How was your Christmas?   As you can plainly see, Tim and I had a lovely holiday.  But I think nobody enjoyed it more than the kitty boys.  Wyatt and Brysco both received gifts from our human children and the kittyboys were most appreciative.

Brysco, in particular, got a little aggressive about investigating anything he thought might possibly be his:

 He started playing with his new toys immediately which, naturally, brought his brother over to also play. They played first with one new toy, and then the other. The tested everything out, batted things around, laid claim to favourites and were quite obviously delighted. They frolicked with abandon as do all little ones (both furry and non-furry) with new toys on Christmas Day

All of which, ultimately, led to the annual Christmas fight. (sigh)

The fight broke up when Tim said their names in his low rumbly voice.  They separated immediately, shook themselves and headed off, separately, to sulk and nap alternately.  When they woke up, all was forgiven.

It was an exciting morning!

We put the new ornaments on the tree, stacked new books in a handy spot to be read, drank tea out of the new mug, enjoyed Calzones for lunch with dear friends and all was well with the world.  The best part of the day was that we got to talk to all of the kids!!!  All of them!!! (insert enormous smile here)

All in all, it was a wonderful day and now that we are a few days past, retrospectively I can say that it ranked pretty high on the Christmas Happy Scale. No days were better than when the boys were small and still believed in the magic of Santa. Those days were The Best hands down, but for adult Christmases, yeah, this one was pretty dang good.

Today, New Years' Eve eve, is chilly here, It's 51 degrees inside the house!  Of course I have windows open everywhere so, naturally it's a bit nippy inside. But the relatively (relative to normal Florida winter weather) brisk temps are a treat in that they are unusual here. Not really wintery, no snow or ice, just Floridians in puffy jackets and tourists huddled under beach blankets on the sand, determined to have their beach vacations no matter what!

Tim and I aren't wearing puffy jackets.  I have on a sweatshirt though with long pants and Tim is wearing a long sleeved polo shirt - with shorts but still.  Wyatt loves the colder weather and sits in the open window, nose up, eyes closed, breeze ruffling his fur.  But then Wyatt is more naturally insulated than Brysco who is, at this moment, snuggled in a softie blanket on our bed in a sunny spot, having a little nap.

I'm enjoying these quiet calm days that whisper, "just breathe" and gently nudge their way between the two big holidays, Christmas and New Years.  Today I don't have to bake, or write a card, or select a gift, or wrap a gift, or stress about money, or decorate anything or host anything or attend anything or clean anything (if I don't want to).  Today I can just relax and be.  The quiet days between Christmas and New Years are a gift in themselves.

Hope all of you had a lovely Christmas Too!

Wishes to you and everyone you love, for a Very Magical Christmas from Tim and I, Brysco and Wyatt, with love

Hugs all 'round

That's Tim and I doing our version of celebrating.  As of yesterday, Tim and I have been married for 32 years!  I am so impressed with us :)

We both agreed that those 32 years have flown by far too fast. 32 years seems like a really long time and I keep thinking I've done the math wrong.  Surely that much time hasn't actually passed, right? It's hard to believe!  Well maybe that's not entirely true.  It seems like both no time at all and always.

Which sounds confusing. Sorry.  Maybe I can explain it better?  I will try.

The disbelief at how much time has passed isn't really shocking.  I still cannot believe how dang old I am either.  When the heck did that happen?   My best guess on that score is that we are all so very busy all of the time that we, or at least I, haven't been very good at living in the moment, pausing to embrace and truly appreciate and absorb little slices of time and life.  Instead, I spent most years racing through, always falling behind and rushing to catch up and meanwhile, the years sped by. And each of those distant years feels like just yesterday.

Now that I am retired and have adjusted to being retired I have the luxury of time. I can look back and see with a great deal of regret, how many beautiful moments I wish I had forced myself to step back, take a breath or two and been really and truly present.  Moments with my parents and grandparents, now long gone, moments with the kids who are all doing wonderfully elsewhere, living their own amazing lives and even with Tim.  

Well l cannot go back in time to correct those things, and honestly, I'm not sure that I was capable back then of slowing down.  There was always such a frisson of desperation about me back then, a constant sense of urgency and yes, even fear.  I was always afraid that I was doing it (whatever I was currently doing) wrong, or at least, it could be done better; that I wasn't measuring up, that I was on the cusp of losing everything and everyone I loved with with one false move on my part everything would ...I don't know, explode?  Dissolve?  Discombobulate?

