It’s that time of year for Christmas carols on the radio. Which means, I have added to the playlist on my iPad.
So far, I’ve added:
Peppermint Winter
Which led to this one:
But I haven’t forgotten the classics:
Or this one:
But frankly, I also sing this one:
Until next time.
Yes, we shopped on Black Friday.
After a little hemming and hawing, I convinced the hubbinator to purchase a new tool chest on wheels.
I had this one in mind:
Something relatively compact that I could put the miter saw on .
The hubbinator was very accommodating, but kinda squirreled and admired this one:
So we kinda bought them both.
Getting them home was interesting, as the tall one tops me by a few inches and made it very top heavy despite being tied down. The hubbinator had a brilliant idea—remove the tool chest on top.
And while we were doing that, a lady who was trying to decide whether to stop and help, ran up on the median. Apparently, no harm was done to her vehicle as she drove away after we assured her we didn’t need help. And we didn’t. In a tribute to Big Bang Theory, we managed to use physics to get it down and situated in the bed of the truck.
We are slowly loading the drawers, but I can’t help but wish there are a few empty ones when we are done because… tools.
Until next time.
I love Agatha Christie mysteries, and I will be the first to admit I am not a fan of Hercules Poirot.
He’s a bit of a fussbudget that annoys the snot out of me.
I did warm up to him when Peter Ustinov played him in the 80s but it took me until this year to watch David Suchet play him. Don’t get me wrong. I’m watching for the story and for the most part I came to like his portrayal of the little Belgian.
And then, out comes a remake of Murder on the Orient Express. Which is one of my favorites. But not this time. Don’t get me wrong there was a fine cast of actors and the scenery was amazing, but it would have been so much better without Branagh’s Poirot. Just, um, no.
Ah, well, there are some remakes on amazon Prime I haven’t seen yet.
Until next time.
About 18 years ago, my husband heard a soft meow while he was at work. The warehouse butted against a railroad track and an empty patch of ground where feral cats kept the rat and mouse populations down. Deciding to check out the meow, my husband found two kittens— a black fluff ball and a gray fluff ball. He saved them from being crushed by the forklift and while we gave one to his mother, we kept one he named Shadow.
Shadow viewed my husband as her personal property and while she had nothing to do with the dogs in our house, she had no difficulty letting me know I was an interloper. Thankfully, she weighed next to nothing so I just moved her out of the way.
Moving into our current house was traumatic and the addition of a new kitten didn’t make it better. She spent the next four years under our bed, coming out to do her business and to sleep between me and my husband.
Later, she took to sleeping on my hip then digging her nails into me, if I moved. She was an evil cat, at least to me, but she was my evil cat, too. Even letting me pet her and sleeping on my lap (maybe to keep me from sitting too close to the hubbinator) whose lap she preferred.
But she was getting old in years and on Saturday she stopped eating and drinking. On Sunday, she passed while sleeping on her favorite bed, tucked in her favorite blanket, under the Christmas tree.
The hardest part of owning a pet is saying goodbye. But at least she’ll live on in our memories.
Until next time.
And so it begins…
The stockings are hung, just not by the chimney.
The tree is up. Although the hubbinator had a Griswold moment where he thought a ginormous tree would fit in our living room with just a bit of trimming.
And, yes, we watched Christmas Vacation afterward as if tradition.
This year, we added something new to our holiday decorations. Just for the table:
Which apparently, has distracted the cats from the ornaments on the tree. Or so I thought. I found an ornament horde under the couch.
Ah well, we are outnumbered.
Until next time.
I’ve been having a difficult time finding the ‘butt in the chair time’ I need to write.
Recently, I stumbled across an article on habits of highly effective people. After reading the article, I decided I was one of those highly ineffective people.
And with my attitude, I wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
But, I would like to finish the book I am currently writing by the end of the year, so I kept searching for advice that my inner demon wouldn’t flip-off or fart in its general direction.
That’s when I found an email in my stream about how to get into a good writing habit.
There were 30 tips.
