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Posts Tagged ‘Hygge’

There was a time when the Taco, Cat, Goat, Cheese, Pizza card game was all I ever wanted to play with the Grands. They would always beat me because my reaction time isn’t quite up to par, and it was always hilarious. If you love a little person under the age of, say, 10, this would make a great gift. Thinking about Daddy Jim playing gin rummy with me almost every night after dinner as a child, It seems that teaching a child to play cards, or any game, is Darwinian. It’s a civilized way to impart certain adult skills – how to strategize, how to be patient, when to strike!

Well, get ready Democrats.

TACO: I can sense a seismic shift happening in our country. Unlike Hillary’s emails, the Epstein files have been chipping away at Mr T’s base. Remember way back in the Spring, when Wall Street started calling Mr T “TACO?” Short for, Trump. Always. Chickens. Out… That was more about his tariffs, but what about his life skills? Born clinging onto the proverbial silver spoon, his tycoon father built housing projects in Queens and Brooklyn. Pampered and privileged Mr T just had to make it BIG in Manhattan. And so he did, making deals, taking risks, and finally getting his name plastered on his jet.

CAT: This administration seems to be in a perpetual game of cat and mouse. The only problem is that the big cat, Mr T, lacks courage – he chickens out of going to war in his youth, then he promises his followers “No more foreign wars,” only to bomb Iran and little boats off Venezuela. He makes big promises, and never has to say he’s sorry when he doesn’t deliver, like on the economy. He is the cowardly lion, roaring and talking smack, threatening lawsuits willy nilly, but like any bully, Mr T backs down when confronted by unassailable odds. He can’t whip Republicans votes against opening the Epstein files, so he flips!

GOAT: Mr T loves to play the scapegoat. Oh no, he doesn’t take on any blame for his missteps, he is in the habit of blaming others for things that he has done! He directs his DOJ to investigate Democratic bigwigs who had relationships with Epstein, who flew on his jet, who visited his Manhattan townhouse on the Upper East Side. That place that had cameras in every room. Look over there at them, not at me. Oh, and the Bride mentioned that once an investigation is opened, those files could be sealed forever. I think MAGA will see through this ploy, don’t you?

CHEESE: There’s nothing like a good charcuterie board for the holidays? But having a president referred to as a “Flaming Hot Cheeto” because of his fake tan, orange make-up and comb-over, is just plain insulting. I happen to love cheese of every kind, hard, soft, runny, even blue. Visiting a farm in Italy where they were producing ricotta was my idea of heaven! So let’s stop calling Mr T the Cheeto-in-Chief. It is insulting.

PIZZA: Who remembers the child sex-trafficking conspiracy theory that led some guy with an AR 15 to a family-friendly pizza parlor, Comet Ping Pong in DC? And guess what, It all started back in 2016 with Mr T’s first run for office when a Democrat, John Podesta’s, emails were hacked by WikiLeaks. The resulting debunked “Pizzagate” was the precursor for QAnon and its radicalized right belief in a global pedophile ring. What goes around, comes around. Only this time we have a real criminal case, IRL with real victims, and Ghislane Maxwell still holed up in a Club Fed prison petting dogs.

If you’re looking for a card game for older kids and adults this holiday season, I recommend “The Hygge Game!” aka Cozy conversation for pleasant company – you get to ask the person next to you three questions, and before you know it, you’re hearing all about the Shark Tank project in 5th Grade! 

Had to include this picture of Poutine from Victoria, BC. It was divine!

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Yesterday, after listening to yet another sycophant rant about our Deflector-in-Chief, how “something” must have happened at Trump Tower if Mr T says it did, I turned off the TV and downloaded a book on my Ipad. It’s getting harder and harder to watch our democracy self-destruct from within, in 140 characters.

I was going for some peace and quiet with my morning coffee. I wanted to read about the Danes, and why they are considered the happiest people on the planet. Their winters are long and brutal, still they remain upbeat, they have a sense of “Hyggeness,” which loosely translated means cozy intimacy, well-being, or feeling tucked-in as if you haven’t a care in the world. Hygge is pronounced “HOO gah.” Now I know one can achieve this with a Zanax, but I’ve told you before I’m not a pill person.

So I opened my browser, went to Amazon Prime and bought “The Little Book of Hygge” by Meik Wiking – which was more expensive in its Ereader form than in hardcover? Then I opened my Kindle App and voila! I stopped the noise inside my head and started to read.

Instant hygge is possible. All you have to do is light a candle. Danes use twice as many candles as the rest of the world combined. So get a candle from a candle shop and light it. You may also want to switch on a lamp. Lamps can also make you feel hygge. Danes use twice as many lamps as the rest of the world combined. Make sure that if you do get a lamp, you don’t buy one from Ikea. Swedish lamps are a bit rubbish and won’t make you feel hygge.           https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/sep/11/the-little-book-of-hygge-by-meik-wiking-digested-read

That little bit was a satirical piece in the Guardian. But it is pretty funny to think of a group of Danes sitting at a table under a fluorescent lamp fidgeting like they are being burned alive. Not the actual torture part, but thinking about Danish designers and how they love diffused light. When you consider how long the winter nights are in Denmark, it makes sense. In the way that indigenous people of North America venerate snow, the Danes love fire. Wood burning fireplaces crackle and candles burn every night in just about every Danish home. And not the scented kind either.

Being surrounded with family and friends is also key to Hygge. Feeling like you are safe and at home. One night during the Rocker and Aunt KiKi’s wedding week in California, we were all gathered around a fire pit. My Sister-in-Law Jorja was there, and two of her oldest friends. And even though the fire pit was fueled with gas, so we didn’t have the smell or the music of wood burning, it was essential Hygge. Great Grandma Ada came out and started to sing. If only I had known the term at the time!

How could it have been more Hygge?

So I bought a candle and I’m determined to capture some of this Danish serenity for myself. And Bob has been pruning away around the yard; I might suggest a fire pit down by the Buddha garden. We have bluebirds flying all over the place these days, making nests and calling and dancing for mates on our deck. Luckily, nobody is knocking on any of our windows, like that cardinal a few years back. Obviously, pruning shrubs below the window ledge works for our territorial wildlife.

And speaking of migratory animals, I wish someone would point out to Mr T that flying away to his FL mansion every weekend and Tweeting away with his tiny fingers in the wee small hours is not very Presidential. Making paranoid, delusional remarks about his predecessor, ditto. He might benefit from some Hygge with the grandchildren, under a parasol, don’t you agree?       DAVECAITLY-231

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