Making Christmas Merry in Mexco

Over the Christmas holiday, I had the good fortune to be in Riviera Maya, Mexico with my family -- Rob, the kids, my sister, her husband and son, and my parents. While my sister has been taking these Christmas vacations for years (she doesn't love us enough to come home from Denver for the holidays), this was a first for me and my clan. We left on Christmas morning, having opened what was supposed to be a very small number of gifts the night before. (Rob has trouble following directions and had way too many presents for me -- granted, I had asked suggested casually mentioned each item in the weeks leading up to the big day.) Despite having worshiped at church (those of you who did not witness MPC's 5 p.m. children's service missed out on an Oscar-worthy freakin' angel performance), gathered with friends for a couple hours of merriment, and exchanged gifts at home on Christmas Eve, it stopped feeling like Christmas the minute we reached Philly's airport. Arriving in Mexico did nothing to add to the spirit of the season. Maybe it was the signs that read "Merry Christmas and a Happy New Gift." I guess you have to give them credit for openly stating what is the true meaning of the holiday for many people.

Photos by Abby MacPherson

Once at the Riu Palace resort, my spirits were slightly buoyed by the Christmas tree and the manger scene in the lobby (and the Corona I had on the ride there probably helped, too), but as the day progressed I had serious doubts as to whether I would again take a trip over the holiday. The palm trees, clear blue water and 80 degree temperatures just didn't feel right. However, by the time my sister and her family arrived the next day, I had settled in quite nicely. It's amazing what you can deal with when you're forced to adjust to new surroundings. I know; you hate me right now.

Lest you think it was all sunshine and rainbows, I should tell you that it rained for most of one afternoon and a couple of evenings. Plus, Rob and I ended up sharing a bed with a teenager. Fortunately, we knew him or that would have been extra awkward. (The resort's definition of a suite differed from mine.) But besides that, there was no little family drama. The kids didn't rarely got on my nerves. I didn't fight with my sister at all. And having given up dairy products on the advice of my physician, I didn't even find myself doubled over in the bathroom at any point in the trip! The wine was lousy, but the pina coladas were drinkable, and I even discovered a new, more adult beverage -- the Caipirinha.

Other highlights of the trip included amazing sugar donuts at the buffet, surprisingly good pancakes, and mimosas every morning at breakfast. Oh, and the warm, magnificent water of the Caribbean Sea, a snorkeling expedition complete with sea turtles and a large stingray, and colorful sunrises and sunsets weren't too shabby either. As for entertainment, well, we brought along our gift for words, with the youngest family members delivering the biggest zingers. Here, in no particular order, are the most memorable lines from Viva la Vida 2013:

Nana, your arms are squishy; you need to work out. -- William, age 5

Ian, you can come to the pool with me because you're my friend and my cousin. -- William

I play the pan flute. -- Ian

It's like shooting fish in a barrel. -- A nationally competitive rifleman who then proceeded to miss his first three target shots with a BB gun during the resort's daily competition. (Side note: Ian turned out to be quite the marksman! He won the competition on our last day there, making Pop Pop very proud.)

Is B-E, "beh," a word? -- Ian, while playing Bananagrams

I'm not tired, just resting here on Pop Pop

I'm not tired, I'm just rubbing my eyes -- an exhausted William

They're in case I need to climb over something. -- Abby, in response to why she was wearing gym shorts under her dress

I don't like Abby so much anymore. -- William, after he and Abby had a "disagreement" over sand castle building.

Ten years ago I would have had that. -- My dad, upon missing yet another beach volleyball strike

I was looking for olives. -- William, when asked why he took so long at the buffet and came back with an empty plate

Fun Kim is coming out tonight! -- Brother-in-law Rob in response to Kim ordering a second drink

There's a fun Kim? -- Abby, in response to Uncle Rob

Ah yes, good stuff.

I told Rob that this whole Christmas vacation thing may prove to have been a bad idea, because I just know I'll the kids will expect to go somewhere every year. He said we'll just have to tell them that that's not going to be the case. And boy, was I were they bummed to hear that.

The trip concluded with a lovely six-hour stay in the Cancun airport when our flight was delayed, but we still made it home in time to bring in the New Year with friends. Happy New Year to you and yours!

Toes selfie

No Fish, but a More Than Fine Time

On Friday I was peaceful and content. Peaceful and content are a rare state for me that can only be achieved away from home. It's generally not the people at home that mess with my sense of well-being, it's my to do list.

My good feelings began on Thursday night when I sang a 90-minute solo concert en route to Waretown, New Jersey. Sometimes I enjoy driving alone just for the musical performance. When I arrived in Waretown at the B-Hive (a.k.a. the cottage), my parents were happy to see me. My parents are always happy to see me. Visiting my parents is like coming home to a dog without the licking, shedding, and crapping in the yard.

Friday night was a treat because my dad talked to me, and not just about taking the turns more slowly to save tire tread. No, my dad actually opened up and expressed his frustration at the infernal ringing in his ears and losing his hearing and how maddening it is to try to have a conversation with people when you have no idea what they're saying. We talked about a variety of topics and both fell asleep before we saw the Phillies lose. A nice way to spend the evening. [As a side note I'd like to warn you all away from Miracle Ear. You can take $6,000 and throw it away and get the same results my dad has had with Miracle Ear. It's a miracle he hasn't throttled the person who sold them to him.]

