Christmas Hooky

The Christmas spirit just hasn't hit me this year - too tired to care. However, my neighbors have enough for both of us. This picture doesn't do justice, but you can see they have their house draped in white lights and there are two lighted deer in the front who move their heads. Sorta threw the dogs for a loop the first time we went out for a late evening potty trip.

Despite my lack of Christmas cheer, I went on my usual last pre-Christmas shopping jaunt today. I always like to make a last trip after I have all my necessary gifts taken care of and the pressure is off. I always end up buying more gifts when I'm relaxed and able to wander aimlessly around with no particular goal. I decided to go to the San Marcos outlet mall to buy myself a present. Mother started and I am continuing the tradition of buying a piece or two of Royal Doulton Old Country Roses china to add to our collection. This year I decided to indulge myself with a set of their matching flatware.

Just as I reached the exit for the outlet mall, I made an impulsive decision to run down to Gruene. It's been a long time since I visited that little town and it seemed the place to go today. I thoroughly enjoyed checking out the antique store and the Gruene General Store. I've decided that I may just have to go down there some weekend and stay in one of the quaint bed & breakfast inns that have sprung up all around town. Business has definitely increased since I was there last and I found myself hoping that its quaintness isn't on the endangered list.

When I finally made my way to the Outlet Mall, I was surprised to find several stores having "Going Out of Business" sales. I picked up several bargains, but I puzzled over why the sudden departure of these long-time residents. I wonder if other folks have run away from the Christmas crowds as I have, doing their shopping on Amazon.com or other Internet retailers. There were plenty of people at the mall, but I was surprised that I never had any trouble getting a parking space close to the shops I wanted to visit. It was really pretty calm for the last week before Christmas.

I accomplished my goals of purchasing stocking stuffers and flatware (though I had to have it drop-shipped from the main office; they were sold out). My unplanned visit to Gruene was the best part of the day. I almost remembered when shopping was fun.

Tomorrow is my last work day of the year. Last night I finished the annual family newsletter and it will go in the mail tomorrow. Friday morning I have a nice long massage planned to kick off my holiday and I plan to make the most of the opportunity to get some much needed rest.

Ho, ho, ho! (Well, at least I'm trying.)

LSW

A Voice Silenced

His popularity was at its peak in the late 70s and through the 80s. I own quite a few of his albums, and while I stopped following his career as closely as I once did, I still enjoy those albums. My favorite was the double "The Innocent Age", that contained "The Leader of the Band" and "Same Old Lang Syne" among other truly wonderful songs that never got the wide-spread play of those two standouts.

Dan Fogelberg died yesterday of prostate cancer at the age of 56. His music never failed to please and at times it had true greatness. May he rest in peace. I, for one, will miss him.

LSW

A Case for the X-Files

Scout says that whoever that yellow cat is, it is NOT her brother Boo. She thinks that Boo was abducted by aliens, put through unspeakable tests, and then returned to us in some kind of altered state.

Scout thinks her Mom is incredibly stupid if she hasn't noticed that huge incision in the stranger's belly and the odd way he smells. He may purr like Boo, but that's not Boo.

Scout is not fooled. She tells me that she's checked and he has a weird microchip in his neck. (She's forgotten she has one, too.)

Scout will be stalwart and not accept the alien in our midst. Sooner or later he will be revealed to be the imposter he is.

LSW

Obsession

I admit that I suffer from obsessive compulsive behavior in some ways. Under control, but still it is there. That's one reason why I persist in appointing myself the company cookbook wrangler.

Speaking of which, early this morning I finally printed off the GOOD copy from which all other copies were to be made. In the past, I have been ultra compulsive and handled the process from start to finish, but I knew this year that I did not have it in me to manage the project without help. So I recruited a helper to do the copying and assist in the binding. She, in turn, recruited a bit more help, so there were several hands in the process.

