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Christmas, By Ava

We were having fun.We had lots of presents. We liked them. We spent time with our family at my Grandmas. My favorite present was a sewing machine. I am sewing a blanket for my doll Petal. She likes it.

My brother got a yellow combine. My cousin, Burr, got a yellow loader. I got my other cousin, Ileana, a baby doll. My mom got Megan a horse book. (She loves it!) It was fun. Santa came and left me a note. He said Ava you are a good sister, you help your mom and dad at home. He brought me cooking stuff.

 

Christmas Ghosts

My brother and his wife recently purchased a new house. New to them only, as it is really quite old. In Algonquins historic district it was built in the late nineteenth century. Having fallen into disrepair it was affordable. They have done a beautiful job fixing it up, or so I hear, I would put up pictures but they never send me any. As with any old house it has its creaks and groans, all the character that over a hundred years of standing will instill in a building.

Late on Christmas night it greeted my brother. Out of the dark he heard it, a distant “Hello”.

Sitting in the dark he doubted his ears, like any mature adult he didn’t believe in something as silly as ghosts. Just as he was laying down attempting to return to sleep he heard it again from the depths of the night, “Hello”.

Being apparently much braver than I and still not believing what he heard he rose from his bed to investigate. Down the steep stairs he crept with the voice calling to him from below, “Hello”.

In the front of the house light from the street cast waving shadows through the big stained glass picture window. No one stood outside, no one was at the door. But he heard it again, “Hello”.

Dark corners seemed blacker in the heart of the house, as its floors creaked ominously. It whispered to him”Hello”.

Convinced it was a prank he tore through the darkened house from widow to window. Though he peered through the wavy glass, there was no one to be seen. Yet the eerie voice echoed again “Hello”.

Through the kitchen he swept, the search growing frantic, onto the back porch. Some joker had to be in the back yard, it must be their voice he heard, “Hello”.

Then, again, right behind him it rang out, loud from the inky blackness “Hello”.

The hair on his nape rose as he turned to confront this voice that had invaded his home. “Hello?”

There it lay. On the floor at his feet, its eyes sightlessly returned his horrified stare “Hello”.

His sons toy. Its earlier bath not healthy for electronics. As he held it in his hands it uttered again that word so threatening only moments before “Hello”.

So much for Ghosts, he thought with a grin, and returned its cheerful greeting,”Hello”.

Happy Birthday Justin!

Look Whay We Found Under Our Tree!

Merry Christmas

May next year be every bit as good but with half the excitement.

Lucky us!Happy New Year Too.

Lucky us!
Happy New Year Too.

Twas The Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring not even a mouse. And well they should have been that night for the cats were well occupied.

The call came early that morn not even Christmas eve yet but rather Christmas morn. Fire! Was all that need be said, With no more than that he leapt out of bed. Not a cap was he wearing not even a stitch but he ran for the door crying “son of a …..!”.

Out side of the window he saw such a sight. Flames rose from the car alighting the night. The cat car was burning he saw to his fright. Fire shot in the air in such a horrible way, soon its neighbor the shed must in embers lay. The dark of the night so terribly cold made what came next a sight to behold. The hoses they froze they kinked and they broke, until a bucket was found the shed for to soak.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a great yellow payloader its bucket in the air. With a little old driver so solid and staid. I knew that finally he had come to our aid. With bucket he dove right into the flame. I could not help but admire the aim. Flames and all he lifted the car; he drove through the fence but he didn’t go far. Into the wheat field he drove in the night-payloader, shed and people still bathed in the light. Setting it down he backed slowly away little flames in the bucket still licking the hay.

Call the fire department and tell them we are done. Oh but wait it’s them here they come. They were dressed all in canvas from their head to their foot. And all their clothes were tarnished with ashes and soot. Their hoses were slung all over their backs they did not freeze, kink or crack.

They sprayed down the shed now charred black and cindered. They sprayed down the car though the tires they rekindled. The car mostly extinguished In ruins there lay. The cats no longer have a place to stay. Oh what a sad sad Christmas day.

No longer basking under the heat lamp would they lay.

That was such a sad Christmas morning The cats lay all in a heap deep in mourning. He looked at the sight of the cats filled with dread he knew his wife would allow no peace for his head, until he found the cats a nice new winter bed.

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work. He started his payloader and hefted it with a jerk. Laying a finger aside of his nose, he pulled a lever and the Cadillac rose.

He drove to the yard and there set it down, Right on top of last nights freshly charred ground. It was a car fit for a cat, for Christmas they got a light blue Cadillac.

But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Act of Congress

I am noticing some similarities in my favorites this year. Although I still love Trans Siberian I am really going for this  strongly instrumental, kind of blue grass, type music.

Morning Rutine

Every morning the Goblin Child and I sit on the couch as her devoted father gets ready for work. Morning is her favorite time of day. She giggles and smiles so glad to see people again after a long night alone and in eager anticipation of breakfast. Her father usually has a couple of minutes to spare before he has to leave. He will sit down with us and attempt to dote upon his daughter. He smiles at her and talks to her and she, well she looks very intently the other direction. He sticks his face directly in front of hers and she turns her head. He moves with her and she blocks turning the other way. Even when she holds her head still we can see her little eyes carefully turned aside.

