How the Post-Christmas Sami Sabbatical Restored My Groove

Lots of professionals take sabbaticals from their professions so they can refresh and revive themselves and renew the passion they have for whatever it is that they're passionate about. With that in mind, last year I instituted the post-Christmas Sami Sabbatical from Seguin & Family. This year I declared I'd be leaving the day after Christmas, heading west. Alone.

My sort of sabbaticals are a little different. I don't write a book, or study a foreign language or conduct important research. The Post-Christmas Sami Sabbatical is meant to restore my soul, after it has been sucked out of me by the Christmas season and all that a successful season requires, as well as months of motherhood and all the j-o-b work I do. Christmas is wonderful, and joyous, and wipes me out for the year.

It all starts the minute Thanksgiving is over. The Christmas season ensues. All that good cheer, merriment and small talk is exhausting. And the gift buying. This year we made big changes. Wonderful Husband was given a list of three people to buy for, which he accomplished so well that his list may grow next year. And Daughter Number 1 (almost 13) was enlisted to be in charge of gift wrapping. It might have been a bit less skillful than I would have done, but if any giftee noticed they didn't dare comment. Delegation is a beautiful thing. I highly recommend it.

Back to my sabbatical. After three successive family Christmas gatherings, all of which were lovely and devoid of the power struggles, tacky comments and generally poor behavior we've seen in years past, I gassed up the car, loaded my painting supplies and hit the road. Deserting your family just after Christmas is actually a pretty good time to go because you can typically count on lingering family members to help with the kids (thanks Terri!) and the kids have a completely new supply of new toys to occupy them. This year I headed for West Texas, to Marathon. I painted the picture that I would be working diligently, painting the house that we are restoring there. I don't think anyone was fooled that I wouldn't be enjoying myself immensely.

I painted for three days straight. I went to bed late and woke up when my body was ready. I ate what I wanted at whatever time the hunger struck me. I did not make one peanut butter sandwich or wipe anyone's nose but my own. I read a new book. Without television, I listened to CDs of every kind. I watched four really good, thought-provoking movies. I looked at the mountains.

These mountains are what I see when I look out my kitchen and bathroom windows, or, if I'm sitting in the back yard with the chimenea to warm me. This photo was taken in the summer. It's not as green now, of course. Here's a quiz for you West Texas girls: Can you guess where I was when I took this photo out of the window of my car?

This is the view at sunset. That fabulous mountain is called Iron Mountain. Don't ask me why mountains put me back on track. I liken it to cordless phones you have laying around the house. Sometimes they stop working right until you go set them back in their base. In their base, they reset their connections and start working fine again. That's how it is with me. From time to time I have to reconnect myself to my base and get back on my painted groove so I can be a good wife, good mommy, creative person.

OK, one more picture. Here's the view out my east window in the morning. This is what I see when I'm sitting on the sofa drinking coffee:

Of course if I'm on sabbatical and my kids aren't with me, I don't see sunrises. That's how you can tell this photo was taken on a kids-included trip. The whole family scrunches up on the same sofa for warmth. Good thing it's a really big sofa. (Thanks, Cynthia!)

The house is mostly painted and my soul and my groove are restored. Now, I can't wait for 2008!!

Praying to catch a Christmas groove

Does the Christmas season suck the life out of anyone else but me?

Yesterday, as I dressed wine bottles in raffia and tulle (yes, I have declared they do go together), I wished aloud for the Christmas spirit. The husband agreed and wished he would "catch" it too. Here's a look at the bottles I was "dressing."

We called them Real Estate Survival Kits, since the husband operates a mortgage company & most of the gift receivers are our favorite realtors. Accompanying each bottle of wine is a box of crackers, cheese and some chocolate. Isn't that a well-rounded meal for anyone in this crazy business? The best part is I can't take credit for the idea. The husband thought it up all by himself. I just helped with the packaging.

Getting back to my whine: I love Christmas, or let's say I have always loved Christmas in the past. For the past few years, I haven't been myself and the Christmas season just plain wears me out. In the old days, I wrapped presents with amazing amounts of creativity. I've even painted my own wrapping paper for heaven's sake. Custom-made name tags are not out of the question. I'm just not into those pre-printed To: and From: tags you tape on the side of the box. This year, I haven't wrapped a single present. In fact, there is not one present under my less-than-stunning tree. That my tree could be less than stunning is distressing because usually it is stunning. Last year I declared it would be "vintage-only" after I stumbled upon a very charitable but clueless estate sale operator in Odessa of all places, who asked me to haul off "all that Christmas junk."

This year I just ran out of steam and decided not to sweat the small stuff, letting my three-year-old daughters help me with placement of any and every ornament in the box. Let's just say there's a community of little snowmen, all together, in one place on the side of the tree where the girls could reach if they stood on the arm of the big leather chair. It's a wonder no one was seriously injured. Let me also say that on that day, I really, really disciplined myself and had to fight off having a glass of wine beginning at 11 a.m. I finally gave in to the pressure at 5 p.m. but was quite proud of myself making it that long. The husband was deer hunting, if that tells you anything. Texas translation means I was alone with the kids all weekend.

Here's a peak at the vintage wreath I picked up in one of my favorite re-sale shops for $12. It's about 4 feet wide and as tall. We decided it was a great place to tuck all our Christmas cards at the husband's office. Actually this wreath does make me Christmas-happy.

Today we're going out to play Santa and deliver all the pretty wine bottles to the friends we work with all year. Hopefully the "giving" part of Christmas will put me in the mood and lift me from this overwhelmed funk.

The P Words

Painting presents such a lesson in patience. I get these awesome gifted visions, and then I am forced to wait for one coat to dry before I can apply the next color or an additional technique. Like the table I wanted to get finished for the husband's big meeting tomorrow. It's not going to make it, so I'm blogging between coats. It's just maddening.

All the therapy I've needed but not enjoyed has enlightened me enough to know why I'm obsessed with transformation, renewal and creating silk purses from sow's ears, but I'm not sure why patience is such a never-ending theme for my life. It's annoying, to say the least.

For example, I probably painted what started as these ho-hum little tables over the course of the last month. It's not like I was procrastinating. I worked them in between two other jobs, painting a coat here and another coat there. Paint has to dry, and if the humidity's not right, I either have to wait or move them out of my sanctuarious garage/studio and into the house where there's air conditioning and/or heat. Here in Texas we use both in the same day. I'm telling you, while I was painting these tables, I experienced way too much humidity and other days when it was too cold to paint.

Poor little thing. It was a rather boring table with some potential. Today after much time and attention, my little tables got delivered to their newly transformed home. I was a little disappointed that we couldn't "install" the room and rearrange the furniture. I'll take another picture when the room is "done." For now here's a few pictures meant to explain the color choices. I love fun, colorful people. In this case, I've never met them, but I'm sure I'll love them when and if I do.

OK, I'm in love with these carpet tiles from Flor, which you can find at http://www.flor.com. The possibilities are endless. In this case, this space designed for some very fortunate grandkids at pool level, just above the lake, so the fact that it's indoor/outdoor is a major plus.

I had to use some black to "ground" all this color.

Even this table didn't look "finished" until I added the black dots. Black is such a meaningful color. It is so not blah. The green looks a bit "minty" in this photo, but it's Sherwin Williams Parakeet and it is not minty.

Let me end by saying clients who love color, and interior designers who hire me who are fun and who like color make life so much more fun to live. I'll leave you with one of my favorite sayings from back in the 80s: "Don't Be Scared."

In this case don't be scared to use color.