New Year’s Eve is one of those nights (Black calls them “forced” celebrations) that often have great expectations attached to it. Many people make a big deal of it, but we prefer a lowkey approach, making the evening “special” by spending it with special people – for Red, her daughters, and for Black, close friends.
Some years it can be a bittersweet celebration (if loved ones have passed or no longer live close to home), but that can remind you of what’s most important.
So, let’s all toast to the promise and hope of a new year … and to champagne and toilet paper.
New Year's Eve seems like the perfect time to stroll down memory lane, although I'm guessing your memories are much more interesting than mine. | |
"Interesting" is a subjective word. Regardless, are you talking about memories in general? Or, New Year's Eve celebrations? | |
Actually, it was just a passing comment. But since you've always seemed to make a bigger deal out of New Year's Eve than I have, are there any years that really stand out? | |
Truth is the most memorable ones are the ones spent with celebrating with closest friends versus crowds. In fact, I think I have spent more than half of my New Year's Eves with John and Diana. Although, I will never forget bringing in 2000. |
Oh, this should be interesting. Where were you? What did you do? | |
I do not remember the details. But, I do remember everyone was panicked about Y2K. In fact, for almost the entire year leading up to it, people were certain it would create havoc with computers and computer networks. It turned out to be a non-event. | |
That's it? I thought you were going to talk about some major celebration to mark the turn of the century. | |
No, although not always successful, I always tried to avoid major celebrations. Anyway, 1999 was when I was collecting wine and many of us were certain there would be a shortage of vintage Champagne. And before you ask, vintage Champagne means it is made with grapes from a single year's harvest which happens only three or four times in a decade. | |
Was 1999 one of those years? | |
I will not bore you with the details, but Champagne is aged in the bottle (vintage for significantly longer than non-vintage releases) so it was from earlier in the decade. Anyway, collectors starting buying large quantities of vintage Champagne, which can last decades when stored properly, thinking it was "now or never" … | |
I know better than to ask how much you bought. | |
Enough to last a lifetime. Maybe two lifetimes. Which was a good thing as I lost most of it in the divorce. Anyway, the interesting thing was that because so many wine collectors were stocking up on vintage Champagne, the shortage became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Similar to when people were hoarding toilet paper. | |
Only you would compare the two. One's a luxury item and one's a necessity you'll ultimately use. I guess the good news though is that now you'll never run out of Champagne. | |
Except, my offsite wine storage was broken into years ago – and they stole all the Champagne. Good news is John and Diana still have their stash. | |
So, are you going to spend New Year's Eve with them? | |
Not the entire evening, but the three of us plan to toast love, friendship, and the end of 2020 … with masks, social distance, and some vintage Champagne. |
Red isn’t sure that her extreme fear of driving when there’s a risk of high water qualifies as PTSD (and it all started with Black – scroll down for that story!), but she does understand how debilitating it can be (regardless of what triggers it).
What’s interesting is Black picks on Red for many things (that’s part of the job description of a big sister), but not about this because – getting past the stigma of PTSD is tough enough. It’s why National PTSD Awareness Month is so important – not only for those who have PTSD, but for everyone.
