Wishing Everyone a Sweet New Year!

I'm going to keep this post, my last of 2010, short & sweet, so to speak.  While visiting grandparents in Florida, my kids ably met the challenge of enjoying indoor activities during the coldest December in Florida in more than 100 years.  Imagine our family's delight at finding a free tour of  Angell & Phelps Chocolate Factory in Daytona Beach.  We were like kids in a candy store!

Our guide shared trade secrets and free samples during a brief but informative tour of the facility.  We watched through the glass as she explained why the employees use copper pots to heat the chocolate-- they are better than stainless steel for maintaining heat-- and conveyor belts to cool the chocolates.  Meanwhile, mint creme-filled, dark chocolate-covered, delectable pieces made the 15 minute journey through the factory alongside us, as 2 air conditioning units cooled them to 54 degrees.  Can you see the man in the background of the picture?  He stands at the end of the conveyor belt, removes the chocolates one handful at a time, checks to ensure that the bottoms of the candies retained their shape and emerged undamaged, and then he boxes them to be sold.   Creating such delicious treats is quite a labor-intensive process.

We did spend an hour, on the warmest day of our visit, collecting sea shells and deeply inhaling the ocean air. We did not, however, collect the hand-crafted, chocolate sea shells pictured above.  Sadly, as we considered our 2011 resolution to eat healthy foods, we were forced merely to imagine this candy melting in our mouths.

Planning Ahead

I have recently become completely submerged in plans for my daughter's Bat Mitzvah celebration. I am pretty sure that I'm driving her crazy, and the rest of my family along with her, because they audibly groan every time I mention these plans at the dinner table. Somehow, it seems to me, the topic always winds its way back to the Bat Mitzvah. Did I mention that it's still more than three months away? I admit to having poked fun at my mother-in-law who was similarly obsessed with planning her recent "milestone birthday and anniversary" party. I guess I will have to apologize to her, now that I finally understand the compulsion to plan.

It's not about having every last detail organized, and it's not about controlling every aspect of the weekend, despite what others may assume. It's really about savoring the sensation of having something joyous to plan. When there is a happy occasion on your calendar, when you having something to look forward to in the (relatively) near future, the drudgery of daily work seems bearable. My here and now is already pretty fabulous, and I make a point of telling my kids to enjoy the present. But thinking about December, imagining how wonderful it will be, is slightly more fabulous. I am deeply grateful for the planning itself, which entices my mind to such fanciful journeys into the future.

No less than three generous and lively people I know were recently diagnosed with grave illnesses. These sobering reminders of the importance of living for today also goad me to live for tomorrow. If I plan to celebrate in December, and I plan for these brave friends to celebrate with me, maybe I can tweak God's conscience into ensuring that together we will reach that happy occasion.

My Canniversary

Canniversary (colloquial) noun: a year from the date on which you were fired from a job [Source: www.urbandictionary.com]

We generally think of birthdays and anniversaries as milestones to be celebrated. At same time, these dates offer us opportunities to look back on the year that has passed and plan ahead for the coming year.

I recently celebrated my canniversary – it has been one year since I began my period of unemployment. This year marks the first time in my adult life-- and if you count babysitting and summer jobs, the first time since my 12^th birthday-- that I have not worked. Of course, I did work odd jobs throughout the year, including substitute teaching and a five week summer camp gig, and since January I have been volunteering weekly at a local food pantry. Still, my canniversary proclaims that the process of “redirecting my career” has spilled over into a second year without steady income.

A friend of mine shared a wonderful insight about how this change in employment status affected her: We were raised with certain parental expectations, namely, that we would go college, get a masters degree or other professional training, and begin a career in our chosen professions. This period of transition is difficult because we are breaking boundaries, making new choices, defying expectations.

Fifteen years ago I wondered whether I was "mother" material. Now I am a stay-at-home mom, choosing not to work full time this year so that my teenager who is starting high school will not come home to an empty house. I often struggle with guilt about this choice, as I am not contributing financially to the family's budget. But juggling the part time and volunteer commitments that I have made, along with the schedules of three children and a spouse, is a full time job. Recognizing this as my work, although it cannot be measured quantitatively with salary scales and promotions and scheduled vacation time, I feel relieved of a great burden. This canniversary was a time to reflect on life's many transitions and a moment of joyous celebration of the life that I am now leading.