Christmas Hint List

 I have taken it upon myself to prepare a Christmas Hint List for you young whippersnappers. (Please note...that’s Christmas HINT List, not Hit List). Anyway I have been at this Christmas stuff for many years. I have gone through the buying, making, sewing, baking, wrapping, decorating, spending, over-spending for many a year. 

So, in no particular order here are a few tips for y’all.

Christmas Stockings...Think small. If you buy or make one that is 29 inches long you might have to fill it. Not so much fun. Look for something no longer than the palm of your hand. The same thing holds true for those handy gift bags. Look for the smallest one that will hold the gift item. I find an envelope works the best. Keep reading.

Perfume Buying... If she has a favorite fragrance find out what it is. If she likes White Shoulders (hint here for Mr. Lucky) don’t get her Eternity. The same rule applies when buying for your fella. It took me several years to convince Mr. Lucky that Old Spice was his favorite.
Fruit Cake... I love it. The folks who are always complaining about it obviously have never tasted my Mom’s or my Aunt Mary’s. I have entertained to idea of trying my hand at making them. That was before I discovered it might require a bank loan just to stock up on the ingredients. So if someone makes, or even buys you a fruit cake. Suck it up and say thank you. Then you can send it on to me.



Gift Certificates... They always fit. Or do they? If he is not likely to change a light bulb don’t bother getting him a gift card from a hardware store. Maybe one from a men’s clothing store would be more appropriate. If the receiver is not likely to dig in the dirt they might not be to tickled to get a gift card from Plants Are Us. Don’t be buying a gift certificate for a year’s membership to a gym unless you know this is what they want.

Decorating... Remember this one important thing. If you, or someone you live with, put it up someone has to take it down. Hopefully before St. Patrick’s Day. Clark Griswall doesn’t live here anymore.

The Big Dinner... The average Christmas Dinner will contain about 4000 calories per plate. I am not making this up. It might not be necessary to cook and bake for three days ahead of Christmas. It’s ok to cut back on some of the goodies.

So... Now have yourself a Happy Christmas and a Merry New Year!

Coping With Excess

Somehow I reached excess without ever noticing that I was passing through satisfaction.   Before you credit me with this pearl of wisdom I want you to know this brilliant phrase was coined by Ashleigh Brilliant, right out of one of his books.  No...I am not making that up.  He created and was smart (brilliant) enough to copyright some of his sayings.  Many have appeared on t-shirts. And that is his real name.  I researched it.

Anyway, back to the point I hope to make....excess.  I mentioned Mr. Brilliant’s book.  Of course, I have a copy of one of them and hundreds more on a variety of subjects.  I have books on sewing, quilting, woodworking, cooking, gardening, history, genealogy,  graphology...to name a few topics.  I am the proud owner of several books by Celia Rivenbark, Dave Barry, Erma Bombeck, Jack Olsen, and even Mark Twain.  I am the not so proud owner of a couple penned by Bill Cosby.  Oh, well.  I can even scare up a dictionary (you know...the paper version of Google), a thesaurus or two and several real hold-in-your-hand atlases.

Having made my point about books it’s probably time to start weeding them out.  Not only the books, but I can’t close my sock drawer and my t-shirt supply is way out of hand.  As noted I have a supply of books on sewing, quilting, woodworking, etc.   In addition, I have the raw materials for sewing, quilting, woodworking, gardening and cooking.  I have enough pots and pans to create 5 or 6 meals without needing to run the dishwasher.  Need a shovel?  I have 4 or 5 of them in a variety of different sizes.  Wood and wood scraps?  Got it covered.  Fabric?  Let’s not go there.  After donating a pickup load to charity I still have several tubs.  The subject of shoes is off-limits.  We really don’t want to go there.

So it’s time for WWJD.  Let me be clear–I’m not looking for a divine intervention.  I mean  What Would Julie Do?  My friend, I’ll call her Julie (because that’s her name), is a master of non-clutter.  On her dining room table you’ll not find the usual assortment of stuff–yesterday’s mail, glasses, both reading and sun, keys, coffee mug, a stray napkin, and a newspaper clipping of an obituary from last February.  Instead you’ll see a seasonally appropriate floral arrangement carefully placed on a freshly pressed doily.  She doesn’t even stack up her excess junk and wait for a yard sale.  However, rumor has it that her husband’s new ladder turned up missing after a yard sale.  She dejunks regularly.  People are skeptical about buying gifts for her because they’ll find them later for sale at the Salvation Army Thrift Shop. 