While they copied, I pre-punched holes in the front and back covers and the clear plastic front overlay cover. I assembled one complete copy so that I could evaluate how well all the different papers and covers went together. The plastic cover was a bit larger than a standard 8-1/2 x 11-inch sheet, so I adjusted the punches to allow the plastic cover to overhang evenly all around. The inner title page, always printed on some kind of seasonal specialty paper, turned out to be slightly smaller than a standard page and I had to re-adjust the punch so that the title sheet was centered against the card stock inner cover. (What can I say? I'm good.)

By the time I had punched 100 back covers, 100 inner front covers, 100 decorative title pages and 100 plastic overlays on the old manual punch/binding machine, the first of the cookbooks were being delivered, pre-punched by my helpers on the newer, electric binding machine. I assembled the first official copy and found myself in an obsessive compulsive quandry. The electric punch was set at a slightly different position from the manual punch I had used for the covers and so the inner pages of the cookbook were not binding squarely to the covers. They were about 1/16th of an inch off and they had already punched about 15 sets.

For possibly the first time in my life, I gave myself a mental shake and said to myself "screw it". Probably nobody but me will ever be aware of this slight flaw. These folks are always very appreciative of my efforts, which gives them a comb-bound cookbook with recipes that have been reworked so as to be understandable to even the least experienced of the group, standardized formatting of measurements and full of decorative graphics. They would have been happy to get a stapled at the corner batch of un-adorned recipes with no editing at all. Of course they've been spoiled at this point, since I'm obsessive compulsive about this project, but I don't think anyone is going to go "eww, the pages aren't square".

With this happy decision made, we managed to get half of the required books bound today. I have lost my primary helper to a vacation day tomorrow, but I hope to get the vast majority of the remaining books done and possibly even delivered before the end of the work day on Friday.

I counted up today and my rough estimate is that I've spent somewhere between 60 and 72 hours on this project. This is my Christmas contribution to my co-workers. I think they are going to be pleased with the result.

Aside from the slightly off-set pages, I am. I'll get over it.

LSW

Outraged

Mr. Boo Cat is home again, doing well. He is so happy to be home that he is following me around purring.

All the way home, he informed me of the evil and vile things that had been done to him. It sounded a little bit like the Scarecrow after the encounter with the Flying Monkeys. "First they took my legs off and they threw them over there; then they took my chest out and they threw it over there!"

Scout says he smells bad and has been hissing every time he comes near her. The dogs flooded him with happy kisses and the three of them have been comparing scary operation stories.

To add insult to injury, his belly is naked and it's cold. His front legs have been shaved and he looks goofy.

In a word, the whole experience sucked and he wants the world to know it.

Would that he would realize that the reason it all happened was that he didn't mind his own business and heed the old adage "curiosity killed the cat".

LSW

Boo Kitty Update

The Boo cat is spending another night in the hospital. His appetite had not returned enough to please his doctor, so she decided to keep him for observation. Hopefully he will get sprung tomorrow afternoon. The word from the receptionist was "he looks ok". I guess that makes me feel better.

LSW

Sick Ward

Nothing like a little unplanned surgery to throw a kink in things. Boo cat took sick in the middle of the night Friday, vomited off and on all day Saturday, and continued to feel poorly through Sunday. He was a pitiful ghost of his normal heathen self.

Even though Mom has threatened daily to dismember the little devil, when your little devil is sick, you begin to miss the rotten behavior. I figured it was something he ate or a need for worming. I dropped him off yesterday morning at the vet clinic for an evaluation.

Xrays indicated something in his intestines that wasn't passing through like it should. So off to emergency surgery Monday afternoon. The good news is that he came through with flying colors and should be home sometime today.

He had swallowed a mass of sewing thread that had gummed up his innards. The doctor said she pulled thread out of him for quite awhile before she was satisfied that she had it all. Even so, there is still a bit that had gone on through to the colon and should appear today sometime. He spent the night on fluids and happy meds and if he gets up this morning with a smile on his face, a purr in his heart and an appetite, all should be well. (Now the odd thing is that I don't sew and I thought I had purged the house of Mother's sewing goods. I have no idea where he got hold of thread.)

