Chocolate cake Archives -

In December we kick off the festivities with St. Nicholas Day on the 6th, St. Lucia Day on the 13th, Hanukkah on the 16^th, Christmas the 25th and Kwanzaa the 26^th. However your family celebrates the holidays, whether you are African, American, German, Dutch, Swedish or of another nationality or denomination, no matter which deity you chose to worship (or not) try to make amends with estranged family members, disgruntled neighbors, difficult colleagues. Build bridges not walls. Start the holiday season with a thankful heart.

Think less is more when baking, buying, and boxing up. Remember the greatest gift, especially in this fast paced modern society, is not gold, frankincense or myrrh but time together.

So hang on to those traditions that make your family unique. Frost those sugar cookies, bake those spritz, baste that turkey, decorate the halls, and find that special toy, but know the real significance of the season cannot be found on the table or under the tree. It is within us, in our actions, in the way we interact with others.

Cherish friends and family members, near and far. Take a moment to honor the memories of loved ones who have passed on. Slow down. Hold your tongue. Bite your lip. Be patient. Be kind.

Keep in mind that the holidays are not always happy for everyone; real life doesn’t take time out to offer a reprieve from illness and accidents.

Savor this moment. So what if the cookies have burnt edges, the dog eats the ham, the new sweater is ugly, and the package arrives a day late.

We, especially we women, put so much pressure on ourselves to create the flawless holiday, but what makes the day perfect is not all the tra la la, it is simply being together.

Wherever you are, whomever you are with and however you choose to celebrate, remember to give thanks for one another.

Peace be with you and yours.

Sealed with a kiss from Switzerland

I’ll be back in 2 weeks.

Last Saturday, I wrote about a mountain hike in celebration of my friends’ birthday, not mine. Like most people of a certain age, I dreaded another birthday, a reminder that I was aging. Frankly, I don’t need reminders. My knees creak, my jowls drop, my muscles sag, and gravity drags me one step closer to the underground. I wanted to sneak into my 56^th year without any hoop a la. But the word got out!

The night before my birthday at basketball practice, right on cue, when my point guard threw the ball out of bounds on a fast break, the team burst into song. The players brought out juice and homemade cupcakes and cookies in my honor, but I toasted them – for what is a coach without a team?

In homeroom, my 12^th grade students insisted I call an emergency meeting Thursday morning, which I did, not realizing that I was the emergency. Students baked one cake for me and another one for a new boy in our group, whose birthday was the same day.

In the English department at morning break, my colleagues raised their coffee cups in cheer and passed around a chocolate cake.

Students in my freshman English class whispered in front of the multimedia center where we met to watch To Kill a Mockingbird. To distract me, a student dragged me to the back of the library to help her find a book. When I entered the assembly room, the class burst into song and a smorgasbord of baked goods magically appeared along with a homemade card, the best kind.

During lunch at my learning support department meeting, another friend made a frosted, pumpkin cake with American flag candles. This time round, a colleague sang the birthday song in Dutch.

I haven’t had so much fun on a birthday since I was five years old and my mom baked me a white-frosted bunny cake covered in coconut.

When I arrived home after parent-teacher conferences, a bouquet of tulips sat on my doorstep. Inside, my Frenchman poured wine at a candle lit table and served leftovers on wedding china, but not just any ol’ leftovers! Baby goat, simmered in wine sauce in a garden of carrots, zucchini and peppers, was a meal fit for a queen that tasted even better the second time around.

Just before falling asleep, I turned on my laptop and was bowled over with messages from family and friends scattered around the globe from Seattle to Boston, Paris to Berlin, London to Sydney and everywhere in between.

The fanfare was unexpected, especially from the college kids, like the surprise call from my son in St. Paul, who carried the conversation for a change, and an old-fashioned handwritten letter from my niece in Omaha.

GenFab writers, Gutsy Indie Publishers, blogging buddies, former classmates and teammates posted messages and feted me on facebook.

Ever since my professional basketball career ended in an accident 3 decades ago, I have wondered why I survived.

Now, I know.

In simple, heartfelt ways people took time to draw cards, write messages, bake cakes and make me feel special.

I wanted to skip my birthday; you assured me that my life –sags, bags, wrinkles and all-is still worth celebrating!

Riding on a sugar high from too much cake and so many well wishes, overwhelmed by the ways people connected and confirmed my existence, my heart is filled with gratitude.

Every day a gift!

Merci mille fois (thanks a thousand times) for the reminder.