The other morning he must have tried particularly hard. Something got through to her. I swear she jumped she was so startled to see this person in front of her. He had only been there for the last five minutes talking to her. Once she noticed him she was so glad to see him, she smiled and giggled so glad to see her father again after so long away.

Sweet Devil Child

False advertising!

False advertising!

I keep thinking that it is time to add a new category for the posts. Every story I have to tell about the small goblin child seems to involve poop. So short of a category titled poop I thought perhaps “Stories she will hate me for when she grows up”.

Catchy right?

I swore I wouldn’t be one of those moms who did nothing but sit around and tell poop stories. But here I am. Sad isn’t it? Most of my days are spent watching the goblin child, feeding her and changing diapers. I try to clean house, keep the dishes and laundry done, I tried some Christmas decorating but all of it is regularly interrupted to the point that nothing really gets done. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade it for any thing. I went back to work for a couple of days last week and as much as I enjoyed seeing old friends and talking to someone who can talk back, it drove me crazy being away from her.

All I’m saying is that I have nothing to write but poop stories.They are such impressive poop stories though. Usually all over her sweet loving father. Especially if he is up at four in the morning feeding her. One time they managed to cover him, the rocking chair and the carpet. But I will stop myself there. I think her diaper needs changed.

Done for Real Now

It’s not finished until the pictures are hung.

So, now finally, even though she has been sleeping in her room for awhile, it is done! We got the light put up. It’s beautiful, a Christmas present from Elly’s Great Grandma. I can’t get used to that she will always be Grandma. All the pictures are hung, gifts from my mother. When people refer to her as Grandma I get all confused thinking of Grandma.

Who knew this was going to be so difficult.

It is so nice to have the room done. She even has her own computer. I can’t believe that she got a computer before she got a horse. When not pooping on every thing she is such a good baby. She is almost sleeping through the night. Around four o’clock she will fuss a little, but I can live with that. At her last doctors appointment she weighed in at a whopping 9pounds 12ounces. We can never believe how big she is getting and healthy as a horse. She is off all medicine except for her vitamins now.

Elly’s favorite thing to do right now is sit up. She’s not sitting on her own yet but loves to practice. She can roll onto her side and smiles all the time. At least when she’s not crying, but usually she is as sweet as can be. Waking up in the morning seems to be her favorite part of the day. She lays there smiling and happy looking up at her dragon fly.

You Can Never Have Too Much Christmas Music

Variety is good in all things.

Doing In The In-Law

I nearly killed my father-in-law today. I really didn’t mean to, I like the guy. It was an accident.

After feeding cows this morning he graciously waited while I got my horse and we ran the cows in to sort off some late calves. Coyote plodded slowly towards the corn field wanting desperately to return to his herd, until he saw the four wheeler. He was so thrilled. He wasn’t going to be alone after all. He is pretty sure that he is a four wheeler. Together with his buddy we gathered the cows in from the corn field. It was going so well. We got them in to the first pen with no problems. I was thrilled to be riding. Coyote was trying to run away with me.  Life was good. The unwanted cows happily trailed back out the gate. No trouble no fuss. Down to the calves and a couple remaining cows we took them up to the barn and a smaller pen to finish sorting.

Once again no problems, easy cheesy, slick as silk, piece of cake. The cows ran right out the gate. The calves stayed in as was the goal. But….

There was one calf. A little runt of a calf with a red tinge to his hide. He, it was decided, needed to go back out with the cows. I don’t know why, it is not for me to ask these things. I am simply sitting on my horse doing as I am told, happy to be out and about.

That scrawny little runt of a calf refused to go out the gate. He would get right to it and dodge back past us to the other calves. I think they were egging him on.  A couple of times though he would stop and just stand, there under Coyotes nose. My father-in-law thought out loud about different pens we could move them to and schemes that might separate them. I really don’t know what all he might have said. I wasn’t listening. I had a horse, I had a rope, I could do this I thought. So as he droned on I dropped a loop around the calf’s neck.

It took me a moment to get over the shock of catching something. I am not a roper. I briefly thought that I should have worn gloves. Then I got my dally, Coyote turned like a pro and we drug the calf out the gate. I had time to be proud of my self. We had done it. Job completed.

Then the calf leaped sideways and banged into father-in-law and gate. Oops, but not to bad. He then came over to get the rope off. Now we had a problem. The scrawny runt of a calf grew to gigantic proportions. He bellowed and kicked and ran in circles. I have to remind myself that my father-in-law is seventy-ish, he is not at all feeble. But still he is in his seventies, he shouldn’t be fighting with a calf on the end of a rope.

He was flung about, stepped on, whipped around and generally beat up.

In the end the rope was retrieved. The father-in-law survived and I vow never to do it again. I will never ever head a calf again, trying to be helpful. Next time we will do something less drastic. Next time, next time I’ll heel it.