Anchors Aweigh

Since I'm watching Navy play Missouri, Dad tuned in too. He informed me that neither team was playing that well. "But they play Anchors Aweigh every time Navy does something good," I said. He just shook his head. He and I obviously do not share similar sensibilities when it comes to watching sports. It's a good thing we have more than 1 tv.

Success at last

The holiday season is almost over and I finally got my greenery arranged to suit me. My first arrangement was horrible; too big, too disorganized, too everything. It was going to be too much trouble to take it apart, so I left it alone. We had a few windy days and the wind started to take it apart for me. Yesterday I pulled everything out and started over.

This time instead of trying to stick the greenery down into a bucket of gravel, I grabbed a hanging basket left over from this summer and put the basket down into the bucket. Then I could stick the greenery down into the dirt left in the basket. Much easier than trying to work it into the gravel. Plus the smaller basket limited the size I had to work with so my arrangement ended up more to scale. I'm really pleased with the finished product.


Since I hate to waste anything, I took the leftover cedar and holly from the first arrangement and worked them into an old grapevine wreath which I then hung on the porch. I think it looks nice. I love how delicate the cedar looks.


The holly might have been better used in a wreath by itself, but I almost drew blood taking it out of my first arrangement and sticking it into this wreath, I'm not about to take it out and try to put it somewhere else.

Dad agreed that my new arrangements were far superior to "what you euphemistically refer to as an arrangement", one of his cute comments on my first effort, but then added that since the holiday is almost over, it'd be time to take them down soon. Think again. I'm leaving them up until the greenery dies. That's why I didn't put any kind of a bow on the wreath.

I'd like to point out that when summer ended, Dad wanted to throw away my leftover hanging baskets and my two old grapevine wreaths. I had to rescue the baskets from the trashcan. After warning him to start asking me before he threw away my stuff, he did let me know he had taken the grapevine wreaths down and was going to throw them away. The wreaths had been hanging on the shed doors. The silk sunflowers were ready for the trashcan, but the grapevine wreaths were still fine. Sometimes I just don't know where he gets his ideas from. I believe in reusing things.

I'm also going to put in a plug for Liquid Nails. Since I used it to glue the nuts and screws in place on my animated deer, they've been working just fine. Even Dad now admits that Liquid Nails seems to have done the trick. When I initially suggested it, he assured me that it would be a waste of time. Father doesn't always know best.

Be careful what you wish for

Dad's upset because there are apparently 7 games he wants to see today and they all come on at 6 or
7 pm tonight. He's been complaining that games were starting too late, 9 pm is past his bedtime. I pointed out that obviously his complaints had been heard, all of these games are starting at his preferred start time. "But why can't some of them come on this afternoon?" he asked in disgust. "I guess you weren't specific enough when you were complaining," I informed him.

That was meant facetiously as the only ones likely to have heard his complaints were me and God and if either of us were responsible for tv schedules, the programming would be very different. "You should just be grateful that you can get 7 games," I pointed out. He left the room shaking his head and complaining to Dillon about getting no sympathy.

I only plan to watch 2 games today. Navy plays football at 3 pm, gotta support our troops y'know and all those midshipman are so cute, and the Hurricanes play hockey tonight. Otherwise I'll be busy cooking black eyed peas and collards for tomorrow. Nothing interrupts my viewing of the Tournament of Roses Parade, so meal preparations need to be performed in advance. I had to go to 2 grocery stores yesterday because Lowes was completely sold out of dried black eyed peas. I may try my hand at Grandmother's coconut orange icing too. I bought oranges yesterday, so we'll see what I can do.

Dad's probably not going to like what's on the menu for today. I have a recipe for apple sausage quiche that sounds interesting. He likes all the ingredients, but I'm not sure how he's going to feel about combining them in 1 dish. Can't wait to see the expression on his face. There is some country style steak left over from Monday, so he won't starve.

Planning ahead

I took a few hours to hit the after Christmas sales yesterday. There’s stuff left, but not much that really tempted me. I did get some holiday cards and stationary. I stress the word “holiday” because I wanted cards that weren’t red and green and in your face Christmas themed. Before you report me to Bill O’Reilly, I have not declared a war on Christmas. I love Christmas cards with pictures of Christmas trees and Rudolph and elves and Santa Claus. The problem is that those cards don’t fit my timetable.

I never seem to get my Christmas cards done in time. I wait until inspiration strikes and I have a theme for my Christmas letter. That seems to take longer each year. So by the time I write my letter, address the cards, and get them mailed, it’s practically New Year’s. That’s why Dad and I don’t send joint cards despite living in the same house. He sits down and diligently applies himself for several days after Thanksgiving. If he’d waited for me, I didn’t get my letter written until 2 days before Christmas, he’d have lost whatever Christmas spirit he had left after writing notes in all those cards.

What I really wanted to find were boxed New Year’s cards. Then I could mail late but still look on time. I didn’t find New Year’s cards, a lamentable oversight on the part of Hallmark, but I did find winter themed holiday cards that will work very nicely. They feature snowflakes and snowmen and colors of white and pale turquoise. They won’t look dated if they arrive after Christmas.

The stationary is really neat. It’s actually a set that includes printed stationary, a coordinating printed envelope, and a bonus decorative element. I can just send the Christmas letter without having to put it in a card. In theory, I’m now set for the next 4 years since I bought 2 sets of stationary and 2 sets of cards. Except that since the stationary is a set, I still need pretty stationary for the Christmas cards. What I saw yesterday was cute, but had annoying shapes that intruded into the body of the page, way too much trouble to try and compose a letter around. I’ll have to keep looking.

Now the challenge will be to store my cards and stationary somewhere convenient so I can find them next year. On the organization front, I did buy big plastic storage containers yesterday to try and transfer my Christmas decorations from bags stored in the attic to plastic bins stored in the garage. My decorations stay up until Old Christmas not just because I enjoy looking at them, but because I dread the task of taking them down. I really need elves.

Simply lovely

Doesn't this picture make you want to grab your scissors and start making your own snowflake curtains? Actually, it makes me yearn for a room full of elementary school students in need of an art project. Okay, so I'm in favor of child labor. Is there anything wrong with having kids use their time productively? This lovely picture is the creation of a blogger at Bugs and Fishes where you can find more pictures and instructions.

I need a 13 year old

My computer has been making a strange noise for a couple of weeks now. I think it's a fan bearing going bad. Sometimes it's fine, but other times it makes a horrible noise when it starts up and then sounds like it doesn't want to keep turning. I keep hoping if I ignore it, it'll get better on its own. Yeah, right, fat chance. It's probably a relatively simple matter to open the case, find out which fan it is, order a replacement and install the new fan. Except I'm leery of even opening the case. Not to mention that since it's sitting in a cabinet, just taking all the cables loose and pulling it out to open it up is going to be a major production. Solving technological glitches likes this, raking leaves, and shoveling snow are the only times I regret not having children.

We're both happy

I was doing a search on the internet yesterday trying to find a picture of the Mickey Mouse cookie jar Dad gave me for Christmas. Turns out the cookie jar is a retired piece and worth at a minimum twice what Dad paid for it. He got it for a steal at a local market that sells handmade crafts and collectibles and flea market type things. He'd never seen another one like it. In fact I found places selling it for 5 times what he paid for it, even though most of those were not in mint condition. Of course in one instance, it came with the box which Dad claims is sometimes worth more to a collector than the actual object.

I knew Dad would be pleased that he'd gotten a bargain, he left the receipt inside the cookie jar, so I shared the good news with him. Turns out he'd tried to haggle with the dealer to get him to come down on the price, but the dealer stood firm. It doesn't matter what the asking price is, Dad always tries to bargain it down as a matter of principle. Dad looked pleased and then a speculative gleam appeared in his eyes. "We're not selling my cookie jar," I said sternly. And I'm not putting it away somewhere where I'll never see it either. It's not really valuable as an investment, just worth more than he paid for it. It's sitting on the counter atop the pass through between the kitchen and the den. That way I can appreciate it from all sides. Mickey looks very cheerful there.

I told Dad if he ever saw Donald Duck for a bargain price he should snap that up as well. Apparently Donald is rarer than Mickey. And don't even start wishing for Eeyore, he was out of sight. When I told Dad that, he informed me that he didn't even know what Eeyore was. I was trying to describe Eeyore when I suddenly looked down and realized I was wearing my Disney fleece shirt with a gigantic Eeyore on the front, complete with his name spelled out in big letters. I pointed at my chest, "This is Eeyore." Dad's not terribly observant if an item isn't a collectible.

