Prepping for Tat Days

I'm getting ready for Tat Days. I'll be going there a week from Thursday - can't wait!

I've made up my kits. These are for my Summer Breeze bracelet pattern.

I'm cleaning up and making stacks and piles of stuff to take with me. And lists, making lots of lists. Will DH and the Stooges survive a few days without me?

I've been cooking too. This was my Cornbread Tamale Pie after the Stooges plus a girlfriend took a first pass. Five minutes later, the pan was completely empty.

Honestly, the cats are not helpful when I need assistance in cleaning. This is how Vader spends most of his time. Really, he's about worthless.

Cisco has become a serious attention hog, wanting constant petting from me. And he has some strange ways. Here he knows he's been caught with his entire head in Moe's size 13 (!!) sneakers, snuffling up the stench. Why does he like that awful smell? He's no help either.

(Don't you love Rhymes With Orange?)

DH has been getting tons and tons of places cut off of him at the dermatologist, basal cell carcinoma. Today's fun was on his ear, taking much of the inside and some of the back skin off. He had to get a skin graft from the back of his ear to replace all the cancerous skin - and that hurts a lot. Needless to say, he's been no help to me.

Heeeerrrrreee's Walt!

Larry caught a wild hair and shaved his head and part of his beard. Now he looks like a young version of Walt, from Breaking Bad. (Or the Unabomber.)

BTW - here is Larry's latest creation - a jazz bar for the toys. I think one of the toys needs to be passed out on a table. See the couple dancing on the left? Sweet.

As you may be able to tell, Larry is not helping me get ready for Tat Days. None of the Stooges are. Why did I have them? I forget.

But - I'm putting those lads to work cleaning, as we have company coming this Monday. I'll tell you about my company after Tat Days - you'll be too jealous if I tell you now.

I better get back to packing. BTW - don't forget to enter my 400th post giveaway!

Hope I see you at Tat Days!

Four Hundred

I just realized that this is my 400th post. So I guess it's a magical post - and Giveaway Time!

I'm giving away three Workbasket magazines. I've chosen them for their good tatting patterns. The issues are May 1954, October 1963 and January 1969.

As you can see, one has a lovely tatted doily on the cover. and there are other tatted items within each. Plus - you can make this cool sweater for your guy! Looks straight from Star Trek! The magazine from 1963 shows you how to make a swell earring holder using a bedspring coil, which I'm sure you'll all be clamoring for.

But wait - there's more! You'll receive recipes ("Line six muffin tins with bacon pieces..."), a pattern for knitted hooded scarf that will make you look like an elf, and a Holiday Glass Muff pattern!

Can you stand it? Do you feel the LOVE?

There will be some other items included, probably beads and thread. I'm not sure yet. Editor's discretion. No refunds, no take-backs.

I'll pick a winner after August 31 using a random number generator.

Here are the rules: comment on this post. That's it. No blogging about it is necessary (though you certainly can if you want to). No begging, no offering of treats will sway me. However, I can be influenced by anyone wishing to permanently remove a 23 year old nerd from my basement.

Speaking of Larry, here's his latest tableau. I think it's pretty funny.

Vader doesn't care about Larry's toys. Here he is napping with DH.

So comment! Because you could be cooking Creole Weiners soon!

Funny times at Chez Crazy, and buttons!

A bit of humor.

I shared with DH recently a news item on Burger King's latest offering, an ice cream sundae with caramel, chocolate sauce, and  - bacon.

(Yes, bacon. I kid you not.)

See?

DH: Bacon is meat candy.
Me: Then it's a meat candy sundae.
DH: Mmmm. Bacon. In a sundae. Mmmmm. Meat.

DH likes Meat. Can you tell.

On another subject, DH sometimes brings home critters. Yesterday he brought home an orphaned kitten, very skinny and flea-ridden. The cat was de-fleaed  and handed over to Moe for care until we find a home for it. (I do not want another cat right now.)

DH named the kitten Bob. Bob the cat who's a kitten - remember this.

Curly came over last night, in need of various things (like $$). Moe saw an opportunity to pull one on his brother, who has tricked him mercilessly in the past.

Moe: Curly, Dad brought home a Bobcat kitten.
Curly: What!?!! No way! Mom did he really?
Me (with a straight face): The kitten is in Moe's room.
Curly: !!! Let me get my girlfriend - she'll want to see a bobcat kitten.

