Merry Christmas, One and All

I’m feeling sorry for myself.  While visiting family out of state for the holiday I came down with the flu or the worst cold ever.  I never stay home when I get a cold.  I figure if I’m sick I should share it with others and I still go to work. I’ve been at my current job for 14 years and I’ve taken 2 sick days.  But this one laid me out.  I was in bed most of Christmas Eve and only got up on Christmas when my daughter woke me to come out while gifts were opened.  Then I went back to bed.  I didn’t eat anything.  The thought of food was repulsive. We’re three days post Christmas and I’m still sick.  I was in bed for 14 hours last night.  But I’m starting to get better.  I’m beginning to move from feeling sick to feeling mad that I’ve been sick.

But let’s move past that.  There were some good moments before I collapsed in bed. Hubby and I played laser tag with our two teenage grandkids.  And we whopped them!  Two year old grandson and I had a grand slam time at the park, going down the slide, running up and down the hills, and throwing bark chips into the air for the dog to leap up and catch.  We had some great pizza and discovered Fuddrucker’s burgers. I got to visit with our son and daughter-in-law whose house we traveled to, some 750 miles from our home. And we all–hubby and I and our daughter and her family–made it safely there and safely home again.

And those are great gifts.

Merry Christmas, one and all!

Frosted Windowpanes. And radishes.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Christmas lights are hung, Christmas songs are being sung, and the stores are packed with gifts and shoppers. We even had some snow last week resulting in a two-hour late start for school, extra fun for the kids.

And we’ve had lots of frost. Our thermometer didn’t get above freezing for 4 or 5 days. Which sent us to the pump house to turn on the heater and then scurry around the house making sure all the faucets were dripping.  I thawed the hummingbird feeders each morning and again each afternoon.

Then I took a gander at my garden.   The mint and Swiss chard are questionable.  The kale is oblivious to frost. And the radishes seem to be okay.  In fact, they look quite lovely dusted with frost. Very festive.

When’s The Next Bus?

Hubby and I have had more than our share–according to me–of car problems lately.  A couple of weeks ago my car’s alternator went out, probably because it’s old but also because the hose–which was also old–that wraps around the alternator (I have no idea what this means, I’m just repeating words here) broke.  Hubby and friend got that fixed within a day or two.

Now hubby’s car has blown a heater hose, probably because it’s also very old.  And because the car is so old parts are not easily found.  Hubby finally found the needed hoses, online. And so we wait for them to arrive.  Fortunately we have another old car that is able to get hubby to work, in more or less comfortable, reliable fashion.

Sometimes I think it would be easier to live in town and take a bus to work.

Like my feathered friends here.  A few years back,  when our chickens were still with us, we would watch them, about the same time each day, run across the yard and jump up on this bench.  Waiting for the bus, I guess.

Mr. Anna (Hummingbird)

It’s a little late but our first deep freeze arrived today.  21 degrees  this morning when I headed out for my morning walk.  My hummingbird feeders were frozen so I brought them in, thawed them out, and rehung them.

When I got home from work the feeders were freezing up again. So I thawed them out again.  As I stood on a stump to rehang the feeder, I was suddenly eyeball to eyeball with Mr. Annas Hummingbird. He was easily identified by his brilliantly colored  throat.  And the fact that he’s the only hummingbird  who sticks around here all winter. Mr. Anna was  miffed that I was taking so long to serve his dinner.  He said a few choice words and flew off.

Why some of these little birds stay here all winter is beyond my understanding.  There aren’t any flowers from which to get nectar and there aren’t many bugs to be found on plants and trees. And it can get very cold.  But some of them do stay. So to help them out, but mostly for my own amusement, this is the second year I have kept the feeders filled all winter.

I hung the feeder and retreated to the house.  Just in time because  Mr. Anna circled around, did another fly by, yelled at me one more time, then headed to the feeder.

Manipulate: control or influence (a person or situation) cleverly, unfairly, or unscrupulously.

It was just 5:30 but it was November and it was dark as well as cold and drizzly by the time we arrived at our daughter’s, after a 5+ hour trip. The house was full of friends who were well into their dinner. The kids, in fact, were done with dinner and were running around and in and out of the house.

I said hello to friends, gave kisses to the family, loaded up my plate, and was just sitting down at the table to eat when two-year-old Grandson hooked me.  He stood just feet away in the open sliding door and put on his best Opie-of-Andy-Griffith-imitation, cocking his head and batting his baby blues. “Come on, Mimi. Outside.  Come on, Mimi!”

What choice did I have?

“What’s so simple even a small child can manipulate it?  Grandma.”    Janet Lanese

Two, one, eight, nine cats

My son-in-law was looking to be out of town for several days to attend a work convention. With a new baby and a two year old, my daughter was not looking forward to his absence. So she asked around for someone who could stay with her for a few days.  My husband thought he could get off work but then he couldn’t;  I thought I couldn’t get off work. But then I could.

So I headed south and got in Wednesday evening and stayed til Sunday.  I visited with my daughter and helped out around the place.  I got to love on my 10 week old granddaughter and revel in her smiles.  But mostly I hung out with my two year old grandson.

We went for long walks, which he loves to do. We made cookies, played with trucks and cars and play dough, read books, and chased each other around the house yelling and screaming.

And we counted things.  Trees on our walk, cars passing by, cats in a book.  “Two, one, eight, nine” he would count.

And that’s a lot of cats.