So, my only hope about this excess thing is to start a declutter movement.  As Mr. Lucky has pointed out, the way to start a declutter operation is to stop buying, well, cluttery stuff.  So if you see me at a yard sale do not sell me a thing.  (Wink).

By the way, you can probably find a copy of Ashleigh Brilliants book, I Have Abandoned My Search for Truth, and Am Now Looking for A Good Fantasy, and several others on Amazon.  I am not ready to give up my copy of it, no matter what Julie says.

Remembering Bonnie

A friend once told me that you are allowed in this life one good job, one good marriage, one good dog. Mr. Lucky and I have had a good marriage, jobs that we were good at (if that counts) and one over-the-top good dog. Bonnie. The angels came for her a couple of days ago.

She was looking for a home along with two other dogs when we went to an animal shelter to have a look. The other two dogs were more interested in barking at something on the other side of the fence. But not this fifty pound, 6 month old Australian Shepherd mix. She came over to us and sat on Mr. Lucky’s feet. That pretty much clinched the deal, as long as Fred approved of her. He did. He took her under his wing, and taught her lots of things...mostly good. The most important thing for her to know about was come-in cookies. That would be that bribery thing, just for coming in when you were called. A few days after she adopted us, the folks from the animal shelter called to see how it was working out. Did we want to keep her? After only 3 days ...oh, yeah. We were her people.

Along with the come-in cookie thing Bonnie had a special way of training us. At 3 o’clock every afternoon she reminded us it was her dinner time. She also liked her breakfast served at 6 AM. After her breakfast she would make her rounds through the neighborhood. One of the neighbors was trained so well he provided her with treats twice a day. I don’t know for sure what she did if he wasn’t home. She probably worked her magic on someone else.

You probably have seen dogs retrieve balls, frisbies and the like. Bonnie was not one of those dogs. If you threw something for her she would just look at you like "Oh, sure. I don’t want that. Thanks, anyway." Folks would ask if she liked to swim. Well, no. She didn’t. Although, she never passed up an opportunity to get wet clear up to her ankles. She was big on wading.
  

Her special skill was to be there for us. She was happy to see us when we got home, barked if she found something out of place, and was always there to comfort us for any reason. If we had an unpleasant experience she knew it and reacted as only she could. She didn’t limit this skill to just us.   Bonnie knew when other folks were having a rough time for whatever reason. A real people person kind of dog.

 She enjoyed 4-wheeler rides. We outfitted our wheelers for her comfort, too. In fact, Mr. Lucky bought one to color coordinate with her. Camouflage.

Bonnie was a great traveler. She spent 6 winters in Arizona with us and touched the hearts of many of our Arizona cronies. You know who you are.

She was indeed ONE GOOD DOG.

Flea Marketing

Flea Marketing

Much to Mr. Lucky’s chagrin I like flea markets. It’s not that I am a fan of fleas, mind you, it’s junk. Plain and simple. You have probably heard the saying "One person’s junk is another’s treasure".

So...moving along...there is a big flea market up the road a piece from where we stay in Arizona. No. Settle down. It’s not Quartzite. Mr. Lucky caved and took me there a few days ago. An interesting thing about flea markets is that they are all pretty much the same. If you were dropped out of the sky in the middle of one you would be hard pressed to identify the town in which you had landed. Shopping malls are like that, too.

In one booth I heard myself saying to another bargain hunter, "This looks just like my attic". Oh, my. There was an assortment of figurines (dust collectors), shoes and boots, bags of all kinds - carryon, handbags, duffel bags, for carrying your duffels, and plain old suitcases, lamps and books. A couple of things that I have that this vendor was missing were trophies, old motorcycle helmets, and, of course fabric.

