Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving – a wonderful time of family, food and fun. And a cheese ball.

It didn’t start out to be more than party food. But it morphed into something much larger than just a mere cheese ball. And to think some people don’t believe in evolution!

It was a nut studded port wine creation, which began the day as part of a cheese platter. It was well received, but at the end of the long day of feasting and merry making, it stood as a lonely sentinel of food not consumed.

After all, you can’t eat everything and still stay in training for 5k’s.

But then, what to do with the cheese ball?

We talked about slipping it into an envelope to send to the poor. But we can’t send it to the poor because the poor don’t want it. My one brother in law pointed out that the poor might squeeze the cheese in order to get at the port wine it contained.

And although it would be funny to see just how far it would travel from the swift stroke of a 3 wood, it might make for some off comments when the neighbors found the remnants perched in their tree or along their fence line. I swear we were aiming for the green but you see I have this bad habit of hooking . . .

Then again, the thoughts of tossing it carefully into mailboxes seemed amusing until we remembered that another brother in law is a police officer and would most assuredly shoot us for vandalizing the neighborhood with flying cheese. That, and the risk of offering a controlled substance to minors who might come in contact with the port wine flavored cheese might make for some interesting headlines in the local paper.

My niece and I discussed the possibility of sliding it under the passenger’s seat of my sister’s car with an open can of sardines, but we didn’t have the sardines. It sort of cast a pall on the plan.

Instead, the hapless cheese ball was unceremoniously dumped into an empty box from which Saran wrap had once dispensed. After more hilarity, the plot finally coalesced.

We opened the carry out cooler my sister had brought and stuffed the box containing the cheese ball into her cooler. To quote her words exactly when she discovered it: “I swear! I can’t leave you two alone for two minutes!!”

But she was laughing as hard as we were when we slipped it in her cooler. So now, I am waiting for the comeuppance. I know it is coming. It’s only a matter of time and the purchase of some disgusting food item away.

Isn’t fruitcake season about to come up…?

As a parting shot, my sister called and said, "Tell Devil and Devilish (meaning me and my other sister) I'm thinking of wrapping up the cheeseball and bringing it at Christmas..."

I think this may be worse than the fruitcake.

To Be or Not To Be

Blogging is such a strange habit.

Like an itch that crops up needing a good scratch from time to time, I find my writing to be a sporadic issue that tends to come and go dependent upon the other pressing matters in my life or sometimes BECAUSE of the pressing matters of my life.

I have noticed of late a tendency for lots of bloggers to vanish or to go private with their various offerings.

Unsure as to what to make of this, I continue along with this blog knowing that even if someone stumbles upon it, they will likely not stay. What few people who have read it are candid enough to let me know how they feel with sometimes unpleasant results.

Since this is, by extension, part of my journal, I don't necessarily feel too awful when someone doesn't like what they read. Some of my life is chaotic and not to pleasant. When those times crop up, I guess I haven't developed the spiritual maturity to take it all in stride and continue forward without being harsh or abrasive in my choice of words and/or actions.

What I think and feel are minor compared to the issues of the world. I get that.

But when emotions are intense, this little spot gives me a chance to vent unfiltered thoughts in a way that can help me sort them out. Perhaps I need to be better about posting the process so that anyone who might read can see that I have made some progress or learned something or even managed to just survive another day.

When Shakespeare penned his now immortal phrase of Hamlet's pondering "to be or not to be", I wonder if he thought it would change the world.

Somehow, I doubt that. I believe he was simply trying to make a living in the hopes that he could take care of his needs in this world. But the question asked is a good one.

Are we to be or not to be based on the comfort level of another person? Is the sum of who we are to become linked to the emotional stability and maturity of others? And if we are to be only as a shadowy reflection of someone else's understanding, is that 'being' anything at all?

I'm not sure of any of these things.

We can't dwell in a half life of partial truth according to the narrow view of another. But likewise, we don't live in a vacuum and our circumstances compel us to brush up against others from time to time. Where is that magical defining line of being without trampling on the being of another?

Perhaps the question isn't whether we are to be or not to be. Perhaps the meaning is deeper.

To be as another desires us to be or not to be at all.

Sometimes, we have to conform in order to be. Like in a marching band, you can't arbitrarily decide to take a solo passage when the rest of the band is playing something else, you can't "BE" just because that is how you are feeling.

But other times, we are free to loose the muse within and express who we are with the understanding that we have a contract with the accountability phase of life. We can choose our actions, our expressions and our level of involvement, but we aren't able to choose the outcome nor, in some cases, the aftermath.

So how do we determine which level of 'being' is the best for our lives and circumstances?

Asking that questions should let everyone know that I am still a work in progress.

Just the random thoughts of a pajama clad woman...