Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Empty thoughts and vacant stares...

Lovely evening with Norman Rockwell at the Frist Arts Center ending with salads and wine and rich long ago Christmas music.  The quartet of violin, mandolin, accordion, and guitar filled the room with Christmas cheer.  Our night was lit with that warm inner glow radiating around us as we slowly made our way back to our car and the comforts of home.

Open curtains to dining room sliding doors, and imagine...to our surprise...a gray kitty cat is feasting on the plump stack of sunflower hearts left on the deck railing for the winter bird visitors.  Bad kitty!


Anxious evening of sideways rain and rolling thunder fizzles the Christmas lights marathon, of zig zagging all over hill and dale viewing contest winners, right out of existence...bah humbuggers.

We're the only ones to show up for the first tour of the morning at the Fontanel Mansion, the largest log house in the world, courtesy of Barbara Mandrell.  Our own one-on-one tour with a lovely lady who has a band of her own, made it all extra special.  Morning tied up nicely in a pretty velvet bow with omelet breakfasts that were delicious.

Downtown afternoon play of A
Christmas Story was a nice ending to
our holiday excursion.  I love audience participation - we got to yell out "you'll shoot your eye out" way too many times, and bark and howl up a storm whenever the dogs were supposed to be heard in the background. 

22nd Evening
Empty thoughts and vacant stares...this story...like invisible ink refusing to obey the rules of magically appearing when summoned by this inept sorcerer. Sweet dreams and misty mornings hid in yesterdays as I look out my window at the yard whipping about in the brisk wind. Beyond that glass is dark and dreary, as the clouds hover abundantly just above the ground; but that feel of cold and empty is just an illusion...much like this tale.

It's only long sleeve flannel shirt weather today.  The dog is snuggled by my feet, my lap cradles a calico cat, and the fragrance of cream laced steaming hot coffee warms my heart all aglow.  I would have to say my favorite thing...my most, in all of this world, favorite thing is sharing.

It all falls into place so cozily when I put thoughts of myself aside for a bit and just take in that which revolves around me...my private world that is the sum of all that I am.  It's filled with love...shared love.  Having not always picked badly, my space is crammed with enough favorite things to kindle and keep alive that soft fuzzy feeling of knowing I'm where I belong.  Can anyone ask for more than that?

Christmas dinner shopping; Andee's every three-week trip to the vet, cause his real vet date is Christmas day; and then to the chiropractor to thump back into place everything that popped out of place on that 5000 up and down stair traveling at the Fontanel Mansion tour the day before.

Draped neck over neck roll to relax that mass of knotty muscles, but my body kept chanting more rest more rest more rest!  Gave in and woke up at 2:30 this morn.

Not sleepy anymore, up since 2:3o am, should be good to go until about time for Christmas Eve at the Melting Pot Fondue Place.  A production of Ginger Pear Upside-Down Cake is in the making, so I'll be occupied until further notice.  Christmas day is simple...filet steaks, yukon gold roasted potatoes, and mixed greens salad with toasted almonds, celery, and bosc pears laced with honey sour cream dressing...m-m-mmmmm.

Nine Christmas cards taped to the hall entry way this time around.  Families sent none...the little buggers.  It's about 9 am with the temp 26 degrees and slowly rising to a heatwave of 36 today, but no snow, NO SNOW, no snow in the forecast.  Poowey.


Saturday, December 14, 2013

So...this is Christmas!

Romancing nostalgic thoughts of Christmas past is at an end this year. I have none.  Totally in Christmas present this 13th of December, I'm addicted to the hope of a little miracle this month as I fly by the seat of my pants, so to speak, watching over an old feline friend as a new year is ushered in.  I want him to be a part of the beginning of 2014.  I'm full of optimism. Wish him well. 

Andee, Zoe, Lacey, and Dustin…can’t imagine life without these felines and canine.  I’m on that list, you know…that list of suckers with sappy hearts who never can bring themselves to turn up their noses and just say NO!  I’m glad these four found us.  We sometimes like to fool ourselves into believing they aren't that smart, but when was the last time you had a cook, maid, and nanny at your beck and call?  We should have it so good. 

Gift giving happens when we want stuff for ourselves that makes sense.  That’s done whenever the mood is right, which hardly ever coincides with the birth of Christ celebration.  The Fluff Balls are the exception, cause…well…cause I like wrapping stuff up in glittery paper and ribbons and bows.  The season of holly and ivy is when the little pitter patter of footsies with claws rushes to the fireplace without care to rip open the goodies Santa has stuffed lovingly into their stockings.