Scout has been lost without her co-conspiritor. It's amazing how quiet the house has been the last few days. I think I will be glad when he gets home and starts bouncing off the walls again. Turns out that a little devil is a lot of entertainment.

LSW

Last Time (Maybe)

It used to be something I looked forward to every December. The Bastrop County Historical Society hosts a historical homes tour and it was/is a rare opportunity to get inside some of the old Victorian era homes for which Bastrop is somewhat famous.

There is always a house that just overwhelms you with the fabulous interior or for the fabulous way a fading lady has been restored to beauty. The Orgain house on Church Street has been on the tour several times and I usually make those tours because the house is just such a superlative Victorian mansion that was restored sometime back with no expense spared. The old Confederate academy house has also been featured many times and stands out in my memory because of its branching staircase, with two descents from the broad landing. There have been many wonderful houses on the tour during the years, representing a time when craftsmanship meant more than volume and singular character meant more than how fast a house can be thrown up.

I skipped a couple of the recent years because the same houses were being showcased that I had already seen many times. This year I was lured back because there were four houses on the schedule that I had never seen before and one of them belonged to my first step-mother once upon a time. This was well before she became my step-mother, so I had never had the opportunity to see inside until now.

This house was a cheerful yellow at the time she lived there, so it took me a minute before I realized this was the same place. The house has recently received some local notoriety as one of the main location shoots for an upcoming Julia Roberts movie Fireflies in the Garden. Julia's every movement was documented in the local gossip column for several months back in the spring. I will probably have to make a point to see the movie when it comes out, just to see this lovely house in the background.

The interior of the house is a real treasure and well worth the time and price of a ticket to see. Every room's doorway and windows was framed in wood with square corner decorations (can't remember what those are called at the moment). Every doorway had a glass transom. The stairway led to a lovely reading nook, flanked on both sides by huge, airy bedrooms. The upstairs bathroom had been remodeled for the movie shoot and the owners decided they liked it and left it that way, with a glorious claw-foot tub on a raised landing under a roof peak. Hard to envision from that description, but let me just say it reeked of character.

The back of the house has a wide, screened in porch that calls to the incurable reader or knitter. It must be a wonderful place in the spring time. It was by far the best of the tour this year.

I hit five of the nine places on the tour this time around. The musuem is always on the tour and is where I stopped to buy my ticket, so I took the time to drift around and look at the exhibits. It did not take me long to realize that I knew more Bastrop history than the tour hosts who were roaming around, but I always enjoy seeing the musuem and I discovered there are some new items for sale that I will have to go back and obtain on a less active day. They have issued a DVD on the subject of Bastrop's 175th anniversary and there are books, maps, and other tempting things that somehow I do not yet have in my collection of local history.

The Episcopal Church, old First National Bank and Kerr Community Center did not interest me, since I have seen them all on numerous occasions. I did visit 3 more houses on Pecan Street, one of them an active Bed & Breakfast that I could honestly recommend to someone who wanted a nice place to stay in Bastrop. It's quite a nice old house. By the time I had visited the 4th house, I was exhausted from the press of the crowds and the chattering of the tour hosts, so I decided I was done and went on to run my errands.

It's funny how ongoing stress can make being around people an exhaustive process. I just don't have it in me to be sociable these days. I did enjoy a conversation with an old neighbor I encountered at the museum, but that was before the herd of tourists arrived. I contemplated walking the street fair that was being held in downtown, but decided I just could not handle the noise and bustle of a crowd. It takes too much effort to focus and too much effort to remain calm and pleasant, when what I really want to do is snap, "Get out of my way, shut up and leave me alone". I smiled and made nice as long as I was able to and then beat a hasty retreat.

