Decisions, decisions

The holidays are over, the Christmas decorations are stored away, and we are back in Arizona. Life is good.

The New Year is a time of reflection and wonderment. Reflecting on times gone by - at things you may or may not have accomplished during the past year, and wondering on how time went by so fast and what your future holds. No one really knows what lies ahead for them, but I feel that our way of living is particularly fragile.

This "living-on-the-road" business started out to be a one year trek that has stretched to 5 years (in April). Each January I wonder, "Is THIS the year we settle down and buy a place?"

Don't get my wrong. There are many, many advantages to being on the road, seeing new things, eating in new places, and meeting new people. It's like constantly being on vacation. And that's my point. Don't you sometimes just look forward to getting home after a long vacation?

I really love spending the winter months in Arizona. This is our fifth season here in the same park, and we've made a lot of friends. They are our family away from home. In fact, this IS our second home.

My husband, Jim, who turned 65 in November, has been retired since February 2001. He was recently offered a position with a company who bid on a government contract. If this company wins the contract, Jim would then run the Chicago office. He would have to report immediately. You could imagine the things we'd have to deal with - such as finding a place to live, furnishing it, and what to do with the trailer, just to name a few.

We should hear the decision on the bid any time within the next three months. I'm trying to live with the Que Cera Cera attitude. I have mixed feelings. I would feel sad if we got off the road - yet this would be our opportunity to buy a place. Sometimes living in 400 square feet drives me up a wall. I'm not saying I need a huge place - around 1,000 square feet or so would be perfect - in fact that would seem like a mansion to me! And taking this job means no more Arizona - at least for awhile. The plus side is, of course, financially, and being nearer to my children and family, and a place to call home that doesn't move when you walk in it.

It's this not knowing business that is driving me crazy. If only I had a crystal ball to see the future!



Once I know "yea" or "nay", then I can get on with my life. But until then - it's always in the back of my mind.

So 2010 will either mark the 5th year anniversary of this nomad life - OR - be the year it all came to an end. Stay tuned and ride this wild roller coaster ride with me.

A busy two weeks......

Please bear with me while I am traveling.....I'm not posting as frequently as I'd like since I'm staying at various places and may or may not have access to the internet. Plus, how would it sound if I say, "Listen, I'd REALLY like to talk to you, and catch up on the news since I've been gone, but I MUST write on my blog. I have FOLLOWERS, you know?" Yeah. Just what I thought. Uncool. Sooo... things should get back to normal when we return.

My head is spinning from all the moving around we are doing. We spent a week in Northwestern IL at my sister's house, with the mouse, 3 kids from age 6 and under, and 5 adults (on a good day). Lots of activity there.

Then we drove up to Champlin, MN, where we spent the night at Jim's brother's house. It was fun catching up with them and also seeing Jim's sister, her significat other, and my 2 nephews. It was c-c-c-old up der in dem parts. In fact, my parts were cold!

In the morning we drove another 2 hours to Melrose, MN to another brother's house and ate lunch. Then Jim, Jason, (our son) and I drove over to the nursing home to see Jim's Dad. It was quite depressing. He's really gone down hill in the last year or so. He will turn 99 in February. He is a walking miracle (or should I say a sitting miracle since he is in a wheel chair) - the doctors are amazed that he is still alive. His kidneys are hardly functioning, his hearing is going, as is his sight. He told us that his life "was shot". My heart just went out to him. Jim's dad always had a great sense of humor. He was a very hardworking man and had a 200 acre farm and grew grain for the cows.

I'll never forget the time I told him about "tipping cows". He never had heard about this college prank of actually tipping a cow over. He laughed so hard till tears ran down his face. He said, "It must be those dumb Illinoisian cows - you can't tip a Minnesotan cow!" Right then a neighbor came over and he said, "Patty! Patty! Tell him the story about the tipping cow!" He continued laughing.

Later that evening with all of us kids gathered around the dinner table (Jim comes from a family of 8 kids), we discussed the cow tipping technique. We thought we should sneak out and try it, but thought that somebody should be on their hands and knees next to the cow so that it would have something to TIP OVER. Well, needless to say, we couldn't come up with a volunteer to be the tip-over-person. So the plan was scratched.



