Meredith Carson... Across the Pond and Back Again...

I had never devoted much thought to the trumpet.  It is a fine instrument, and Dizzy Gillespie was beyond words fabulous, but before tonight, I had never really had a personal experience with the trumpet. But lately my daughter Emma has been talking a lot about the trumpet.  She is a girl who knows her mind and knows exactly what she wants.  When the opportunity to join the 5th grade band presented itself, she was all over it, and she knew that the trumpet was the instrument for her. What?  Everybody plays trumpet in bed, right? Tonight Emma's Dad took her out and signed a rental agreement on a brand new, shiny, fantastic trumpet.  I looked at the final price on the agreement, and made Emma swear that she wouldn't change her mind about the trumpet next week.  She promised.  Then she took off all of the plastic and attempted to wow us with a forceful, solid blast from her new instrument.  She got there eventually, and the littlest Carso...

I have been doing a bit (and hearing a bit) of Christmas griping lately.  I will admit that I was annoyed when the Christmas music was playing on the radio and in the stores well before Thanksgiving.  I have bristled at the Christmas-themed commercials on television telling me and my children that we need to go out and buy holiday-scented toilet paper, battery-operated, musical earmuffs, and the like.   I have rebelled against my own Christmas-loving nature since I do not like to have commercialized Christmas jammed down my throat before I've even had time to properly digest the Halloween candy that I stole from my kids' trick-or-treat bags. But today felt different since a somewhat unexpected winter storm converged upon us last night.  When we woke up, it looked like this in my front yard... School was delayed two hours, so there was extra time for morning chit-chat, hot breakfasts and crawling back into bed with our resident-little squirt to watch Blue'...

I have been stuggling this week.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I haven't even had enough "R" in me to struggle properly.  Thus, I stuggle.  Every year I stuggle right around this time as the days begin to get shorter.  It would appear that my brain and body truly need sunshine to function properly.  When the daily sunshine levels begin to decline, I feel as though a fog has settled over my brain.  All operations slow dramatically as my energy levels plummet.  I feel sad and overwhelmed.  This happens every year. I've tried slapping myself in the face and shouting, "Snap out of it!" a la Cher in Moonstruck , but that hasn't seemed to do the trick.  In the past spending early morning time in front of my old friend, the light therapy box and upping my intake of Omega 3 fish oils has been helpful in combating my seasonal depression.  Early in the morning I shockingly do not feel like standing in front of a blinding artificial light...

Yesterday at the eleven o’clock church service I sat sandwiched between my two eldest daughters.  It was lovely.  Emma’s arm was linked through mine as we sang the processional hymn, Onward Christian Soldiers , together.  My heart filled with mirth as the little girl to my right sang out so loudly and joyfully even though the tune of this song was lost on her.  Standing there listening to Emma sing took me back to other occasions when I’ve stood beside a beautifully off-key singing loved one.  My late grandfather Lewis’s hymn singing resembled the sounds a tortured cat might make, but I always smiled inside when I stood next to him in church.  Even though the music was like an unknown foreign language to him, the lyrics were stitched into his heart.  Any person who stood by his side while he softly squealed along with How Great Thou Art could clearly discern the depth of his sentiment. I have equally fond memories of listening to my late grandmother ...

It's that time of year again, isn't it?  I didn't leave my Seasonal Affective Disorder across the pond in Wales unfortunately.  All week I have seriously struggled to drag my sorry behind up out of bed in the morning.  The fact that New Year's Eve brought us a balmy, rainy day that washed all of the sparkling white snow away hasn't helped my depressive moods, BUT it's new day and a new year, and I am choosing to fight my seasonal lethargy tooth and nail...as long as it's after 9 am. As has been the case for the past few years, we do our New Year's celebrating on New Year's Day rather that the night before.  This gives us a chance to celebrate with our traditional New Year's meal, toast with sparkling beverages and make wishes for the upcoming twelve months, and there isn't even a small part of me that misses the late night celebrating.  As Danny Glover's Sergeant Murtaugh would say, "I'm too old for that $#!*." I took ...