Before I went to the grocery store, I made an impulse stop at the local Hallmark shop. The lady who ran this store for many, many years died this year and I've not been in it since. I was dismayed to discover all the signs that the store is about to shut down. The attendant did not know the future plans, but what she did know and what I observed seems to point that direction. I coveted that little shop and always wished that I could acquire it. I guess it is another sign of my fatigue that I could not even get excited about the idea of calling the owner to see if she would be willing to sell.

Before I could escape back to the safety of home and my babies, I had to negotiate another crowd at the grocery store. At least you don't have to be quite so polite there. Everyone understands you don't want to be there, so a glower isn't taken so badly.

At long last, I was home. It seems odd the changes that age will cause. I used to relish the holiday events in downtown Bastrop. Perhaps I will again, but for now I just don't feel the need to partake. Right now my old dream of a mountain-top cabin in Colorado that is only accessible by snowcat for months on end (but of course well stocked with food and an uninterruptible Internet connection) has resurfaced. I need peace and quiet. Right now my favorite activity is the daily walk I take through the neighborhood with my best friends.

LSW

Twisted Like a Pretzel

It has taken 5 days of marathon typing, but the draft of the cookbook is done. The dogs will be glad when tonight rolls around and I head to the bed at a decent hour. The family newsletter I can type on the laptop while I lean against pillows. The proofing of the cookbook will be postponed until the weekend so I can rest my eyes. You know you are middle aged when you find yourself constantly bending over close to the page to verify whether you are looking at 1/2 or 1/4.

You also know you are middle aged when you can't sleep through the night any longer. When I'm not adjusting the fan on or off because of my internal thermostat issues, I'm having to get up and trek to the bathroom to pacify a nagging bladder. It used to keep quiet through the night, but I guess it figures if I'm going to keep it awake turning the fan on and off, it will retaliate the only way it can.

One benefit of longevity is that I am having to burn some days of vacation this month so I don't lose them. (Twenty years or more of service gets you 4 weeks a year and I never took my fall vacation this year.) Yesterday I went to Austin and followed my old commute route down 6th Street. Traffic has not improved at all, but rather the construction of the toll road has really screwed up Highway 71 at Del Valle. I'm having to drive a nasty area of Highway 79 these days that is also under construction, but it pales in comparison. Add to the traffic woes the Christmas rush and you have a mess.

But it was a beautiful day and I quickly completed my errands and did a little bit of playing at the Antique Mall in Elgin on the way home. Next door to the Antique Mall is a new homemade tamale joint and I picked up a dozen for supper. Funny thing is, when I asked the guy how long they had been there, he told me that was their first day. Until then they had been selling beside the road at the junction of FM1660 and Highway 95, the turn I make to take me through Rices Crossing every day. I had seen them, but never stopped because I have this theory that you can't trust food bought from roadside vendors. They were good tamales and so far I've had no ill effects, so maybe I was wrong about that.

LSW

Speaking of Hula Hoops

Once upon a time I actually could hula a mean hoop. (Maybe that explains all the trouble I've been having with my hip lately.)

LSW

Christmas Tunes

Many years ago my office was across from the closet that held the CD-player that played the music while our telephone callers were on hold. I got drafted to swap out CDs from time to time to give a variety of music to our listeners. When December 1st arrived, I would start the Christmas music. The Christmas music owned by the company was pretty stale, so I would switch it out with some of my own collection. Our employees could set their phones to play the music at their desks and they enjoyed having the option to listen to Christmas music during the month.

With that motivation, I kept acquiring new Christmas CDs every year for several years until at the moment I own an obscene amount of Christmas music. Every year I tell myself I will not buy any more Christmas CDs and every year someone comes out with a Christmas album that I can't pass up. I really try, but I just can't help myself.

This year I've already caved and bought 3 Christmas albums. Someone clued me in that Josh Groban had issued a Christmas CD and I decided that I had to have it. That's all I had intended to get, but then I discovered albums by James Taylor and Anne Murray, both of whom I like very much. (And Anne's was a double album, so that makes 4 CDs added to the collection.)