So to see Jim's Dad in the sort of helpless condition that we did was very hard. He had been a strong man and now he has no want or will to live. No one should live this long. That's just my own personal opinion.

That evening we went back to Jim's brother's house and spent the night. Another fun night of catching up on news, drinking, laughing, etc. Then New Years Eve morning we were on the road back to Chicagoland by 7:30 am.

By 5:00 that evening we were back at my sister's house. We shared a delicious meal brought in from Maggiano's - a great Italian restaurant.

New Year's Day morning Jim and I got back into the truck (borrowed from my brother) and drove 1 1/2 hours down to central Illinois to visit with my daughter and her family. It's been fun spending time with our granddaughter Lily. I will be posting pictures soon.

We depart for AZ on Tuesday. I hope to catch up on all your blogs.

Happy New Year everyone!

Not a creature was stirring - not even a mouse, well maybe a mouse

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

Notice that I highlighted the word "mouse". Yeah. It appears that my sister, Linda, has a mouse in the house. She said it walked right in the front door when she left it open a few weeks ago. Imagine that. She temporarily stored some bird seed in the front closet because she didn't want to leave it on the front porch for fear that it would attract mice. Instead she left her door open and invited them in to dine. She found piles of empty shells from the sunflower seeds in the closet on the floor - evidence that she had visitors.

Linda's daughter, Kelly, first saw the mouse about a week or so ago run into the closet. So Linda set up a row of boxes leading from the closet to the door, thinking that once they opened the closet door the mouse would run out, and run alongside the boxes and out the door. Wha-lah! She opened the door and....waited 35 minutes and nothing happened.

Another day they thought they spotted the mouse running along the baseboard in the kitchen. So they put two sticky traps down on the floor. A little while later Kelly's daughter Arielle, who is 6, came down for school in her stocking feet and stepped on both traps.

"What the heck is this?" she asked as she lifted up each foot and the sticky traps were stuck to each sock good and tight. Kelly couldn't remove her socks from the traps. Linda said that they only thing they caught was a 6 year old.

They put the sticky traps back into the front closet.

Last week Linda had a party at her house with some of her good friends (thankfully). She asked Arielle to go into the front closet and get the package of paper plates. Arielle accidentally dropped the package and it stuck to the sticky traps. While the plates were falling, it knocked over the package of 100 plastic cups, which in turn ALSO stuck to the traps. So Arielle carried this whole contraption into the kitchen: paper plates stuck to the traps with the socks still stuck to them and the plastic cups stuck to the traps too. It was one big mess. Everyone had a good laugh about that!


The night before Christmas Eve, my sister slept on the couch in the living room with 3 of her grand children. Since my husband and I are staying at her house while we are in town, we're sleeping in her bed. Kelly and family live with Linda, also. It's a lively house to say the least. My sister, "Grandma", promised the kids that they could all sleep on the couches, drink hot chocolate before going to bed, and sing Christmas songs. (She's a wonderful Grandma.)

In the wee hours of the morning, my sister heard a scratching sound and thought it was the mouse. She woke up Kelly.

"Kelly! It's the mouse! Wake up!"

Kelly stumbled up the stairs and saw that Linda had lined up a long row of boxes. She thought that the mouse was under a tray that was sitting on the ground. She stood there with a broom and a mop.

"Okay," she said, "You lift up the tray! But what do I do with these?" Indicating the broom and mop.

Kelly quickly lifted up the tray but no mouse was stirring.

She shuffled back to bed.

Linda heard the noise again, only this time it sounded like it was coming from under the couch.

"Kelly! Wake up! It's the mouse again!"

Kelly stumbled up the stairs again. They woke Riley up.

"Riley, go on the other couch. There's a mouse under your couch." Well, his eyes just about bugged out of his face!

Kelly turned the couch over but no mouse. There WAS a small nut though.