And Curly grabbed the GF and headed to Moe's room. Where Bob the cat who's a kitten was. Heh.

Finally, on a non-Crazy note, I found a terrific article in Slate on the history of buttons. Read it, then see the slide show at the bottom. One of the buttons shown is embellished with tatting!

Carpe diem...

A suggestion from DH

DH is a funny guy.

He heard that the Palmetto Tatters Guild does fund raising for Tat Days Scholarships. And he had a suggestion.

His idea - sell a calendar of famous tatters, sans clothes, like a certain other calendar.

The name of the calendar? Tits for Tats!

A brief update from Tat Days

I'm back from my weekend in Toccoa, teaching at Palmetto Tat Days. And I'm worn out! Of course I'm at work, so I don't have much to show you. But here's a little bit of info on the weekend.

There were 86 folks attending the conference. A few were spouses, who were all good sports for coming along and dealing with our tatting obsession. But most attendees were tatters from all over.

I drove Nina Libin and Isdihara to and from the Hotlanta Airport to Tat Days. It was great to spend some time with them, especially Nina. It's a bit over 2 hours drive, so we had some nice conversation. Nina is such a love. And Isdihara is a hoot and a half! She was my roommate - more on that later.

My classes went very, very well. I was really and truly delighted with how well they went. I was a first time teacher at Tat Days this year, so I was a bit intimidated when I had folks like Anitra Stone in my class. Anitra has taught at Tat Days before, and is a fine tatter and designer in her own right. Anitra, Arlene, Mary, and Ellen were all in my Heart's Afire Cross class.

Part of this class teaches a dimpled heart tatted a new way. It involves tatting some things in a reverse order, and is NOT intuitive. Anitra expressed some frustration, and said that perhaps her brain had disappeared. She was not thinking well, as you can see. Her brain was gone. What to do?

Poor Anitra - so confused she doesn't know which end is up!

So I emailed Jane Eborall and asked her:

"Anitra says you must have her brain stored with your brain cell 3. She knows that brain cell 3 was lonely, but she'd like it back, please."

Jane's brain cell 3. Was Anitra's brain visiting it?

To which Jane replied:

"Tell her I ain't got it!!!!  Twit tooo hoooo (that's supposed to be an owl call!!).  In fact I haven't got all three of mine at the moment either!!!"

Eventually Anitra's brain returned, and she was able to make the heart. In fact at least half my students completed this cross during class. Mary was so taken with my pattern that she made a set of earrings using this technique by that evening.

Aren't they great? Wow!

More later...

North, SC

I am crocheting a bit.

This will be a fingerless mitt. I thought I'd see how they make up. I may make some as Christmas presents, but this one is for me. (I'll remove the lovely blue crochet hook!)

The kitties all decided to behave for a moment. Sophie is white, Cisco is gray and white (and 20 lbs), and Vader is black and white and Bad. (But so cute.)

We may get to lay eyes on Curly tomorrow. He is homesick and has a couple of days off, so he is coming up here. We've told him that when we get up and go off to work, he'll need to leave too, at least until we get off of work. I hope he'll behave himself. I'll be glad to see him - I've missed him.

And now for something completely different...



There really is a North, SC. And I've been through Due West, SC many times. I've even been in Between, GA. And while I have many relatives who have a similar accent, they are a bit brighter. The accent is charming, though. (My accent, while Southern, is a cultured Atlanta accent - much less drawl. But I slip back into the Deep South accent when I go home and am with my people. Ya'll.)

Toodles!

In which I am kinda blah

Another day, another dollar. Or something like that.

Today the sky had some pink fluffies I could see before I hit the interstate this morning.

But then the big yellow ball came out. And it scared most of the other folks driving. Traffic was not good.  Why, people, why? The big yellow ball is a familiar sight. You've seen it before. Use sunglasses and your visor, for heavens sake. Don't become hypnotized and block traffic!

Today was kind of a yuck day. Lots of running around at work. I received my annual review from my boss, which was, in all fairness, an excellent review. I didn't get dinged on anything and received superior ratings. Too bad it is meaningless - because this year, like last, there will be no raise for anyone at my company. Work minions, work; be grateful you have jobs! And in truth, I am grateful. I have many friends who have been unemployed a long time. But it would be nice to get a little more money.....

