A Visit from Santa Claws

Being the socially responsible folks we aspire to be, Mr. Ginley and I did the Skype thing, Christmas edition, with our son and (soon to be) daughter-in-law.

It was nice in a way, because no one had to navigate the eight inches of snow dumped on us during what meteorologists like to refer to as a "weather event." 

Earlier in the week, our son picked up our wrapped presents and dropped off theirs so we could have a virtual gift exchange. Admittedly, we did miss seeing them in person, but it was the next best thing.

And let's just say the kids outdid themselves with the gifts.

Mr. Ginley received a book, but the real surprise was the brilliant gift from our son's future bride. 

In 2018, the Caps won the Stanley Cup. Some enterprising soul had the idea to scrape ice from the rink where the Cup was won and put it into a miniature glass facsimile of the Stanley Cup. It came complete with a Certificate of Authenticity and now holds a place of honor on our mantel.

I received a book and a necklace. And a picture of a pair of kitties that got me going.

My son picked up the print at a vintage store in Lakewood. The artwork was sketched and colored, and included the artist's name. I couldn't decipher the signature, but Mr. Ginley, the penultimate researcher, figured out what her name was (Meta Pluckebaum), where she was born (Dortmund, Germany in 1876) and when she died (1945).

Naturally, I had to know more.

Meta studied with Hermann Pohle and was one of the first members of the Düsseldorf Artists' Association. She met and married fellow artist Carl Pluckebaum, settling in Düsseldorf where they shared a studio.  Over time, Meta became famous for her paintings and etchings of cats and dogs, although she also sketched flowers and children's portraits. Over time, she illustrated a number of children's books.

Her most prolific period was the 1920s through the 1930s. From what I gather, the print I have was likely from the 1920s. It has the original Deco frame. Too cool.

But there I went, down the rabbit hole, taking you with me.

Anyhow...

Whether you celebrated Christmas or not, I hope you all had a peaceful, enjoyable day.

Later, I'm going to dig out my car. 

But first, one more cup of java.

Snowy Perspective

Modern technology and social media do have their upside.

From the last big snowfall we had

For example, when a Facebook friend posted a "ha ha ha, we don't miss the snow now that we live in South Carolina" message, I was able to reply with a witty meme of Jennifer Aniston blowing raspberries.

Just think, a mere 20 years ago, this would not have been possible. Don't we just live in the best age ever?

In the old days, I would have witnessed her glee only if she sent me a Christmas card with one of those "what the family has been up to this year" letters in it. There's nothing like Facebook for up-to-the-minute hold-the-presses updates on everything going on in life. (You'd miss my entertaining comments, I'm sure.)

As I pumped gas yesterday morning, I had the opportunity to look around and admire the fluffs of snow alighted on branches and swathed across rooftops and fields. It was a pretty sight. (Admittedly, it helped the roads were clear and it wasn't blisteringly cold.)

I wondered if I'd miss wonderland visions like this if I lived in a warm climate year 'round.

Probably.

Also, I'd have some other natural act of contrition to deal with. Hurricanes or forest fires or scarcity of water.

We all have our stuff.

So I guess once again, I'll adopt my one-day-at-a-time attitude, keep an eye on the weather conditions and take it as it comes.

The latest word is, we may have a white-ish Christmas. And I'm going to be home all day anyhow.

So, let it snow.

And Happy Holidays to all my friends (including Kate, who understands my snarky sense of humor).

May your days be Merry and Bright. 

We certainly have earned it this year.

If Only in My Dreams

Thumbprints were always a staple cookie at Christmas. Mom made both regular and chocolate batter (guess which was my favorite), each little crater filled with a dollop of sugary icing colored red or green.

"Surprise" cookies were wrapped around a center of chocolate chips or a cherry or a walnut half. The walnut was the clear loser among my siblings. In fact, we asked my mom why she bothered putting the nut in the middle, because it wasn't a very happy surprise. She would shrug and tell us to get over it.

And then there were the sugar cookies we iced ourselves. Quite the holiday tradition. As we aged, our designs grew weirder to reflect our teenage snarkiness. But the act of decorating, complete with holiday music and derisive comments shot across the kitchen table, was pure magic.

The tea ring was also a family favorite. Its yeasty goodness filled the house with the smell of cinnamon as it baked. The delectable treat also featured raisins and was drizzled with icing and topped with cherries.

Each holiday season, my mom would choose a day to decorate the house. We'd come home from school to discover she'd turned the joint into a winter wonderland. Mom loved making the place festive -- we were just the innocent bystanders who got clean-up duty on New Year's Day.

I miss my mom every day, but during the holidays I miss her most of all. How I'd love to be sitting in our living room tonight, staring at the big-bulbed lights on our live tree and breathing in the delicious scent of real pine, a cookie in each paw.

Every year I say I'll make a bunch of cookies, but I can't quite work up the will to get it done. Also, there are just the two of us now, and I am trying not to overdo.

At least, that's my excuse.

In my mind, I hear my mother admonishing me for my lack of domestic skills. But, hey, mom, you always knew I'd never live up to you in that department.

But you loved me just the same.

Wish Books

 One of my guilty pleasures is browsing the hometown page of my Facebook account.

Props to Dawn Reed for photo

There I've found lots of nostalgic fare, and these days a trip back in time to my childhood is a nice touch of escapism.

This week the Parma Memories page featured the cover a Sears toy catalog from 1966. And boy, howdy, did that bring back a flood of memories.

In my mind, I can smell the printed pages of the catalog, each wafer-thin sheet filled with possibilities. How cool would it be to own this or that. Some of the toys had been featured in TV commercials. Others just looked like they would be fun to play with. 

Board games, dolls, race car sets, puzzles and all manner of joy, were tucked into a catalog jam packed with gift ideas for good (well, mostly good) children everywhere.

I knew in my heart of hearts that most of these treasures would never be mine. With five siblings and a limited budget, my mom would do her best. But what would show up under the tree would never live up to the dreams promised in the Sears catalog.

And yet, oh what fun it was to imagine the Christmas morning that existed only in my head. It was the anticipation, the reaching for the unreachable, that was the magic. Poised with a crayon to circle my favorites, I'd pore over the catalog for hours.

And in the end, I didn't really miss getting a Chrissy doll (with hair that grew and grew). Or the board game Mystery Date. Or Mouse Trap. Not too much, anyhow.

These are the days of instant gratification, where you can get anything you want online (rather than at Alice's Restaurant).

If you got that last reference, you know what I'm talking about.

Just for chuckles, I went on ebay and searched for the old Sears toy catalogs. Someone is selling them for $19 apiece. On a thumb drive.

I think I'll pass, thanks. There are some experiences electronics just can't replicate.