The third time Linda heard the mouse and called Kelly, Kelly wanted no part of it.

"Mom, I'm TIRED."

So Mickey is alive and well and living in Bensenville.....






On another note....

We leave on Tuesday for Minnesota, the REAL Winter Wonderland, for a quick 3 day visit to see Jim's Dad, who will turn 99 in February. Don't think I'll have computer access.
Just want to wish everyone a Happy New Year!

Flying the Friendly Skies - Part Two

It was raining in Dallas when we arrived AND we saw that our connecting flight to Chicago was delayed about 50 minutes. So we had more time to wait. Oh goodie. I sat and watched the people milling about waiting for their respective flights to depart. I was surprised at how well behaved all the kids acted. I mean, sure there were crying babies, but on the whole, all the kids were pretty good. It was as if they knew Santa was watching them. I have to say, even the people didn't seem too crabby.

On our flight to Chicago, Jim and I lucked out - the window seat next to me was empty. I think it was one of the only empty seats on the plane. So I quickly scooted over and Jim and I shared the wealth. Aahh....

We had a family sitting in front of us - a boy around 5 or 6, a girl around 3 or 4, a mom, and a baby. The father sat across the aisle and they passed the baby back and forth. The mom seemed a little tired and cranky, and I heard her mention that this was their second flight. But she seemed a little tough with the kids - yelling loud things like "STOP IT", "SHUT UP", and the like. I was pretty tense and felt uncomfortable and embarrassed for her. She threatened to separate the kids numerous times, but didn't live up to it. I don't know why she didn't just sit in the middle and put one kid on the end, so the husband could partake in disciplining them. Although I really didn't think they were bad at all. I mean, if indeed it WAS their second flight, I'm sure they were tired. A little bit of kind words could go a long way. Why not read a book to them or something? The little girl peeked between the seat at me and poked her small hand out. I put my hand out and tickled her fingers. She giggled and then the game began. Soon her brother started peeking at me, first from one side, then the other. I played along for awhile, tickling the little arm, peeking at both of them, until I heard the mother growl, "TURN AROUND!" Now, if she thought they were bothering me, there was a better way of handling it.

I tried to take a little snooze so I turned off the overhead light. I felt a light touch on my knee a few times, knowing it was the little girl, but I kept my eyes shut. I must have dozed off because I heard myself emit a big snort that woke me up. Great! I caught the father glance back at me. Co-inky-dink? Hmmm....My husband didn't even stir. Could be one of three reasons: a) He's deaf; b) He's so used to my snoring it didn't even phase him; or c) You really couldn't hear me over the noise of the plane. I'm hoping it's C.

Before I knew it, we were landing at O'Hare Airport in Chicago. It was a balmy 32 degrees outside. I called my sister to let her know that we had arrived and to send someone to pick us up. She said, "You'd better take a cab. We've all been drinking here." Swell. They were having their "Secret Santa" party.

Jim and I walked outside to the area for cabs. There wasn't a long line waiting. In fact, we were the only customers. There was one cab in line. We hopped in, Jim told the driver the address, and therein was the problem.

"Bensenville, huh?"

"Yes," Jim said, and proceeded to give him directions.

The driver wanted to go way out of his way to jump on the expressway because he thought it would be faster.

"No", we both had assured him. "We've lived in this area. This way is quicker," I said.

He still sat there. Then he said, "You know, I MUST get back here within 40 minutes."

I told him, "No problem. It's about 15 minutes away."

Jim said to him, "Do you have a GPS?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Well, type in the address."

I had to tell him the address at least three times, and s-l-o-w-l-y. He still seemed to have a problem with this. By this time, at least 10 minutes had elapsed. I didn't seem to understand WHAT the problem was exactly.

I asked him, "What do you want us to do? Get out and take a different cab?"

"No, no!" He said. "But this is considered a short trip. You understand that you will be charged a fare and a half for it. It will cost you around $24. Okay?"

"FINE!"