A friend of mine sent me some very funny sayings.  These are paraprosdokian sentences. A paraprosdokian is a figure of speech in which the latter part of a sentence or phrase is surprising or unexpected in a way that causes the reader or listener to reframe or reinterpret the first part. It is frequently used for humorous or dramatic effect, sometimes producing an anticlimax. (Whew!)  Here's a few that make me laugh:

• I want to die peacefully in my sleep, like my grandfather. Not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car.
• The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on the list.
• A bus station is where a bus stops. A train station is where a train stops. On my desk, I have a work station.
• If I agreed with you we'd both be wrong.
• You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice.
• Some cause happiness wherever they go. Others whenever they go.
• Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
• Some people hear voices. Some see invisible people. Others have no imagination whatsoever.
• Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.

I was sorry to see that legendary journalist Edwin Newman has died. There is a wonderful obituary for him here and a charming memory here. One paragraph in the obit made me laugh out loud - and he probably would have laughed too.

Among the sins that set Mr. Newman’s teeth articulately on edge were these: all jargon; idiosyncratic spellings like “Amtrak”; the non-adverbial use of “hopefully” (he was said to have had a sign in his office reading, “Abandon ‘Hopefully’ All Ye Who Enter Here”); “y’know” as a conversational stopgap; a passel of prefixes and suffixes (“de-,” “non-,” “un-,” “-ize,” “-wise” and “-ee”); and using a preposition to end a sentence with.

Hee.

I still have not eaten my Belgian chocolate.  I am saving it for a Very Sad Time. And that is not today, thank heavens.

I'm looking forward to the weekend because we will have two, count 'em, two children gone for the weekend! Moe is going camping with his boy scout troop and Curly is going to visit some friends. We don't see much of Larry, so DH and I can be empty nesters for the weekend. I called DH this afternoon and told him we need to go on a date on Saturday night. Maybe a movie.... Any suggestions?

The remains of the ---- cake.

I have been swamped at work.  Really swamped, plus DH is out of town.  So not much time for blogging.

Moe and I are chowing down on some of the mint cake brought for Curly's graduation.  It is yummy, in fact it's slap yo mama delicious.  Mmm chocolate and cake and mint.  What could be better?  I'm sorry I can't share with you.

I've been so busy I haven't been able to write.  So I decided to share something I wrote a long time ago.  Some years ago, I got a CPAP machine (it changed my life - can't sleep without it!) and I wrote this about the process of getting it.  So enjoy.

This is an old musing which many have laughed at, written in 2001.

 

A Good Girl Gone Bad

 

This is a sad and sordid tale.

 

In early August, my internist proposed I get a sleep study. I'd been tired and not sleeping well for some time. A lot of this had to do with some meds I was taking (which we changed), but I've known about my snoring problem for years. I snored in college, and I wasn't even fat then. Now I snore a lot, and loudly. The sinus surgery I had 3 years before actually made it worse since it re-routed drainage down the back of my throat. I just don't sleep worth a durn. I have friends with c-pap units, and it's made a world of difference for them. So I said fine to the sleep study.

 

To get a sleep study, I had to see a pulmonary specialist. I'm in an HMO, so I'm limited to whom I see. I got scheduled for the pulmonary guy - I managed to weasel an appointment at the end of August. He referred me over to the sleep clinic, and we had major trouble getting the sleep study scheduled. I finally got an appointment to spend the night of November 19th - last night.

 

It's kind of a deal to get scheduled and get off. DH had been out of town a lot, so I had to lay down the law with him & his job about him being home. Then I had to get everything ready for me and the kids for in the morning, since I wouldn't be there. Medicine, day care money, etc. Plus my stuff. And as sleep clinic is close to my office, which makes it about 28 miles from my house. I had to be there by 8:30 pm. So I kissed the kids and hit the road.

 

As I got off at the sleep clinic's exit, a huge SUV zipped in front of me and slammed on its brakes at the light. A big Monterro or Explorer, a monster vehicle. On the back was a sticker that said "Stupidity should be painful." "Hmmmm," I thought. "Hmmm."  The light changed, and the monster truck roared left into the parking lot ahead of me, the parking lot for the building with the sleep clinic. Since it was night, there were lots of empty places. I picked one and parked. I noticed the monster truck had maneuvered into the spot closest to the building - a handicapped spot. The driver was hanging the temp handicapped tag from the mirror. He got out - a tall, skin headed young guy, about 22. Definitely not handicapped. He had a backpack on and he pushed into the building ahead of me. I have a thing about folks parking in handicapped spots who aren't handicapped. I hated him.

