Celebrating Boxing Day

Time shifting the holidays seems par for the course when all the months after "pre-COVID" just blur into one long COVID period.

Gifts wrapped by me, using the fabric and ribbons that have become my hallmark for Christmas.

So, this year we celebrated Boxing Day.  It wasn't intentional, but that was how the chips fell.  After the effective cancellation of Christmas Eve, of course Sissy and I didn't head to the Mother Ship until Christmas Day, and late, at that - Sissy took forever to launch; I even managed to catch some of the Yule Log before it went off the air, which was still before Sissy was ready to go.

WPIX Yule Log - a staple for New York City residents, most of whom do not have fireplaces.

En route, we decided to support a family favorite, Pho Bac in Elmhurst, and picked up food for an ultra-late lunch/early dinner - linner.  And with all that good food in our bellies, naps were taken, and before you know it, everyone had had Christmas on social media, and we hadn't even wrapped gifts.  I told Sissy she had thoroughly ruined Christmas.  So we went to bed, woke up, and tried again... on Boxing Day, which, actually, was quite appropriate for us. 

Clivia, among the indoor holiday blooms at the Mothership.

Boxing Day spread for lunch.

This year's tree.

Pistachio cannoli - from the work kit for a summer associate event.

Chocolate chip cannoli - same kit.

Congee for the evening meal.

Mama Hen's flan.

More to come. 

[No more to come; closing out after editing to add captions to the photos August 27, 2023.]

Christmas Eve 2020

The reindeer and drum ornaments are stalwarts, the fairy lights new, the juniper sprig from the Jardin.

Ghosts of Christmas Eves past, present ... and future?

The worst Christmas Eve that I remember was during one of my early years out of law school.  I was the most junior associate, there were deliverables that had to go out, and I was stuck drafting and running changes - paying my dues.  But they needed to be reviewed, and I was taking them well into the evening into the partner's office - where she looked them over while wrapping Christmas gifts for her children.  And it was then that I realized that the work demands would not change upon grasping that brass ring.  I got out to Queens that night late - took a car, but it was close to midnight when I arrived; it felt terrible.  And the knowledge of the hefty bonus to come that year didn't make any sort of dent in that feeling. 

There have probably been late-working Christmas Eves in the years since.  But that one left an impression - the partner's rolls of wrapping paper, the tape and scissors, the bag of unwrapped gifts.

This year was only a hair better.  The political uncertainty and (positive - IMHO) election results nonetheless have meant a tsunami of year-end work, which dominated my day.  Truth be told, I could have done much of it earlier, but my ability to focus has been very elusive.  And then we had this rainstorm, and Sissy got nervous about the winds and insisted on battening down the hatches and not driving with the risk of falling trees - all overblown worries, I predict.  Sissy is prone to overblown worries.  (Though the garden shed that blew over earlier this year did seem to be struggling against the wind when we were out there tying it down.)  But, anyway, she and Mother Hen called off Christmas Eve, so this is maybe the first we haven't been in Queens or with the folks.  I suppose because it was a choice, it felt not as forlorn.  In some ways, it was pleasant to get to slow down. 

And so ... Christmas Eves future - what will they be like?  My goal is to not repeat the ones described above - the pinched time, the rush home, the scramble for leftover scraps of the day, shoehorning family time and rituals into a workday rather than the workday ceding to the holidays and family...  And I think that requires jumping off the hamster wheel.  Twenty years feels like enough dues paying time.  So, we'll have to check in on status next Christmas Eve....

"FIRE" Up, or Put Out the "FIRE"?

Musings on the FIRE movement by a single, former refugee, woman of some color.

I posted the below as a response to a post by One Frugal Girl regarding how much of our finances is actually within our control, and her acknowledgment of the positive factors she has been fortunate to have had in her favor (not sure whether my comment will actually appear):

Thank you for addressing this head on; I think it adds credibility to your perspective and your blog to acknowledge your advantages. I had read your post from a few back (the one on how you began blogging), and the safety net provided by your marriage struck me acutely. I am an unmarried woman and over the past year finally took steps to explore becoming a single mother. In the process of considering whether I could take time off to raise a child full time for a few years if I had been successful, I analyzed my balance sheet and cashflow more times than I care to admit, and despite earning well into six figures for close to two decades, saving steadfastly, and living well within my means, there would have been no way for me to do this, or to return to work and afford legal childcare, without depleting a portion of the savings I had earmarked for retirement or selling my home and moving to one with lower ongoing maintenance costs (a major lifestyle tradeoff that would have entailed a significantly longer commute) - whereas my peers married to equal or higher-earning spouses do this all the time without changing their lifestyles, without worries about continuing health insurance coverage, without seeming to bat an eyelash. 

Even without the factor of a minor dependent, considering a change to a lower paying position in order to gain more time and flexibility, or embarking on a new business venture - these risks are mitigated by the safety net of spousal support not only from a financial perspective, but a psychological one as well.

In fact, my frustration about trying to figure out how people manage to do all of these things without throwing themselves into a financially precarious position set me off into searching for FIRE blogs by single women - I haven't done an exhaustive search, but those seem to be far fewer than ones by marrieds/coupleds. And I bet if I tried to find ones by women of color who are first or zero generation immigrants/refugees (like myself), there would be even fewer. And I am the first to acknowledge that even given whatever obstacles I may have had, I am HIGHLY PRIVILEGED compared to most Americans.   I suppose the ability to even consider "financial independence" or "retirement" - early or not - is in and of itself a mark of privilege.

