It was great that Camille came to play
But I had to sleep half the day
To recuperate from all our fun
There are many jobs still to be done.
Mail to sort and bills to pay
String the lights for the holiday
Gifts to wrap and cookies to bake
Ice to scrape and leaves to rake.
Garland, glitter, village scene
Bows to tie and floors to clean
Time for a break in front of the fire
Making this list has made me tired.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
A World of Whimsy
We woke to the sight of snow. I put on a pot of coffee, and built a blazing fire, hoping to surprise Camille with the feel of Christmas morning. But just like a little girl, she had jumped out of bed and looked out the window to check for snow as soon as she opened her big brown eyes. What a glorious winter world was waiting!
Camille was itching to hit the slopes with her saucer sleds. As I made breakfast and finished baking twelve dozen coconut macaroons for the Tellico Plains Candlelight Walk Cookie Caper, Camille put on her snow boots, grabbed a cup of cocoa, and scouted our property for the perfect pitch of property for sledding. If she’d asked, I’d already had grandkids sledding here; and there’s nothing like grandkids for finding the magic in life.
When we bought our house in the holler, there was a piece of property between us and our nearest neighbor that was just a fallow pasture. It wasn’t for sale, but I set my mind on having it simply because our creeks ran through it and I didn’t want to take the chance that someone would build so close to us on “our” creek. I hunted down the absentee owner and paid a premium for the land, but we kept the acreage intact. Now I know what we needed it for; this land is our sledding slope.
Camille and I found that it has perfect pitch for getting a good glide going. And it ends in a flat piece of pasture perfect for slowing your sled before crashing into the creek. We played and posed for photos until our old bones froze, then we got ready for a sightseeing and shopping adventure.
I showed Camille the rock Christmas village scene painted by a local artist named Hanson, which we agreed is one of the most original uses for rocks we’d ever seen. When I told her where I got it, we decided to make our first stop was the wonderful Coker Creek Welcome Center and Heritage gift shop. Here Camille fell in love with flapper-style knit hats, and bought one for herself and several for her version of Santa’s sleigh.
Camille is a fool for “cute,” so she absolutely adored the little town of Tellico Plains, Tennessee. We dropped off our cookies and spent several hours strolling through the shops, checking out artwork, antiques, books, and bakeries. I, who hate to shop, found furniture that will be perfect for our little house in the holler. I’ll substitute an oak rocker for the more delicate wicker rocker that is more in keeping with Camille’s tastes. Since Richard’s mantra is “Waste not, want not,” he’ll be thrilled that Camille requested the old ragged rocker. Camille and I will now have the sisterhood of the traveling chair.
Jack and Richard squired Camille around the square as I sat at the book signing table with Jack’s book. Everybody who saw Camille in her fabulous flapper hat asked about its origin. The Coker Creek Welcome Center should pay Camille for being such a darling model. She even had one local man follow her around flirting.
We ended the evening with a chat in front of our home fire, plotting future adventures.
Camille was itching to hit the slopes with her saucer sleds. As I made breakfast and finished baking twelve dozen coconut macaroons for the Tellico Plains Candlelight Walk Cookie Caper, Camille put on her snow boots, grabbed a cup of cocoa, and scouted our property for the perfect pitch of property for sledding. If she’d asked, I’d already had grandkids sledding here; and there’s nothing like grandkids for finding the magic in life.
When we bought our house in the holler, there was a piece of property between us and our nearest neighbor that was just a fallow pasture. It wasn’t for sale, but I set my mind on having it simply because our creeks ran through it and I didn’t want to take the chance that someone would build so close to us on “our” creek. I hunted down the absentee owner and paid a premium for the land, but we kept the acreage intact. Now I know what we needed it for; this land is our sledding slope.
Camille and I found that it has perfect pitch for getting a good glide going. And it ends in a flat piece of pasture perfect for slowing your sled before crashing into the creek. We played and posed for photos until our old bones froze, then we got ready for a sightseeing and shopping adventure.
