I was thinking today that I was tired of having a virtual husband. I know some wives might think that a virtual husband would be a good idea. He makes money that he can’t spend, so I get to spend all the money in the bank. He calls and talks to me twice a week. I get consistent email and occasional gifts. He operates a blog for me. This for some would be the perfect husband, because it avoids the difficult bit of actually getting along with each other in the same house. But, as I mailed his Valentine today, I thought about how nice it would be to actually hold his hand, to arrive home and find him there, to live life together not life apart. I do appreciate my virtual husband, but I’ll happily trade him in for the real one in just over 6 months. I like the real one much better.
On Sunday I entered the church at the same time as another woman. She was cheery and brightly dressed. I was wearing black and white and in a gloomy mood from several days that barely got above freezing. Apparently, your outlook and attire can greatly influence your attitude. Who knew? When we were attending West Point, one of the most depressing times to be a cadet was from January to March: the sky was gray, the buildings were gray, our clothes were gray. We called it the gloom period. It is difficult to be cheery and upbeat when surrounded by gloom. Of course, I found it difficult to be cheery and upbeat throughout all four years of that awful place. I went there wanting to discover why all those people threw their hats with such joyful abandon. After enduring the four years, I understood it oh so well. When we returned to West Point years later for Dale’s teaching assignment, it was in late spring and everything was in bloom. It was beautiful. I was shocked. I asked Dale if it had always been this pretty. He said, “Yes, Mugs. It has.” I never saw it. I was so miserable the four years I was there I never saw the beauty of the place. After that shocking revelation, I committed to never again get so full of gloom that I don’t see the beauty around me. So, today, I put on a red shirt and went outside in a better mood. I might have been influenced by the fact that it was sunny and warmer. When we lived in Hawaii, it was always lovely. Other than some heavy rains, there was rarely a bad day. However, I realized something when I was there. You don’t really appreciate spring if you are not forced to endure winter. The joy that comes when the sun shines, the weather warms, the birds sing, and the flowers bloom springs forth from a gladness of recognition that the cold no longer grips you.
Josiah, after 4 months of singing as quietly as possible and looking completely uncomfortable, has bolted from choir to band. Starting in 4th grade at their school, the kids have to be in either choir or band. His piano playing is steadily improving, but you can’t play piano in band. His band instructor wanted him to play baritone, so baritone he is. One of the first songs he learned in tribute to his mates, was Botany Bay. Early on, he had trouble with one note rattling until he accidentally pressed a new valve and discovered what a spit valve does. Abby also has moved over to band. Although she loves singing in choir, she wants to learn to play the flute. I went to her first flute lesson with her and heard all about ambeausher (I have no idea how to spell that word) and ee, oo. She can play some notes and is working on her air strength. Everyone can get sound out of the baritone however, even Zeke. Gabe likes all the noise the baritone makes, but when he gets into 4th grade, we are going to make him a drummer so he can make all the racket he so loves. I had been quite confident that because of the size of the instrument, Josiah would be incapable of misplacing it. However, he came home from his first band practice and informed me that he had somehow lost the mouthpiece.
