Botched potatoes and Black Friday magic

Thanksgiving was fine, but I badly botched the mashed potatoes. Ironic, seeing as how: a) I insisted on making them because Will’s are typically butterless and bland; and b) I had actually taken the time to read an article online yesterday morning about how not to botch the mashed potatoes. As my 14-year-old niece would say, “Fail!” Ah, well—we consumed our obligatory feast anyhow, in the company of several beloved family members, plus one quirky guest. I really should focus on the togetherness rather than the excess—it would make me much less Grinch-like on these over-the-top occasions.

I’ve blogged before about why holidays tend to make me twitchy, but yesterday, a new idea arrived: The Magic of Ordinary Days. It’s the title of one of my favorite movies, one that hardly anyone seems to know about. It’s a Hallmark flick, starring Keri Russell and Skeet Ulrich, an unlikely couple who end up enjoying much love and contentment together, in a wholly wholesome way. While I definitely recommend the film, it’s the title that struck me as the reason I resist the merriment most everyone else embraces.

I simply prefer ordinary days to prescribed “special” ones. I really do revel in routine. It’s not that I abhor surprises, like some friends I know. And I don’t think I’m a dull sort of person, who doesn’t know how to have fun. I like to enjoy the good stuff of life in the midst of it, not necessarily in a time set aside. I don’t want my “special moments” to be pressured or forced. In fact, rather than resisting surprises, I regularly seek them out and delight in them. Give me one serendipitous bout of laughter over a boatload of sappy greeting cards.

The moral of my Black Friday reflection? Hallmark cards, no; Hallmark movies, yes. But seriously, I’m spending my day doing laundry—and loving its magical ordinary-ness (once I tear myself away from this magnetic black hole called the “internets”).

Nat'l Un-Friend Day: Digging deep for shallow relationships

Today was, supposedly, "National Un-Friend Day" on Facebook. My own "collection" of 826 people, with whom I enjoy enormously erratic levels of interpersonal connection, does sometimes cause me pause. And for a few minutes, I thought about dropping perhaps a dozen distant acquaintances from my list--people I might or might not recognize if I encountered them at Wegmans.

But then I remembered Doug Newton's recent editorial in Light & Life magazine, and I thought, "Would B.T. Roberts really have amassed 2,000+ friends by now? And, if so, should I strive for that level of connectivity? Or, would B.T. (whom I consider a hero in the faith, and myself his direct descendant in the Free Methodist denomination)--would this spiritual giant have chosen to "hang out" online, or would he have invested himself in other ventures, reaching out to people and promoting his passion for justice, redemption, and purity of heart in ways that surpassed this oft-times superficial venue for human interaction? Or would B.T. Roberts' own maturation and the development of his ideals have been thwarted by too many games of Bejeweled Blitz?

And by the time I'd considered all that and become thoroughly baffled by my own confusing set of questions, I got distracted by some other urgent electronic plea for my attention, and I didn't care to attempt the tedious and taxing task of paring down my list.

(Do you suppose this resistance to friend sorting has anything to do with my propensity for clutter? Blech! Forget I asked that! These are people, not Post-It Notes! Does anyone else find this Facebook phenomenon, this culture-altering tidal wave of cacophonous communication, more than a little unsettling...?)

Bibbidi - Bobbidi - Boo-yeah!

I, Grace, have a very exciting announcement: I made pumpkin soup today! From an actual pumpkin (spherical orange object so popular this time of year). Plus half an onion, 2 cloves of garlic, 2 cans of chicken broth, a dollop of whole milk, and a few sprinkles of dried parsley flakes that might have been in the cupboard forever, but who cares?! I made something from (almost) scratch! Hurrah for moi!

Two out of 2 grown-ups in the household have deemed it yummy. The one kid to try the soup so far didn't fancy it, but she adored the (store-bought) bread and butter I served on the side. My other 2 solid food eater offspring are off gallivanting at Tuesday evening activities (Scouts for Ben, dance classes for Vi). The fourth child will surely enjoy the soup, since it will be specially processed and formulated just for her.

Ironically, I didn't even have to cook tonight. A very thoughtful woman from our church called this morning to say she would be dropping off something for us. I didn't have long to wonder what it could be when she showed up at my side door, handed me a half-full plastic grocery bag, and flitted away. I thanked her very much, stepped back inside, and opened the bag to find another bag--of salad--plus a pizza coupon, a 20-dollar-bill and a handwritten note saying, in sum: "Congratulations on your darling 3-month-old! Enjoy some supper, on me."

I am convinced there would be more converts to Christianity if everyone could experience the kindness of our particular congregation. "I Stand Amazed in Their Presence."

So, even though I didn't have to make soup tonight, I could, and so I did. Pizza will be perfect some other evening, I'm sure, and we will be grateful to that dear lady. We already are.