 

I got to the sleep clinic area only to see the non-handicapped monster truck guy getting taken back to get his monitoring equipment put on. He evidently was to have a study too. (Why?) I looked for someone to help me, and then wondered idlely why I hadn't gotten a confirmation call for my appointment. I soon found out.

 

A nice man came to help. Quelle horreur! Someone had screwed up royally (not me) and had left my name off the list for the night. And all the beds were full. There must have been some bad mix up - could I come another night? - the next appointment is in 6 weeks!?! I very kindly did not decapitate him, which I thought was excellent manners. Didn't he know what a deal this was? And I'd been waiting since fucking AUGUST? (I did refrain from the use of profanity - also good manners.) But yelling and screaming would not have changed the situation. He gave me the name of someone to call in the morning and I stormed off.

 

I walked through the halls, thinking bad thoughts:

 

I've been waiting since fucking August!

 

That non-handicapped monster truck guy got in - why not me?

 

He's about 20 and I'm 44 - I'm older and more deserving!

 

I've been waiting since fucking August!

 

If that stupid guy hadn't been there, I would have a space.

 

That little fucker took my slot - and he parked in handicapped!

 

I've been waiting since fucking August and he took my slot!

 

I got outside and saw the monster SUV parked in handicapped. That's where I snapped.

 

Now, I've never been violent. I've always been a good girl. As a teen, I never threw eggs or bottles or toilet paper, no malicious pranks. I don't engage in road rage. I do sometimes get my way through force of personality - once I made a Walmart checkout clerk cry, but I felt bad and apologized. And I'm not above the occasional practical joke. But I've never put my anger into physical action. Until now.

 

I thought "Stupidity SHOULD be painful!" and went to my car to get an instrument of destruction. I knew just the right one - a tire gauge I had received in the mail. It was metal, had a sharp tip to serve my purpose, and could be easily palmed. I went back to the monster truck, stood just in front of the driver's door, and went to work.

 

It took a while. I didn't worry about getting caught. There was no traffic in the parking lot and nobody was walking through it. Besides, who would believe me, a respectable looking woman, would be guilty of such a thing? When I finished that section, I thought about doing more, working all around the car. But I had tired of the game and decided to go home.

 

I got in my respectable minivan and drove past the monster SUV in the handicapped zone, so that I could admire my work. Ah yes, that stupid boy will be sorry. HE won't be going anywhere in the morning. Not with that flat tire. (I had put the tire valve cap back on after I deflated the tire - once again, good manners.)

 

(Did you really think I would scratch up his car? Shame on you! Though it crossed my mind....)

 

I called my husband and told him I was on my way back home. He didn't seem to notice that it only took me 20 minutes to drive the 28 miles. He laughed when I told my tale. He said he'd have had a hard time explaining this if I'd been caught and put in jail. "They wouldn't put ME in jail for such a thing!" I retorted. "Besides, that punk took my spot!"

 

Now I need to call the sleep study supervisor. Heh, heh.

 

Stupidity should be painful.

 

I promise not to do such a thing again. Amen.

Miscellaneous stuff

I have been looking at the first pattern I need to do for my Tatters Across Time Apprentice test.  It calls for size 10 thread, and I don't normally have size 10.  But I had recently acquired some pink size 10 crochet thread (Aunt Lydia's), and I found a similar toned blue thread from the same vendor.

I'm just playing with this.  The thread is awfully soft and fuzzy.  I'll have to practice to get the tension right.

A few other things....

My fig tree is going like gangbusters.  It's at least 12 feet tall.  Last year, the chickens roosted in it and ate a lot of the figs.  This year I need to harvest the figs and do something with them, as the chickens are gone.  Any suggestions?

Thursday I have to move my office to another building, back to where I used to be.  The weird thing is they want me to move back to the building I'm in now (but on a different floor) in a month.  Seems like a waste of time and money.  I think my final cube will be horribly tiny - about four feet on a side.  Really.  The rumor is that the department is planning to put 168 people in cubes on half of a small floor.  And how is that possible?  My answer - they'll double deck the cubes and hire dwarfs.  I wouldn't put it past my company.

Nerd humor.