Well, so that is that

W. H. Auden

Well, so that is that. Now we must dismantle the tree,
Putting the decorations back into their cardboard boxes-
Some have got broken-and carrying them up to the attic.
The holly and the mistletoe must be taken down and burnt,
And the children got ready for school. There are enough
Left-overs to do, warmed up, for the rest of the week-
Not that we have much appetite, having drunk such a lot.
Stayed up so late, attempted-quite unsuccessfully-
To love all our relatives, and in general
Grossly overestimated our powers. Once again
As in previous years we have seen the actual Vision and failed
To do more than entertain it as an agreeable
Possibility, once again we have sent Him away
Begging though to remain His disobedient servant,
The promising child who cannot keep His word for long.

Dad wore his "All I got for Christmas was this stupid hat" cap to breakfast this morning. He dons it every year after Christmas regardless of what Santa actually brought him. Mom and I bought him the hat at an after Christmas sale one year. Obviously a miscalculation on our part. This year he paired it with a pair of red suspenders imprinted with pictures of Santa Claus. Somehow the look works for him.

Edith, who sits at the table behind ours, and I decided we're waiting for Old Christmas to take down our decorations. That would be January 6th. I noticed that the Hallmark channel is going to keep showing Christmas movies all this week. Now that the rush to get everything done before Christmas is over people can actually enjoy them. I broke down and ordered a copy of Ring Christmas Bells on DVD. I enjoyed Brian Stokes Mitchell's and Edward Herrmann's performances so much that I want to be able to enjoy them again during Christmas seasons to come.

Yesterday I got to watch two Carolina teams lose, the Tar Heel football team and the Hurricanes. I guess it's a good thing the Tar Heel basketball team wasn't playing as well or we could have gone for the trifecta.

Food, Music, Presents, and Decorations. It's Christmas!

Dad broke down and went to Lowe’s yesterday to buy me some screws and nuts for my deer. He also picked up a package of Liquid Nails. I could have used an elf to help me work on the deer because it required tiny fingers maneuvering in limited space. I lost count of how many times I dropped one of the nuts, but I finally got everything secured. They worked last night and were still working earlier today. One of the neighbors told me that applying Liquid Nails to the screws should do the trick unless I wanted to take the deer apart in the future. I don’t ever plan to take them apart. Putting them together once was more than enough. I just want them to stay together and keep working.

Santa Claus was very good to me this year. He went with a Mickey Mouse theme. I got a wonderful BIG Mickey Mouse ceramic cookie jar, 2 Mickey Christmas figurines, a Mickey Mouse commemorative tankard, and a lovely china Mickey in a sleigh.

Christmas dinner was delicious, but not without its mishaps. For starters, it was an hour late. I slept a little over this morning and then I had to make cheese and biscuits because that’s what we always have for breakfast on Christmas. Food plays such an important part in the holidays, doesn’t it? Then we opened presents. Then since it hadn’t yet started raining, Dillon and I had to get our walk in. We ran into one of our trail buddy’s with her golden, Maggie. So, I was late getting the turkey in the oven.

Dad loves sweet potato praline casserole. I make it for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter, so this is not the first time I’ve used the recipe. When I mixed up the praline topping, I thought it seemed awfully light and grainy. I didn’t remember it being that way. After I sprinkled it all over the top of the mashed sweet potatoes, I took a second look at the recipe and realized I’d forgotten to mix in the butter. Duh, no wonder it wasn’t moist and crumbly. I couldn’t just tilt the dish and pour the flour, sugar, and pecan topping off. I got a spoon and scraped it off, trying to get just the topping, but winding up with some sweet potato too. Then I tried to mix the butter into that. It came out like syrupy ice cream topping, but I put it on top of the casserole anyway.

The more I looked at it, the more I thought that wasn’t going to work. Dad particularly likes the crunchy topping. This didn’t look like it was going to get crunchy. I scooped all of the syrupy topping off and started making the topping over from scratch. It turned out fine the THIRD time, but needless to say I hadn’t managed to scoop off all of the sugary topping from the previous attempts, so it was a really sweet casserole. Since I didn’t fix dessert, and I used Splenda, I guess that’s not such a terrible thing.

The dressing was excellent. At Thanksgiving, I was too timid with the celery seed. This time I bought a new bottle so it would be nice and fresh and shook and shook and shook. Then I shook some more for good measure. It came out just like Mom’s. Dad told me twice what an excellent meal it was. I told him it was a good thing that he enjoyed it because just like Thanksgiving, we’re going to be eating it several more times.

After working my way through the mountain of dishes, I swear between the dressing and trying to get the praline topping right I used almost every mixing bowl I own, I settled down to watch the Christmas specials on PBS. I watched the Mormon Tabernacle Choir last night, but was happy to see it again. Brian Stokes Mitchell did the most entertaining version of The Friendly Beasts. He sang the animals’ parts to actually sound like each animal. The Raleigh Ringers hand bell concert was great too.

Food and music are the best parts of the holiday.

Go Tell It On the Mountain

I'm posting 2 renditions of Go Tell It On The Mountain. Dad is a Mahalia Jackson fan. Mom liked her music to move and Mahalia sang much too slowly for her taste. I told Dad this morning that if Mahalia Jackson sang When the Saints Go Marching In, the saints would be at parade rest if they were trying to match her tempo. Mom and I preferred the Jim Nabors' version of the song. Anne Murray does a terrific version too.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

It's amazing what beautiful music some people can produce on such seemingly simple instruments.


I swear it looks like he just grabbed a couple of pieces of his socket set out of the tool chest and started playing. Can you imagine the dexterity involved? Not to mention the work of getting all those strands of wire perfectly tuned.

The children were tucked up all snug in their beds

My most vivid memory of Christmas Eve and waiting for Santa is lying in my bed staring at a blown up snowman balloon, that had cardboard feet for a base so it would stay upright, sitting on my desk illuminated by the electric candle in the bedroom window. I can still remember how excited I was. I wanted so badly to go to sleep so Santa would come. I was afraid if I didn't, he'd keep on going and not stop. But I was too excited to sleep or even close my eyes. I can still see my room and that snowman balloon to this very day. And every Christmas Eve, I wish that I could recapture that feeling of anticipation and excitement and wonder.

Obviously Santa did deliver. I still have that doll and we played with that truck for years.

A Christmas Service

This poem by Rudyard Kipling is said to record a Christmas incident of the year 687.

Eddie, priest of St. Wilfrid,
In his chapel at Manhood's End,
Ordered a midnight service
For such as cared to attend.
But the Saxons were keeping Christmas,
And the night was stormy as well.
Nobody came to service
Though Eddie rang the bell.
"Wicked weather for walking,"
Said Eddie of Manhood's End.
"But I must go on with the service
For such as care to attend."
The altar lamps were lighted,
An old marsh-donkey came
Bold as a guest invited,
And stared at the glilttering flame.
The storm beat in at the windows,
The water splashed on the floor,
And a wet, yoke-weary bullock
Pushed in through the open door.
"How do I know what is greatest?
How do I know what is least?
That is my father's business,"
Said Eddie, Wilfrid's priest.
"But three are gathered together,
Listen to me and attend,
I bring good news, my brethren,"
Said Eddie of Manhood's End.
Then he told the ox of a Manger
And a stall in Bethlehem.
And he spoke to the ass of a Rider
That rode to Jerusalem.
They steamed and dripped in the chancel,
They listened and never stirred.
While, just as though they were Bishops,
Eddie preached them the word.
'Till the gale blew off the marshes,
And the windows showed the day,
And the ox and the ass together
Wheeled and clattered away.
And when the Saxons mocked him,
Said Eddie of Manhood's End,
"I dare not shut his chapel
On such as care to attend."

Christmas greens

"Christmas is not all color and music, bells and candles, and gifts. It's not all tradition and memories and the delight of introducing very young people to something glittering and lovely and new to them. It is also a moment of quiet meditation, of remembering in a very personal way those who will not stand again at the door, laughing, or sit with us at the table."

by Faith Baldwin

I spent this afternoon making Christmas baskets for the cemetery. According to my mother, her father told the family that if they couldn't put live flowers on his grave not to bother to put anything there at all. So every Christmas, Mom made up a basket of greenery to take to the cemetery. She did cheat a bit and stick in artificial poinsettias for color.