He finally put the damn cab in gear and off we went! It is such a racket for all the cab companies working at the airport. They would prefer the longer cab rides, and "punish" the patrons who only need short rides by charging them 1 1/2 times the rate. What can you do? The only way around this I guess, is to call a local cab company from your town, and wait for it to arrive. But after traveling all day, that was the last thing on my mind.

As it was, my day was still not over when I arrived at my sister's house. I had to make one more leg of the trip. I needed a ride over to my brother's house to pick up his vehicle for our use while in town. So my niece gave me a ride over there. I didn't get back to my sister's until 10:00 p.m. Central Time. It was a long day.

There is snow on the ground and a definite nip to the air. We are home.

Flying the Friendly Skies

We are flying home for the holidays. Oh what fun! We shot out of bed at 6:00 am Mountain Standard Time. Showered, dressed, packed the last minute items. We had no milk left for cereal, no bread left for toast. Score! We have eggs! So I whipped up some scrambled eggs with ham and cheese and we washed it down with some juice.

Jim and I went over our check list before leaving:

turn furnace down - check
turn water heater off - check
take out garbage - check
lock up bikes - check

Our friend offered to drive us to the Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport, and he arrived precisely at 8 a.m. Traffic was surprisingly light for that time of the morning, and I had hoped it was a sign that the rest of our trip would move smoothly along. Yeah. I'm optimistically stupid that way.

My first chuckle of the day was the sign by security. There were two lines; one for the "VIP's" and one for the "casual" travelers. They might as well have written "Peons Line Up Here", because that's what they really meant, wasn't it?

I obligingly removed my shoes and vest, and put them in the bin to be scanned, along with my purse and camera bag. My poor husband stood there undressing - taking off his shoes, belt, suspenders - all the while I prayed that he wouldn't drop his drawers! Talk about a security breach! We made it through the check point unscathed, Jim got dressed, he grabbed a coffee, and we walked to our gate to wait for a couple of hours before departure. I don't mind waiting though, because I brought things to occupy me - a book, crosswords, and of course, a notebook and pen. My laptop bit the dust, so I feel a little naked without it.

I also like to people-watch. I watched a young, good looking Asian father play endlessly and unashamedly with his two young daughters, who seemed around 3 and 5 years of age. He would pretend to throw one of their stuffed animals, they would turn their heads, then he would quickly stuff the toy up his shirt, with only the head peeking out at his neckline. The girls would look back and fall over in fits of giggles. "Do mine, Daddy, do mine!"

Or else they played the tickle game and climbed up on Daddy's lap and tickled him unmercifully. I couldn't help but grin when I heard the father laugh and laugh helplessly. Then he'd start to tickle the girls. You could tell that they had such a good relationship. I thought that he was brave to be traveling alone with these two little ones, but he seemed comfortable with them and obviously didn't think it was a big deal.

The gate got more crowded as it got closer to boarding time. As soon as the flight attendant announced the rows that could board, the crowd thickened and closed in around the counter. She calmly announced, "No need to crowd, people. This plane isn't taking off until EVERYONE is boarded. So back up, give us some space and wait your turn." I could hear a few chuckles around the concourse.

In order to save a little moola, we were flying from Phoenix to Chicago via Houston. Crazy, I know. Jim and I are not small people, but I like to sit next to him on the plane in case I have to kiss my ass goodbye, at least I'm doing it in front of someone I know. Jim likes the aisle seat, which leaves me squished in the middle. A thin young woman, with beautiful long hair, sprawled out in the window seat, taking up more room then was humanly possible for such a little body. Her skinny arm claimed the entire arm rest and bony elbow poked me in the ribs the whole flight. I was surprised when she ordered a rum and coke - thinking she wasn't old enough, but she produced the proper ID and promptly received her drink. The pilot landed the plane none too gently, and skinny girl slammed both her hands on the seat in front of her as if to brace herself. She turned and said to me, "That drink was totally necessary!" Then she took the emergency procedure card out of the pocket of the seat in front of her and started fanning herself. "I HATE flying!" She continued. As soon as the plane stopped, she popped up in her seat and I let her get in front of me - she seemed like she was going to jump out of her skin!