I got a new catalog for this place and was reminded of prior orders I've made.  Each of the Stooges has one of these, and sometimes I hear them screaming in flight.  It's pretty funny.



I finally got a decent picture of Curly in his cap and gown.  They dried out just fine.  The cap's corners are a little floppy, but it's good enough.  I couldn't get a picture of him clean shaven though.  Mr. Fuzzy Face the Graduate.

Dental doings

Today I had to go to my dentist for a cleaning and checkup. I am semi-good, in that I do go regularly to my dentist. But I am not a good flosser. And my family has bad teeth. (My brother, who is 8 years younger and has always had regular dental care, has only one molar on the left side of his mouth.) My mouth has a gazillion crowns. Once a little dental receptionist was looking at my charts and said to me, "Wow. When you die, can I have your teeth?" Um, no.

So I went to my nice dentist. And he IS nice, a very pleasant guy with a sense of humor. He's an excellent dentist, always makes Hotlanta's Best Of Medical list. Bonus - he's not as expensive as most in Hotlanta.

The folks in the dentist's office like me. I'm cheerful and funny with them, and I make them laugh. One of my very best friends works there. Poor Mrs. V was sitting in reception today with dark sunglasses on, as she was suffering from a migraine. Like most of us, Mrs. V is not made of money, so she comes to work no matter how she feels. I tried not to make her laugh today. I knew her head would hurt too much.

And I went back and sat in The Chair and talked to the dental hygienist, who's sweet. She started checking my gums for periodontitis, jamming the little stick into my gums. Ugh. I hate this. (Bad teeth, remember?) She wasn't saying the numbers aloud, just typing them into the computer. "Tell me the numbers!" I said. So she did. "2, 1, 2 - 2, 3, 3." (These are the depth she can poke into my gums. 0 is perfect - 6 is BAD.) "3, 2, 2 - 2, 2, 4." And then I was bad. Every time she took her hands out of my mouth, I started mimicking her, but with random numbers. "3, 8, 52 - 1, 14, 237." She got tickled.

In the end, she said my gums were MUCH better than the last time they were checked. Whew.

Then I told her I was stressed and started telling funny stress things. Like, when I'm stressed, I have weird dreams. I don't know if you have vivid dreams - but boy howdy, I can have some strange ones. In full color. And (as you can tell), I remember lots about them. (Can you tell I kinda had diarrhea of the mouth there?)

The latest stress dream was related to shaving my legs. Why this is a stressor, I don't know, but you can't control what you dream. The dream was somehow triggered by a commercial we see here in the States for a cell phone company. In the commercial, the girl has armpit hair that must be 2 feet long, waving in the wind in her boyfriend’s face while they’re on a tandem bicycle, and she says “Is this wrong?”

In my dream, I don't have armpit hair. I have hairy ankles. I feel something on my ankles and look down to find that the hair on my feet and ankles is dragging on the ground, kinda like Shire horses. Long enough to trip on. Why? That’s all I can remember of the dream, just my hairy ankles. Is that so wrong?

I told the hygienist about the hairy ankles dream, and she roared. Then she got to work on my mouth. I had to stop and ask her about the hidden trophy case that I know all dental hygienists secretly have, the one with pieces of their clients’ gums in it. I told her not to add to the gum trophy case today, at least not MY gums. And then she had her hands in my mouth and I had to shut up. I’m sure she was grateful for the silence.

Finally my dentist came in and checked things out. No good for me. He said that I need at least 1 and probably 3 crowns replaced along with 2 fillings. I said, "I guess you're planning on going to Europe this summer?" He said, "Well I had planned to go to Spain, but there was the volcano.." "You miss my point. You're going to Europe courtesy of me?" He laughed.  I made my next appointment.

An odd aside – I can make the sound of the dentist’s drill with my mouth at will. zzzzzZZZZzzzz It scares some people because it’s so realistic.

My dentist will be making the drilling sound – with the drill – on me in two weeks.

Rough day

Rough day.  Started by some idiot rear ending me on the interstate as I was going to work.  (I'm ok.)  And the jerk got angry when I called the cops....

Major, major Curly issues.  And DH and I disagree about what to do.  But I fear for Curly if I do not take serious action.  He's going to be very angry at me for a long time.

But I needed to share this.