I showed Camille the rock Christmas village scene painted by a local artist named Hanson, which we agreed is one of the most original uses for rocks we’d ever seen. When I told her where I got it, we decided to make our first stop was the wonderful Coker Creek Welcome Center and Heritage gift shop. Here Camille fell in love with flapper-style knit hats, and bought one for herself and several for her version of Santa’s sleigh.
Camille is a fool for “cute,” so she absolutely adored the little town of Tellico Plains, Tennessee. We dropped off our cookies and spent several hours strolling through the shops, checking out artwork, antiques, books, and bakeries. I, who hate to shop, found furniture that will be perfect for our little house in the holler. I’ll substitute an oak rocker for the more delicate wicker rocker that is more in keeping with Camille’s tastes. Since Richard’s mantra is “Waste not, want not,” he’ll be thrilled that Camille requested the old ragged rocker. Camille and I will now have the sisterhood of the traveling chair.
Jack and Richard squired Camille around the square as I sat at the book signing table with Jack’s book. Everybody who saw Camille in her fabulous flapper hat asked about its origin. The Coker Creek Welcome Center should pay Camille for being such a darling model. She even had one local man follow her around flirting.
We ended the evening with a chat in front of our home fire, plotting future adventures.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Toys For Boys
Went to Sam's Club to reload the sleigh
With presents for the Christmas holiday
Lots of toys for lots of boys
Hoping to increase the joys
Of our first Holidays in the Holler.
Then trying to hurry to beat the snow
As back to the holler I had to go
Behind a big slow trailer truck
I found that it was just my luck
We went only twenty miles per hour.
Arriving home in dimming light
I came upon such welcoming sights
A roaring fire was on the grate
As Richard and my sister did wait
For a cozy visit and hot supper.
With presents for the Christmas holiday
Lots of toys for lots of boys
Hoping to increase the joys
Of our first Holidays in the Holler.
Then trying to hurry to beat the snow
As back to the holler I had to go
Behind a big slow trailer truck
I found that it was just my luck
We went only twenty miles per hour.
Arriving home in dimming light
I came upon such welcoming sights
A roaring fire was on the grate
As Richard and my sister did wait
For a cozy visit and hot supper.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Pickin’ Chicken
Rachel put such a vat of frozen thigh quarters into my roaster overnight, that they still weren’t completely cooked when we got up in the morning. I cranked up the heat to git ‘er done, reminding myself that I wanted to turn it off to cool before taking Sarah to school. Well, they still weren’t falling-off-the-bone tender when it was time to head out, so I figured on setting them to simmer while I was gone.
Meanwhile, I had called Holly at the governor’s mansion kitchen to see if I could drop by for a short visit, and I had contacted the flooded Atlanta family to arrange a drop of clothing that Terry Sue’s family had donated at Briton’s wedding. I dropped Sarah off, and headed over to Wal-Mart to purchase a microwave oven to add to Terry Sue’s donation.
On the way over, I began having one of those panicky moments when you’re on the way out of town and can’t remember if you unplugged the iron. Of course people, with new irons no longer have that worry, but we used to worry about coming home to a pile of cinders instead of our cinder block homes. Did I remember to set the roaster to simmer? Back to Rachel’s in the pouring rain to check on the chicken...
By the time I got to the mansion, Holly was adding the finishing touches to the gingerbread house that will adorn the dining room during the Christmas mansion tours. How absolutely precious! Last year, Holly created a replica of the mansion in gingerbread , which was stunning. This year, she really outdid herself with a Hansel and Gretel motif. This house is decorated inside and out, complete with the witch, the oven, Gretel, and Hansel -- in a cage of pretzel sticks. Her finishing touch is a little licorice dog in a puddle of yellow snow out side the house. Too cute!
Thankfully, there was no further flooding in the area of my flooded family, so I was able to deliver the donations. The chicken was done when I returned from my appointed wet rounds. I spent the afternoon in Rachel’s dry, cozy kitchen alternating writing and pickin’ the chicken.
Meanwhile, I had called Holly at the governor’s mansion kitchen to see if I could drop by for a short visit, and I had contacted the flooded Atlanta family to arrange a drop of clothing that Terry Sue’s family had donated at Briton’s wedding. I dropped Sarah off, and headed over to Wal-Mart to purchase a microwave oven to add to Terry Sue’s donation.
