Be Nice or Leave

We've come to that time where we look back on the year that's passing while looking forward to the year to come.

I'm getting to the stage where marking the passage of time is no longer taken for granted. I remember a class reunion about 14 or 15 years ago and at that time I think we'd only lost five - most of them accidental and within the first ten years of graduation. I know that number has more than doubled. That number grows every year.

Within the last two years, four very dear friends have lost their husbands. For two of them, it was quick and unexpected. The other two had to witness the suffering that comes with diseases. I have two more friends who are staring this loss in the face. Although their husbands are still living, for all practical purposes, they've lost them. They've given up the role of companion to become caregivers, a necessary passage and one entered willingly, but still sad.

I also saw the passing of some acquaintances who are younger than me. While illness isn't necessarily age-related, the probability of surviving does decrease with age.

My point is this: Life is uncertain, at best. And while I don't know how much time I have left to live, I do know that my time on earth is limited. And there are certain things I don't have time for: Pettiness, Arguments, Unnecessary Drama, Divisiveness, and Negativity.

I don't want to be around anyone -  friend, family, acquaintance, stranger - who is intent on being any of those things. In the past, I've allowed people to come in to my life and steal my God-given joy.
And those people will just have to take their drama somewhere else. Does that mean you can't tell me your bad news? Of course not! Bad things happen. And as long as your intent is not to be petty or start an argument, I'm here to support you and do what I can to help.

I have another point. I don't care about your politics any more than you care about mine. You're not going to change my mind and I'm not going to change yours. I also know that it's very tempting to questions someone's mental capacity based on their political beliefs. (That and their ability to use proper grammar.) It was not always this way. I pray that we find our way back to civility. Two times recently I've made a simple statement on a political post. That simple statement was "I disagree." And in response to that simple statement, I was told (by people who are complete strangers to me) that I was "hateful" "lazy" "greedy" "stupid" and more. I need to work harder at not engaging with these people. But, sometimes the claims are so outrageous that one feels compelled to challenge them - even with a simple "I disagree". But apparently it's not possible to disagree without pettiness, arguments, drama, divisiveness and negativity. And a complete lack of civility.

So whether it's real life or Facebook posts, I'm going to do my best to eliminate those negatives from my life.

Tabasco!

Avery Island, LA had been on my bucket list for a year or two. It's where they make Tabasco and I'm a big fan of Tabasco. And by the way, you wouldn't know it's an island unless you look at an aerial photo - they have several of those in the museum. The one shown here is from Google Maps.

I remember a Pogo cartoon from years ago (they actually feature this one in their museum - that's how I know it was Pogo!) and the caption was that the couple had been married so long they were on their second bottle of Tabasco. I don't think my mom and dad ever got past the first bottle. But in my house, we go through several bottles a year.

Much to my surprise, I found the museum interesting. Especially the origins of Tabasco. Seems that Mr. McIlhenny lost his fortune and his banking career in the Civil War. He'd also ordered some food in a restaurant that he thought was a bit bland and asked to have some peppers on the side and was told that they were out of season. And that disappointment with the bland food sparked the idea for a sauce that would enhance the flavor of food.

I was also surprised at how quickly they started exporting to a world-wide market. They've branched out into several flavors now - Chipotle, Habanero, and Jalapeno to name a few - but the original sauce is still made with just three ingredients - Tabasco peppers, vinegar, and salt (some of which is mined on the McIlhenny estate on Avery Island.)

The tour is self-guided. It included the greenhouse - small and primarily for show. They aren't growing enough peppers in there to make a tablespoon of Tabasco. We also toured where the barrels are aged with salt on the top. We went into the room where the peppers are blended with the vinegar but there was nothing to see aside from pictures. I really don't know if production is seasonal or not. And while we went to the building where it's bottled, there was no bottling going on there, either.

Pepper plants in the green house. Who knew they got this big?

Aging in barrels

We ate lunch at their cafe - I recommend the chili but the portion is massive. They also offer regular and extra spicy Bloody Marys. The store has all sorts of Tabasco branded goods from golf shirts to Tabasco infused chocolate. (Who could resist that?)

And apparently the Queen is also a fan. They have a royal warrant.

There is another attraction on the property - Jungle Gardens. We opted not to go to that because we felt that a garden in December is probably not at its peak. Had I known more of the history of the garden before purchasing the ticket, we'd probably have gone. The garden is a drive through and was added as a conservation effort by one of the McIlhenny family some time ago.

The other thing that was interesting in both the cafe and the museum was the looping videos featuring Tabasco product placement in movies and Tabasco television ads. My favorite is of the exploding mosquito. If you've never seen it - take a look

What I Hate About Christmas

I love Christmas music. I probably have about 30 Christmas CDs. I love the decorating. I put up four trees - not counting the little ones that sit on table tops. I even like the "busyness" of the season - the parties and get-togethers.

So what could I possibly hate? Gifts. I hate the whole gift-giving thing. Giving and receiving. I can do without it.