Of course I know better now.  That whole age and wisdom thing is sometimes correct.

I didn't realize back then that the perfection I was forever seeking, wasn't an action, it was a moment.  Perfection was hiding in the shadows on a hot  summer day, waiting with a cool lemonade and sweet smelling grass, calling me to sit a minute and relax.  The best moment wasn't laying awake in the night re-running the video tape in my  head reviewing everything I'd done and said, criticizing it and vowing to do better.  No, the best moment was quiet and still and standing back watching the kids play and laugh together; sitting smiling and happy beside Tim as he, with great animation, describes an idea he has been working on.  

But there are no re-do's and that's a dang shame mostly because it caused time to feel sped up and I suspect that I simply missed some great opportunities for perfect moments. Zooooom and it's gone, never to return.

On the other hand,  it also feels like forever in the way that standing on the shore, looking out over the ocean at the horizon line and it feels like you are gazing at forever; standing atop  Mount Evans or Pike's Peak looking over a sea of other Mountain Tops that seem to be eternal; the way the Niagara River continues to fall in an unending crash of water seeming without end.  As if Tim and I were always side by side, and always would be, until at least 3 days after the end of time.

There is a level of understanding between us that has linked us together, unquestioningly.  There is so much uncertainty in the world and in life, thank goodness we have a rock solid connection between us. Maybe had already been written in the Big Book of Destiny.   Who is to say, certainly not me.  All I can tell you is that if it's true that we live multiple lives, I believe that Tim and I were together in all of them.  And that sounds like forever to me.

I waxed philosophical, my apologies.

The point was, Happy 32nd Anniversary to us :)

​Happy Weekend ya'll

​It's an old-fashioned expression, one you may not ever have heard before, "fit of pique".  I have always liked the phrase though rarely have had an opportunity to use it.  Well until now.

Sometimes a "fit of pique" involves gritted teeth and fiery eyes, or stomping about and flailing arms wildly, occasionally shouting is involved.  Sometimes worse.   Basically it's an adult tantrum, which is never pretty.   And to tell this story, I must tattle on myself.

Normally I am a very easy-going person.  I laugh things off most of the time, I roll with inconvenience and unexpected complications like a champ, I shrug and pivot and move on when things don't go my way.  But apparently, even I, Pollyanna/Suzy Sunshine, have a line that should not be crossed. And recently, life crossed it.

I'll set the scene.   Late afternoon after a long day of doing far too much on my stupid foot - still in the dang orthopedic boot by the way - which means my foot was hurting.  It's getting much cooler out which means my arthritic hands were aching.  I had been busy doing housey stuff all day long and honestly housework is one of those things that nobody notices unless you don't do it.  So for all that I had knocked myself out the entire day, (even though I'm supposed to still be a couch poe tay toe) it appeared that I had done nothing (if you follow that logic).  It was gloomy and chilly and wet outside, never my favourite. The kitty boys were underfoot, 'helping" with every chore. The dinner I had planned was one of those things that while not technically difficult, had a lot of moving parts. Every single part of the planned meal had to be carefully tended with multiple steps and perfectly timed.  But I was still in a good mood.

Part of the planned dinner was scalloped potatoes, which is a nice cozy bad weather day side dish.  I buttered my trusty old casserole dish which I've had for about fifty years-ish, I had the bechamel sauce bubbling away, giving it the occasional stir as I used a mandolin to slice the potatoes into nice thin even slices.  You can probably guess where this is going.

Yup, despite using the proper tools, even though I was a cautious as anybody could possibly be, somehow, I mysteriously managed to slice a chunk off the top of my right index finger.  Geez!  Those injuries bleed like crazy.  I wrapped it in paper towels, squeezed the finger below the cut, held it upright in the air, ran it under cold water, but no matter what I did, it was like faucet had been turned on. It just wouldn't stop.  Geez!  But I kind of shook my head at myself, "typical Sam", I said and laughed it off while addressing it.

After going through about a roll of paper towels, I just couldn't postpone the bechamel sauce any longer. I wrapped it as snuggly as I could in, then put on a tight latex glove.  I finished putting together the scalloped potato dish and shoved it in the oven. THEN I addressed the finger more attentively.  The dish bakes for 1 hour and 40 minutes which gave me plenty of time to take care of things.

