Christmas Bowling

A-child with me,
wearing the christmas hats we
dutifully unpacked on day 2
of Advent calendar-dom.

One of the accidents that has crept onto our family Advent Calendar is now become a tradition.  Last year (. . . or was it the year before?  I can't remember. . . ), I was wracking my brain* for an activity to complete the annual Miser Mom Advent calendar.  Surely between seasonal chores like "get out x-mas clothes" and "wrap presents" on the one hand, and scheduled events like "caroling with the church" on the other hand, I could come up with something good to fill one pesky empty date?  In a fit of silliness, I added, "X-mas bowling". 

* I had to look the spelling up because I wasn't sure about that "w".  

It turns out that both "wracking my brain" and "racking my brain" 

are correct.  Go figure.

Unbeknownst to me, my only birth-child had developed hugely fond memories of bowling with her now-distant friends and with her father (who passed away a few years ago).  She was thrilled beyond my reckoning to see this activity reappear in her life.  I won major Mom-props with my silly advent entry, let me tell you.

So X-mas bowling is now a thing.  

How do you do Christmas bowling, you ask?  Well, first you dress up in Christmas clothes (which of course includes Santa hats, but also festive stockings and such) . . . 

. . . and then you go bowling.  

The two activities are not as mutually exclusive as you might think at first blush.  For example, as part of our bowling experience, we got to put on bowling shoes that were remarkably Christmassy.

Bowling shoes!  They match our hats!

The first game of bowling this year was fun in an ordinary kind of fun way.  Then A-child and her mom K-daughter showed up, and during the second game things got really peppy.  We lost all pretense of being any good at bowling (because: we're not), and we put up the bumpers.  No more gutter balls!  Whoop!

Even better, since we'd already shunned all pretense of ability, I wielded my power as Matriarch-of-the-X-mas-Bowlers to declare certain special rounds. Round 4 (at the request of I-daughter) was "granny bowling": two hands, between the legs.  Round 7 was "bowl with the wrong hand" (my favorite -- so uncomfortable it was funny).   Round 9 was dragon bowling. 

What is dragon bowling, you ask?  It's designed for the youngest of bowlers, who get to direct their heavy bowling balls down a plastic slide shaped a bit like a dragon.

Dragon bowling is awesome for the youngest generation . . . 

But the purple plastic slide looks like such a hoot that older bowlers get a bit jealous of the toddlers.  An excuse to stoop to dragon bowling, while blaming all stooping to peer pressure, is therefore welcome.

. . . and for the middle generation, too.  

I-daughter says that one of the reasons she loves bowling is the same as the reason she likes mini-golf.  It's a game that just about anybody can play, with or without talent, and that groups of family and friends can therefore play together.

Especially as I try to nudge myself (and the orbit of people around me) gently away from the material aspects that have pervaded Christmas, it's nice to have a new and even memorable way to celebrate the season with my family.  To strike the right tone (heh-heh), and to have so much fun we can spare to share it with others  (snirk snirk). 

I'm not wrapping presents with a bow . . . but we are making advent festive with a bowl.  That's Christmas bowling.

Miser Family update, mid-advent darkness edition

Life continues to be rich and full in the Miser Family. 

In the small joys department, I loved waking up early in the week to see the full moon setting outside my bedroom window.  I've always been a bit of a "lunatic" (or "lunar-tic"?), but to have light during these dark, dark days seems especially beautiful.

The family advent calendar keeps yielding good things for us to do, from decorating the tree, to putting up our own lights to decorate the darkness . . .

Christmas lights in canning jars.  Two great joys combined.

. . . to attending a local theater production of A Christmas Story.  I got my daughter to try an "ussie" outside the theater (which I'm told is the collaborative version of "selfie").  I was so excited about this lovely photo . . .



. . . that I made her take another one, this time with N-son and the friend we brought with us. 

I think I Iook a lot better with more friends and family around me. But isn't that true for just about anyone?

In the middle of the week, our advent calendar reminded us that St. Nicholas day is a good day to give to charity.  We chose Banco de Alimentos de Puerto Rico (https://bancodealimentopr.org/), which is a member of Feeding America and serves all of Puerto Rico.  The ongoing plight of the people on that island just tugs at my heart strings.  Dark days indeed.