Mom was good at making floral arrangements. Me, I just keep stuffing things in there until it looks full. There is no rhyme or reason and a true decorator would probably also argue that there's little artistry involved, but I try. The challenge is that the number of baskets I need to make keeps increasing every year as more family members join the crowd now in heaven.

This year I made six. Each one looked different because I went around the yard clipping cedar, pine, holly, acuba, lots of magnolia, and nandina. Every basket wound up with a different combination. Dad's job is to deliver them to the cemetery. I told him it made no difference to me which basket went where. None looked any better or worse than another.

Then I went to work making the arrangement for the table on the back porch. I did that for the first time last year and enjoyed looking at it until well into January. I filled a simple metal bucket with gravel and started shoving in all of the greenery mentioned above. Dad claimed that every time he looked out the den window, the arrangement had gotten bigger.

It is big. I finally just forced myself to stop. I really need to prune one or two of the magnolia branches. I tried pulling one out, but that started to cause the whole arrangement to fall apart, so I think pruning shears are going to be needed. Or I could just leave it like it is. Those Japanese floral arrangers who make such spare and simple designs would have a heart attack if they saw my explosion of greenery. Dad says it's a wonder there's anything left in the yard. My design philosophy definitely leans towards abundance. Now if I could just figure out a way to put some lights on it.

Christmas gifts

The Gift

The day my mother dropped a net
of oranges on the kitchen table
and the net broke and oranges
rolled and we snatched them,
my brother and I,
peeled back the skin and bit deep
to make the juice explode with our laughter,
and my father spun one orange in his palm
and said quietly, "This was Christmas, 1938,"
said it without bitterness or anger,
just observing his life
from far away, this tiny world
cupped in one palm,
I learned I had no way
to comprehend an orange.

Sean Lause
Beloit Poetry Journal
Winter 2008/9

I don't ever remember not getting what I asked for. Every Christmas was wonderful. My sister and I would go page by page through the Sears Wish book making our lists. I do remember Mom telling us our list was supposed to be things we wanted, not everything we saw.

Dad still has a truck that he got for Christmas one year when he was a boy. He and his younger brother each got one. "That was a big Christmas," he told me quietly.

Who got screwed?

Some parents drive halfway across the country into a blizzard to pick up their kid. My father won’t even drive to Lowes to get me some screws. The lighted deer lawn ornaments that I got on sale at Kmart currently aren’t working. The screws that attach the motors keep falling out. Then the motor arm gets stuck and unless I unplug them, the motors are going to burn out. So they’ve been dark for the past few nights. I either need to find a way to keep the motors secure or disconnect the motors so the deer are stationary and only the lights burn.

I’ve already put the original screws back in once in each deer and obviously that’s not the solution. I asked Dad if Gorilla Glue or Liquid Nails would work and he said no. He suggested better screws with washers as well as nuts. Then he added that I’d probably have a hard time finding that size screw. They’re very small. Instead of offering to go to Lowes and look for some, he sat there and gave me detailed instructions about what to buy and where I might find them.

What part of the division of labor has he forgotten? I cook, clean, do laundry, solve most technology related problems, and mow the grass in the summer. He’s responsible for manly maintenance projects like buying screws for my deer. It’s not like there was a game on tv that he’d be missing. All he was doing was sitting in his chair reading the paper. Yet, I still baked him a coconut pie this afternoon. Who says I have no Christmas spirit? Even though I’ll be looking out into a dark back yard again tonight!

Christmas cards

After a morning's labor,
there they lie, drying,
nine Christmas cards.
One, minimalist,
bears three small stars
on a field of white.
Upon another a crowded crush
of rubber-stamped reindeer race
redly over Santa.
Should I risk dabbing a tissue
on my son's exercise in excess
perpetrated in purple glitter glue?
No, let it stand,
just as his words, dictated,
stand inside the card:
"A Dear Card to Grandpa,
Things are going well at our house,"
above a line of penciled kisses.

-- Mary Soon Lee

I love getting cards. Silly cards, pretty cards, sappy cards, photo cards, I love them all. My favorite Christmas card this year came yesterday. It’s a simple Christmas tree drawn in crayon on yellow construction paper that’s been folded into quarters to fit into the envelope. Inside is a perfectly spelled message printed in crayon, thanking me for his Christmas gift and wishing me a Merry Christmas. It’s from Angelo, my Reading Buddy.

He only wanted 2 things for Christmas, a new bike and a video game. Neither was practical to take to school. Usually I just give my Reading Buddies a token gift, a Christmas candy bar or a plastic snow globe. Angelo is a sweet kid who tries really hard in our weekly sessions, so I got him a Christmas card with a place to enclose some money.

When I handed him the card and the chocolate bars he thanked me very politely for both. He didn’t want to open the card right then, so I told him to be careful and keep up with it because I’d put something inside for him. This was on Thursday. The card came in yesterday’s mail. He’s very prompt! I’m sure he had to ask the teacher for my full name and address. I’ve never met his mother, but she’s raising a great kid. He’s still very quiet, not a chatterbox like my other Reading Buddies have been, but he does open up a little now and then.

Scroogenomics, a book written by an economist, estimates that we waste $13 billion dollars a year on unwanted gifts. The author suggests you either take the time to find out what the person really wants or give money. I like surprises, so I'm not crazy about that advice. I only applied his theory because of logistical issues. Whatever Angelo does with his Christmas gift, I more than got my money’s worth when I opened that card.

Can you see the smile on my face? I love Christmas cards!

Duh!

Since the power was back on, thank the Lord, Dad headed out to his room to watch the Carolina basketball game. I started making cookies. He came back in wearing his sports-theme toboggan. I asked if he was using that to get in the mood for the game. “I’m not sure it’s going to work. I can’t get the tv to get a picture,” he said sourly. “Is the tv on channel 3? Since the power was off, it might not be tuned to channel 3.” He headed back out. I followed to see if I could help.

He was pointing the cable remote at the tv and complaining, “It’s not working, the tv’s still on channel 2.” “Well turn it to channel 3.” He was still pointing the cable remote at the set. “That’s the wrong remote. You need the tv remote.” “Won’t this one turn the tv channel?” Why was he asking me that question? He’s the one that uses that tv. You’d think by now he’d have figured out how it works. I told him that obviously, that remote didn’t turn the tv channel and he needed to use the remote that came with the tv. As soon as he picked up the right remote and tuned the tv to channel 3, voila, he had a picture and the volume practically burst my eardrums. Problem solved.

I guess being technologically challenged runs in the family, at least today. I looked out the window this afternoon at dusk and wondered why my candy canes weren’t glowing cheerful and red. I was annoyed thinking that somehow the rain or snow had shorted something out. Then it registered with me that I’d gone around the house this morning resetting every clock, but completely forgot about the timer on the Christmas lights. Duh! I’m not sure if I’m going to share that story with Dad or not. Oh, what the heck, he’ll get a laugh out of it. Like father, like daughter.

Dreaming of a white Christmas?

I’ve decided that a white Christmas and an old fashioned Christmas are vastly overrated. Give me electricity and clear roads. How are you supposed to get Christmas spirit when you can’t turn on the Christmas lights, play Christmas music, or bake Christmas cookies? And what about your Christmas shopping if you’re stuck at home? Tell me how any of this makes for a festive holiday?

Yes, the brief period of snow flurries that we had yesterday afternoon looked like a picture postcard. It was sort of like being inside your own personal snow globe. But I wasn’t upset when it stopped soon after it started. It snowed some more after it got dark and Dad commented that there would probably be power outages because it was the wet, heavy kind of snow and it was coating the trees.

I woke up this morning, looked over at the clock which was dark, and realized the power was off. Dad was awake, but still lying in bed under the covers in an attempt to stay warm. He decided that if I was going to get up, it was 8 am; he might as well get up too. He wasn’t too inconvenienced because he just eats cold cereal for breakfast and the newspaper had come. I was completely out of sorts because I like to drink my coffee while checking out my favorite websites and listening to NPR on-line. I also like a hot shower. He was happy to inform me that at least we weren’t completely without a source of heat, he had gas logs put in the den last winter.

Of course, they work better if you don’t turn the knob the wrong way and turn the pilot light out when you’re attempting to turn them on. He was on his knees with a flashlight when I went into the den after calling the power company to report the outage and get an update. There was a widespread outage caused by a downed pole and they anticipated the power being back on by 9 am. I could make it until 9 am without coffee, if I survived relighting the pilot for the gas logs. It took several matches, a number of sharp comments, and a trip to the garage to find the directions, but we finally got them lit without blowing ourselves up.

