Something New

Since I haven't eaten more than a speck of food over the last few days I want to try something new. I have never prepared Creamed Spinach. It's about time.

The recipe can be found here.

I suppose it's very apparent I'm hungry.

Stephen

The Best Laid Plans

Isn't it interesting how the best laid plans, once declared, slap you back to earth. I believe it was last week I wrote and informed everyone within hailing distance I planned to work six days a week through the month of December.  Yeah, right.

Many weeks ago, due to chapped lips, I developed a crack in my lower lip. Sucker wouldn't heal. I applied the wax in a bottle stuff several times a day. I was very careful with the wound. It would partially heal but it seemed each and every time I opened my mouth the upper portion of the wound would re-open. Then, last Friday, I noticed I didn't feel very well and my lip was extremely sore, painful. I applied more of the wax in the bottle.

By Friday evening the whole of my lower jaw was tender to the touch. It hurt. My lower lip had swollen to twice its size. Doctor time.

Long story short it seems my old nemesis, staff infection, had returned and kissed me hello.

At the doc's office the nice nurse told me to drop my trousers. Sweet Wife giggled. I manned up and took the shot like a big boy. Three days later and my butt still hurts. As I write my lip has reduced in size and I feel somewhat better but here I am at home...and my business is closed.

All this to explain my absence and I'm truly sorry for my silence but to tell you the truth I haven't felt well enough to write. Ever tried to eat and drink with a lower lip the size of a baseball.

I swear I thought I heard the nurse giggle when my trousers hit the floor...

*****

Our weather is hot. I hate it. Of course I'm not in a seasonal mood but cool windy weather is best for those out cruising for evergreens.

I do so miss the days when I'd take saw and ax in hand and jump into my truck and ride the logging roads of Western Washington, my lab by my side, in search of our Christmas tree. The sky gray, light rain. We'd ride and climb to the higher elevations where tiny white puffs of snow peppered my trucks windshield. Dixie, my black lab, insisted I lower her window so she'd not miss one trace of grouse scent.

We'd drive for hours. Frequent stops to measure and test each tree. I'd judge the trees on limb spacing, height, and ease of retrieval as most were located on steep hill sides either above or beneath the logging road. Most were Douglas Fir but occasionally I'd opt for the rare Royal Fir with its circular and even spaced branches.

We owned an old Victorian in those days. It had been built high on a hill with an overview of Puget Sound and there was a beautiful clear and cold creek just yards from our back door. From our living room we had views of two mountain ranges, each wore a year round coat of snow.

When I'd arrive home with the tree I carefully measure and remove a small section of the trunk and place it in the old cast iron stand of faded green and red and carry the tree into the living room and next to the window with the best view of the mountains. Afterwards, when the Christmas tree was dressed, we'd lower the lights and silently stand and admire its beauty.

I remember my last Christmas under the mountains. My last Christmas tree of my last season stood freshly dressed as outside the snowfall was reflected by its dance of red and green and orange light. I remember the tree was a Douglas Fir found high in the Cascades and I remember I had shot three Blue grouse and my lab had retrieved each and placed them gently in my hand. I remember we'd eaten our lunch while sitting upon an long ago cut red ceder stump and watched a bear work its way across a canyon as a lone raven circled the thermals. I remember it as a good day.

Sadly, I cannot remember physical gifts of my last Christmas under the mountains. I do, however, remember the gifts of the tree and its lights and the beauty of the snow and the vistas presented from the windows of my old Victorian home and the smell of firewood and fir and the aroma of fresh baked cookies.

Mostly I remember the happiness.

Stephen

It's Nice

To have my boots off. Yes, I'm still alive just very tired. So far it's been a very busy week at the shop, and as a result, I have little time to write or for that matter, read.

Not complaining mind you, it's a good thing. And, I'm very sorry I haven't had the time to visit all your blogs. Hopefully this next weekend I'll find time to say hello.

Now, let's change the subject. I spotted my son's car this morning. It was brief as he crossed the street on his way, I'm sure, to deliver my Little Bit to school. I didn't see her as he was gone in a blink. Still, it made my heart flutter for just a second. Then the encounter just made me damn sad.