These last few days have been long and late searching high and low for just the right things for Mom, cause she’s my Mom; she gets something no matter if everyone else is left off the list for this year.  The emptiness of no presents is not for her.  It’s one of her love languages…receiving gifts.  Her birthday follows just four days after Christmas…a double 
whammy!  My present to me is that I still have her.

Vic’s still waiting visa approval to Baghdad; could fly out at any moment.  I doubt he’ll still be here come Christmas Eve, but I always hope.  This season is magic for my soul…can’t explain it.  Adore the overabundance of decorations and twinkling lights, music that’s a bit more traditional, and loads of cards in the mail...the more, the merrier!  A bit of insanity with the Grand-kids, Mom, and the Fluff Balls gifts, but I’m settling down to a warm cup of hot chocolate surrounded with glitter and glitz and some lovely quiet.

Ah…the sound of rustling in the dining room reminds us that Lacey is the true reason Christmas is celebrated these days in this house, as she bats her stolen treasure from the hanging wreath back and forth across that cold tile floor.  She's a little tyke with eyes all a glow at the abundance of playthings we've strung and hung around the rooms for her playtime pleasure.  And play she does…LACEY!


To anyone out there who totally wipes out the existence of the holiday on December 26…BAH HUMBUG!  Our festive household doesn't wrap up the memory of Christmas until March with no apologies.  With twelve days to go, our hearts are filled with thanks to all who are in our lives, whether nice or a little bit naughty.  We love you.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

You know that feeling...

...when you're sliding down a mountainside with the rush of loose dirt, pebbles, and debris underfoot to the valley floor below?  It's exhilaratingly horrifying!  There's a small degree of control if you manage to stay upright (forget plopping on your butt and plummeting by the seat of your pants all the way to the bottom...you'll regret it), and if your hands succeed in finding anchored grab-it-fast stuff on the way down to impede that awesome flying like a speeding projectile to the target below type of apocalyptic sensation.

We took those ridiculous shortcuts when a mountain ridge would end brusquely with a drop-off straight down to purgatory, or mutate into a never-ending crest that seemed to fizzle out somewhere near China.  AND...I have slid by the seat of my pants on an occasion or two, but one's butt cheeks are notoriously inadequate in the navigating department and hoping to frantically wedge a heel into an obliging rock crevice is like threading an anchor chain through the eye of a needle.  BUT...I actually did that once gliding down the rock face of a waterfall and was (surprise!) successful.  I never looked at my feet the same way again.

Life sometimes messes with us, and some shades of me are now stuck in concrete, shades of me that I should chisel back out of that hardened block of cement.  I keep putting it off.  I seem to be knee deep in mud wallowing slap happy hog heaven apathy lately.  It happens when the responsibility load is fifty tons overweight and the perks program was outsourced to India.  When what I want and what I get aren't even in the same hemisphere.  I don't even consider the possibility of shortcuts these days.  My brain just wants to turn off the light switch and take a long winter nap.  What's happened to me?

This week most nights are in the 20's, most days are in the 40's.  Winter has already pushed out autumn with a vengeance.  Last weekend was so chillingly icy

that I just vegetated indoors with the thermostat turned up two notches above normal.  Gardens are bare boned and flooded in fallen leaves, with the bags of top soil and wood mulch lined up in sloppy stacks still patiently waiting.  Buggers!  They'll be waiting through December, January, and February.  The raised veggie beds were a semi-disaster or a semi-success. Take your pick.

The Italian curly parley is in bags in the freezer, last of the baby carrots were cooked with ginger and honey for Sunday dinner, the rest were ripped out by their roots and tossed.  The peach blossomed bean harvest is a decoration in glass now.  It is a display of humbleness to remind me that I don't always know everything there is to know about gardens.  I would say it equals one meal on the table, he-he.

Thanksgiving will be a relish tray of radishes, non-pickled green olives, cheese stuffed celery sticks, and deviled eggs with bacon bits, caramelized onions, seasoned salt, black pepper, and sour cream; veal marsala; roman style peas with caramelized onions, bacon pieces and white wine; and spatzle tossed with melted butter, salt and pepper.  Warm pumpkin pie for dessert with mountains of real whipped cream.  What more can I say...pure comfort food for me. Husband... well, husband's piece de resistance is anything cooked from scratch I put before him ;)

Life's running a bit late and so is this post...whatever will be, will be.  Windows 7 is a bit more involved than Vista ever was and I'm in last minute learning mode.  For those of you all who know me through my posts, I'm ever so thankful you're in my world and love you all to pieces.

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