I liked it fine as a child. What child doesn't like getting stuff? I still remember a Christmas long ago when my dad gave my mother a dress and she cried all day. I didn't understand why she was unhappy - after all, she got a present. I pointed that out to her but it didn't help. I understand it now. She and my dad had agreed to spend all the available money on me and my brothers. (I didn't have a sister yet.) They weren't going to get each other anything. And my dad had gone outside that agreement and bought her a dress. She'd stuck to the agreement and didn't get him anything, and his gift made her feel bad. A similar thing happened to me when my son was a teenager. My husband and I had agreed to spend $250 each on each other and $500 on my son. I stuck to the plan, but my husband probably overspent on me by $1000. I felt badly because the most money should have been spent on the child. It was excessive and thankfully, he never did it again.

But back to childhood. I don't remember most of the gifts I received as a child. I only remember the one I didn't get. When I was nine or ten, I wanted a Barbie doll. My cousin had a Barbie, and a Ken, and a Midge, and Barbie's Dreamhouse and Barbie's car. Was a Barbie too much to ask for? Apparently, because I didn't get it. The doll I did get wasn't even a Barbie knock-off. By that time, I was old enough to try to mask my disappointment but Mom probably knew that Miss Revlon, was not really a satisfactory substitute. But all in all, childhood Christmases must have been fine because that's the only disappointment I remember. And when I was 16, it was perfect. I got the outfit I wanted and a Beatles album. I was a happy girl.

Fast forward to the 70s. I'd been seeing this guy for a while and I actually dared to hope that my Christmas present would be a diamond ring. Well, it wasn't. It was a watch - with a teeny tiny diamond where the number 12 is on a watch face. I realized that it would be the only diamond I would ever get from that man.

A few years later, I was seeing someone else. And while I wasn't expecting or even hoping for a diamond ring, I was hoping for something romantic. I didn't know what exactly - just something romantic - maybe a heart shaped pendant or a bracelet. You know what he gave me? A cheese board. Probably given to him by someone he worked with and he didn't want it. That kind of thing brings you back to earth in a hurry.

And as life went on, the pressure to spend, outspend, and overspend grew. Not only was the gift important, so was where you got it. I always felt pressure to find the "right" gift. And I wondered if I'd spent enough.  Did I spend the same amount on everyone? Will this brand be okay? Will s/he like the color/style/etc. In spite of all that, I still somewhat liked the challenge but when you only get it right once every 10 years, it makes you want to stop trying.

Although these questions never seemed to bother most people I know. I spent weeks thinking about what to get someone. Trying to think of just the perfect thing. My ex never fretted. He just went to the mall on Christmas Eve. I'm pretty sure that he just went into the store nearest the closest parking place he found and bought the first five things he laid eyes on. There is no other explanation for how I would end up with an air popper.

But I'm pleased to report that Mark and I have it figured out. Everyone (except us) gets money or gift cards. I've always hated doing that because it requires no thought and no effort and no Christmas spirit. But it seems to be more appreciated than my efforts to pick out a sweater. We buy whatever we want throughout the year and then we can look for fun things for Christmas. We try to change it up a bit every year. One year the challenge was how many items can you stuff in a stocking for $20? Another time it was all kitchen items, another time everything had to be travel related. One year, all the gifts I bought him started with the letters in his name - and he did the same. This year, we've been looking for things that start with the letters in Christmas. It's been fun, we have chocolates, hats, a rugby shirt, an instant pot, slippers, tabasco, magnets, and shirts. We'll get those Apple watches when we get home. And we've had fun.

The 1%

We've been dealing with Mark's anemia for almost a year now. All sorts of tests and treatments were tried while the doctors focused on treating the symptoms. The initial treatment consisted of extremely high doses of prednisone - a steroid. This had an adverse effect and landed him in the hospital last April where he had to have several transfusions. Transfusions are necessary when the hemoglobin drops below 7. (Normal is 14 for men.)

They continued to look for the cause of the problem. Finally, in June a test indicated that he had Cold Agglutinin Disease or CAD. You probably haven't heard of it, we certainly hadn't. It effects only 1% of the world's population. And that being the case, I was surprised that there is a treatment protocol for it. The first step was an infusion of rituximab weekly for four weeks, supplemented by injections of procrit when the hemoglobin count was below 9. After those initial four treatments he went to having the treatment once every four weeks. In the coming year, the doctor is planning to see if we can extend the time in between treatments to six weeks because his hemoglobin count is fairly stable around 10 and he mostly feels good.

But what it means in real life: It means that he really can't be in temperatures below 50 degrees F. When he gets cold, his immune system attacks his red blood cells and that is what carries oxygen through your system. So getting cold is a big no-no. It means that he may be bundled up in a winter coat when other people are wearing sweaters. It means that there will not be anymore February vacations in places like NYC or Ireland. It means he's off the hook for skiing. It means we may never do that Alaska cruise or trip to Iceland. It also means that when he isn't feeling well, we pop into an urgent care center if we're away just to have his blood tested. It means we have to plan our trips around the treatment schedule - although the doctor indicated that we should live our lives and work the treatments in. (Although I'm not sure about that because if the insurance company says every four weeks, they won't cover it if you try to do it in three.)

Other than that, we're still figuring it out. Learning what can and can't be done. And I've got to say that we had aspired to be in the 1%, this just isn't the 1% we had in mind.