| I love the new The Eyewall newsletter that keeps an eye (pun intended) on tropical activity in the Atlantic Ocean, Caribbean Sea, and Gulf of Mexico. |
| You definitely watch the weather more than I do. But, I know that is because you have an extreme “fear” (or however you want to describe it) of driving in heavy rain and potentially facing road flooding. |
| Borderline terror. Thanks to you. |
| Me? I thought I was the one who taught you what to do when encountering high water. |
| Yes, you did, but only after you got me into the situation in the first place. It had already been raining heavily when we each arrived at that meeting near my house. Afterward, although I preferred to go straight home, you thought it’d be ok for us to keep to the original plan of me following you into Houston. |
| At the time, it didn’t seem that bad, just rain. |
| Says the woman in the Mercedes G-Wagon who sits high above cars and even other SUVs. Anyway, I can still remember it like it was yesterday … the rain’s pounding down, you’re behind me, we’re talking on the phone about the meeting, and suddenly you go from your normal conversational tone to sounding what I imagine an air traffic controller would be like – very measured, very direct, very non-emotional. |
| I needed you to pay attention. I could see that you were about to hit high water, and I knew my instructions would go against your natural instincts. You needed to keep giving the car gas, but ease up on the accelerator and, no matter what, not brake. |
| And gently “steer” around the cars you could see were stalled out in front of me. Then, you told me to keep saying these words out loud ... “keep it going, keep it going, keep it going.” And then you hung up on me. |
| I knew there was nowhere for you to pull over, and you were frightened. But, by giving you a “mantra” to say out loud, I hoped to focus you on the most critical thing you needed to do. I did not have the time to explain that keeping your foot on the gas, even if just a little, kept you moving forward and prevented water from entering the engine through the exhaust (tail) pipe. I could see past the water, and knew you just needed to get through it so you could get to higher ground. |
| I felt like I was driving a bumper car at a carnival, trying to avoid all the other cars. Finally, a few minutes later, although it felt like an eternity, I was able to park on high ground. Where I stayed for hours, waiting for the water to recede so I could get home. Ever since, whenever I’m on the road during storms, I feel like I have a form of PTSD. Although I probably shouldn’t say that because it’s unfair to those, especially veterans, who truly have PTSD. |
| I understand you do not want to seem like you are diminishing the seriousness of PTSD, but you may have a mild form of it. However, I am not qualified to diagnose it. Nor do I know enough about it to speak intelligently. |
| Just the thought of high water is traumatic and causes me extreme stress. It’s an overwhelming feeling of not having control of a situation that could quickly become a life-or-death scenario. I can’t even imagine what soldiers must feel after seeing combat. They have to face battle day after day, month after month. And, often, year after year. And then they come home and often must fight an entirely different battle. |
| Not all people exposed to traumatic events develop PTSD, but they are more susceptible. In addition to combat exposure, events such as physical abuse or assault, sexual violence, mass shootings, natural disasters … it is a long list. |
| Wow, I never thought about it that way. Even more reason that we all need to be more sympathetic. And while I appreciate that we may not know the details of their story or situation, it shouldn’t stop us from trying to be kind and understanding first, rather than immediately judging someone. |
| Technically, I think you mean empathetic. Regardless, we can all learn more about PTSD. And, mental illness. No one should ever have to suffer alone. We should let family and friends know it is ok to not always be ok. And, that we are there if they need us. But, remember to always ask for permission before offering help or advice, and respect their wishes if they decline. |
| For someone whose default is being sarcastic, that was very warm and fuzzy. And calming. Similar to when you got me through that highwater. And now, I know to recognize my fear, do my best to avoid situations that will trigger me, and, if unavoidable, find a mantra and try to stay calm. |
| Oh, and trust your instincts. Your gut told you not to go to Houston with me. |
| Now you tell me! |
Red's two Labradoodles
May is National Pet Month, and it’s a bittersweet time for Red as she lost Moo (her black Labradoodle pictured above) just before the New Year. It’s the first time she’s been without a pet since Woof arrived (see below for original post from 2021, including the third “silly name”), and not a day goes by that she doesn’t miss the companionship and unconditional love. So, she tries to focus on all the wonderful memories, knowing that one day she’ll welcome another pet into her life …
Well, this month marks 18 years since you changed my life, so I wanted to thank you. Again. For bringing such happiness into the lives of the girls and me, although some heartbreaking sadness, too. But there's nothing like unconditional love. | |