Flea markets all have someone selling dolls, crocheted treasures, knives, tools - both old and new, shoes - old and new, CDs and VHS tapes - all old. Then you’ll have the jewelry vendors. This flea market must have had cheap space rent for anyone hawking jewelry. You could have thrown a marshmallow from one jewelry vendor and hit another one...even with bad aim.

I noticed that many of the treasure sellers had captured the technology of the times. Some of them never took their eyes off their gadgets long enough to attempt to sell something. The days are long and hard in the vending world.

I wanted to do my part to help support the economy so I felt obligated to buy a dab of "inexpensive" jewelry.  It will look good in my jewelry box.

Looking for Mud

Several years ago, like 10, Mr. Lucky and I strolled into the local motorcycle shop and bought two brand new, shiny 4-wheelers. Ok. Mr. Lucky bought two brand new, shiny 4-wheelers. Mine is blue. Mr. Lucky settled on camouflage. (Some Californians refer to them as "quads".) Four Wheelers are what you graduate to when motorcycle riding is no longer a real good option. My last ride on my Yamaha 175 Enduro resulted in me on the ground somewhere between a rock and a hard place.  Mr. Lucky wisely

thought maybe my motorcycle riding days were behind me.


An interesting point is that our wheelers are just now nicely broken in and some of our cronies are upgrading to side-by-sides....or as I like to call them "baby jeeps". They come equipped with heaters, sound systems, radial tires, and a host of other options. Did I mention doors and windshields?

It would follow that we like to ride our wheelers once in a while. I sort of lean toward riding in what I like to call "perfect weather".  That would be a nice morning following a rainy night.  Not too hot...not too cold.  Rainy nights equal mud. If there is an abundance of mud there is likely to be lots less dust.  Dust, of course, is the enemy.

So...a few weeks ago we loaded our wheelers.   Ok. Mr. Lucky loaded our wheelers, along with the necessary sandwiches, water, soda pop, Vienna sausages, and spare clothes/coats. There may have even been a cold beer someplace.   Off we went to meet some of our buddies.... in search of mud.

We found some. We went so far as to test it for depth. It was adequate. While poking around with our sticks (not our wiener-roaster sticks) we were unable to locate any lost treasures, dead things, or riding partners.

Our riding adventures sometimes are rich with wildlife sightings. One of our cronies caught a glimpse of a moose. Luckily none of us had Moose Burgers in our lunch packs. It’s hard to explain to an 1800 pound moose why you are eating their cousins.

Some things we just can’t seem to get away from...even in the woods. Like road construction. Do the road construction folks just set up their clever little signs when they suspect that Mr. Lucky and I will be coming along? Makes me wonder.




How about a cabin in the woods? We found one of those, too. I am not ready to move to far away from a grocery store. What if I ran out of milk?

So if you happen to be in the woods. Look for me. I’ll be the one stuck in the mud wearing a burgundy colored helmet.

　

Change is Good

Change is Good

I have noticed that some folks buy, trade, sell, and otherwise obtain automobiles with much more frequency than Mr. Lucky and I do. I have cars that I have owned longer than some of my shoes....and I’m a shoe nut.   

Because we have plenty of places to park cars, pickups, motor homes, motorcycles, and 4 wheelers I decided it was time to buy yet another car;  one of those ever-popular SUVs. This one will tow nicely behind the motor home and has comfortable back seat for Bonnie. The most important thing to consider is the color. Well that, and Bonnie’s comfort. The tow vehicle must, (I repeat MUST) match the color of your motor home. We have been towing a blue pickup behind the blue/white motor home, so a white Tracker will do quite nicely. Now I have to take back all those things I have said about white vehicles. Never mind that I said that people who favored white cars didn’t have much, if any, imagination. Forget all that. I once made similar comments about vests and wearing vests. Then I got one. Needless to say I like vests.



Anyway, back to the subject...automobiles and the like. Let me tell you there is nothing more unsavory than a $250,000 motor home towing a BMW that doesn’t match. It’s just plain unacceptable. Fortunately Mr. Lucky and I don’t have to be bothered by that. No $250,000 moho or, for that matter, a BMW. But if we do find ourselves in that situation you can rest assured the BMW will match the motor home.