They did do a good job of heating the den, but I still put on 2 sweatshirts, jeans, and a toboggan hat. Dillon got really excited when I put on the hat because that’s what I do before we go for a walk, so he was completely confused when the hat went on, but we didn’t go out. I was all ready to go out for coffee when I realized that my car was trapped in the garage. There is a way to open the door manually, but I decided that was too much trouble. We need a hook or a grate in the fireplace so I could heat things over the flames.

9 am came and went and we still had no power. I called back for an update. The revised schedule was 10 am. At 10 am, we were still in the dark and the anticipated time for repairs was pushed back until 12 noon. Dad was starting to worry about the basketball game he wanted to watch at 2 pm. I was getting impatient. I dusted, but you can’t vacuum without power. I couldn’t bake cookies because that takes power. I wasn’t in the mood to polish the silver. I had just discovered that the water through the door feature on the refrigerator doesn’t work if the power is off when suddenly the power came on. Thank goodness for modern conveniences. I don’t like roughing it.

I turned on The Weather Channel and felt bad about my previous whining. They were talking by phone to some poor woman who’d been stranded on a highway in West Virginia since 4 pm on Friday. She still sounded cheerful, but that could have been hysteria. She was alone in the car except for her dog. The dog was company, but was miserable because the snow was too deep for it to pee. The woman didn’t say what she was doing for bathroom facilities. I’m wondering if The Weather Channel is rethinking the wisdom of their promotion guaranteeing a white Christmas to one lucky family. I’m thinking there are lots of people out there who are starting to think snowmen are less than cute.

Getting the Christmas spirit

This message from the Loma tribesmen of Liberia translated by a missionary tells us something about the true spirit of Christmas.

Whoever on the night of the celebration of the birth of Christ
Carries warm water and a sleeping mat to a weary stranger,
Provides wood from his own fire for a helpless neighbor,
Takes medicine to one sick with malaria,
Gives food to children who are thin and hungry,
Provides a torch for a traveler in the dark forest,
Visits a timid friend who would like to know about Christ,
Whoever does these things will receive gifts of happiness
Greater than that of welcoming a son returning after a long absence,
And though he live to be so old that he must be helped into his hammock,
And though his family and friends all die
So that he stands as a trunk stripped of branches,
Yet life will be sweet for him, and he will have peace,
As one whose rice harvest is great, and who hears his neighbors
Praise the exploits of his youth, So will you receive happiness
If you do these acts of love and service
On the night of the celebration of Christmas, the birth of Christ.

Dad has the Christmas spirit. He asked me last Sunday night what I'd think about finding a needy family to buy presents for. For years we had an Angel Tree at the mall and Mom and I always picked angels and bought a few toys, but we've never adopted a family before. I called a friend whose men's group at church always buys gifts for a family and asked where they found their family. Turns out they had more than 1 family who'd requested help, so we wound up with 2 little boys, ages 4 and 7. They both wanted bikes.

I checked out Walmart's website and found out what was in stock at our local store. Dad headed to Walmart early this morning. He doesn't like crowds, especially during flu season. He came back with a bike and helmet for the 4 year old. He even got a black and green helmet to match the green bike. Very sharp! But he complained that the only person he could find in the bike department couldn't locate any of the 20 inch bikes I had listed for the 7 year old. He wanted me to phone out there and see what I could do. He knows I don't shop at Walmart and was probably the only person in town who'd never crossed the threshold of our local store. I didn't think handling it over the phone was going to work, so I told him that it was no wonder they were predicting snow for today because hell had officially frozen over. I went to Walmart.

I must say that the sales clerks I dealt with were all very helpful. It took 3 women in the garden shop to find the bike I wanted. Naturally it was in a box on the top shelf. The person who could get it down had just gone on break. One of the women climbed the ladder and scanned it into the register so I could buy it and they could mark it sold before anyone else got it. Then I told them I wanted it assembled. "By next Friday?" the woman asked skeptically. Well of course by next Friday, it's a Christmas present. "Yes, by next Friday." "I don't know if we can do that." One of the other ladies assured me it would be no problem because they had 2 men coming in that day who could assemble bikes. I left hoping that the second lady was right. While Dad has Christmas spirit, even he didn't think that spirit would survive the two of us attempting to assemble a bike. The fact that Walmart assembles them for free was a big plus in my book and had definitely influenced my decision to buy there. They called about an hour later saying it was ready. I was instructed to go to electronics and someone there could get the bike for me.

Naturally when I went to electronics, no one there had any clue why I would be asking them for a bike. However one of the young men could not have been nicer. He made a couple of phone calls and assured me that he'd find out something. "Is the bike pink?" he asked. "No, the bike is red. It's a boy's 20 inch." "They've got a white bike." "My bike is red," I said very definitely. It came in red or blue and Dad assured me that all little boys like red, so I had made a point of buying the red one. The clerk finally went back to the stockroom himself and found the bike. When he rolled it up to the desk he pointed out a missing plastic tie that was supposed to secure the light metal decorative shield attached to the handlebars. I didn't consider that terribly important, but he told me "You want it to be right" and went back to find a plastic tie. I was so impressed with how he went out of his way to be helpful.

As I rolled the bike out of the store, it started to snow. A sign from God, coincidence, or hell freezing over? I don't know, but I can say that at that moment, it did feel an awful lot like Christmas.

Christmas joy

This picture was taken when my Grandmother was well into her 90's. Every time I see it, I'm reminded of the pure joy of Christmas and giving.

CHRISTMAS GIFTS

Some packages are lovely
With fancy bow and tie;
The paper looks so glossy
It captivates the eye.
It's not the pretty ribbon
Or cover bright and bold,
But the spirit of the giver
Hidden in the fold.
Wrap a little of yourself
And tie it with a smile,
Fill it full of warmth and love
And give a gift worthwhile.

by Betty Cooke

'Twas the Night Before Christmas at Katie's House

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas at Katie’s House

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Katie was racing, my shoe in her mouth.
This sounds really bad, but first please consider,
Not one year ago she was one of a litter.
We’ve come really far in the course of this year,
Her behavior no longer causes trembles of fear.
In fact she’s quite civilized and I’m really pleased,
Puppy Playschool, Obedience, we passed these with ease.
Diplomas are hung in the den with great care
In hope that guests will see that they’re there.
Sit, stay and down, come, off and no
Are words Katie lives by or we’ll have to go.
We’ve practiced a lot alone and I’ve found,
She does really great when no one’s around.
In public however we still need some work,
New people, strange dogs, they drive me berserk.
Our problem is focus, distractions abound,
She takes me for granted with others around.
The instructor said “Nancy, you must get respect.
The dog needs to know it’s your way by heck.
When you give a command, your dog must obey.
Katie should hang on each word you say.
Do whatever it takes to get her attention,
Use food, praise or shout; and yes I should mention
When you’ve tried all these things and still find that you’ve failed,
Then drag her across the room by her tail.”
That seems really mean, I just couldn’t do it.
But I knew in a flash that I really blew it.
Across the room Debbie flew, Katie’s tail firmly grasped
And dragged her around clear cross the class.
“This end's her tail,” she firmly stated.
This isn’t a point to be debated.
Thank goodness that night was our last class.
And yes, somehow we still managed to pass.
Now please let me say, so you won’t be mistaken,
I do love my dog, in fact I’m quite taken.
Her sweet disposition, her cheerful demeanor
Are quite hard to ignore if you’ve ever seen her.
She loves people and pets and all kinds of toys,
Daily walks to the park are her greatest joys.
She’ll work really hard for a treat in your hand,
Though a little less quickly if you only command.
She does like to bark and yes, chew and dig.
But really those transgressions aren’t so very big.
After guarding the house and the yard for the day,
She curls up by my chair safely out of the way.
Her head rests in my lap convenient for petting.
That she loves me I know there can be no forgetting.
So Santa please take just a minute tonight
To stop by our house, you know it by sight.
Katie’s been a good dog much more often than not.
She’s eagerly waiting to see just what you’ve got.
A bone, ball or stuffed toy would be really great.
A new puppy to play with-- on that maybe wait.
But when you come down the chimney you’d better be quick
Or Katie just might take a nip at St. Nick!

Merry Christmas!
Nancy & Katie 1998

The Oxen

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
‘Now they are all on their knees,’
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
‘Come; see the oxen kneel,

‘In the lonely barton by yonder comb
Our childhood used to know,’
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.