Curly gives me a laugh, an evil laugh

Last week the high school principal calls me at work, saying that on the last day of school in December, Curly was seen (by the principal) using his cell phone during school hours, a big no-no.  The standard procedure is to have the phone taken up by the school and have it held in the office until a parent picks it up.  The kid then gets some sort of punishment, which varies depending on how often this has happened before.  Curly has had his phone taken up a number of times this year.  So the principal asked Curly to hand over the phone.  And Curly politely declined.

What?

And the principal has now handed out 5 days of ISS (In School Suspension), which would have started Monday (a snow day).  Fine.  I apologized for Curly's bad behavior. and went on.  Curly had punishment at home.

Yesterday I got a call from a school system phone number.  I hate those calls.  I know I'm not going to be happy.

The call was not from a teacher or an administrator, but from Curly.  He still had his cell phone, so why was he calling on this line?  Curly said sheepishly, "Um Mom, um, could you ask um Dad if he could um pick up my um phone from the um school office? Please?"  Hmm.  I knew Curly to be in ISS, which is a big, 100% no cell phone zone, so he must have been BAD.  "I'll ask your dad, but I make no promises."

Called DH, who was NOT HAPPY.  The phone may stay in the school office.

Ten minutes later, a second call from within the school system (the calls have the same prefix, so I know to dread them).  This time, it's the high school principal.  With Curly in his office.  Mr. Principal informed me that he went to lunch and saw the kids in ISS all sitting together.  The ISS rules are - no talking, no phones, no interacting with others.  Including during lunch.

Curly was sitting with the rest of the ISS group, but covered in his coat.  He had it draped over the front of him, with his head sticking out.  He could look down into the coat.  And he was texting to beat the band.  Mr. Principal spied this action and quietly stood in front of Curly.

Curly looked up and made a "sad puppy-dog face" (per Mr. Principal).  He was caught.  And his phone was taken up.

(FYI - Curly's girlfriend graduated at the end of December, so she is free to receive texts anytime.)

When the principal told me about this, I couldn't help but laugh.  I mean, it's so stupid.  It's like going to jail for doing drugs, then getting caught in jail doing the same drugs!

So this time, his school punishment is big.  Three days of out of school suspension.

Even bigger - his home punishment.  Because I am fixing his texting problem. 

(Curly, like many teens, texts 5 to 7 thousand messages a month.  I am not making this up.)

I am permanently blocking texting from his cell phone.  His phone may be used for phone calls and phone calls alone.  HA!  Curly is sooooo unhappy.  He's begging to pay me for the texting rights, I'll do anything Mom, don't do this.  Too bad, Curly.  You do the crime, you do the time.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Texting is now blocked.  Hee. 

And now for a little humor.  Have you seen this site?  I don't shop at this place - I avoid it like the plague.  And now I see that I might wet myself laughing at the customers.  How can they do that?

Also - DH brought me home three of these little things, thinking they were Pez.  They're not.  And these things are creepy!  The tongue moves on the snowman - euw!

Go to do TIAS day 4 at lunch.

Christmas - I am grateful

Some of the things I am grateful for on Christmas, in no particular order.

Faith.  I am grateful to God for everything. This is a lovely folk art wreath a lady in my Sunday School class made for me.  Isn't it charming and lovely?  All of us went to the Christmas Eve service together.  The music was wonderful.  We had communion and passed the Light.  It was great - He's the reason for the season.

Bounty.  We have all we need and then some, even after serious belt tightening.  The Stooges got a lot of practical gifts and they were very grateful.

Family.  Here is Larry, ready for church last night.  This is a suit we found at the thrift store prior to my brother's wedding.  A friend altered it, and it looks great on him.  My family is wonderful.  And I have a great extended family, and a lot of friends.  I am very lucky, and grateful.

Love. I love all my boys a lot, and they love me. And DH too!  But there's nothing like puppy love.  Abby is a good mama. 

Aren't the puppies cute?  They were frolicking in the back yard this morning.

Unexpected pleasures.  Here are the cats enjoying the Christmas detritus.  It pleases them; they love the mess.  Then they come and love on me.  I love my kitties.



A sense of humor.  You may have noticed I'm a little quirky.  (Only a LITTLE bit....)  This year, all the Stooges got some sort of wierd windup toy in their stocking.  This one made us laugh and laugh.

This is a crèche that is set up in the living room.  I looked down and there was Santa in the middle, why?  DH said, "They're all gathered 'round watching the game."  So bad.

Merry Christmas, y'all!