TO BE CONTINUED.......

Drunken Fudge and a frustrated Suzie Homaker

Yesterday at my water aerobics class, one of the women brought in some Bailey's Irish Cream Fudge. It was to die for. During the break, (cause even though it's only a 50 minute class, we're old and tired and need a break), some of the women waded over to the side of the pool to taste the fudge. I have to admit, there DID seem like something was wrong with that picture - eating fudge during aerobics - but hey - they needed their strength! (I had a piece of fudge AFTER the class.)

Here is the recipe. It makes a shitload. (Pardon my French, but that's the best way to describe it.)

Bailey’s Irish Cream Fudge

This is an “adults only” fudge.

4 ½ cups granulated sugar
1 (12 ounce) can evaporated milk
½ pound butter
2 (12 ounce) packages milk chocolate chips
1 (12 ounce) package semi-sweet chocolate chips
2 (7 ounce) jars Marshmallow crème
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2/3 cup Bailey’s Irish Cream
2 cups chopped nuts

Follow directions EXACTLY.

Set chocolate chips, marshmallow crème, vanilla extract, Bailey’s and nuts in a very large bowl. Set aside for later.

Bring butter, sugar and milk to a boil and then cook slowly for exactly 11 minutes, stirring constantly. Pour milk mixture over the other ingredients and stir slowly to blend. Do NOT use a mixer. Pour into a buttered 13 x 9 pan and an 8” x 8” pan and chill very well. Cut when cold.


So, I decided to make this fudge and give it away for little gifts to all my friends here in AZ, along with my Christmas card. Now remember I am working in a tiny kitchen, so feel my pain, okay?

I followed the first step and put it into a huge plastic bowl. Did you ever try to get Marshmallow creme out of a jar? Not an easy task, I tell ya! But I got that done and set it aside. And who's says the cook can't have a little glass of Bailey's while she's cooking, right? No rule against it!

I melted my butter in the microwave first before pouring it into the pot with the mounds of sugar and milk. Then you are supposed to stir constantly, wait for it to boil, and stir it for EXACTLY 11 minutes. It takes at least a couple of minutes for the concoction to begin to boil. I do not have a kitchen timer, so I yell out to my husband to give me 11 minutes on his watch. It has a stop watch. I hear beep, beep, beep as he sets it up. I also hear Tina Turner belting out a song in the background. It seems that while Jim was flipping channels, he came across an old concert of hers that had been broadcast live from Amsterdam. This could only mean trouble. My husband absolutely LOVES Tina. Her long, muscular legs to be exact.

Meanwhile, little Suzie Homemaker is busy stirring the fudge in the tiny kitchen.

I yell out, "What's the time?"

No response.

"Uh, hello?" I yell. "Can you tear your eyes away from Tina for one minute to look at your damn watch?!"

"7 minutes, 34 seconds!" he says.

I continue stirring.

Then it dawns on me. I have to pour all this hot mixture into the other mixture that is sitting in a plastic bowl. That can only spell disaster, right? I can just picture the plastic melting and all the ingredients oozing out all over the counter and floor, and all this expensive stuff going to waste.

So AGAIN I yell to my husband. "Hey! Can you come here for a minute? I need your help!"

"What!" He snarls at me!

"Can you PLEASE tear yourself away from TINA for ONE MINUTE and come here?"

I hear him let out a big sigh and he stomps into the kitchen.

"What do you want?"

"I can't stop stirring this fudge. After this is done I have to pour it into that other mixture and I'm afraid it will melt the bowl. So I need you to pour THAT mixture into a big pot. Can you do that please?" I ask, stirring the fudge and batting my eyes.

He begrudgingly does what I asks and goes back to Tina. I continue stirring, but take the plastic bowl and turn it upside down over the pot to get every last drop of the Bailey's cream that is sitting on the bottom. Don't want to waste a drop!

"Time?" I yell.

"10 minutes, 34 seconds, 40, 50, TIME!!"