Thomas Hardy

Yep, it's the 13th

On our way to breakfast this morning, about halfway between home and Oscar’s, the car just stopped running. We coasted to a stop in front of a church. Luckily, I had my cell phone and we both have AAA, so I called for a wrecker. Then I called my cousin Janet to give me a ride home so I could get my car. Dillon was completely confused when I came in the front door alone with no advance warning from the garage door going up or Dad’s car pulling into the drive. He got another dog biscuit when I left though, so he came out ahead.

I stopped for a cup of coffee on my way back to Dad. AAA said it would be 45 minutes for the wrecker and I didn’t want to sit in the car on a cold, rainy day with no coffee for 45 minutes. Especially since Dad turned grumpy the minute the car cut off. If I was going to have to play the part of Little Mary Sunshine, I needed some caffeine. As I was approaching Dad’s car, the sight of the blinking yellow lights on top of the wrecker were the prettiest Christmas lights I’ve seen this year.

We had the car towed to the Ford dealership. Which means tomorrow I’ll have to get up bright and early to drive Dad over there to leave his keys and confer with the technicians. I’m betting it’s a broken timing belt. Then I’ll have to stick close to home all day to answer the phone and chauffeur him back to the dealership when the car is fixed. Lovely.

I asked Dad if he thought God was trying to tell us something when the car died in front of a church on a Sunday morning. If he was, we didn’t take the hint. We got to breakfast about an hour late. The place was much more crowded and noisy than it normally is when we’re there at our usual time. And for the second week in a row, the food was not up to par. The place was sold within the last couple of weeks and I’m not sure if they have a new cook, but I know they’re ordering cheaper ingredients because they’ve switched to no-name jelly. Why do people have to mess with a good thing?

It may not have been Friday, but it was definitely the 13th!

It's a matter of attitude

Dad finished the cherry pie I baked for him yesterday. When I went into the kitchen, the pie plate was in the sink. There were still remnants of the filling sticking to the pie plate in spots. “I want you to know, I put the plate down twice for Dillon to lick, but you know how it upsets him when plates move and make noise, so he didn’t lick it completely clean. I just didn’t want you to think I’d taken it away from him,” Dad told me earnestly. Dillon is scared of unexpected noises and the pie plate, being a light aluminum, moves across the floor and rattles when he licks it, which causes Dillon to back away. He will keep licking if I hold it still for him, but Dad wasn’t prepared to go that far. He went above and beyond when he put it on the floor twice. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks? Dillon and I are getting Dad trained.

Before Thanksgiving, I got a notice summoning me for jury duty in federal district court in Greenville. I was instructed to report on December 14th. I’ve been dreading it. I talked to someone else who recently served and she said in her case, they were excusing all potential jurors who had relatives in law enforcement. It turns out I have three relatives in law enforcement and even though I only see two of them at weddings and funerals, and one I’ve never met, I didn’t see where it would be necessary to admit that. Another cousin, who’s a lawyer, told me that if I took a Bible with me, the odds were good I would be excused. Apparently, religion and the law don’t mix well.

When I was called for jury duty in local court several years ago, I was initially seated and then excused, probably based on my attitude. I was about as obnoxious as it was possible to be without being charged with contempt of court. I didn’t like the attorney’s attitude, he acted like we were all country bumpkins. I think what cinched it was when he asked if I’d have a problem remaining impartial in a case pitting a woman against a group of men. I assured him that gender wouldn’t affect my decision. He was apparently shocked to hear anyone in Small Town USA use the word gender because he asked me to repeat myself, which I did in a what kind of idiot are you tone of voice, and then he had me dismissed. A friend assured me that he knew I hadn’t forgotten how to be obnoxious, so I should have no difficulty being excused again.

The notice said to call the court on the last business day prior to December 14th for instructions. When I called the number last night, I was astounded to hear the recorded message say that my term was up and I didn’t have to call back or report and thanking me for my service. I replayed the message four times to make sure I’d heard it correctly. Don’t know how I got so lucky, but boy was I relieved. I wasn’t looking forward to driving an hour and a half on country roads in the dark for several days. I feel like Santa gave me an early Christmas present! I'm going to try really hard to stay on the nice list from now until Christmas.

Friends of Frosty

Christmas memories

I read recently that when you're a child, Christmas is about the future and the presents you'll get. As you get older, Christmas is about the past, memories of people and holidays long gone.

Both of my parents were good at gift wrapping. So they would each wrap their own purchases. Mom always used store bought Christmas paper, frequently purchased on sale the previous year after Christmas. But when I was little, Dad would use white tissue paper and decorate it with Christmas stickers. That was the way his packages were wrapped when he was a child. Dad is in his 80's now and he hasn't wrapped any packages that way for years, but I still remember it.

They apparently also had a debate when we were little about whether Santa wrapped his gifts or not. Mom thought Santa's presents should be unwrapped. It was easier. Dad thought all presents should be wrapped. So we got them both ways, apparently depending on who purchased what, and how rushed things were. But since both my sister and I always loved unwrapping presents, eventually everything started appearing beneath the tree wrapped. I still remember Mom telling one of her friends that she could wrap a package of underwear, put it under the tree, and we'd think it was a wonderful gift just because we could unwrap it.

Looks like Mom won this year.

That's a gas tank that I'm holding. Barbie was going to need gas for that coupe.

Straight No Chaser

I love these guys! From their website,"In the fall of 2008, ATCO/Atlantic Records unveiled a rather unlikely major label release. It was an album of Christmas music recorded by Straight No Chaser, a ten-member a cappella group that hadn't sung together since their college days a decade earlier. The result was a most improbable success story and a true musical phenomenon."

A Child's Christmas in Wales

With apologies to all the cat lovers out there, today’s offering is my favorite Christmas story, A Child’s Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas. It’s not a good selection strictly based on length because although it is a short story, it takes more than 2 or 3 minutes to read. But I absolutely love it.

I first read it several years ago as part of an on-line reading group. After finishing the first paragraph, I was totally confused. I went back and read it again and, while still lost, kept on going because although the story wasn’t making sense the descriptions and phrasing were gorgeous. It finally registered with me that this is not a story meant to be taken literally. It’s a poetic remembrance of one man’s boyhood Christmas memories, retold from the boy’s childish, wildly imaginative perspective, all rolled into one magical day.

It’s funny and touching and lyrical. How can you not love the descriptions of Useful vs. Useless gifts? Or the postman, “And the cold postman, with a rose on his button-nose, tingled down the tea-tray-slithered run of the chilly glinting hill. He went in his ice-bound boots like a man on fishmonger's slabs. He wagged his bag like a frozen camel's hump, dizzily turned the corner on one foot, and, by God, he was gone.”

The link will take you to an on-line version of the story, complete with snowy background.

http://www.bfsmedia.com/MAS/Dylan/Christmas.html

For the cat lovers.

He may find coal in his stocking

I spent all afternoon making a double batch of party mix or nuts and bolts, whichever name it goes by at your house. It's made of cheerios, rice chex, wheat chex, pretzels and peanuts. Dad loves the stuff, so I made enough to fill a huge roasting pan. He sampled a handful while it was cooling. I asked if it passed the taste test. "I guess. My taste isn't real reliable these days," he said as he walked off.

EXCUSE ME!!! The proper response is, "Yes, it's delicious and thank you so much for making it for me." It tasted just fine to me and I used Mom's recipe, so I know it's right. If he's not careful, I may disconnect the cable sports package that I already gave him for Christmas. He's treading on thin ice!

Little Drummer Boy

I love this version of Little Drummer Boy. I remember seeing it on Bing's Christmas special many years ago. It's so beautiful and poignant.

Christmas spirit?

I told Dad we only need 1 more thing to complete our Christmas scene in front, a sleigh flying through the air ready to land on our candy cane lined runway. I was kidding. I think adding anything else would definitely tip the scale into tacky. Turns out that Dad likes the candy canes so much, he went out and bought more. In fact, he was even willing to pay full price for them. This is unheard of in my family. All of our Christmas decorations are purchased for a minimum of half off at after Christmas sales. So I was shocked when he came home with 4 more boxes of candy cane lights. He has now lined both sides of the sidewalk, from house to driveway, with candy canes. Thankfully, the curve keeps it from looking too much like an airplane runway. He’s threatening to buy more after Christmas if he finds them on sale. Maybe he’s planning to outline the driveway?

My deer look very festive in the back yard. I set them up at the edge of the natural section near the back fence. They flank a small magnolia that I draped with green lights. Dad admitted that, “They look better than I expected.” The man has no tact.