Moving along, meet my newly acquired, color coordinated Geo Tracker. I usually name most stuff I buy, build, or otherwise acquire. I started to call it "Bentley". That just didn’t fit. Maybe it’s because one of my cronies has a doxie named Bentley. Mr. Lucky refers to it as "Tracker". Not really catchy and hardly original, but when I call it by that name, it comes. What more could you ask for? So "Tracker" it is.

Speaking of vehicles and their colors, Tracker is the first non-red or reddish car I have purchased since 1973. That was a Buick Skylark. A muscle car.... and a thing of beauty. Two door, hardtop, V8 350. The ashtray got full so I traded it off for a really red Toyota Celica. Since then we have had 2 more Buicks, both red, and a reddish Firebird. Change is good, but I have come out of two different grocery stores looking for a red car only to have a head-slap moment and then I grasp onto the idea that I wasn’t looking for a red car.

Now that the spell has been broken, I might be able to buy more non-red cars. I won’t let anything but common sense stand in my way. Oh, yeah. And money.

　

　

　

Let Me Tell You About My Ma

     
Just before Father’s Day (like one day before) I was scrambling to get the "perfect" Father’s Day card for Mr. Lucky. The tireless father to our two sons certainly deserved more than a card that read ‘For my best friend, my lover, and my everlasting soulmate’ on the outside. On the inside ‘and occasionally all three of you piss me off.’ So, I opted for a nice sentimental card, just on the fringes of being too gushy. The other one is still tucked in my desk drawer waiting for the perfect occasion and, of course, the misplaced envelope.
Moving along....while perusing the FD (that’s Father’s Day) cards I noticed one that honored a mother for being both a mother and a father. It occured to me later, as things often do, that this would have been perfect for my mom. She was widowed at the age of 31 with three kids to raise. Looking back I don’t have a clue as to how she managed it. She didn’t drive. The upside of that was that we/she didn’t have car expenses. The price of gas was of no concern to her. Groceries were, however. They were always there, too. She raised a vegetable garden which was rivaled by her beautiful flowers.  I could go on and on about her cooking skills.

She had a way about getting her point across that didn’t require lectures, spanking, or curfews. If we, my brother, sister, and I fought we were required to sit on chairs, back-to-back and watch the clock. And no talking. I don’t recall the time frame. At the time it seemed like 2 hours, but it was probably closer to 10 or 15 minutes.
One time I complained about the way she put the clean sheets on my bed. Well, guess what! The next week on change day the sheets were removed and the clean sheets were waiting for me to make up the bed. I think I was about 8 or 9. Then there was the morning that I neglected to eat my oatmeal. It was waiting for me at lunchtime.  (That was back in the day when town kids were expected to go home for lunch). Have you ever had cold oatmeal? Later when I was "allowed" to take a sack lunch I fussed about the way she made my sandwich. Too much butter. That was the end of her lunch making.  After that I was on my own..

Mom, or Ma, as I called her–much to her chagrin, had grit. When I was 6, my brother 9, and my sister 11 she packed our suitcases, left the family dog with Grandma and off we went to southern California to visit her father–on the train, of all things. Can you image? Three kids on a train for 1500 miles? One of our train changes was out in the proverbial middle of nowhere in the dark of night. The ‘depot’ was closed so we sat on our suitcases outside waiting for the train. Things were different in the 50's. She had not been much further than Lewiston, Idaho herself at that time. We made it down and back just fine. I have witnessed people who have trouble taking their kids to K Mart.
One fine summer evening she and my Aunt Margaret sent all of us "kids" to the movie....the three of us and four cousins. While we were gone she and Margaret laid new linoleum in the kitchen. All in an evening’s work.
I’m not sure but I think Nike got their slogan from her. You know..."just do it".

She had outlived two husbands, one son, her parents, and most of her friends, before she went to the great garden in heaven. I miss her every day. Anyway to make a long story short she was the best Dad in the world too.  

I have a book called "Oh, No! I’ve Become My MOTHER". I should be so lucky!

This picture was taken at her 90th Birthday Clebration.  On the right is my beautiful sister, Judy.  Some people say we resemble one another.