So They Say This is Christmas...a Happy Time of the Year.. by Diane Ogden

It is a happy time.  I love Christmas because I get to spend money with no guilt!  NO GUILT.  In fact I add myself to my Christmas list every year...  Today I went to the mall, because I never got to move to New York City and live on the 21st floor and walk the streets with all the fancy shops and magnanimous lights everywhere.  And my creations in all the Macy's window displays.  Yes mine.  So whose fault is it that only happened in my head and not on land?  Surely my Mother's, but not really.  It was my fault.  I chose to marry a jerk drunk at age 17 and not for any particular had to reason! I just did it.I didn't have to.  What for?  Not sure, to get away from the Mother whose fault it wasn't I guess. That is surely where the term "Out of the frying pan into the FIRE" came from.  It had to be from my and only my, personal situation back in the 60's.  Isn't it interesting how we always tend to think no one else exists but ourselves sometimes?  Driving on the freeway or even side streets I find myself looking at other people and trying to see their life.  They have a big huge life just like mine.  I want to say, "Hey, stop....tell me all about your life."  Then again I think...no way hose' you folks keep right on driving by because I don't want nor do I need to know all about your big life.  I have one that needs tending to already.  And all because I didn't go to the Art Institute in Milwaukee. I had five babies instead and not a darn one of them live in New York City!  But a couple of them do live in Los Angeles. There is still HOPE for the big lites ....I think the 21st floor is out of the question now, and Macy's is only good for my Estee Lauder Super Cologne that I only continue to wear because when I "pass out" (and on) the kids have to be able to smell me when I try to communicate from beyond!  What's my blog point?  Macy's is Christmas and I have dreams that live inside the Macy's windows up and over there in New York City.  By the way, the drunk husband died.  The kids are all doing great.  I shopped for each one today at the mall...where the lights are not so big but at least OK and make me happy.  Merry Christmas to anyone driving by that has a big life I don't want to know about, and to everyone on every 21st floor apt. in New York City! 

He/She LookaLikes by Diane Ogden

OK, one of these is my 27 year old son and the other is my 22 year old daughter.

Merry Christmas from the Past by Diane Ogden

Black and White alright and check out that tinsel.  My brother and I wanted to "THROW" it onto that green tree but let me tell you that was not any where near acceptable. Each tiny strand of glistening silver had to be expertly hung on only the farthest extended branches as to lay properly without any kinks.  Wouldn't life be grand without any kinks?   Believe me we had the kinks in our family..... In this black and white sit my brother and I and Step-Nana and Grandad.  They had the bucks and I got cheap perms as you can see here.  Dad would cut down a tree from the REAL WOODS out back of our house, then saw the base, drill holes in the trunk of the tree and insert extra branches where necessary for fullness.  Every heard of that now days? Nope!  Now its off to the corner for the perfect-est tree which costs minimum of $50 plus, vs free and sprayed with chemicals and green paint to "keep" it fresh longer, not!  Mother would pop the popcorn and bring in the huge bowl of little red berries to be strung on heavy string for the tree.  My brother and I got to use a needle and thread for this treat.  We cut out colored paper strips and glued the circles one to the next for more tree foo foo.  Ooh how could I forget the ham squigglies.  In the olden days canned Ham came with a "key" to open it.  You hooked the key onto the tiny aluminum tab and twisted backwards all the way around the can.  If you miscalculated your screw and slipped, well, misperfection wasn't so cool in our household.  A n y w a y...after the can is opened you hold the key and pull down the section you wound up to create a long spiral shiny ornament!  They were rather sharp so we had to be very careful. After all it was aluminum.  There was always a bowl of "ribbon candy" sitting on the coffee table.  And some of the tiny sugar candies, peppermints, green mints, yellow ones.  They would crunch quickly between your teeth because they were so little.  Mother would bake home-made yeast breads filled with cinnamon and all sorts of other fancy cookies.  Dad would go out back of the house on Christmas Eve and change into his Santa suit in the chicken coup, then we would suddenly hear bells and know Santa was outside.  He would come to the door and Mother would let him in so he could sit in the big chair and talk to us. We would tell him what we wanted for Christmas and he would do the Ho-Ho-Ho then he would leave, but only after asking us to leave him some cookies and milk and his reindeer some carrots. My God we really bought it!!  To this day I swear I saw him ride out of site in his sleigh with eight tiny reindeer far into the night with a full moon for me to view him ahead of the huge night clouds far above the rooftops.  Indeed Christmas was always a fun time with good memories for me.  Even though the fam had/has "kinks."

Goodbye to Oma by Diane Ogden

I met Oma three or four times now over the past eighteen months-two years.  She is the Mother of one of my clients.  My client is German, from Germany. His wife is Japanese from Japan. Both parents speak the language of their Mother country and have taught their child to also speak both languages.
The first time time I had met Oma, she had come to visit her son and his family and the Grandchild who was only 18 months old and did not know her Oma. (Grandma in German) So Oma bought the little one at least thirty presents and wrapped them all pretty as can be.  So each time the little one allowed Oma to change her or feed her or hold her, she gave the child a gift. Quite the sweet way to help the Grandchild remember and bond with her.  Must say it was pretty cute too.
The second time Oma came to Wisconsin it was summer and I worried she might have a heat stroke because she worked in their yard all day in the hot weather...The baby was getting to know her this visit.
The next time she came it was winter and she insisted upon walking to the grocery store in twenty five degree below zero weather...  I called her son at work because this time I was worried she would freeze, but he said, "Yes we know, but she wont listen...so we have to let her go."   She came back just fine a couple hours later. 
This time, it's Christmas, and her daughter in law is out of town on business, so Oma got to take care of her son, and his small daughter, like in the decades of Oma's past.  We chat when she is visiting, but I have to listen close as her German accent is very thick. Today we talked about my family background being from Mecklinburg Germany and the origin of Nicholaus. (Santa Claus) And today she told me she would be gone upon our next time at their home.  Something spurned me to take her hands in mine, vs shaking hands.  I did this.  And her response was something I will never forget in my lifetime.  I looked into her eyes and said "Merry Christmas and may you have a safe and protected journey home. It has been so nice to see you again."  She squeezed my hands gently and as she looked into my eyes, hers began to sparkle, twinkle, shine, something!!  It was a spiritual moment without any doubt.  I wondered if Oma was an Angel.  Because that is the closest I have ever come to seeing an Angel in someones eyes.  Oma isn't a beautiful woman in the eyes of the fleshly world, but to me, she is an Angel from Germany. Or maybe she is one of the few truly nice human beings in this world.