I usually don’t talk much to my father when we’re out in public. Mainly because I have no interest in sharing my thoughts with everyone else within earshot. Getting him to understand anything I say requires using a stage voice that would reach the last row in a Broadway theatre and usually repeating myself at least 3 times. By then I’m regretting I ever had the urge to speak. This morning, I made the mistake of trying to show him the sale circular featuring a barking clock. It’s like the ubiquitous bird clocks, but this one features different breeds of dogs barking on the hour. I don’t want one, I just think they’re funny. I can think of a couple of people I’d like to bestow them upon as a gag. Even though I shoved the picture under his nose, he still didn’t understand what I was saying. After repeating myself 3 times, I finally resorted to saying “Woof, woof!” Then he got it. Of course, by then everyone else in the restaurant was giving us strange looks. I renewed my vow of silence.

I’m never watching another movie on AMC unless I tape it so I can zap through the zillions of commercial interruptions. I made the mistake of watching White Christmas last night. I thought it would put me in the Christmas spirit. I guess it succeeded if you consider Scrooge your role model. I swear for every 3 minutes of movie, AMC broadcast 6 minutes of commercials. I timed it, so I’m not exaggerating. It was outrageous. They should just run A Christmas Carol non-stop from now until December 25th because their broadcast schedule definitely leaves viewers with the urge to shout “Bah Humbug!”

My hero

Dad went to Rocky Mount today and I had my Reading Buddy session, so Dillon was home alone this afternoon for a little while. Usually I leave him in the house because he likes to nap on my bed while he waits for me to come home. This afternoon it was too pretty for that, so I left him in the back yard.

When I got home, my neighbor, Larry came over to speak to me. He wanted to warn me that a young African American male had been loitering around the neighborhood carrying a rake. When Larry first noticed him and asked what he was doing, he acted like he was raking the yard across the street. When Larry turned his back, he stopped raking that yard and sort of hid behind one of the pine trees in Larry's yard beside my driveway. Then he came over to my yard and acted like he was raking. Larry said Dillon was barking his head off. He told the man if he didn't leave, he was calling the police. The man must have moved along because I never saw him.

"You've got a good dog," Larry assured me. Dillon was probably barking because he wanted the man to come pet him, but the man had no way of knowing that. When Dillon does start barking, which he doesn't do often, he can be loud. Good thing I left him outside this afternoon. Who knew he was such a good watchdog?

I'm so proud!

My Reading Buddy had to take an AR test today. I have no idea what AR stands for, but it was a 5 question quiz on one of The Dark Man books that we read. Angelo read the story through for me 2 times and I asked him a few questions about what he'd read. Then he announced that he was ready to take the test. He got every question right! I was so proud of him!

Why are the candy canes red?

When the lights came on last night, I looked outside and realized that half the candy canes had red and white lights, and half had only red lights. Dad didn't read the boxes when he bought them and somehow ended up with 2 boxes of each color. In the picture, the difference isn't that noticeable. In person, it's quite obvious. Dad likes it. I'd prefer they be all one or the other. We got really lucky and through pure serendipity wound up with the 2 colors being erected in different sections. So the ones closest to the street are red and the ones closest to the house are red and white.


I just love my snowman.

I can't believe he said that

One of the neighbors that gardens brought me a huge collard plant the other day. I cooked it on Monday and it was really good. I informed Dad that I was finally getting the hang of seasoning greens. His response? "That could be. Or it could be that this collard plant had the benefit of an extra frost." Frost is supposed to make collards taste better. Needless to say, I didn't appreciate his comment.

When I shared the story with Marvin, he assured me that the frost didn't make a noticeable difference and proper seasoning was the key. Marvin's smarter than my father. Or knows more about tact and women. Regardless, he said the right thing! A fact I made very clear the next time I talked to Dad.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

I’ve made a really good start on my Christmas decorating. Actually, I’m almost finished. I think all of the Halloween/Thanksgiving stuff is now down. The living room is finished. Almost everything inside is done except the tree. Yeah, I know, that’s the centerpiece of the whole thing. It’s also the most time consuming, biggest pain in the butt part. I love a decorated Christmas tree, but I must admit I’m tempted to skip it this year. Everything else looks great and I’m still in a good mood. This may be a sign that it’s time to quit while I’m ahead.

I did the outside in front yesterday. The lamppost now sports a big, red bow. A bright red Christmas ball wreath is on the door. There are lighted candy cane path lights lining the sidewalk to the front steps. Those were Dad’s idea, but I must admit they’re cute and fit right in with my red/green theme. The miniature boxwoods at the base of the steps are bedecked with green lights. The stair rails are wrapped in red lights and the wreath at the top of the steps has green lights.

I added an ice-light snowman this year. I got him a Big Lots for $20. He’s so cute! Except that his icy branch arms won’t stay put. One already fell off and snapped a twig. I removed both arms until I can get some gorilla glue or liquid nails. Or he may just remain armless. He’s still cute and doesn’t really look like he’s missing any body parts. He even has a plastic carrot nose! Mom would love him.

Dad and I agreed that we haven’t yet crossed the line from festive to tacky, although we’re the only house on the circle that has more than greenery and red bows. Tasteful is beautiful, but at Christmas, I like lights! The neighbors should just be glad I haven’t set them to blink.

It’s supposed to rain and storm today, so I guess the back yard will have to wait until tomorrow. I got a pair of grapevine lighted deer from Kmart. I’ve been wanting some for a couple of years now to enjoy when I’m fixing supper and doing dishes. These are really pretty. The metal is painted gold and has little tendrils to look like grapevine. They were on sale for only $29.99 each and look as good as the ones at Lowes that cost $98 each! And the ones at Lowes didn’t even move. Mine are animated. Of course, the ones at Lowes did twinkle and mine are steady burning, but for the difference in price, steady burning is fine.

Putting the deer together was a father/daughter project. I don’t know how a single person would do it. It takes a least 4 hands. They weren’t that complicated, but they were packaged with the neck and head section inserted inside the body. That must have seemed like a good idea as long as you weren’t the person who had to remove them. All those lights and cute little grapevine tendrils wrapped themselves around everything so you couldn’t just pull the piece out. You had to be really careful and search for the sticking points. It took quite a while and a lot of patience. I have many virtues; patience is not among them, particularly when Dad is telling me to “hold on” and “just wait a minute.” We got through it with a minimum of fussing, although we never agreed on which way the ears should face, and the finished product was worth it. It’ll be interesting to see if Dillon barks at them once they’re in place.

Things are looking festive. But in the back of my mind I keep thinking after Christmas you have to take it all down, pack it back up, and store it for next year. I've talked to several people that don't do much decorating now because their kids are grown. I decorate for me and can't imagine Christmas with only a wreath on the door. On the other hand, those folks will have a hassle-free New Year. Ho Ho Ho or Bah humbug?

Where is the cranberry sauce?

Thankfully I no longer throw the contents of the cabinet on the floor when I'm searching for an ingredient. It's not as much fun when you have to pick up after yourself.

Thanksgiving dinner was a success. Dad had seconds and Dillon got to lick the roaster I mixed the dressing up in. We had turkey, collards, dressing, sweet potato casserole, congealed salad, and cranberry sauce. I didn't make dessert because the sweet potato casserole is better than most desserts. Thank goodness I paid attention when Mom was making dressing because I'd be devastated if I didn't have Mom's dressing on important holidays. Of course I'm not as brave with the celery seed as she was, so it wasn't perfect, but it was still good.

Dad ventured out this morning to Big Lots and Walgreens to see what was on sale. He came back empty handed and reported there were very few shoppers. I'm sure that will change tomorrow. Yesterday he made a good haul at Big Lots. They had marked their Thanksgiving merchandise down to 75% off, so now we have Thanksgiving figurines of a Pilgrim couple and a Native American couple. How's that for political correctness? You rarely ever see Native American Thanksgiving decorations. Of course tomorrow or the next day they'll be coming down because it'll be time to start putting out the Christmas decorations.

It's a good thing Dad enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner because he's getting it again tomorrow. I like leftovers and I see no reason in going to all the trouble to cook another meal when I still have plenty of this one.

Counting my blessings

When I count my blessings this Thanksgiving, Dillon and Dad are at the top of my list. That would come as news to Dad, but given that he said yet again this morning that I'd never have another dog with a better disposition than Dillon, he's earned his spot.