On Saturday morning we woke early at the B-Hive and headed to the marina to board the Wakakida, Dad's 22' Grady White. Our objective? Flounder. We slowly made our way through the wake-free zone until we reached Barnegat Bay and discovered complete serenity. The water as smooth as glass. The sun still in the process of rising. A line of non-threatening clounds hovering just above the horizon like a half-open window shade teasing at the treasures that lay beyond. Only a few other boats off in the distance. Boater's perfection.

What could possibly make the morning even better? How about a whale? Yep. A whale less than a mile off Barnegat Light. Breaching, spraying water out of its blowhole. An exciting first for me. You know what else makes a fishing trip memorable? Catching fish. I caught nada. Not a throw back. Not even a skate or a sea robin. Mom and Dad both caught nice 20-inchers, enough for me to bring home to feed my family. Yes, Mom and Dad are good to me.

The highlight of the trip? Clamming with my dad. We anchored the boat in about 3' of not nearly warm enough water in Barnegat Bay and slogged our way about a half mile till we reached the muck. The muck is where you find the clams. I'm not a fan of the muck, but I am a fan of my dad. And as I watched him drag his clamming rack along the bottom of the bay, it struck me that families have been doing just this for hundreds of years. Albeit without my dad's handcrafted stainless steel rake and the pool noodles being used to keep the bushel afloat. And as it occurred to me that this was a moment I'd never forget, my dad said "This is something you can always remember." And he recalled clamming 50+ years ago with his dad down near Beach Haven. They rented a small boat from Snuggery's Dock for $12 a day. It was $14 if you wanted one with a top on it.

My dad and I both have lived too much of our lives in a pretty dark place, but Friday was filled with light, literally and figuratively. My dad laughed and smiled and seemed more genuinely happy than I've seen him in a long, long time. I believe there's something about the wind and the water that breaks through whatever heaviness is weighing you down and blows away the cobwebs and the clouds that sometimes surround our hearts. 

Where do you find restoration and renewal? 

What brings you joy? 

In whose company do you find peace?

Just Don't Sleep Naked

I have always been afraid of getting older, even when I was a kid. Mostly it was a fear of the unknown. As one who wants to be in control of every situation, I was apprehensive of what was to come, particularly the BIG STUFF. In my early teen years, I distinctly remember worrying about exactly how I was going to...

• Get my driver's license
• Apply to college
• Survive at college
• Find a job
• Get married
• Buy a home
• Have a baby...

Of course, I lived through all of those turning points (though I'm still questioning my decision to have a baby x2), and in retrospect it seems comical to have been afraid of them, but I definitely was anxious of growing up and getting older and what that meant I was going to have to experience, ready or not.

Recently my fear of getting older has been resurfacing, but with a different twist. Now, I am afraid of losing what I already know and I'm not referring to the turning points, but rather to the basic concept of "me." (Hold on, she's getting heavy here.)

Off the top of my head I can state that I'm afraid of roller coasters, water skiing, dancing, breaking concrete with my elbow, and putting my feet up on the dashboard of the car (only while in the passenger seat, of course). Let me clarify: I'm not afraid of doing these things, rather I'm afraid that if I don't keep doing them, or have an opportunity to do them in the very near future, I may never do them again. Got that?

Case in point. Sleeping naked. Once you quit doing that, you can never go back without frightening yourself, your partner, your children, or the UPS man.

I think my current aging fears are my Dad's fault (remember, it's best to always blame someone else for your problems). Dad's 72 years old but he looks about 60 and acts about 50. Despite being retired for years, he still works when called by his former employer (cause he's so damn good at what he does). When he's not working for the company, he's in his wood shop building some amazing piece of furniture or whatnot. When he's not in his wood shop he's doing yard work, chopping down trees, or fixing something for the neighbors. When he's not otherwise engaged, in the summertime he's on the boat, fishing, crabbing or cleaning it, and in the fall and winter he's 25 feet up in a tree hunting deer. If none of these are a viable option, he's sleeping. For good reason. I'm exhausted just thinking about his activity level.

Recently, however, my dad has had a few setbacks. In the past few weeks he has sliced open his leg with a chainsaw cutting down a tree limb for a friend (9 stitches). He damaged a tendon or muscle in his bicep climbing up a tree with his tree stand. And he caught his arm on the lathe in his wood shop, destroying a new shirt and breaking his watch, but thankfully leaving his arm intact. And did I mention he lost his brand new hearing aid in the woods?

One might suggest to Dad that it's time to find new, less dangerous and strenuous activities, but I know better than to make such a recommendation. Wood working, welding, helping others, hunting, these things bring my dad joy. No, actually, they keep him alive. I know he can't imagine slowing down and trading in his old life for a more age-appropriate one.

So, Freakin' Angels, let's take a pledge to continue living life as we know it. Let's sing and embarrass our children. Let's dance in our pjs in the kitchen. Let's make fun at rich, well-dressed women with botox injections. Let's eat pie, drink milkshakes, and toast our friendships with many bottles of wine.