Eventually, it slowed down enough to slap a few Band-Aids on (multiple applications coz I kept bleeding through), put on a different clean latex glove and finished making dinner.  Main dish was done, veggies were done, I slide the casserole carefully out of the oven and set it on the trivet. And then I starred at it.  What the actual heck.  It looked...........wrong. I cannot explain it any better than that. I know what scalloped potatoes are supposed to look like and this was not it.  I gave it a few minutes to settle down and looked at it again.  Not any better.  Perhaps it tastes better than it looks?  Nope.

I have NO idea what I did wrong but it was about as wrong as wrong can be.  The only way it could be more wrong would be if it were made out of kangaroos instead of potatoes. I have NO idea what I did wrong but I couldn't serve that.  So I served the rest of the meal and bless his heart, Tim said nothing about the absent potato dish.  And still, I kept my cool.

When the time came to clean up, I hobbled back into the kitchen, rinsed things, filled the dishwasher and cleaned the counter tops, the stove top and then looked at the wreck of a casserole with disgust.  'You" I said accusingly, "Are going straight into the garbage".  I scraped the potato mess masquerading as scalloped potatoes into the trash, where it collapsed with a heavy wet plop. |And then I looked at the casserole dish itself.

Despite my precautions in heavily buttering the inside of the dish, there was so much potato and ruined sauce still clinging thickly to the sides and bottom.  I filled it with soap and water and began to scrub.  I scrubbed, I scraped, I pried at the crusty remains with a fork and a butter knife and still made very little progress.  My cut throbbed and I could see through the latex glove that I needed to change the bandaid Once Again, my foot hurt, I was tired and annoyed at myself over the failure of the dish which took so much time and effort to put together and still I starred at the dish in the sink.  I picked at the bits that refused to let go the casserole dish with my fingers nail and broke the nail.

Somehow that broken nail was the final blow. Without another thought I found myself pouring the remaining hot soapy water out, crossing the kitchen with that trusty old casserole dish in my hands and heaving the entire thing into the garbage.  I then lifted the heavy bag out of the can, hobbled outside to the big garbage bins and tossed within.  I closed the lid with a very satisfying slam.  I came inside, replaced the bag in the trashcan and finished rinsing the sink before, once again, taking care of my finger.

I would like to point out that I did not scream, I did not shout, I did not raise my voice, in fact I said nothing at all.  I had just reached the end of my tether and in that moment, it was the right choice.  It was my, oh so very rare, 'fit of pique'.

The next day I regretted it.  I used that casserole dish for so many things!  And if I had been more patient, perhaps I could have let it soak overnight, worked on it longer, maybe it could have been salvaged.  But alas and alack, too little, too late.

Some of you may feel that I was justified.  Other might be horrified by my tantrum. But in either case, it happened.  It's a rare event and a perfectly good casserole dish was sacrificed to the cause.  

I think that scalloped potatoes may never happen again in this house.  

Every Christmas, even if I don't do any other decorating, not a single bauble or bell, not even a tree, I put a wreath on our front door.  Hard to imagine but it has happened.  Circumstances dictated, for various reasons, exceedingly minimal decor and hanging only a wreath is pretty doggone minimal.

For the past nine Christmasses, the wreath on our front door has looked like the one above.  Just a plain green circlet, sometimes with a bow of various Christmassy shades from white to gold to red.  One time I tried to get fancy and wound a wide swath of ribbon 'round and 'round finishing with a bow.  It didn't look anything like what I envisioned, and in fact resembled a mummy far more than a wreath, but I hung it up anyway. 

At the end of every Christmas season, I take the wreath back down, bow and/or ribbon still in place and zip it into it's little bag which is specifically created to hold wreaths, and somehow manage to shove it back into place on one of the highest shelves in the utility room until the next year. Whereupon, it will be unzipped and rehung.  Takes about 5 minutes total, including getting out the stepstool to reach it and then put the stepstool back away.

Nothing like putting my ALL into a project, eh?

It's not that I don't like wreaths, I absolutely do.  I love walking or driving down the street and seeing all of the different wreaths on all of the doors. They are warm and welcoming and friendly and personal and I love that!  It's just that I have no discernable creative crafting talent. Not one single artistic gene.  There is not one solitary molecule of crafty ability in my brain. It's very sad.  Joy got her share, my share and perhaps a few other people's too. She's amazingly artistic and crafty and produces beautiful artistic everythings and what's more, makes the process look easy.  It's not easy.