Not in much of a Christmas mood.

I miss the little girl.

Later.

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

You'll never believe what Sweet Wife has on the television...go ahead, guess.

*****

Between work and my duties to keep my lovely wife entertained - I'm tired. My feet are sore and I just don't feel all that great. It's been a very long day. After the morning service Sweet Wife arrived home, loaded me into the car, and instructed me to drive.

I said, "Yes, Dear."

I'm a lethally quick study.

 Our first stop was a friend's yard sale. Since we arrived on the second day of the sale all the good stuff, read firearms, had fled the room. I was able (buy phone purchase) to walk away with a Coleman stove and a couple of spare parts. I did grab a large bag of 'fat-wood' kindling. Sure perfumed the car. Told Sweet Wife we should leave it inside as a permanent fixture. She smiled.

Anyway, my friend needed the help and I truly hope his little girls have a big smile this Christmas. He offered his four year old to us whenever we needed company. I told him to be careful as I need a child around and just might not return the little bundle of love. We shall take him at his word and then I'll just spoil the girl before/if I return her.

We then did a bit of this and that and after a pecan sticky bun and a cup of coffee at Paneras we hit the market. Sweet Wife wanted another pot of chili. After a quick hair cut I arrived home and built a pot of my world famous kick 'ya in the butt goodness.

The lady just finished a bowl. Now here's the thing; she's satisfied, warm and has her girly Hallmark program on the tube...soon she will fall asleep and I'll have a quiet evening until bed time. Hallmark will take a ride...

*****

Since we're dead into the Christmas holidays business has increased so I will open the shop six days a week through the rest of December. As they say, make hay and all that stuff. As it is my feet are sore so by the end of the month I'll probably be crippled...but with a smile.

Take care.

Stephen

Here

Just very busy.

'Tis the Season.

Stephen

Hallmark

My lovely wife has for the last week or so been tied to the Hallmark channel. She loves their Christmas shows.

A few moments ago I made the comment it might be nice if the writers made a few changes I would, perhaps, watch one. She asked what changes. I replied, well, cast a few normal actors. Perhaps an ugly bucktoothed fella or girl and make them poor. Have them live in the country, chew tobacco and pack rifles and handguns with a hog pen in the backyard.

Why make all the characters beautiful, wealthy, with castles for homes and a staff of twenty.

She turns to me and said, "Last week one show had a poor mother of two. She did not have a job and lived in her car. So there."

Tick, tick, tick...then I smartly said, "Yes, but she was still beautiful."

She gave me 'the look.'


Stephen

Distracted

So when you're distracted what do you write. My mind is, again, blank. Picture me in deep thought. Wait for it...


The holiday season is underway and I can't seem to find my spirit for eggnog and mistletoe and holly berry flecked door wreaths. The jingles and jangles of Christmas music leave me empty. Still, I have children in my life.

The local school pack that each day walk along the sidewalk in front of my shop on their way home from the elementary school stopped this afternoon, as is their way. They always ask to visit inside my business, which gives me pause. One must be careful with children so I always leave open the door...and again, today they asked permission to visit. Seems to thrill the little boogers. Imagine a pack of second graders, each in full scream, bouncing off the walls as I stand and hold my door. Fifteen seconds, in and out.

Anyway, I'm normally all smiles when they leave. One or two will ask for jobs and when I hire them how much 'monies' will I pay. The standard answer is one hundred dollars an hour which elicits screams of pure joy. The first time I told the children their hourly rate one little boy ran, in full scream, down the street, "One hundred dollars an hour. Wait until I tell mommy." Oops....

This afternoon they each left with a piece of bubblegum. They seemed satisfied. At least until tomorrow.

The one little boy that ran home and informed his mother of his new job and hourly pay hasn't forgotten and reminds me each day he's ready for work. He told me his mother said she'd pack him a lunch and wants to know when she should expect him home after we close shop.

I'm willing to bet this young man isn't a future democrat.

Ah, there it is...my holiday spirit.

Stephen