I quick take the golden liquid off the flame, pour it into the large pot, mix up the wonderful concoction that is wafting orgasmic smells from that pot. Now I have another dilemma. I need a couple of hands to hold the large pot so I can help spoon the fudge into the appropriate pans. Dare I ask for help again?

"Uh, hon?" I say sweetly. "Can you come here again?"

Sigh.

"Please hold this pot so I can spoon the fudge out."

We get the job done. I even volunteer to let him lick the spoon. He refuses. I don't know if he was just being stubborn or what. Who cares? His loss....my gain. Slurp!

P.S. I would have taken pictures of the step by step process of making this fudge, but you can see that there is no stopping while making this.

P.S.S. No husbands were hurt while making this fudge.

P.S.S.S. This is what the husband was watching.

Weekend Reflections #13

This sculpture is affectionately called "The Bean", located in Millennium Park in downtown Chicago. It's official name is "Cloud Gate", by Anish Kapoor. I love how the skyline is reflected in the sculpture. Obviously this was taken during the summer. If you were to walk by it today, there would be snow on the ground and snow flurries in the air!


For more weekend reflections, click here.

The Dreaded Christmas Letter

I've haven't got my Christmas cards out yet. I decided it was time to get off my butt and get to it. I happen to have a box filled with boxes of Christmas cards that I bought on sale a few years ago. It is the ONLY thing Christmasy that is in this trailer. Unfortunately, it is stored in a cabinet along the back of the trailer, above the rocking recliner.




This means that I have to do a balancing act on said recliner, to get the box down. Not an easy feat, since the box is buried under various paraphernalia such as six decks of cards, in case we have a large crowd over to play cards, Dominoes, a bag of what's left of tinker toys (in case I feel like being a kid again I guess), a bag full of Mr. Potato Head parts, and a bag full of another game's parts. So, imagine me, if you will, standing on tippy toes, rocking the chair, grabbing on to the wall for balance every now and then, and trying to reach up and grab all this crap and throw it on the couch just to get the damn box of cards. Yeah. So now you know why I put it off. I looked a little like this. Just without the f***ing tutu. And I have more teeth.





You might ask why I just didn't ask my big, strong, 6'2" husband to just reach up and grab the box down? A) Because I'm stubborn; and B) (READ THE REAL REASON) Because I didn't want to hear him say, "You've GOT to get rid of some of this CRAP! We have TOO much WEIGHT in the trailer!"

You know EXACTLY what I'm thinking, ladies! If HE left, there would be about 10 hardcover books, 50 paperbacks, and 5 games worth of weight I could fill right back up with, easily!

Anyway, I digress. I was talking about Christmas cards. Each year I debate whether to send them or not, but then I break down and send them because I really like to receive them myself.

I hand address every one because it seems a lot more personal that way. I don't mind using the return address labels, though. And thank GOD for self-adhesive stamps. Remember back in the days when we had to LICK all those stamps? By the time I was done with my Christmas cards, my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth! I was speechless for awhile. I think those were Jim's best moments, looking back!

I always write a newsletter telling everyone what has happened to Jim and me, and our family during the past year. It's been a lot easier since the kids have grown, and we've been on the road. I can write about the places we've seen, people we've visited, etc.

But back when the kids were growing up, it was hard. Here's why. I had normal, every day kids. Yeah. I'm ashamed. They didn't get straight A's in school, they didn't excel in sports, and they sucked at playing any instruments. I hated when I got those letters from friends bragging about their kids and all their accomplishments. "Why my little Suzie is SO SMART, she has made honor roll all 3 semesters. And she takes tap and ballet lessons!" Blah, blah, blah. Reading it made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. I mean, geez, I'm happy for you, really, but can you tone it down a bit? Is it wrong of me to pray to God that that kid is a little shit to her parents? IS IT?

Don't get me wrong. I had (have) great kids. BUT THEY WERE NORMAL, AVERAGE KIDS. My son played soccer when he was little, but didn't continue in school. My daughter started out playing soccer, but quit after the third game after I made her pee in a bush because there were no bathrooms in the park and she had to go potty. She never forgave me for this - she had a stubborn streak and refused to play soccer ever again. She was 5. She was on cross country and track in high school. Was she the fastest? No. But she enjoyed herself.