My inner demon nixed 29 of them. Leaving one—set a timer for 25 minutes and write, only write, but take note of crap that pops into your head to distract you, and keep on writing.
I’m not saying that I was instantly cured. In fact, at first, I had lots of distractions and only found one 25 minutes to write in. Frankly, some days I can barely manage one session.
But writing is writing and that was 2 pages more than I had before.
So, we’ll see how it goes during the rest of the holiday season.
Until next time!
There are 2 kinds of shoppers in the world.
Those who love to shop and those that don’t.
I fall pretty firmly in the latter category. When I have to go to the store, I know what I want, where I’m going to get it, and I plan to be in and out in a record amount of time, provided the check out lines cooperate.
I’m not rude to anyone, nor do I squabble to get a product. My mother raised me better. No, I say please and thank you, and am courteous to the cashier (because I worked retail for far too many Christmas seasons).
But I prefer minimal interactions because, in this season of goodwill toward men, I find there are far too many I’d like to push face first in stable droppings.
And then there is the other kind.
Those who love to shop. It’s crazy really. They like people. They talk to people about things other than asking them to politely step aside so you can reach what you came for. My sister had a woman stalk her for 3 aisles in a conversation about salt.
For them, shopping is a journey and not a necessary evil.
And while encountering one of the latter is a bit shock-inducing for those like me, they do make the season brighter.
Whichever type you are, enjoy the season.
Until next time
The weather has turned colder here. Cold for us, which means I’ve had to rearrange my dresser and closet to stow the warm weather clothes and keep the warmer clothes handy.
Sadly, there was space in the closet as last year, I had donated or trashed some items at the end of the season.
Which meant shopping.
With all the pre-Black Friday sales.
Crazy, man, just crazy.
But then I realized I could order online. I weighed my options of free in-store pick up with going out where there are, you know, people.
And decided that shipping fee was worth the price.
So just as the first fall cold hit the household, my fleece pants and shirts arrived. There is nothing better than clothes that feel like you’re wrapped in a blanket.
Especially when you’re sick.
Alas, now I’m back at work and in my fancy work clothes, but I know they’re at home waiting, and so is a nice bowl of simmered-all-day chili.
Stay warm out there people.
Until next time.
Here in the US, it is Thanksgiving Eve. The beginning of the holiday season where we should all pause to be thankful for our blessings.
So in the spirit of the season, thank you for spending time with me and allowing me, however briefly to be part of your life.
I won’t be posting until Monday as I take time off to celebrate with my family and cherished friends. And remember those who aren’t with us.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Growing up in America, most of us know that margarine containers rarely contained margarine. They were used to store leftovers. Which made finding the margarine a bit of a game. It also seems that those containers rarely had missing lids/bottoms like the new, sleeker incarnation.
Another shared struggle, most Americans of a certain age shared was the cookie tin. Cookie tins always contained sewing notions. I’ve proudly carried on the tradition with a dragon’s horde of buttons. In fact, until I became an adult and saw such tins at Costco, I didn’t actually think cookies came in tins. Live and learn.
But let’s talk about another oddity and see how many of us share it. There is this habit to put out nuts (in the shell) in a bowl during the holidays. Usually, it’s a mixed selection of walnuts, pecans, almonds, Brazil nuts, and hazelnuts. A silver nutcracker is added to the mix and you kind of help yourself. I’ve continued the tradition but limit the selection to my favorites—hazelnuts and almonds.
And lastly, let’s talk ribbon candy. Yes, these sweeties appeared during the holidays and were the only candy left out, in the open, for anyone to eat. The bright colors were so tempting and cheery. And, frankly, I didn’t like them. Which isn’t to say I wouldn’t eat them, but sometimes you got a flavor you liked and other times it had to be spat out because it was hideous. At the end of the season, the remaining candies had melted together so that only the desperate would try to chisel off a piece (with a flavor not even Willie Wonka dared to create).
So, anyone else encounter the last two traditions?
Until next time.
Linda Andrews 