My husband has done his part battling against the surrounding darkness.  He was the emcee at Tuesdays with Toomey (topic:  the tax bill, and trying to shore up DACA and CHIP and Philly's 311 program).  Saturday, he helped to staff a phone bank urging people to call their congress members to protest the current version of that bill.  

And just in case you were wondering whether Garrison Keillor's departure from MPR --- and all the circumstances that led up to it --- have me grieving, . . . well, yes.  The answer is yes.  My Saturday evenings will never be the same.  

But, coming out of the darkness a bit . . . J-son had round 1 of his legal stuff and it went as well as could be expected.  (Deliberate vagueness . . . sorry about that).  Round 2 will come mid-January, and I'll add more vague yays or boo-hoos then.  Meanwhile, he's doing really well at his former foster mom's house, and that's just making everyone happy.

And even better, on Friday we had a family springerle-making fest.  I-daughter, K-daughter, and budding chef N-son chipped in with enthusiasm.  A-child, now 2.75 years old, did her best to "help" us, and we did our best to distract her with meaningless-yet-seemingly-industrious tasks so we could get the cookies rolled out, pressed, and onto baking sheets.  The distractions were largely successful, and when they weren't entirely effective, the dog Prewash delightedly helped clean up the food dropped on the floor.  So, springerle cookies are done and ready to harden into bricks for future hard-cookie entertainment and nourishment.

And that's the news from the Miser Family, which continues to be prosperous in our adventures.  May you and yours be similarly wealthy.

Miser Family update: advent edition

This week, we got to start peeling the sticky notes off of the traditional Miser Mom Advent calendar.  December 1: bring in pine boughs.  [check.]  December 2: get out x-mas clothes.  [check again.]  There are more exciting events hidden under future sticky notes, which is--of course--the whole point of advent: active waiting and preparation for The Good Stuff.  I'm psyched.

This week, I got to teach my students the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus.  It's a class I look forward to every time I teach Calc I.  In fact, I tell my students on the first day of class that, when we get to this day, I'll wear my academic regalia.  The theorem is that big.  And I do wear my regalia: the robe, the hood, the cords, the poofy hat.  I just love-love-love making a big deal of an idea that, frankly, is a big idea.  So much fun.

Pine boughs and x-mas clothes,
per Day 1 & 2 calendar directions.

My husband brought home a foster-Miata this week.  This car is is sort of like a Fresh Air Fund car.  It belongs to a friend of his in Long Island, who just doesn't have a good over-winter place for the car.  My husband's friend has decided that (a) her need for storage space and (b) my husband's plight in being married to an ultra-frugal woman like me with only one family car . . . well, that these two things means she needs to over-winter her car in the garage-spacious lands of Miser Mom-dom.  So for the third winter in a row, we have a frivolous two-seater convertible for a few months, to keep our old 2001 Prius company.

I-daughter called me with happy news earlier this week:  her eye doctor has officially declared her eyes to be healed from the scary infection she had earlier this year.  Whoop!  Also, K-daughter texted me to ask if I could take my granddaughter A-child with me to church.  You betcha!   That's unfortunately the only contact I've had with my daughters this week.  But the end of the semester is coming. (Advent!  Active waiting for the good stuff!)

In other really, really, really good news:  J-son has decided to move in with his former foster mom.  I can't tell you how incredibly happy I am about this . . . that he's now in a safe space, being taken care of by a person who is committed to helping him, and that this is what *he* wants to do.  I've mentioned before how much I admire this woman, and now I'm beyond grateful that together we've managed to steer J-son back into her care.  He still has to come back to our city this next week for some legal issues that he has to deal with.  (Can you hear the deliberate vagueness with which I describe this?  It's yet another reason I'm so glad he's going to be under loving-yet-firm supervision in the future).

I asked N-son what he wanted me to say about this week, and he couldn't come up with much.  School (culinary arts) is going well, but not in a news-worthy way.  Today, he and my guy went to Philly to the American Jewish History Museum, where they got to look together at the history of N-son's [adoptive] ancestors and their journey to the U.S.  Perfect for a father-son outing, right?

N-son has been tackled by his niece A-child. 
Prewash turns away to snicker politely.

And that's the news from the Miser household, which continues to be rich in adventures. May you and yours be similarly prosperous.