OK, but can you tell me what you are talking about? | |
Do you remember when I moved to Houston after living overseas, and we started going to the Hyatt Hill Country in San Antonio for Memorial Day weekend? You were married to Larry, and his girls were young, and Natasha and Sawyer were even younger. Well, in 2003 you asked me if it was OK if you got us a puppy. | |
You had always talked about getting a dog but wanted to have children first. The timing seemed right, but given your allergies, the options were limited. Until I learned about a new breed, well technically a mixed breed, originally developed in Australia to be hypoallergenic guide dogs. | |
I'll never forget you showing me photos of the most incredibly adorable dogs I'd ever seen. The fact Labradoodles were half standard poodle, which was what I had initially thought we'd get, and half Labrador Retriever was amazing. But only you could find the perfect dog from an article in a business magazine. |
Fortune magazine. It was written by Andy Serwer back when he was Managing Editor (he now is Editor-in-Chief of Yahoo! Finance), and you never knew the topic – or angle – of his next piece. Sometimes serious, sometimes amusing, but always astute and worth reading. And, I actually saved that article. | |
Of course, you did. All I know is that starting with that day in the hotel, I was in love, first with the idea of the Labradoodle, then with the puppy pictures they sent us, and then with her. In fact, from literally the moment you and I picked her up at the airport and then came home and gently placed her next to an unsuspecting Natasha who was asleep on the sofa, she became the most loved member of the family. | |
If only people were as good at unconditional love as pets. Anyway, not only are pets a source of love and companionship, but studies – and science – have shown there are proven health benefits . | |
Well, I don't need a study to tell me how much, over the last 18 years, having Woof, and then Oink and Moo, has meant to the girls and me. And although I still find it upsetting to think of Woof's early passing in 2007, and Oink having left us this past summer still breaks my heart, I'm so grateful for all the memories and love that's still there. | |
I do not think we ever forget them. I still remember Mom's family dog, Buttons, a beautiful Irish Setter that Grandma Betty and Poppy Louie would sometimes bring to the house so she could run free in the backyard. She was almost as tall as me, but was very gentle, and always affectionate. | |
That's funny because our childhood dog, Yenta, was anything but affectionate. I know poodles have a reputation of being proud, and although I loved her, she wasn't the most lovable dog around. I just wanted her to be cuddly, but she wouldn't have any part of it. Instead, if a dog could put their nose up in the air and walk off with a royal air about them, that was her. | |
I prefer to think of it as being stubborn. And, independent. Both traits of poodles. And, may explain why she and I got along so well. | |
No comment. Except to remind pet owners that this is National Pet Month. So, what better time to show your pet how much you love them than to celebrate with them? |
Since today’s Christmas and Chanukah starts tonight, we want to wish you Happy Christmukkah (yes, it’s a real thing)! And we’re rerunning this Christmas story from Black’s childhood – not only because it’s one of Red’s favorites, but because believing in Santa can happen to anyone, even Black …
BLACK: I do not know at what age my Christmas memories began, but I do remember being very young and in awe of a very large – and very well decorated – Christmas tree in our family room. I even remember peeking down the stairs late one evening and seeing my mother standing extremely close to Santa Claus. OK, you might not find that an unusual memory, except my family is Jewish.
Apparently, my parents thought it was easier to decorate and give gifts for both Chanukah and Christmas than to try and explain why religiously they only celebrated the "smaller" holiday, although I must have sensed that. (Children usually do.)
And, I remember exactly when I came to the realization that Santa was not real. I was five years old and in the hospital with pneumonia and in the middle of the night, a Santa came by giving out Christmas gifts. I must have sensed his presence because when he arrived at the foot of my bed, I sat up and immediately told him that I could not have any Christmas gifts. He questioned why not (maybe thinking I was going to state I had not been good all year, which probably would have been an accurate statement), and I told him it was because I was Jewish.
He leaned over my bed, pulled away his fake beard, and whispered in my ear, "It's ok – so am I." And, without his beard, I immediately recognized him as one of the doctors who had checked on me several times during my stay. We smiled at each other, knowing that we had a special bond, and he left me a gift.
Now, older and wiser, I have come to the conclusion … Santa does exist. You just have to believe …
Maybe Skin Cancer Advice, But Don’t Expect A Compliment From A Sarcastic Sister