Holiday Madness, the Senior‑Living Edition

 

December has a talent for turning even the calmest communities into over caffeinated snow globes, and Jean’s independent‑living campus is no exception. Choirs, gingerbread house contests, field trips, deliveries, debates — all of it swirling at once while she keeps her footing and her sense of humor. This post offers a glimpse of what the holiday season looks like when a place schedules more festivities than the North Pole and Jean chooses to participate only in the ones that don’t require hauling decorations out of storage.   AI...

Where did December go? I can’t believe Christmas Eve is only one week away as you read this—ten days away as I write this. And it’s not just me that’s saying that. Here at my independent living facility, everyone is fretting about how little time they have left to get everything done. Me? Not so much. I don’t have kids and grandkids to buy and bake for, and I’m good at crossing things off the To-Do list. Writing my annual Christmas letter and sending out cards? I am switching to Happy New Year’s cards. Bringing up the holiday decorations from my storage unit? Didn’t happen this year. The only holiday decoration I have in my apartment is a tiny wreath made out of buttons, hanging around the neck of a Lladro cow. I bought a cheap kit to make the wreath at a dollar store because it was there, begging me to take it home. Once a crafter, always a crafter. 

Activities around here have been having fistfights over placement on our social calendar. It seems like every church and high school choir wanted to entertain us, and our Life Enrichment Director wanted to wear us out with her additions. Starting with the annual residents’ decorating party, a cocoa-and-cookies-by-the-fireplace event, a carols sing-along, the gingerbread house decorating contest, and field trips to places like a humongous mansion by Lake Michigan, a near-by, one mile light show, and musical productions and concerts downtown.

I didn’t take part in any of the above mentioned activities—except the gingerbread house contest—but just watching Maintenance decorate outside and the increased delivery trucks stopping directly in front of my ground-floor apartment windows has added to the hustle and bustle of the place. Our mailroom has been overflowing with boxes of every size and description. One woman even got two mattresses delivered! Other activities coming up include our Christmas buffet, a Christmas Eve daytime religious service, and a Christmas Eve party. And on Christmas Day there’s a white‑elephant exchange followed by various games in our bistro. We also have a New Year’s Eve Plated Dinner coming up, and the chef here always does a fabulous job with those plated dinner parties—very elegant with creative menus. The social committee has planned a party for New Year’s eve with a ball drop at 8:00. I can’t believe they do that so early! If I were on that committee I’d campaign for at least a 10:00 ball drop. 

In the evenings, I spent more than a week working on my gingerbread house entry. The winner hasn’t been announced yet, so I will write a post about the contest for next Wednesday. I sat out last year’s contest because I didn’t want to be seduced into eating all the leftover candy one accumulates while decorating a house. This year I felt the same way, so I decided to make a house out of birdseed. It was labor-intense because I bought a mixed bag of seeds and spent hours sorting them by color and shape with a pair of tweezers. The house turned out really well but the kitchen staff built a two story house to die for, I can't see me winning. And by the way, I stopped myself several times from eating some of the peanuts I used as siding. No extra pounds were put on because I’m part in the gingerbread house competition.

Mixed among all the fun and festive activities was our monthly Dialogues with the CEO—otherwise known as the Pitch‑and‑Bitch sessions. Talk about contentious—this one took the gold and before it was over I was so mad I was shaking. It seemed like 74 of the 75 people living here were bitching about the commercial snowplow service, but it was really only about 25 of them. The issue? We had a snowfall that the company didn’t plow. It came late in the morning and was barely an inch deep. Near the end of the meeting, I raised my hand and asked at what depth the snow has to be to trigger plowing, and what are the hours they’re not obligated to plow in if the snow comes late. The CEO didn't know. 

To make a long story short, after the meeting the CEO and I exchanged emails—one of mine a full page and single spaced addressing every snow related complaint brought up at the meeting including stupid stuff like a truck knocking down a couple of snow stakes. My husband was in the commercial snow‑removal business for 40 years, and I plowed for him for 17, so my letter offered a totally different point of view than the CEO was getting from residents. Our exchange ended with me being asked to be on the Grounds Committee tasked with conveying resident complaints to management and the outside contractors. I turned it down, telling him “I write letters where I can organize my thoughts. I don’t talk off the cuff at meetings.” That’s not the end of it, though. The committee is going to copy me on the minutes of their meetings “in case you can add some insight.” 

And also taking up time this December are doctor appointments. It started with a nurse practitioner to get yet another drug that might work for night time urination issues—two haven't so far—but I ended up with referrals to a pulmonary and sleep specialist, an ear‑nose‑and‑throat doctor, and a urogynecologist. But my adventures to find a healthier nightlife for 2026—like the gingerbread house—are fodder for another post or two. © 

Until next Wednesday.