The Fake Focker's are having a Fake Baby Focker by Diane Ogden

That means God is in this baby deal all the way, humor humor humor, (me).  For the sake of the child, myself and the Mother of course..  I live alone, well I used to live alone.  Then one day my daughter decided to be like the Focker's and have a baby.  But I am an alone Mother Focker type...  and she is an alone Focker daughter type, who is now having a baby Focker alone child to bring home to the alone Focker home she already has moved into.  Get it?  We are the new set of Focker's, the other half of the Focker's, with no big house with men in it, or traveling bus house. Are we the poor Focker's? Oh shit! I just wish we were as  funny as the Focker's.  Then again, maybe we just are!  We have parents who live on a "Funny Farm," grand parents who are a bit nutty.  We have auntie's and uncies who are  off in la la land, we have cousins who do not visit thank God, but we have the good spirits! I have four real Focker son's  besides this fake Focker pregnant daughter.  If the real Daddy ever "comes" around again we will kill him and bury him and then call the FBI or DEA whichever drug he was using at the time, will give us our first clue what to do. Just like the old Focker Grandpa would have done in real life.  I am a lot like Barbra Streisand except for the singing voice and big boobalays...and $ and so on. My daughter is just like the Focker son...always getting into some sort of mess, this time a reality one for sure...  "Under the bus" kind of reality deal.  Hey, we just found out today its a  Focker girl!  Happiness Happiness.  And more Happiness.  Boy, Girl? Dog Cat? It's another mouth to feed and stroller to push. And there isn't a True Focker in site.  So F. (For Focker of course) Enjoy this Focker day and Focker Blog post!

OffSpring OffSpringed by Diane Ogden

I guess that's life huh?  Our offspring spring up very quickly and go off and get sprung. Well, you know what I mean.  This was a happy union gone wrong. Sort of like the Civil War actually.  The North got lucky, called it a win, then took off.  Sort of like a snake, or an alley cat who mates and runs.  Yup that is what he did. Never heard from him again. Of course I could elaborate....but not going to.  So she is on her own, or should I say on my own...my own time, money, emotions, house, car, and so on. I suppose we will make it fine.  Just sad to see her alone besides being so terribly sick she lost 25 pounds the first four months,  and when this is such a sharing time.  Wee ones are supposed to be created from love and I suppose this one was too...just that the love was short lived from a short hitter.  What do I know?  Just a good guess from an older wiser been there done that Mom and Grandmother.  Hoping for all good to come from the little nipper and from us to "it."  That would be right, we don't know the gender yet.  That comes in a week.  Something fun to look forward to.  Hoping for the very best and believing for it also.

Where Have All The Buttons Been? by Diane Ogden

Actually this is not my button collection, its Lindsey39 @ flickr.com.  In other words I am using her photo. Not that I don't have a button collection because I surely do.  A zillion of them to say the least.  I was exercising one of my therapy options yesterday and today, which means doing something simple, such as "paper or plastic?," separating buttons into baby food jars.  I had a little eye surgery so sitting is the thing to do for today.  As I was playing with the buttons my psychic mind wandered and started to receive from the buttons in the beyond.  That merely means I was sensing where some of my buttons had been.  Then of course as usual I took off on my own with no help from spiritual button guides. I journeyed to wars, and women's beautiful silk and satin blouses of the thirties, nineteen thirties that is, and to hunters out in the swamps, murderer's even you know me always gettin the imagination going.)  I thought about how many babies might have been conceived after "unbuttoning" some of my buttons.  Or maybe a President donated some shirts of which the buttons ended up in my meager living room being sorted never knowing being able to share their importance.  Hookers, Preachers, children, buttons from dead peoples clothing, Bankers, paupers, Kings and Queens, well I doubt that one.  Factory workers, car salesmen, fat people, short people, skinny, tall, and mean people.  Sweet people buttons, robbers buttons, little old ladies glass buttons, and probably a nurse and doctor buttons. Did a doctor save someone's life while dodding one of my buttons?  Betcha. Teenage mouthy kids buttons, and maybe even an old relative down the line buttons.  Someone probably gave the speech of their lives wearing my buttons.  A college student surely graduated wearing my buttons.  A child rode a horse for the first time, someone was given a surprise birthday party wearing my buttons.  Someone went to prison for doing something illegal while wearing my buttons too.  People went to church, grocery shopping, movies, to the bathroom, all on my button time.  God I wish those buttons could talk.  I guess they did.  Someones Grandmother made Thanksgiving Dinner and Christmas dinner with my buttons hanging on them... some may have traveled the Oregon Trail to find gold.  And some surely sang at the opera as well as visited it.  I hope I have a couple that lived in a sky scrapper in New York or Chicago, and a couple that flew to Europe and back.  I hope that none came from an old Teddy Bears eyes, or any from sad children's lives.  But then we are just like the buttons aren't we?  All mixed together, some shinier, some old and cracked, many different colors and shapes and sizes, and all with a different story....