Christmas in America as the only Brit in a family of five. The other four are my husband and children, all of whom were born here in the US of A.

First point of note. I miss my past, have trouble enjoying my present and don't see much in my future.