I mean, really, how many versions of "Do You Hear What I Hear?" does one person need? I may be addicted.

Anyway, I've been listening to Christmas music this week, taking a brief break from audiobooks. I really do have some good albums in my collection and I must say that the James Taylor and Josh Groban albums are very, very good additions.

My favorite songs are sprinkled across genres. My number one favorite song is "Greensleeves", so I love every version of "What Child is This?", particularly the instrumentals and especially the version by pianist Liz Story. After that, I love "O Holy Night" by Sandi Patti, "My Prayer" by Celine Dion and Andre Bocelli, "Mary, Did You Know?" by Kathy Mattea, "The Wexford Carol" by anybody and "Christmas Time's A-Comin'" by Emmylou Harris.

And the one that makes me laugh every time is "The Chipmunk Song".

"Me, I want a hoola-hoop..."

LSW

Meant for Me

One of my errands last week was to buy raffle tickets. The local CASA group periodically raffles off playhouses and this year they have two. If there is any justice, I should get one.

The playhouses are built by the High School shop students and are usually based on local historical buildings. They have had some mighty cute playhouses over the years. This year, when I saw the newest offerings, I slipped into the sin of covet. Unfortunately they require you to choose which playhouse drawing you will participate in, so I chose the historic jail for all 5 of my raffle tickets. It is too cute and I would love to see it take up residence in my back yard.

First, here is the real thing. Back when we lived in town, I walked the dogs regularly by this building.

Here is the playhouse version. On the inside, there is actually a tiny jail cell, complete with a sliding hasp lock and that takes up roughly 1/4 of the interior. The "bricks" are blocks of wood. Notice the attention to detail, right down to the historical marker.

The other offering this year is based on a slave's quarters building, which location of the real thing I could not remember in order to snare a photo. It is also as cute as a button, with bead and board paneling on the interior.

I would be just as happy to see it in my back yard, but when forced to choose, I had to go with the jail. I figured it might be just the ticket for dealing with the heathen cats.

The drawing is next Saturday. Cross your fingers for me.

LSW

Over Extending

Every 5 years or so I do something idiotic. I let my co-workers talk me into spear heading another employee cookbook. The first time was back in the early 80s, when the company had maybe 35 employees. Now I find myself working on Volume 7 and the company has about 150 employees. About half of them are participating and over 200 recipes have been turned in.

It's my own fault. I just can't abide turning the job over to someone else, though I did take the precaution of recruiting volunteers for the task of binding and distributing this time around. I have this idea that I'm good at the job and I either don't want to be disappointed that someone else might not do as good a job as I do or I don't want to find out that someone else would do it better. Either way, I am busy sorting recipes and scouring the Internet for Christmas graphics to add atmosphere.

Almost the entire day today I have been hunched over the computer. After a long neighborhood walk, the dogs were content to pile up in the big red chair and nap while I worked. I put a volume of "Are You Being Served?" on the DVD player and had that thoroughly enjoyable insanity to distract and entertain me. The day passed pleasantly and I have completed the draft version of 4 sections of the cookbook. That gets me about half-way through the typing portion of the project. I just might get the bulk of the work done this weekend.

Which would be good, because it suddenly occurred to me that I also have a family newsletter due to go out this month and I haven't even started it. I'm just not happy unless I have deadlines.

Let the Holiday madness begin!

LSW

I Have An Announcement

You are all invited to come over to my house and wash some clothes or use the bathroom. As of about 3PM this afternoon, I ceased being in the septic business and got myself connected to the sewer. It's taken every bit of the 8 to 10 weeks they estimated, with three different work crews appearing at distant intervals. Yesterday I arrived home to find the yard full of promise.