I truly had considered a post some weeks ago mulling over this topic - is FIRE even within the realm of possibility for normal people?  And if it is not, does it merit any of my time or attention?  Any of my aspirations?  Maybe some of these perspectives on FIRE will be more relatable... more exploring to do; still lots of marrieds in that article, but with some refinement, I might cobble together some guidelines that work for me, some inspiration to get me going and focused.

I first saw the FIRE acronym in the media some years back.  And when I was dating former-NF, we discussed it periodically - retirement, how to get there, how to balance working hard with easing up and not burning out, having time to follow passions.  A major commonality for us was having come out of modest families and finding ourselves in an "elite" school on the Upper Eastside at a young age.  How we processed and navigated money and that world of elite schooling with limited familial financial support (but bountiful familial support in every other way) has shaped our lives to some degree.  What we aspire to today as adults is informed by our different senses of financial security - what is "enough" so that we can have the freedom not to worry.

So some of FIRE goals are universal - the desire to be secure, for example.  But, let's face it - some of its tenets will never be attainable for a good portion of the American populace: financial independence requires generating one's own income, and most Americans don't even have emergency funds; ditto early retirement, to say nothing of just regular on-time retirement.  

And that very ability - the differences between the haves and have nots, economic inequality and wealth disparity - is at the heart of some of the trickiest political issues today, right?  Bernie and AOC versus the moderate Democratic middle, to say nothing of the vast Republican contingent, is very real.  Wealth disparity is real.  The excesses of unfettered capitalism are real.  The pandemic brought shined a light on that like nobody's business - or, like everyone's business.  The compromises we come to as a society will determine the trajectory of this country, whether it is worth continuing in and investing in.  

Sadly, the expat life has never had as much appeal as during the last four years.  That's basically what former-NF chose.  I haven't gone there.  I still have hope for here.

"A-Drift"

Drifting snows, drifting goals.

Punny post title, no?  Well, chuckleworthy to me, anyway.  Gotta find some humor in these times.

The snow came, just as forecasted.  The meteorologists were all patting themselves on the back with this one.  So there was some time to prepare in advance - the composter came in closer to the door; I pulled the sleds closer as well, but haven't had a chance to use them - needed to actually do the day job, couldn't go play hooky, though it seems like all of the rest of New York City did.

Storm day + 3.

Storm day + 1.

Storm day.

But therein lies the rub.  I didn't go out sledding, but I wasn't all that productive, either.  Out of balance everywhere.  Focus on professional tasks at hand has been elusive since the Project ended.  The current situation has outlasted its usefulness.  Project reminders come in every so often, offers of services no longer needed, and now the shelter shows I watch for fun to get me away from reality echo that reality - and they trigger the tears when I wasn't expecting them.  And maybe, maybe, the desire to put everything in the past is driving a push to steer in a different direction.

A halfhearted shot in the dark in a dufferent direction was launched, prematurely.  Feelers have been put out to friendly ears.  Unsolicited inquiries get more attention.  And on the personal front, the dating app is getting some play again, too - though that is likely shortlived; COVID times don't feel particularly conducive to dating.

So we're a little rudderless at the moment.  Come 2021, though, we'll have some direction, hopefully. 

December Bouquet

A very long year, and, surprisingly, a happily lengthy gardening year - a rare gift bestowed by 2020.

December's unexpected gift summer bouquet.

Flowers and stems cut and rescued this morning before the big snowstorm - hydrangea, geranium, rose, mint, chocolate mint, bundled together into a makeshift nosegay.  Why should the snow and winds claim my blooms?  They didn’t grow them or water them all year... And what a long year this has been; quirky that it was a long growing year too - whoever heard of flowers in December?  But, ok, if we have to take the bad, I get to harvest the good, too, right?  It’s only fair.

(Pre-bouquet shots were taken this past super-warm, 60 degree December Sunday - Jekyll to today’s frigid, 30 degree blizzardy December Wednesday.)

I suppose life itself tends to cycle in some good to balance out the sorrow.  It must.  Otherwise, we would all go and do desperate things instead of soldiering on.  (When I was 20, I had a heady debate with a boy I was crushing on about nihilism and this very concept, and came away with the logically weak, but for me necessary, belief in some sort of higher order order... discussion for another time.)

For me, in addition to this last bouquet, 2020 bestowed me job stability - in spite of a drastically changed schedule, at a firm that built a practice that can weather economic downturns.  So my finances are intact, better off proportionately, even, than in other years.  And another gift was this experiment with remote work - should serve well to open the door for more workplace flexibility.  And, finally, clarity - a swift kick in the pants to try to shape the second half of my working life more in my own image.

Just need to pull all of those together and act.

 

Light in the Darkness

Fairy lights - weapons to defeat the gloom of short near-Winter days.

Losing sunlight at 4:30 in the afternoon is a rough blow - this year more than other years.  That’s what led to the first forays into the festive flourishes - the deployment of the first string of fairy lights.  They worked; the twinkly lights helped my spirits immensely.  

So I spent a bit of time this past weekend setting out the other holiday decor items, and THAT has helped my mood immensely.  So, may I present: the little holiday vignettes - NYC apartment-sized.

Light to pierce the darkness.  Fun holiday tasks as a counterweight to the heaviness of the looming, incomplete work assignments. 

Balance to stave off the insanity that might otherwise pose a danger.  Seasonal affective disorder is real.  Grief and regret over life decisions is real too.  Not necessarily crushing ... when there exist ameliorating measures like fairy lights.