I am aware that I could buy a pre-decorated wreath and I totally would except for two things:  1) I've never really seen one in a store that looked like it represented us and it feels to me as if the wreath on the front door should represent the people in that live in that house and 2) have you seen the price tags on pre-decorated wreaths? Holy Cats!  Not just obscene but insane!  So our plain little circle of green with it's one motley looking bow was good enough.

Except, was it? A few years back, Tim bought a string of small wreath sized lights that would definitely jazz it up especially at night and we got really excited about that!  I carefully wrapped the plain wreath with the muti-coloured lights, hung it back up and then realized once I did so that the only outside plug is on the wrong side of the door.  Meaning, if I plugged in the lights, the cord would pass across the door and we would not be able to open it.  Well that doesn't work!  Excellent try though.

 And a few more years went by and I was still hanging a plain green wreath with a sad little worn out bow.  But this year I noticed something.  Actually, I noticed a number of things.  Most importantly, I realized that from the street, nobody can see the wreath.  Part of the issue is the courtyard walls.  At the front of our house is our courtyard which is encircled by a solid stuccoed wall which means that the actual front of the house is really only noticed through the opening in the courtyard wall. A passerby would have to be perfectly aligned with the opening to see the door.  Additionally, there is an overhang. If it's raining, anyone would stay dry standing in our courtyard at the front door which is nice, but it does cast a shadow sooooo  the door is kind of lost in the gloom for all that it is a white door.  But the house itself is green, the wreath is green, there is a LOAD of shrubs and trees in front/on the sides/in the back of our house (most houses in Florida honestly) which are green plus the shadow and the courtyard and ......  Let's just say the front of the house is relatively unremarkable.  The plain little green wreath was kind of lost, unnoticed.  Awwww :(  

I don't know what came over me this year, but about a week after I initially put the wreath up, I brought it back inside. I didn't think about it at all, just operated on instinct. I found myself dragging back out the bin with tree ornaments on it and pawed through, sure that I remembered at least one box of ornaments I did not put on the tree.   Ahhh!  I remembered correctly, there it was, one box full of old and unmatched but still shiny and colourful, Christmas balls!  Only some of them had hooks so I cut and tied the rest with some ribbon, attached them here and there then rehung the wreath.​

It's about as far from perfect as anybody can get but it's bright and colourful and most importantly visible from the street (again if you are lined up just right).  And it tickles me every time we come back from somewhere and walk into the courtyard only to see this.  Makes me smile everytime

I guess when I really think about it, we mostly decorate for ourselves and as long as we are good with this, it's fine.  Which means, it's all good. At least for now.  

When the season is over,  I will again take it down, just as it is and carefully zip it back into it's little wreath shaped case, drag over the stepstool and climb up then place it on the top shelf of the shelf n the utility room.  Until next year comes around and who knows what I will do then. Certainly not me.

Any interest in an update on my stupid foot?

Turns out I have not one, but two stupid feet.  I accidentally whacked my good foot into the leg of the ottoman in the family room and broke the second toe on the good foot.  For Heaven's Sakes.  As you may be able to tell looking at my Very Ugly Feet in the above photograph.   Broken toes don't bother me. I've done it so often that I know exactly how to walk to accommodate the injured party.  But it does complicate things a little since the "good foot" has been compensating for the "bad foot" these days.  My walk has gone from a hobble to a double hobble.  It's not pretty but it gets me where I'm going.

When last we discussed things, I had finally given in and gone to Urgent Care where they decided that I had indeed fractured my foot, instructed me to see a specialist, compression wrapped the foot, gave me a wildly too large sandal type boot and sent me on my way.

I did, indeed, reach out to a specialist and was pleasantly surprised at how quickly I was able to get an appointment. yay!    I was not shocked to learn that they wanted to take their own x-rays (they always do) but I was interested to learn that I had not one but multiple fractures in that foot. Apparently, I did a Fine Job, very thorough.  

My foot was rewrapped in a new compression bandage and I was given a better fitting and frankly better quality proper boot with instructions to wear the boot at all times, except when showering, swimming or sleeping.  AND worse, I was to stay off the foot as much as possible.  I asked, ' so except for when I'm busy right?'   He smiled but gave me a very knowing look and said, (and this is a direct quote), "I want you to be a couch Poh Tay Toe".  Geez.

