Hose for the Holidays

If you are feeling stressed by the countdown to Christmas, and the wide-eyed wonder of the season has morphed into wild-eyed panic, don't feel alone. I see you. I am you. And may I recommend an antidote?

There is nothing more effective than a pair of festive candy cane socks to help the inner Cindy Lou Who achieve a full body slam on the inner Grinch. Fortunately, festive candy cane socks are now made in support styles for those of us in the peri-geriatric age range.

Yes, those are my chubby ankles in today's shot. (And by the way, do you have any idea how difficult it is to take a picture of your own ankles? If you are ever in need this particular pose, I highly recommend the timer function of your phone's camera and a banister against which to prop that phone.)

I love the holiday season truly and dearly. The beloved carols. The antique angels handed down from our dear German neighbor, and from Husband's mother. The permission to bake All The Things that are not on the usual peri-geriatric eating plan. (These! And these! And also these! And of course, bags and bags of these.)

But as an introvert who pretends to not be an introvert, I must confess: The holidays are also exhausting.

I've spent the past week complaining to Husband about how I felt...off. Achy. Tired. Draggy. Not quite sick, but not quite well, either.

This morning he asked me at breakfast if I was feeling better. To my amazement, I was. I woke up energetic and ready to get tackle the final wrapping and Big Day preps.

"Yeah, you must be done with parties," he observed.

He's a smart man.

This week, in addition to my regular toil in the gig economy, I've had four Christmas parties. Each of these parties brought me together with people I truly enjoy. I love spending time with friends, co-workers, fellow volunteers, and eighth-grade caroling groups. I'm re-filled by the laughter and love, and oh, my, the joy when the carolers' kindergarten audience included two tiny immigrants who spoke no English and I was able to connect with them in Spanish.

Getting myself to these events, though, required effort both physical and mental. That paragraph about being an introvert? I wasn't exaggerating. I needed the energy of those green socks and my peppermint stick earrings to push me out the door, no matter how much I basked in delight once I was at the parties.

Today I'm still in my work-out clothes at mid-morning. I'm watching a cardinal perched in the branches outside the window next to my desk, knowing that the only thing on my calendar for the day is a meal to be taken to a friend who had surgery this week, and some knitting on a pattern I'm beta testing for a designer. While I do those things I'm processing this week's memories, and smiling at how blessed I am to have these people who enjoy each other and the holidays together.

And, honestly, I'm thanking my socks.

There Will Be Rolls

I've been thinking a lot about traditions in the past few weeks. After all, it's Christmas, and nothing says "We will do it the way we've always done it, and we will be HAPPY!" quite like this second-most sacred of holidays.

Unlike Easter, which occupies the top spot in the sacred holiday list, this is the sacred holiday we're allowed to glom up with commercialism and stress. Don't believe me? Count how many times you've said to yourself "I really have to..." during the past week, multiply by pi(e), add number of ugly sweaters, give that number the exponent of days remaining until Christmas, then feel your blood pressure rising in an unhealthy way.

My personal antidote for holiday stress has always been unbending tradition. That way I don't have to make decisions--"Of course we're opening stockings before presents. It's tradition." "No, we're not having  fajitas for Christmas dinner, we're having ham. It's tradition." "How can we not put out the dueling Santas? It's tradition."

The traditions themselves, of course, evolve from stories. And what are our memories, really, except stories we tell ourselves?

"Remember that year Grandma got us the second dueling Santa because she forgot she had given us one the year before?"

"My mom always made peppernuts--it just wouldn't be Christmas without them."

"You can have anything you want for Christmas dinner as long as you make rolls."

But the empty nest does funny things to traditions. The very best changes also bring complications as wonderful new family configurations require our children to have the wisdom of Solomon in deciding when and where they're celebrating with whom. We don't want to cut that baby in half so this year we won't see Boy#2 and Lovely Girl#2 at all; Boy#1 and Lovely Girl #1 might be able to meet us for New Year's, or maybe not.

The tradition of opening our presents on Christmas Day goes out the window when Christmas Day might be celebrated Dec. 31, so this year we'll be opening stocking on actual Christmas with whomever is in the actual house. Everything else is up in the air.

The dueling Santas are already in place, and I've thought of my mother as I rolled out peppernuts. Sometime during the calendar year end we'll declare the day of the Christmas dinner, and then there will be dinner rolls.

We will do Christmas however we do Christmas, and whatever we do, we will be HAPPY.

It's tradition.