On the way over, I began having one of those panicky moments when you’re on the way out of town and can’t remember if you unplugged the iron. Of course people, with new irons no longer have that worry, but we used to worry about coming home to a pile of cinders instead of our cinder block homes. Did I remember to set the roaster to simmer? Back to Rachel’s in the pouring rain to check on the chicken...
By the time I got to the mansion, Holly was adding the finishing touches to the gingerbread house that will adorn the dining room during the Christmas mansion tours. How absolutely precious! Last year, Holly created a replica of the mansion in gingerbread , which was stunning. This year, she really outdid herself with a Hansel and Gretel motif. This house is decorated inside and out, complete with the witch, the oven, Gretel, and Hansel -- in a cage of pretzel sticks. Her finishing touch is a little licorice dog in a puddle of yellow snow out side the house. Too cute!
Thankfully, there was no further flooding in the area of my flooded family, so I was able to deliver the donations. The chicken was done when I returned from my appointed wet rounds. I spent the afternoon in Rachel’s dry, cozy kitchen alternating writing and pickin’ the chicken.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Not Newsworthy
The newspaper that covered Mamie’s party agreed to publish a story I had written about Mamie for my blog and give me a byline. This was exciting to me -- until I received a copy of the paper. I had promised to send the story on to the Buzz as soon as I got home from Mamie’s party, but I went to lie down before Bluegrass, completely forgetting my promise. As my mind wandered in that twilight state just before sleep, it came into sharp focus on the fact that all newspapers work on deadlines, and time was wasting on the Mamie story.
I jumped from the bed, booted up my computer, opened my email program, searched my blog entries for the title, attached the file, and hit “send.” Feeling greatly relieved that I had accomplished that task, I went back to bed. I had written the story in early October, and had failed to re-edit the story before emailing it. The day it was published, Betty emailed me a copy of the paper. There it was on the front page, next to the photo and story about Mamie’s birthday party provided by the journalists at the newspaper – my byline on Mamie’s biography.
According to my piece, Mamie’s deceased son Junior is still active in the Ruritans, and the Autumn Gold Festival which is held the second week-end of October hasn’t yet happened for this calendar year. I hope this oversight on my part doesn’t inflict pain on the family or grief on the Buzz. If I hadn’t asked for a byline nobody would know it was my mistake, but I had to get greedy. Another case of “The hurrier I go, the behinder I get.” So much for my fantasy career as a newspaper columnist.
I did stop by Mamie’s to apologize before I left for Atlanta. She hadn’t yet seen the Buzz that featured her, but she didn’t seem upset with my confession. In fact, we spent most of our time laughing together. She showed me a write-up that Charlie and had brought to her birthday party. He spoke of Mamie’s generosity when he first moved to the mountain. It seems that he was on his way to Florida to pick up his belongings, and needed to establish a post office box before leaving. He had no time to stop by with the rent, so Mamie fronted him the money out of her pocket until he could return -- this for a man she never met. Charlie said that, in part because of Mamie, he believes that Coker Creek may not be Heaven, but it has the same zip code.
Maybe the reason God has granted Mamie so many years on earth is that she’s really a medicine woman with her huge doses of trust, forgiveness and fun. And he wants her to pass on all of her healing goodness before He takes her home.
I jumped from the bed, booted up my computer, opened my email program, searched my blog entries for the title, attached the file, and hit “send.” Feeling greatly relieved that I had accomplished that task, I went back to bed. I had written the story in early October, and had failed to re-edit the story before emailing it. The day it was published, Betty emailed me a copy of the paper. There it was on the front page, next to the photo and story about Mamie’s birthday party provided by the journalists at the newspaper – my byline on Mamie’s biography.
According to my piece, Mamie’s deceased son Junior is still active in the Ruritans, and the Autumn Gold Festival which is held the second week-end of October hasn’t yet happened for this calendar year. I hope this oversight on my part doesn’t inflict pain on the family or grief on the Buzz. If I hadn’t asked for a byline nobody would know it was my mistake, but I had to get greedy. Another case of “The hurrier I go, the behinder I get.” So much for my fantasy career as a newspaper columnist.