So I've been good about wearing the boot all day long so that must count for something. My walk is still very Frankenstein's Monster with all the clumping about. I have not attempted the noonwalk OR a hike since then.  And I am taking more breaks throughout the day to just sit for a little bit. But honest to goodness, how am I supposed to accomplish anything if I sit on my prodigious arse all day?  I think that is an unrealistic expectation on his part!

Yesterday was the two week checkup meaning, more x-rays to compare to the first set, looking for signs of healing.  And was told to continue for two more weeks whereupon we will have yet more x-rays and more comparing, more investigatory work. And I'm already so over this.

I miss hiking with Joy.  I miss the noonwalk with Tim.  I miss wearing matching footwear!  I miss having a smaller keister.  (I have this theory about butts and chairs.  It is my totally  unscientific observation that when a person sits a great deal, their butt grows to the size of their chair.  Much like a goldfish grows to the size of it's fishbowl. I am not happy about this).

Mostly I miss my independence.  

It used to be that if I randomly felt like taking a walk on the beach, off I'd go.  Or if I had a free afternoon and decided to walk downtown to window shop. Or to surprise Tim with fresh scones for breakfast it would only be a quick easy jog to Upper Crust Bakery and back.   Now there are no surprises as I need to be driven anywhere I need or want to go.   If I'm baking and realize zero hour that I dont' have enough vanilla, I cannot just jump in the car and quickly zoom over to Publix to pick up more. Nope. Gotta wait 'til Tim is free. 

I reallllllllly am not happy with the whole walking thing being out of the question just that, right there.  That along goes completely against the grain with me.   I walk. That's who I am, it's what i do.  I am a professional pedestrian.  Except right now, I'm not at all.

I also cannot spontaneously bust out a dance move without risking falling (a bad thing) because I'm so awkward and unbalanced with this dang boot.  Cannot play the chase game with the kittyboys.  I miss all phone calls because by the time I have stumped my way over to the phone, they've hung up.   I move very slowly and deliberately,  which, while in and of itself is not a bad thing, it definitely feels like an old thing and while I am old, (at 72 I am frankly old) I didn't used to feel old as I jumped around and bounced and twirled and raced along my way everywhere I went.  Now I am more like one of those giant tortoises. I am not a fan.

This year, my only personal Christmas wish is to be able to get back out there walking and hiking and resuming my old energy spark.  So, I will wear the dang boot and compression wrap.  I will not do walks or hikes.  I will sit far more than I actually want to with my foot up.  I will grit my teeth and behave. And hopefully, I will be able to start the new year, Boot Free!

It's a goal.

Any idea what this photo represents?  I didn't.  I had no idea at all.

I get all sorts of unexpected things in my various online feeds: ads for discounted auto insurance, info on the latest HGTV Dream Home Contest, enticements from loads of Cruise Lines, requests for me to donate blood, and lots and lots of recipes just by way of example.  I want to be clear right off the bat, I did not request ANY of these things (or the other 5 zillion things).  They just show up.

Every single day, as soon as I sit down at the computer, my first task is deleting. And deleting. And yet more deleting.  At one time I bothered to 'unsubscribe' from each thing I did not want.  Sometimes it even worked, but removing one seemed to invite a half dozen other's to take it's place so now I just delete.

The one thing I do not automatically delete is recipes. I did not ask for any of them, but I have no problem with them showing up uninvited.  I am always on the scout for new recipes.  Sometimes I get so tired of making the same things over and over and it occurs to me that if I am tired of making them, Tim must also be tired of eating them. So Yay new Recipes. Or, possible recipe.

It's not as if every recipe that wanders into my email or online feed is a winner after all.  Tim, who will eat almost anything, detests mushrooms in any way, shape or form so the 'Stuffed Mushrooms" recipe that popped in two days ago, is long gone.  Delete!  I also waved byebye to sauteed cabbage and stuffed eggplant. Delete!  But now and again, something turns up that catches my eye.  I will look over the photo, read the recipe and then decide whether or not it's worth a try.  If so, I make the dish and offer it up.  If it's a hit, I add it to the collection, if not....Delete!  I am heartless.