Today we took down all the Christmas decorations and hauled the tree to the curb. The tree still looked great. It was the nicest tree I’ve had in years. I love to go and cut down a tree for Christmas, but this year I decided that might not be the wisest idea. So, I bought one from the lot at the local nursery and was really happy with it. It had no spiders in it (An Australian decoration), and it had all it’s branches (Unheard of in Hawaii). We had a fun Christmas with my brother Mike, his wife Karin, and their children Jeremiah, Matthew and Madeline. Mike, thinking I ran my home like a military boot camp was surprised to experience game playing and candy eating at 2100. Life group habits are difficult to break. Christmas Eve is always my favorite part of Christmas. I was in for a challenge this year because Jeremiah doesn’t like chocolate cake. So, Jesus’ birthday cake had to be a new flavor. I ended up making a peppermint candy cake and everyone voted it a thumbs up. We attended the Christmas Eve candlelight service in which the Elder (Lars said he always wanted to be referred to as The Elder) instructed us to watch our children so that they didn’t tilt their candles and drip wax on the floor. The minute Zeke’s candle was lit, I watched as he tilted it and dripped wax on the floor. It is inevitable if you tell a child not to drip wax on the floor, spill that glass, run into that wall, touch that stove that they will. It’s just a part of life with kids. On Christmas Eve, the kids all played songs on the piano that they had been practicing for Christmas. We had Carol of the Bells, Rudolf, Deck the Halls, Zeke’s version of Go Tell It on the Mountain, and Hot Cross Buns (which technically is a Good Friday/Easter song. In Australia, we learned that Hot Cross Buns are essential fare on Good Friday). I thought that Dale was going to put the sound bites of the kids playing piano on the blog, but after no one complimented him on his convenient playback option, he got a little miffed. For revealing that, he’ll probably torment me with my version of Holly Jolly Christmas. I could be a reject of American Idol with that one. On Christmas Eve, we also had the Christmas story production from all the children. The production experienced a few technical difficulties and Josiah showed shades of his father when others began to tell him how best to print something out on the computer. A word to the wise: Don’t ever try to give computer advice to my husband or son. In the end, the Christmas play was a smashing success complete with multiple costume changes and sheep that looked like dogs. Josiah was the first to wake up on Christmas morning. He got up at 0230 and woke me up ripping open the wrapping paper of the present on his bed. I told him to go back to sleep, because he had 4 1/2 more hours to wait. On Christmas Day, I most enjoyed the first annual Manry vs Meloch kickball game. It was a beautiful 50 degree day and if our neighbors were hoping for a quiet Christmas, they were sorely disappointed. On Boxing Day, we went to the Smithsonian’s Air and Space museum. I heard all the languages of the world spoken there. With the dollar’s value dropping, I guess the World decided that it was a good time to visit DC. Whenever I go into a major US city, I always wonder why a Happy Meal costs 3 dollars more than it does anywhere else in America. Well, Christmas is done and we’ve put away all the ornaments that Zeke didn’t manage to break. In 2006, when I was putting away the ornaments, I was wondering where I would be unwrapping them in 2007. Hopefully, in 2008 I’ll be unwrapping the ornaments right here in Stafford with Dale at my side or at least in the room grumbling under his breath about Christmas lights that don’t work.
My Mother, detecting my sadness as Christmas minus Dale approaches, asked me if there was anything she could do. “Yes,” I said, “send some chocolates.” There are certain candies that are a unique part of every family’s Christmas. We grew up recieving the yearly paper sack filled with an apple, orange, peanuts, and hard candy. Most years, we shared a box of delicious Cane Lakes Sponge Candy. Each year I most looked forward to a gift from Jean Demos, a friend of my parents who worked for Fannie May candy in Chicago. She would send us a box of chocolates. I’ve been to Switzerland and Belgium and eaten at a fancy chocolate shop in Melbourne, but there is something about a box of Fannie May that always makes me smile. While my Mom was here for Thanksgiving, I was in the grocery store trying to decide between a box of chocolate from Russell Stovers or Whitmans. My Mom said to get the Russell Stovers. I replied that she had always bought Whitmans. She said that was my Father’s favorite not hers. Her Mother had always eaten Russell Stovers and she liked it better. It’s only taken her 65 years to admit it. When the box of Fannie May chocolates arrived, Zeke helped me open it and then ran through the house yelling, “Everyone! Chocolates!” There was a thunder of feet behind him. Zeke grabbed the white chocolate covered truffle and liked it so much, he went to take the other. Gabe happily ate the lemon filled chocoate and Abby, Josiah, and I divided out the caramels. Dale wasn’t here, so I ate his milk chocolate covered caramel for him. The traditional Manry candy is Peanut Butter Fudge and I am quite certain that is what my husband is missing most. His Mama used to pour out the Peanut Butter Fudge on to two buttered plates, one for the kids and one for Dale’s Daddy. After Dale joined the Army, he came home on leave and discovered that he was now given the honor of a plate of Peanut Butter Fudge to himself. Boy did Tommy John complain about that injustice. Now that we are married, our kids combine his love of peanut butter and my love of chocolate every time they eat their pancakes. Genetics is funny that way.