Big Red Barn: Two Well-Moisturized Thumbs Way Up

Big Red Barn corporate headquarters

Today we continue the trend of the last couple months, in which I claim I never sell anything on this blog then go on to give my opinion on a product or service. I don't know the eShakti people or the Pioneer Women personally, though, so I wasn't able to vouch for the folks behind these products. The person behind this endorsement is a total delight and was a heck of a candlelighter in the 1983 version of the Wedding of the Century.

People, if you only one read one endorsement here make it this one. This is a product I never thought I would like but instead it's going to be the 2018 Gift of the Year in the House on the Corner. And it all starts in the big red barn behind the window where Husband was checking the weather in 2014. That's where the most important component of our niece's new business is produced: Goat milk.

It turns out this naturally-homogenized liquid is the not-so-secret ingredient in soaps and lotions that moisturize without being greasy, are gentle for dry or aging skin, and are packed with healing vitamins. I've seen claims that they're excellent options for people who have acne or eczema.

And fortunately for me, it turns out that having a goat herd had been on the bucket list of our oldest niece, Shanna. (She says her husband is wary of what else might be in this bucket.) Shanna has been busy since she lit candles at our wedding 35 years ago. She and her husband have raised and homeschooled a family of eight  kids, including a sibling group of four they adopted after fostering. She gives piano lessons and raises exotic chickens, and has assembled a menagerie of horses, cats, dogs, and assorted animals on the farm where they live.

Last week she sent me a Christmas gift of Big Red Barn Goat Milk Soap. Several years I'd had to quit using body soap. My usually-good skin had turned flaky and itchy and on the advice of my dermatologist I gave away all of the yummy-smelling shower gels I'd accumulated. But a shower of plain water never feels cleansing, so yesterday I gingerly rubbed some of BRB's apple-scented bar into a scrubbie and really washed. I was surprised that the round disk not only produced beautiful suds, but that this bar was clearly more moisturizing than the gold Dial the rest of the family uses.

I was late for church and didn't have time to use the lotion until I sneaked it out of my purse during the sermon. I am a lotion snob by nature, and have no patience for greasy splotches on computer keys or the paper I use to write notes. But Thanksgiving pretty much destroyed my hands, what with the dozens of hand-washings required during cooking, so they were super dry with cuticles that would make a manicurist cry into the soaking bath. I didn't use much of the BRB lotion (maybe half a teaspoon) but it was amazing. No grease, and even my terrible nails suddenly looked respectable.

To be perfectly honest, though, I wouldn't have even tried this stuff if it wasn't Shanna behind it. By nature I am a better-living-through-chemistry person and all-natural products aren't necessary my jam; I don't seek them out and won't pay extra to buy them. But these soaps and lotions? Are my jam.

Maybe they're my jam because except for the soap-making lye, you probably can eat or at least pronounce everything that's in them--ingredients listed on the label of my red apple soap are olive oil, goat milk, palm oil, coconut oil, red apple scent and colorants. The almond biscotti lotion is also basically food (avocado oil, almond oil, shea butter, etc.) plus emulsifying wax. Heck, I'd eat any of that.

Or maybe they're my jam because I purely love the videos Shanna posts on her Facebook page. I spent a good half hour of my life watching her cut soap, and seriously, after watching her milk her nannies last night I'm pretty sure I want a goat for Christmas. (Moms, your kids would love these videos, but be warned that they also might decide they want kids of their own.)

Husband isn't such a fan of the goats-as-gift idea, though, so I'm settling for soaps and lotions for everyone I know for Christmas. And hey, you can do the same thing!

Teacher gifts? Some give-back pampering for your hairdresser or manicurist? Heck, something nice for the guy who delivers all those Amazon boxes? Visit Shanna's Etsy shop. She has the most delicious scents I can imagine, and at $21 a gift assortment already packed in a pretty container is just the right price point. Non-fattening, too, so a good alternative to homemade goodies. Don't tell them, but I'm getting 2-ounce lotions ($3 each) for everyone in my Wednesday night study group--I'll put an assortment in a pretty basket and let each person choose the scent she prefers.

If you're into essential oils, soaps and  lotions that incorporate these oils are available at slightly higher prices.

Right now Shanna is running a December special on soaps--buy four, get one free--and there is a rumor that if you mention you're a friend of MomQueenBee, or read this blog, or have ever heard of Empty Nest Feathers, you might get a discount. Be sure to mention it when you order!

Turn-around is only a day or two, but they're mailed from the farm in Iowa so to make sure they're delivered by Christmas, order by Dec. 18.

So. To summarize this too-long post: I, to my utter surprise, love goat milk soap. Much less surprisingly, I love my niece, and hope you will give her products a try.

Your skin, and your friends' skin, will thank you.