Check out other photos at Hugh’s Place. He had asked this week about our favorite, festive colors and mine is white. I love white flowers – they make me feel hope.
Hope in these cold short days #WordlessWednesday
Page 20 of 70
Downtown/Onion #WordlessWednesday
How things change
Today it took me less than an hour to decorate for the Christmas season and I didn’t break a sweat. I really didn’t need to decorate. We won’t be here. I did it out of habit. And nostalgia. The only ornaments I’ve hung onto over the years have some sort of special memory attached.
We used to have boxes and boxes of ornaments, reindeer with blinking red noses for the front yard, Christmas villages surrounded by model train layouts … and a massive artificial tree that Joel found one year – half off! It had two thousand mini lights woven in its branches and, since nothing says Christmas like a tree that can be seen from outer space, he had to have it. Of course, the two thousand lights only worked if you found that one that had burnt out. What a pain in the patootie! I hated that tree!
Back then all of the children (we’re a blended family of five) descended on our house Christmas Eve, had dinner, spent the night, and then left the next morning to celebrate the rest of the day with their other families … after a Christmas breakfast of waffles and strawberries, of course. I don’t know how we managed to find a place for everyone to bed down comfortably. I don’t know how we managed all those last minute trips to find stocking stuffers that weren’t complete junk, or to make sure we had enough food, enough wine, enough wrapping paper, enough tape, enough toilet paper, enough aspirin. But I do remember that feeling after all the children left and the house was quiet once again. I didn’t even mind the clean up. I’d take one task at a time, have another glass of champagne, and listen to some dumb Christmas movie on the tube.
Would I return to those hectic days of Christmas Past? Only if I could be in my forties again and since I can’t, this Christmas Eve we’ll be sipping cocktails while watching the sun set over Moonlight Beach. Our only stress, the long drive down the coast.
In case I don’t get inspired to post again, I hope you all can spend the holidays doing something you enjoy, whether entertaining a mob or just sitting on the beach!
If you cry because the sun has gone out of your life, your tears will prevent you from seeing the stars.
R. Tagore
The Kid in The Park
Walking again #ThursdayDoors
Earlier this week we had a couple of nice days and so I took a walk to the Farmer’s Market. Sadly there are fewer and fewer vendors this time of year but I did run into a few utility doors.
Check out doors from around the world at Dan Anton’s place!
Don’t Talk Back #WordlessWednesday
Yakkedy Yak!
For the visually impaired; a picture of the same Bird of Paradise flower from different angles. They appear to be having an argument!
From Duke Miller
Best Mac & Cheese #SilentSunday
For Rivergirl: between Steps 2 & 3 drain macaroni and between Steps 4 & 5 grease the baking pan – Joel uses a 12×9 inch Pyrex baking dish).
A better than expected day
I woke up thinking I was going to have to call an airline and demand to know why my credit card wasn’t reimbursed (as promised) for an airline ticket that I’d paid full price for and cancelled at least a week in advance. Last night I compiled all my dates and times, credit card bills, and relevant emails. After my coffee, I was going to battle.
The previous day my beef had been with the property tax office. I’d convinced my husband to support an increase in taxes for our local schools by pointing out that old farts like us could get an exemption. At the time I had a sneaky feeling the tax people would find a way to wiggle out of that promise and guess what? We got our property taxes on Sept 9. 2023 (due in December) and in itty bitty print above the list of taxes was a note telling people to call the number next to each tax to find out the process for applying and being approved for an exemption. (sounds like a ton of fun, doesn’t it?) Luckily the call back number for each of the applicable taxes was the same. Don’t ask me why they didn’t just list the one number. ; (
We got our call back at supper time.
Sweet Young Lady to Rotten Old Poop: “I’ll put you on the list to receive applications for exemptions for each of the taxes. You should get them by April 2024. They must all be completed and returned by May and then they will be forwarded to the appropriate departments and begin the approval process.”
So basically for this year … forget it. Actually I don’t really mind. Our property taxes are already sooo high that what’s one more blow? And, I did vote for the taxes. But it is rather sneaky to get folks on fixed incomes to vote for a new tax by telling them they’ll be exempt and then make the process so onerous. Besides, I’ve got a sneaky feeling that asking for an exemption has landed me on the list of Rotten Old Poops Who Don’t Care About Kids! Soon to be published in the local paper and on the obnoxious NextDoor site.
Anyway, that was yesterday’s waste of a hour or so. Today, before I called the airlines, I decided to take a second look at the credit card statement, and there, (listed in payments and not charges), was the reimbursement for the unused ticket … in full. Whew! I may be a rotten old poop who doesn’t care about kids but at least I’m not on the list of Stupid Old Farts Who Don’t Examine Their Credit Card Statements! Yet …
So today was better than expected simply because I slowed down and took a second look. I’ll have to try and remember that in the future but no guarantees!
Yesterday I posted a snippet of the first chapter of The List For Herr Azmus, to read the entire thing click here.
The List for Herr Azmus
Destination Unknown
“What troubles you?” Asked Frau Schwimmer in a voice quivering on irritation. All of the other passengers were nesting comfortably in their seats, trying to catch a few hours of sleep before landing on the other side of the world. But not the young woman assigned to the aisle seat next to her.
“Nothing, um Nichts.” Thirty thousand feet below lay snow and ice infinitum. Ahead, the veil of darkness called night. Soon the plane would cut through that veil like a silver arrow rounding the curve of the earth, that is, if it didn’t crash in the frozen wastelands of Northern Canada. If that happened, Flight 32 would be lost forever. No search and rescue team would ever be able find the wreckage in all that whiteness. The passengers would have to eat each other to stay alive, like the Donner party. That is, if the plane landed intact, which it wouldn’t. It would tumble across the tundra, leaving bodies mangled in the metal as food for hungry polar bears.
The fidgeting continued. Frau Schwimmer noted the crumpled map on the young woman’s lap. “Where are you going?
“I don’t know. The town is called Gunthersblum but I can’t find it on the map.”
“We will find!” Frau Schwimmer pulled an industrial sized map of Germany out of her woven travel bag and patted the young woman on the hand. “Have not angst.”
Easy for her to say. She knows exactly where she’s going!
The plane shook violently. The seat belt lights flashed. “Air turbulence,” the pilot announced in English, then German, then French.
He’s lying. The plane’s lost an engine, sucked in a goose, or ruptured a gas line. It was going down.
Frau Schwimmer unfolded her map and calmly spread it over their two tray tables. “Ist these Gunthersblum Nord or Sud?”
“I don’t know.”
What an idiot? Frau Schwimmer’s thinking. Who flies to the other side of the world without knowing where they’re going? Certainly not her thirty year old daughter, the one already established and on her own in San Francisco.
“First we check index.” Frau Schwimmer ran her finger down the list of towns and villages: “Gunthersblum. Nein, Gunthersberg? Nein. Guntherslauten? Nein.” She turned to the hapless young woman. “You have perhaps written down the wrong name. There is no Gunthersblum.”
Dear Blogging Buddies – I’m re-editing a story that was published under the title The Graduate Present back in 2016. This story has taken me so long to write that it bears little resemblance to the maiden voyage on which it was based. Except for Herr Azmus. I have my high school yearbook to prove that he, at least, was real.
Saying nothing in particular 