No wait, that's not true. I 'm not heartless.  I just don't want a bunch of unused, unnecessary, unneeded crap sitting around anywhere, even if it's in my Yahoo Inbox!   I know how to make the tough decisions and sometimes that makes me SEEM to be  heartless.  

So anyway, earlier today, as I was deleting with abandon, 'hair replacement  - nope,  laser tattoo removal - not applicable, anything remotely political - outoutout", like that complete with editorial comment, this one recipe comes up.  It says, "Snickers Salad". And I came to a complete halt.

What's that now?  I read it more carefully to myself but said the words out loud,  "Snickers Salad".

Well that doesn't make a lick of sense.  I know what snickers are and I know what salad is, but Snickers Salad? Just did not compute.

So I scrolled down to the photos, (the same one you saw at the top oft he page). Well hmmm, I said to myself,  I see cut up snickers bars...they are unmistakable. But I also see cut up apples and some kind o soft looking white stuff, oh my dear lord is that whipped cream?

Someone is playing a trick on me, I was absolutely certain is was a joke.  Ho Ho Ho, Very Amusing, Snickers Salad indeed.  I continue to scroll down, even while dry laughing searching for the ingredients. And sonuvagun!  It's a real thing!  Snickers Salad is a real thing!!  It is very obviously a dessert though so I was a little mystified by it's name.  

Now while my first thought, when thinking of a salad is very green and crunchy, I am not so unsophisticated that I believe all salads must have a minimum of one sort of lettuce in it's make up.  I am well aware that there are many types of salads:  Green Salads of course - the place my brain went first;  fruit salads, also yummy; many and sundry pasta salads; tuna or chicken salad which is only just barely a salad in my heart and other, newer to the interpretation such as beet salads too.  And I 100% buy any and all of those examples as being salads.

Snickers Salad?  Nope. That's just wrong.

Or is it?  What exactly IS a salad after all?  How is it defined?  And I was not certain, so of course, I looked it up:

1. a cold dish of various mixtures of raw or cooked vegetables, usually seasoned with oil, vinegar, or other dressing and sometimes accompanied by meat, fish, or other ingredients:
   "a green salad"
   "bowls of salad"
   • a mixture containing a specified ingredient served with a dressing:
     "a red pepper filled with tuna salad"
   • a vegetable suitable for eating raw:
     "sow salads like lettuce, radish, and spring onion"
   •  a usually incongruous mixture : hodgepodge

Well hmm, let's see here, it's absolutely not Number 1 unless that mysterious white stuff is considered a dressing.  And unless Snickers Bars have themselves been reclassified to be considered vegetables, it 's not number 2.  However, "an incongruous mixture" sounds like a possibility  Dingdingding, we have a winner!  Snickers Salad is only a salad in the broadest sense of the word.  The third option.  Ok, I'm okay now.

I calmed down and re-read the ingredients more carefully, this time paying actual attention instead of just saying that I was paying attention.  Turns out the white stuff is vanilla pudding and CoolWhip mixed together.

I am almost tempted to give it a whirl.  My mother would have loved it.  She adored CoolWhip and put it on almost everything. Went through giant tubs of it on the regular. And if you knew what a teeny tiny lady she was, that knowledge would seem just about as incongruous as calling this recipe a Snickers Salad.  But honestly, I think she would have liked that name too.

 I suppose you could expand upon this idea with any other bad for you ingredients: Chocolate Chip Cookie Salad, Ice Cream Salad, Cake Salad, oh yeah, I am liking the direction this is taking.   Let's get creative people!  I seems that there is no need to allow the knowledge of nutritional value to hold us back!  LOL

I hope those uninvited recipes keep rolling across my screen.  One of them is bound to be a winner.

Hugs

Happy December 1st Ya'll!  Thanksgiving, as wonderful as it was (and it  was!!) is over and now the official countdown to Christmas Begins!  Woohoo and Yikes!

Time is ticking by too fast, too fast! SLOW DOWN! Yes, I know, I could have started earlier, planned better and so forth.  I know people who have long had their Christmas shopping done, wrapped and waiting for the big day. Whoa!  Those sorts of people seriously impress me!  Hats off!!

It's kind of funny because normally I am exceptionally well organized and have everything planned and I'm always on time if not ahead of time with every other dang thing in my entire life.  Just not Christmas.  There's just something about this HollyJolly time of year and all of it's many layers, that I just cannot CANNOT get into until it's officially the Holiday Season and I am feeling that unmistakable Christmas Spirit.   Clearly a personality defect oh my part.