May your turkey be cooked to perfection, your table surrounded by family and friends, and your blessings too many to count!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I love magazines

If you’re in the market for magazine subscriptions, check out Amazon.com. I just renewed my subscriptions to Southern Living and Woman’s Day magazines for much less than the publishers’ “best offer”. A 2-year subscription to Southern Living is only $19.95 on Amazon and I got a $5 discount so I’m only paying $14.95! For a 2-year subscription! A 1-year subscription to Woman’s Day is $9.99. They’ve got some great deals with additional discounts of $3, $5, and $10 off some subscriptions.

When you're checking out a magazine, do make sure you click see more options and then the down arrow beside the subscription options so you see all the offers, including auto-renewal, single year, or multi-year. I don't like auto-renewal and sometimes that's the default selection that's displayed until you click on the down arrow button.

It's a matter of attitude

I fed Dad and Dillon the same thing for supper, leftover hamburgers. I think Dillon was more appreciative of my efforts. I had 3 assignments due today and by the time I finished them, I was tired. I told Dad if the hamburger didn’t suit him, he was welcome to find himself something else, but it was all I was offering.

He made the mistake of asking if there was any onion he could slice. What he really intended was for me to slice him some onion. I handed him an onion, a knife, and a cutting board. He wasn’t dumb enough to say anything else, he just fumbled with the onion until he managed to cut a slice.

I’ve had a busy few days. The Kiwanis Club sponsored our first ever ladies high school basketball Tip-off Tournament this week. It took place Thursday, Friday, and Saturday with 4 games each night. I helped out all 3 days, fixing hamburger plates (hence the leftover hamburgers), selling tickets, directing people to the right places, and generally filling in wherever we needed an extra body.

I was in the unusual position of being the nice one. In fact, one of my fellow ticket-takers almost fired me for being too nice. Another wanted to know when I suddenly became a glass half-full type since I’m normally the resident cynic. I was motivated entirely by self-interest, not a change of heart or good will towards men. I just wanted everybody to be happy so they’d stay out of my face.

The tournament was supposed to be a promotional vehicle for the club. I figured that meant we were seeking positive publicity not a reputation as hard-asses. So I was on my best behavior. Which was a strain since one of my best friends described me on more than one occasion over the years as being mean as a snake.

It was sort of like the movie Freaky Friday though. The nicer I was, the meaner some of our other club members became. One of the guys, who’s usually a life of the party type, almost came to blows with one of the coaches and managed to completely antagonize the host school’s athletic director. And he’s the club member that told me last week that I was worrying needlessly, we were going to have plenty of help and it was going to be fun!

Back home, I felt free to return to my normal personality. Unfortunately, we’re now out of leftover hamburgers. I thought mine was good. Dillon thought his was terrific. Dad managed to choke his down.

Need your ego bruised; visit an elementary school

I arrived at my Reading Buddy’s classroom this week as he and his classmates were returning from recess. As they all filed past me, one little girl asked, “Are you Angelo’s grandmother?” I was sure I must have misunderstood the question; she spoke so quickly that all of the words ran together, but when I said, “Excuse me?” I clearly heard the word grandmother. I’m not used to thinking of myself as anyone’s grandmother. I don’t care that mathematically it’s possible; psychologically, it’s so far beyond the realm of my reality that it’s ludicrous to even contemplate. I managed to smile and politely assure her that I was not Angelo’s grandmother while mentally I was squashing her like a bug.

We read a book from the Dark Man series. The Dark Man is a tortured hero type “who has been recruited to play a part in a secret, cataclysmic struggle between good and evil” by a mysterious individual called The Old Man. One of the questions at the end of the book was How old do you think the Old Man is? Angelo’s response was, “Probably 50?” I wasn’t stupid enough to ask how old he thought I was. My ego had been bruised enough for one day.

We discussed Thanksgiving dinner on the way back to his classroom. We agreed on dressing, pumpkin pie and sweet potato pie. We parted ways on cranberry sauce, which Angelo thinks is icky. I was just thrilled that he was actually volunteering information and participating in the conversation. He’s sweet, but very shy and barely spoke when we first started reading together. He’s finally opening up a little. He’s going to his grandmother’s Thanksgiving morning. I didn’t ask how old she is.

Silver alert

I need a tracker. I don't think Dillon has talents in that area, he's only interested in tracking a ball and I'm interested in tracking my father. Plus, dogs aren't allowed in shopping malls. Although maybe if I got him a cute yellow vest that read "service dog" and put a ball in Dad's pocket?

I went to Streets of Southpoint yesterday to do some returning. I bought a couple of things there when I was in Durham 3 weeks ago and several of them either didn't go with what I bought them for, weren't comfortable after all, or were flawed. That'll teach me to shop at stores that don't have a location close to home in case I change my mind.

Since I was feeling generous, I told Dad he could come along if he wanted. He was searching for a Norman Rockwell wall calendar, and unlike most men he likes to shop, so he decided to join me. When I shop with Dad, we set a meeting place and a time and go our separate merry ways. Usually I physically walk him to where we'll meet, so there's no question. This time, his first destination was in the exact opposite direction of my first stop and walking him to the food court was going to force him to trek twice as far.

We stopped in the outside courtyard and I told him I'd meet him in the food court, I even pointed to its location on the second level, at the tables by the wall at quarter to twelve. I repeated myself and asked him if he remembered where the tables by the wall were. He indicated that he did. "Quarter to twelve," he repeated. "What time does your watch say now?" he asked. "Are we synchronizing watches?" I asked incredulously. This wasn't some military operation that required that much precision. I told him what time my watch said and he headed for Barnes and Noble.

I spent the next hour and a half making my exchanges. The clerk in Aerosoles tried to tempt me with the news that they'd just finished taking additional markdowns, but I try not to make the same mistake twice. I didn't buy anything else, so I was saving money left and right. I got back to the food court about 5 minutes early. Dad wasn't there yet, which surprised me because any time I've ever been scheduled to meet him at a shopping center, he was always there early. I wandered around for a few minutes thinking he must have found something interesting to look at.

When he still hadn't turned up 20 minutes later I was getting concerned, but trying not to panic. I walked around the food court scanning tables. No Dad. My first thought was that he hadn't understood where we were meeting after all. My second thought was that he'd had a heart attack or something and been taken to the nearest hospital. Either way, how on earth was I going to find him? You can't have him paged because he'd never hear an announcement. He doesn't have a cell phone. He has my cell phone number written down at home, but I don't think he carries it in his wallet because I rarely turn it on and he doesn't like using the telephone. He doesn't have a key to my car, so it was unlikely he'd return to the car. I'm not sure I remember my answering machine security code, so if anyone called my house, I wasn't sure I could retrieve the message from another phone. I did remember what he was wearing, so I figured I could ask the mall security officers to issue an in-house silver alert, but Dad would be mortified.

I was hesitant to leave the food court because I was still thinking he'd just been delayed in a store or lost track of time. That's not like Dad, but it sounded better than the alternatives. I finally decided to head to Barnes & Noble. They do have tables against the wall, so maybe that's where he'd thought we were going to meet. No Dad. I speed walked back to the food court. It was now 12:20, 35 minutes past the time we had arranged to meet. There sat Dad at a table against the wall reading a magazine. I was like every mother in the world, I was incredibly relieved, but my first words were "Where have you been? You're 30 minutes late." "I thought we were meeting at 12:30 or 12:45." He'd turned up what he thought was early for our meeting, just like he usually does.

I told him what I'd been thinking and he laughed, but apologized for holding me up. I didn't care about the missed shopping time, but the stress I could have done without. I threatened to write the next meeting time on his hand in indelible ink. If my cell phone had a camera function, I'd have taken his picture for the next silver alert situation. Santa wasn't sitting in his big red chair at center court, or I'd have stood in line to add a hand held personal GPS tracker device to my Christmas wish list. Or maybe Dad should add it to his. Because without some type of failsafe, I may never take him shopping with me again.

The storm is upon us

If you felt the ground shake around 4:20 this afternoon, don't be alarmed. It was just the earth quaking with the shock of the Carolina Hurricanes finally winning a hockey game. They blew an early 4-1 lead and had to win it in an overtime shootout, but the fact remains that the 14 game losing streak is finally over. Of course, they managed to lose 3 more players to injury in the process. Pretty soon the coaches are going to have to lace up and grab a stick.

Never let it be said that I'm a fair weather fan. This game wasn't even on tv, I had to listen to it on the radio through the computer. Let's Go Canes!

