SOME THINGS YOU MIGHT NOT KNOW ABOUT ME

I was reading Roseanne Cash's blog. She is someone I have great admiration for, as an artist and as a woman. Plus, the girl can write and rock...her latest blog was : Some things you might not know about me. Her blog inspired me to tackle this subject for my blog...so, with apologies to Ms. Cash,
Here goes!
I suppose everyone has something they think is private, secret or simply no one's business. I have liberal liberal leanings...I figure folks are capable of knowing, dreaming and living their desires....LET IT BE, said the Beatles. I agree. Having said that, the flip is my very, very conservative approach to altered senses. I cling dearly to a clear mind and body. It causes my causes to get a bit confused. Simply spoken, I don't always practice live and let live. I question authority but I always am mindful of laws. I confine my beliefs to me...but occasionally I can be, uh, Carrie Nation.
I love sad movies, sad songs, sad human- drama- non-fiction books....My friend Eddie summed this up when perusing my Netflixs...my god, said he, all you watch are depressing foreign films. This is mostly true.....when others are sniffling in the movies, I can barely wait for the next frame...My friend Eddie also surmised that I have such an endless sunny disposition that I need a voyeuristic view of how it feels to be sad, lonely and depressed. I am not sure I entirely agree with his theory but perhaps my grandson Jaxon came closer to my vision.. A few years back, we were watching Bambi...we were snuggled in bed and the sad, scary part was approaching...Grandmother, said Jaxon, let's fast forward through the sad part...No, I said, it might be sad for a little bit but in the end, everything turns out fine....even when the Nazis are brutal, the Armenians are tortured and the handsome prince disappears in the mist...there's always, as Scarlett said, tomorrow! I draw on my own twisted path through life....Big Edie said, Never give up! I never give up.
I love being quiet. Most of my family and friends see me as a very active and social animal. I prefer quiet. I must have alone, very alone time. I need not accomplish a single thing except to still my being into quiet.
I dream big, luscious, happy dreams...I must allow quiet to find a place in my harried world.
I love rocks, moss, water and the sea. I am drawn to the desert but never, no, never could I live there...I must be in the woods near a creek bed. I must sit upon a fairy bed of soft green moss. I must hear the sea roar at least once a year. I must take off my shoes in the early spring and dash my feet in an icy creek.
I love being older. I am truly different from most of my contemporaries in this arena. My creaky joints and moaning knees, not so much...but every other aspect I love about being here and now. Grandmother, older sister, younger sister, wife and mom...
Life is good, and god awful but....... I am grateful to have flourished to my senior status.
I loathe the words, "Im bored." What the hell is that about? I am never, ever bored. EVER.
I dislike, strongly dislike, furry little anchovies and egg whites. Most of you know that...
And last, I love Christmas. I love the food, the fantasy, the child like wonder...I love the songs, the smells. I love friends and little surprises wrapped up in bright paper. I love Christmas cards. I save them for years. Each year I look at how children have grown and changed. I fondly remember my friends, some no longer even close but there they are, still writing me a card each year. I love tinsel. I love the word, tinsel. I love colored lights. I adore blue lights. I will give any foe a pass during Christmas. My childhood was never one of gifts under the tree with colored paper and bows...it was the smell of applesauce cakes and caramel icing. Divinity candy with sometimes a little peppermint crushed in the center. It was wondering and waiting for Santa. It was hanging the long ladies stocking( the kind worn with garters) behind the coal stove and finding it filled with oranges and hard candy the next morning...It was the best of Christmases when my two older sisters made me a cigar box full of outfits for my little, tiny doll with curly hair and a head that turned all the way around. My only friend, Cissy( who lived in Lexington and visited her grandparents farm for holidays), got a great big doll with eyes that opened and shut...however, we played endlessly with my little, tiny doll.
It was the year the Dutton's drew names from the shoe box at the Old House(my Grandma's house). We would exchange gifts on Christmas Day. We were sworn to keep the name we'd drawn a secret. ...That year, I had spied a small plastic purse at the JJ Newberry's store in town. It had a clasp across the top much like Bakelite....I dreamed, wished, hoped and behaved myself for that little purse. We flew out, pre-dawn, from our chilly beds and I waited for the one gift that would be tucked under the tree for me....Mom handed me a pair of socks and a new scarf...the other kids were receiving similar gifts...We took down our stockings...I didn't even want a chocolate drop candy...My heart, literally, was broken. I wisely did not show my anguish. Later we all rode on the sleigh over to my Grandma's house for the big dinner(noon) meal and the Dutton Christmas celebration with all our kin. My aunt Gladys had a aluminum foil Christmas tree located in the seldom used parlor of the Old House...each year she pinned small envelopes with two crisp, new dollars tucked inside for each grandchild...we were always forced to wait for this gift...we could find ours on the tree but that was it. When it came time to call out the names for the gift giving, I impatiently watched my uncles get work gloves, my aunts a spool of thread, my mom a new apron made by my aunt and so forth. My older sister got a pair of Sunday gloves...my brother got a baseball. A baseball! I sat and watched my cousins walk up and get their gifts from under the tree. We had great, fun, homemade and STORE bought gifts. One per person. Finally, my name was called and I took the small, white tissue package from my aunt and walked in front of the fireplace grate....sulking. I didn't care if I opened it or not. I didn't have my heart's desire, so, what was the use? My aunt was passing out the envelopes with the money inside. I took mine and tore open the envelope and clasped my very own two dollars.. Finally, I removed the tissue from my small gift. Inside was that soft, fawn colored purse with the bakelite clasp. I got so excited that I threw the tissue and my two dollars in the open grate.... The fire consumed my money. I think I wound up crying while everyone else burst out laughing. You see, My Mom, Cebah, drew my name. MY name, Sally Belle....She scrimped and saved and plotted and planned so I would have my heart's desire. As a child of the meaningless middle, I often felt my life was a series of wait until you're older, you'll have to wait, your turn will come...it did. I was about 11 years old, a drifty, day-dreamy child.... but on that day, I could clearly see, the true meaning of life...it is all about Christmas. Live it every day...give something to someone. Believe in Santa Claus and believe in dreams.... cement your family and friends... love Christmas