In an effort to at least attempt to, if not keep up then at least not fall too far behind, I did finish decorating the house over the weekend.  Tim found and hauled out the bins labeled "Christmas" for me from the utility room and just so you know, there are too many of them.   I wasn't sure what I wanted to do, Chrismas decor-wise, other than the tree which is already up (last weekend) but I assumed that once I tossed a few bits of holiday magic here and there, I would become a bit more Christmas Enthused.

As I sorted through the bits of this'n'that, the one decision I immediately made was that I didn't want to do the same things I did every year.  That's too easy.  This year I wanted to shake things up a bit, do something a little different. Step One was getting it all out of the bins, unwrapped and spread out so I could see what I actually had. You'd think I would remember, wouldn't you?  You would be wrong.

Over the years we have gained and lost innumerable bits of Christmas Decor- most of it gifts.  I don't use all of it every year for one thing, we only see it once a year and of course things get broken and thrown away.  By way of example, at one time I had an enormous snowman collection of all shapes and sizes. They were adorable. But we had a very large house then and therefore room to display it.   Most of it was sold in our huge moving yard sale before we came here, so it's kind of a surprise to me every year that I have any of it left.
​
Then there were the two "under construction" years where we couldn't even put up a Christmas Tree so we didn't open those bins at all.  It's easy to forget small details when you haven't given bin contents a second thought in two full years!  That's 24 months, which is also 104 weeks or  730 days!  That's a long time to remember something. I often cannot remember what I had for breakfast!  Did I remember to have breakfast?

For the past two Christmas's we were very very VERY careful about what we put out as decorations, up to and including what went on the tree, due to playful, curious and daredevil kitties.  It was a wise decision because as you may or may not remember, they literally killed the first Christmas tree with their enthusiasm and energy.

This year, however, they've been exceptionally good.  I've only had to pick up a few ornaments a couple of times and none of them were broken, just down.  Not Bad At All!  Our Baby Kitties are growing up :) They still love the tree, especially sleeping underneath of it, of course.  The rest of the decorations, they do sniff at from time to time, but otherwise, they've agreed to live and let live.  Whew!

Sooo anyway, there I am looking at all of our Christmas decor Stuff with zero ideas in my little pumkin head. So I just jumped in and without giving it too much (or sometimes any) thought, I just started placing things, thither and yon.  Of course before the new stuff is put out, the usual stuff has to be put............somewhere.  Sometimes in the bin the new stuff just came out of, other times it just finds a new spot. (Sometimes the new spot becomes it's new permanent place)  Usually it also involves at least a small swipe with a tea towels to get rid of fur and dust.   It's a process people!

Tim had to help with some of it because I couldn't reach.  It doesn't feel like a GREAT idea to be climbing ladders in a "boot".  But he's a good guy and entered into the spirit of the project with no complaints.  I knew I was done when I ran out of horizontal surfaces to put stuff on.  Ok that's not entirely true. There were still horizontal surfaces around but putting Christmas Decor on those surfaces would be in the way of navigating normal life and no matter what the holiday, we still gotta manage daily life.  So nothing on bed side tables or the kitchen counters because there's enough crap on those things already. Necessary crap but still.

Anything that didn't make the cut, was put back into the bins with no remorse.  Doesn't mean I don't also love those pieces, it just means, that this year, they are on sabbatical.  Tim returned the bins to wherever they are stashed in the utility room and now the house looks just tacky enough to suit me.  I've always adhered to "Too Much is Just Enough" when it comes to Christmas Decor.  I guess that's where we sit, firmly at "Too Much" but not "Over the Top".  That's my Christmas Decor comfort zone.

My biggest and most favourite surprise in the Christmas Bins was a gift that I had received several years ago but I couldn't use it until now (see "under construction" and baby kitties for reference as to the why of it)  It's a 3-D Paper Tree complete with decorations and it's adorable! So Happy I was able to use it at long last.

As to whether or not it's getting me in a Christmas Mood, Yeah, I think it's working.  I found myself humming "We Three Kings" while sorting laundry this morning AND I, willingly, began work on the annual Christmas Letter.  Progress my friends, progress.

​Here's how we are looking as of today:

​Merry December 1st, my friends