Not bad

I think I like my new dryer. I got a fairly basic electric Maytag with hardly any bells and whistles. I didn't want computerized controls, that was going to be just one more thing to break. It's fairly quiet for a dryer and it seems to do a good job on the clothes. It's got a moisture sensor feature (yeah, that's probably attached to a computer, but it's pretty hard to totally avoid computerization these days), so I don't have to set a time if I don't want to. I can just set it and it goes until the sensor says the load is dry. It seems to work so far. I also like having a light in the drum so I can actually see in there. The old one was dark and brown and it was sort of like looking into a black hole. I'm going to enjoy not having to iron Dad's shirts, that's for sure.

I'm glad the freezer went in the garage. It's not incredibly noisy, I haven't heard any shrieks or howls like one of the reviewers complained of, but it is loud enough to let you know it's running. Being out in the garage it doesn't bother me, but if it were in the laundry room practically next to the kitchen sink, it would seriously annoy me. Yesterday at the farmer's market Dad bought me a pound cake and a pecan pie because, "You can put them in the freezer." Maybe having a freezer isn't such a bad thing after all.

Welcome Home

Dillon hardly barked at all when we first brought him home. The only exception was when I would return from somewhere. Then he'd bark frantically, sounding as if he'd been abandoned and was desperate to be reunited. As he's gotten used to living here, he's started to bark a bit more, but he's still mostly silent. He's not the loud watchdog that Katie was, warning away all would-be intruders.

One thing that has changed, he's started barking when Dad comes home. At first Dad was confused and a bit insulted by this. After all, he lives here as he keeps reminding Dillon. Then I pointed out that he was looking at it backwards. Dillon's not warning him off, he's welcoming him home. "Think about it. I'm the one he's always barked at when I return and I'm his favorite person. You should take it as a high compliment that he's decided you're worth barking at." Dad looked pleased, but he still thinks Dillon has the whole barking at the door thing backwards.

Game on

It bugs Dad when there’s a sporting event on tv that he can’t see because we don’t get that channel. I’m the one that pays the cable bill and I’ve been satisfied with expanded basic. Even with 70+ channels, there’s usually nothing on worth watching and since I was already paying $66.99 a month, I wasn’t prepared to add anything else. Well, when he missed 2 Carolina basketball games this week because they were on ESPNU, that was more than he could handle.

He started making noises about a sports package. I pointed out that to get the sports package; he’d have to have a cable box too. He still wanted it. I announced that I wasn’t paying for any more cable than we already had. When did I become the parent and he become the teenager? He said he’d pay for it. Then he started wondering whether he’d really watch it all year round. Maybe he could just get it for a few months, and then discontinue it. I finally told him if he wanted it, he had to go stand in line at the cable office to sign up and get the box, but I’d pay the extra and we’d consider it his Christmas present. He got his coat and headed for the cable office.

He came home with the box, a remote control, and a receipt with a telephone number that he thought I had to call, but he wasn’t sure. “I didn’t understand what she was saying, but you can call and find out.” He always does that. He doesn’t want to look dumb, so he asks no questions, just depends on me to straighten it all out, which infuriates me. I bit my tongue and just told him to figure out where he was going to put the box. His tv sits on top of a file cabinet which left no room for the box. He had some rearranging to do.

I went out to hook it up the next morning. I hate hooking up cable. The tv is always in an inconvenient location with limited visibility, poor lighting, and little room to maneuver. I had to wedge my body between the desk and the file cabinet, stepping over electric cords and cable that had to be strung about knee high from the stand to the tv. The cable wire had to bend into an L shape to fit into the spot on the back of the tv and didn’t want to screw in tight. After I finally got it all connected, I turned on the tv and got a no signal message.

I called the cable company. They told me to put the tv on channel 4 and turn on the box. I did. Still no signal. Was I sure I had all the cables connected properly and were they tight? Yep. Well, try switching the cable from the tv output to the vcr output. Still no signal. Let’s unplug the box and wait a minute for it to reset. Still no signal. The woman couldn’t figure out what the problem was, but she could schedule a service tech to come out. For a fee. No way.

I hung up and took the box inside to try it on a regular analog set. Same problem, no reception. I took the box back to the cable office and stood in line for 40 minutes to exchange it for another box. Dad volunteered to go, but he’d have just come back again telling me he didn’t understand what they said. While I was there, I double checked what Dad had actually signed up for and how much my bill was going to be. You never know what to expect when you send Dad on one of these missions and I didn’t want any unpleasant surprises. When the woman handed me the new box, she commented that it was lucky they had one of the new models in stock so it should work. That just made me madder. Why did they give us one of the old, crappy models to begin with? Because they’re the cable company and they suck!

I took the new box home, hooked it up, and was still looking at snow. I called the cable company. They went through all the same questions. Is your tv set to channel 4, is your cable connected properly, etc. The woman couldn’t figure out the problem. She put me on hold. Just out of curiosity, I changed the tv channel to 3. Voila, a picture! When she came back on the line, I told her that they might want to change their records because in our market, the tv has to be tuned to channel 3, not channel 4 for reception.

“Are you sure?” “Well, I see a picture now that I’m on channel 3 and I still just get snow on channel 4.” “You must be the only market where that’s the case,” she said accusingly. Well, I’m not the one that set the cable signal. Then she was actually shortsighted enough to ask me to complete a customer service survey. Oh, yeah, let me tell you what I think about your service.

I unhooked the box from the old tv in my bedroom and took it back out to the garage to hook up Dad’s tv. I finally got the connections tight and managed to extricate myself without damage to the equipment or me. I held my breath and turned everything on. Glory hallelujah there was reception. I handed him the remote and told him it was all his. I had now wasted 3 hours of my afternoon on that stupid cable box. I went back inside to try to get some of my homework done. But first, I dug out a channel line-up so Dad would know where his new sports channels were.

When I went back out to the garage, he was standing there with the remote in his hand. “Something’s wrong, the channel won’t change.” You could scan up and down the channels, but if you tried to enter the numbers into the keypad, it wouldn’t change channels. I told him that was his problem. He could read the instructions that came with the remote, he could go back to the cable office, or he could just scan up and down the dial. I was done. I should have known better than to leave him on his own.

After I got back inside, the phone rang and it was the cable company. Had I solved my problem because they had a tech available to come to my house? I told them the box worked now that the tv was set on channel 3 instead of channel 4, but that the remote wasn’t working properly, it wouldn't accept numbers entered into the keypad. The woman asked the tech about my problem and he said it must be a faulty remote and the best thing to do was take it back to the cable office. I went out to tell Dad.

The tv screen was black with a no signal message. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t do anything.” Yeah, right. He misinterpreted the instructions for the remote and in trying to get the keypad to accept numbers; he’d followed the steps that programmed it to control a component. In this case, the tv. It took me a few minutes to realize that what he’d done was change the tv to channel 8 which was why it was getting no signal. I put it back on channel 3 and we were back in business. He was still insisting that he hadn’t done anything. The remote still wouldn’t accept channels entered manually, so I told him what the tech said. He headed for the cable office.

He came home with a new remote. Same problem. “Did you tell the woman what the problem was?” “No, I just told her it wouldn’t work and I wanted another one.” If he’d described the problem to her, we might have gotten it solved quicker. I called Uncle Bud and asked how he changed channels with his remote. “I punch in the number and hit enter.” Aha! I looked at our remote. There were tons of buttons, but none of them said enter.

I hung up and kept looking at the remote. I was a little afraid to punch any buttons if I didn’t know what they’d do. It would be nice if the instructions had actually told you how to operate the remote and identified the buttons. I finally decided to enter a number and hit the ok/sel button. What do you know, the channel changed. I handed it to Dad, told him the correct steps to take, and headed for the door. “I didn’t mean to take up your whole afternoon.” “You know that good mood I was in yesterday, it’s gone now,” I informed him sourly. I skipped my homework and worked out for an hour. I had some frustration that needed an outlet before I exploded.

This morning Dad announced that he had a problem with his new sports package. I braced myself. “I’ve got too many sports to watch now,” he said with a smile. “Well don’t think that I want a play-by-play of every game you watch, because I don’t.” “I’m going to have too many sports to watch, but I’m going to thoroughly enjoy them,” he assured me. “I’d better not go out there and catch you watching Bonanza. It better be sports from now on.” “What about Gunsmoke?” “Marshal Dillon or Festus better have a ball in their hands.” Wake Forest plays basketball on ESPNU at noon. He’d better watch every minute and enjoy it.