So, I was at a loss what to write in those damn Christmas letters. Let's see...Hmmm...I could have lied, but that's not me. I just left things out. Like the time my son was a freshman and got suspended from school because he wrote the word "Goofy" on a locker. It was considered vandalism. Yeah. I know. Kind of a rough punishment for that. I mean, he didn't write, "fuck you", or he didn't write, "Why did Mickey Mouse have Minnie committed? Because she was fucking GOOFY." No. He wrote the word "Goofy". That's it. So yeah. I left that little tidbit out of the Christmas letter.

So thankfully now I write about our travels, and one or two lines about my kids. I still get a letter or two from those same people, but now it's about their grandchildren, and how they are such whiz kids, future presidents, blah, blah, blah.

I have to go. I must finish my Christmas cards and write my Christmas letter. Maybe I could make up some good lies about Jim and me......

Watery Wednesday

For more Watery Wednesday photos, click here.

My Christmas Card to you and other thoughts

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all my fellow bloggers! Here's a little something to bring you some holiday cheer!

Click here.

It's funny if you type in a song they don't know, like "Grandma got run over by a reindeer."

I had a good laugh this morning while singing some Christmas carols. No, I was not laughing because of my voice. I was singing, "Winter Wonderland" and laughed when I remembered that for years my daughter sang, "Walking in my winter UNDERWEAR" because her GRANDPA, (my Dad) told her those were the words to the song. So next time you hear that song, sing, "Walking in my winter underwear!" It will be fun!

I miss when my kids were little and they would come down on Christmas morning to see what Santa had brought them. It was fun to watch them exclaim over their presents, their hair all mussed up from sleep, while my husband and I could barely keep our eyes opened.

I bought one of these pickle ornaments from the Christkindlemarket in downtown Chicago.



The German story that goes along with the pickle is to hide the pickle in the tree, and the first one to find the pickle gets an extra gift on Christmas morning. I'd just hand out $5. My kids were in middle school by the time I had bought the ornament. My daughter was always quicker than my son to find the pickle.

Here are pictures of the Christkindle Market in Chicago, all courtesy of their website. Jim and I would always go downtown, and it seemed it was the coldest day of the year, of course, with blowing winds, (they don't call it the Windy City for nothing folks!), snow, etc. But it was fun to see all the treasures from Germany. We'd buy a mug of mulled wine, a warm sandwich of bratwurst and we were good to go for another hour or so.







We have been on the road for 4 1/2 years now - since April 2005. That means I have not put up ANY Christmas decorations in five years. It is very strange. We always go home for the holidays, and this year is no different. It will be a very busy two weeks, as we will spend some time with my family in the suburbs of Chicago, drive down to central Illinois to see my daughter, son-in-law, and grand daughter Lily, and drive up to Minnesota to visit my father-in-law, who will turn 99 in February, God-willing-and-the-creek-don't-rise. I also have some doctor's appointment scheduled and some standard tests. So we will be busy, busy, busy!

I will be happy to be around Christmas decorations, to be with my sisters, see my kids, and to see snow, actually. I'll probably be cold the whole time I am home, but that's okay, because my heart will be warm.

RE: THE FRITO-SMELLING DOG PAWS

At last count, it seems overwhelmingly true that dogs paws smell like Fritos. So now you know. It's amazing the things you learn here, isn't it?

Last night my husband and I were in bed reading. I was reading a fiction novel and I came to this sentence, "Dan was allergic to pet dander and they'd never had so much as a parakeet, but Helen grew up with dogs and missed them, their glad eyes, the way their paws smelled like corn chips."

I yelped and jumped up in bed! Jim thought I was crazy! I said, "You've GOT to read this one sentence!" I shoved the book under his nose and pointed to the sentence. He laughed sooo hard!

Can you believe it? I am going to write to the author, Elizabeth Berg, who is my favorite author, by the way, and let her know that she just made my day!