I did stop by Mamie’s to apologize before I left for Atlanta. She hadn’t yet seen the Buzz that featured her, but she didn’t seem upset with my confession. In fact, we spent most of our time laughing together. She showed me a write-up that Charlie and had brought to her birthday party. He spoke of Mamie’s generosity when he first moved to the mountain. It seems that he was on his way to Florida to pick up his belongings, and needed to establish a post office box before leaving. He had no time to stop by with the rent, so Mamie fronted him the money out of her pocket until he could return -- this for a man she never met. Charlie said that, in part because of Mamie, he believes that Coker Creek may not be Heaven, but it has the same zip code.
Maybe the reason God has granted Mamie so many years on earth is that she’s really a medicine woman with her huge doses of trust, forgiveness and fun. And he wants her to pass on all of her healing goodness before He takes her home.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Richard’s Reprieve
Have you ever analyzed how much time you spend digging out of the day before? It took me a whole day to clean the kitchen, unpack our suitcases, wash last week’s laundry, and stow the catering equipment. And this was with Richard’s assistance.
I know I’m a spoiled brat, but Richard doesn’t believe it. When I woke up grumbling about how much chaos I had created getting ready for our various events of the past week, he said, “Don’t worry about it. I get to cleaning after breakfast.” “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it,” is Richard’s response to most of my I Love Lucy ideas. Who knew that a man, especially one as careful and shy as Richard, could play so many parts in my Lucy/Ethel act?
I’ve decide to give him a reprieve from honey-dos while I’m at Rachel’s house, and a relatively orderly house to relax in. It will only be for less than four days, and I think he can use some “him” time without having to wash his own underwear. What a wife, huh?
When we lived in New Orleans, Rachel would called periodically to say that she thought I should come see her for a week in Atlanta because Richard needed a break from me. As Richard has admitted, I’m like hot sauce. And a little hot sauce goes a long way. It’s not like we don’t have to kick Christmas preparation into high gear immediately upon my return. We still have twenty-plus presents to assemble and wrap. And there’s lots of cooking to be done for the revolving door of friends and family we expect in the two weeks between Christmas and the end of the New Year’s Day week-end.
I’ll spend the remainder of the week baking artichoke brownies, rolling bourbon balls and pickin’ chicken – and laughing with Rachel and her two of my three grandgirls. Laughter sure puts the lustre on life, and it’s the only way to keep up the energy to live a life so full of passion.
Time to load up the sleigh with cookware that Rachel wants to borrow. Have food processor, will travel.
I know I’m a spoiled brat, but Richard doesn’t believe it. When I woke up grumbling about how much chaos I had created getting ready for our various events of the past week, he said, “Don’t worry about it. I get to cleaning after breakfast.” “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it,” is Richard’s response to most of my I Love Lucy ideas. Who knew that a man, especially one as careful and shy as Richard, could play so many parts in my Lucy/Ethel act?
I’ve decide to give him a reprieve from honey-dos while I’m at Rachel’s house, and a relatively orderly house to relax in. It will only be for less than four days, and I think he can use some “him” time without having to wash his own underwear. What a wife, huh?
When we lived in New Orleans, Rachel would called periodically to say that she thought I should come see her for a week in Atlanta because Richard needed a break from me. As Richard has admitted, I’m like hot sauce. And a little hot sauce goes a long way. It’s not like we don’t have to kick Christmas preparation into high gear immediately upon my return. We still have twenty-plus presents to assemble and wrap. And there’s lots of cooking to be done for the revolving door of friends and family we expect in the two weeks between Christmas and the end of the New Year’s Day week-end.
I’ll spend the remainder of the week baking artichoke brownies, rolling bourbon balls and pickin’ chicken – and laughing with Rachel and her two of my three grandgirls. Laughter sure puts the lustre on life, and it’s the only way to keep up the energy to live a life so full of passion.
Time to load up the sleigh with cookware that Rachel wants to borrow. Have food processor, will travel.
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