Only promise to never sleep naked, just in case I decide to stop over for breakfast...

The Friendship Continuum

There's nothing like another birthday to make you think about your age. In general, I'm not particularly concerned about growing older. Sure, my hearing and eyesight are going, there are a dozen new gray hairs every day, and I've got more fat deposits than I'd like to admit, but overall I'm in good health and most folks don't think I look 41. (Go ahead, tell me you thought I was older than that.).

What has me thinking about my age today is my friendships. I spent Saturday night at an impromptu dinner/get-together with good friends who all happen to have children around the same age. We did a lot of eating, drinking, and laughing, reminiscing about everything from first concerts (Rush, Jackson Five, Donny & Marie) to knife accidents (lost fingertips, slices to the bone, linoleum damage). These friends, who are all within about five years of one another, can identify with the stage of life I'm in. We're all stuck here in roughly the same situation: double-digit years of marriage, maintaining careers, raising kids, running to soccer games, karate lessons, and school events; and occasionally slipping away as adults for well-deserved date nights and get-togethers. You need these friends to commiserate with, celebrate with, and escape with when necessary.

But then there are your younger friends.

In a very rare occurrence, I had another invitation out on Saturday night. A group of friends from my martial arts class were getting together after a tournament in Atlantic City and they invited me to join them. And, they're younger than me, by about ten years. More important than the age difference however, is that they're all in a much different place in their lives. Many are just starting out in jobs or careers, none has children, and none is married. Clearly we're in way different places.

My dad and Eric with Dad's buck

Steve and my dad with their catch

For many years, my dad has had friends who are much younger than him (my age, in fact). These acquaintances began as a result of common interests, in his case hunting, shooting archery, or fishing and boating, but quickly grew into true friendships that I know mean a great deal to him. I can't say I ever gave much thought to the age differential between my dad and these guys, but as I'm getting older, I can see why they mean so much to him. Having friends who are younger than you means you've still got it. You're still cool. You're still someone worth hanging out with. In other words, you're not old yet.

The downside of having younger friends is that they're tougher to compete with keep up with. Whether it's drinking, breaking wood, or trekking through the forest on a hunting expedition, the young 'uns have an edge. That can be tough on competitive folks like me and my dad.

Alas, my age beat out my desire to be part of the cool kid party Saturday night. I succumbed to sleep instead of making it to the bar to join my martial arts classmates and friends. It stinks getting old.

What doesn't stink, however, is having friends of all ages, from different walks of life, in different stages of their journey. As I celebrate my birthday, what I'm most looking forward to in the second half of my life is the friendships that I'm already blessed with and those that I have yet to make. Thanks for being a friend to this Freakin' Angel!

The Fine Art of Negotiation

There are many lessons my father has tried to teach me over my forty years. Unfortunately, not all of them have stuck, including:

• Good driving habits
• Home improvements
• Reading a ruler
• Using less toilet paper
• Cleaning a paint brush
• Driving a stick shift
• General car maintenance

But recently I came to the realization that one of dad's lessons did pay off, namely, the fine art of negotiation. Now, negotiation is probably not the right word as it implies a back-and-forth meeting of the minds. What my dad does is not that amiable. He plays hardball. As a kid, the last place you wanted to be was with my dad when he was buying a car or disputing a bill.

I first discovered my "negotiation" skills a couple years ago in my job as marketing director for Judson Press. As a non-profit Christian publisher, money is always an issue and I wasn't lying when I had to tell magazine ad reps that I just couldn't afford their rates to promote our books. I became pretty darn good at crying poverty and tugging at heart strings to secure rock bottom rates. Those little victories would just make my day.

Another negotiation tactic I've employed requires using my "feminine wiles" to see if I can save a buck. Recently, in the parking lot at a Phils game, I batted my eyelashes when the attendant told me it was $15. I sweetly asked if he'd take $10. He actually agreed...as long as I'd give him a five dollar bill with it.  I may be about twenty years too late for this approach.

Just last week, I broke down and was forced to use the Walt approach to negotiation (Walt's my dad).Yes, I got ugly. Here's how it happened.

I was enjoying a perfectly lovely cleaning at the dentist. The hygienist was applauding my noticeably increased attention to flossing. She thought my x-rays looked good. Then the dentist came in for his two-minute review. And, you guessed it, he found something needing fixing that wasn't covered by insurance.When the receptionist gave me the $1170 quote, I started getting irritable. I made the follow-up appointment and left in a huff.

Then I talked to Dad. Turns out his dentist does the same procedure for $800. I made the appointment with his dentist and called mine to cancel and request copies of the x-rays. Receptionist told me there might be a fee for the x-rays. I went off, big time. Told her what I thought of their office and their money-making shake-down operation (they offer Botox, for cryin' out loud!). She said she'd call me back. Two days later, my procedure was down to $450.

I've come to the conclusion that nearly everything in life is negotiable. If you haven't already, I recommend calling Verizon or Comcast and threatening to cancel and switch to the competition. One little phone call saved me $30 a month. I think I'm starting to enjoy the art of negotiation...