I told myself not to hope, because I've had bits and pieces of the WCID's property strewn about my yard for weeks, but lo and behold they reappeared this morning and kept at it until the job was done. There is still clean up to do and septic tanks to be filled, but as for me and my house, we are back in business. No more laundromat!

I am enjoying getting my backlog of laundry processed this evening. My crankiness factor has improved dramatically. This might just push me a little closer to some Christmas spirit.

LSW

It's Not Necessarily My Castle

Most everybody knows that it is pure hell to have two or more women sharing one kitchen. Mother and I were mostly able to peacefully co-exist in the kitchen, I guess since I grew up in her kitchen. It's outsiders that create havoc and there are days when I mourn the time when my kitchen was my own.

Mother's healthworker drives me completely batty. Most of the time I can grit my teeth and bear it, but when I'm tired and mentally exhausted, as I've been of late, it's all I can do to keep the peace. I do, because she's a good and faithful caregiver and it would be cutting off my nose to spite my face to stir up trouble with complaints about my way vs. her way.

For instance, she knows nothing about how to load dishwashers. I have to brace myself every evening before I open the dishwasher to load in the supper dishes. I know I will have to take everything out and start over. Plastics are in the lower rack, dishes are just pushed in haphazardly, with no regard for an orderly arrangement that would allow maximum capacity per load, and all the flatware used up to that point will be stuffed into one flatware cup at the front edge of the machine. I have to be careful repositioning the latter, since I quite often find sharp steak knives in the cup upside down, their blades poised just right to stab a careless hand. The upper rack is slanted so that tall items can be placed in the deeper side and cups and short glasses can be put in the shallower side. Hah. Invariably the tall glasses have been put in the shallow side and have fallen over, while all the cups are in the deeper side.

Next we have the issue of closure. I am stunned that the woman never, never, never turns down the inner sleeve of a box of cereal. Quite often she does not even close the box flap. Apparently she never had leftovers at her house and never had to worry about things going stale. Jars are put back into the refrigerator with the tops barely on, so that when I pick up that jar, the top comes off just as I lift it and the jar spills its contents and I scare the dogs with an abrupt oath.

Now we move to the refrigerator and freezer. I do not mind that she brings her lunch and puts it in the refrigerator. What I do mind is having two weeks worth of frozen dinners suddenly showing up in my freezer, taking up all available room. What I do mind is having boxes of cereal, crackers, cookies and what have you stacked all over the counter. What I do mind is thinking I have my supper all taken care of (theoretically hidden safe from view) only to discover that it's been rooted out of its hiding place and offered to Mother for lunch and now I have to come up with a new idea for supper after a long day at work.

Then there's the furniture issue. I rearrange the living room and find the perfect place for the wastebasket behind a chair that blocks it from view. She didn't like it there, because she prefers to reach to the right rather than the left to put something in it. So it's been hauled back out in the middle of the floor and I trip over it constantly. I have a rather pricy pastry holder for Mother's breakfast rolls that EVERY DAY I place well away from the edge of the table so the bad-ass cats won't push it off and break it, and EVERY DAY when I come in, it's hanging half-way off the table because she folds clothes on the table and God forbid that she should put the thing back where I had it when she's done.

The best part about having a two-story house is that at least the second floor stays the way I left it. Except for the decorative efforts of the bad-ass cats.

As I say, it's basically little stuff that I have to swallow and tolerate in the interest of the better good. But is it any wonder I have this weird little twitch above my eye?

LSW

Is It Just Me?

Am I the only one in America who is thoroughly sick and tired of Oprah Winfrey? So what if the woman has more money than God, does that automatically mean we should accept every comment and opinion she utters as words from the Divine?

Just for the record:

I do not care what Oprah thinks.
I do not care what Oprah reads.
I do not care what movies or television shows Oprah watches.
I do not care which candidate Oprah supports. (As a matter of fact, her voiced support turned me completely and totally off her candidate, who up to that time I had not formed an opinion about.)
I do not care what new charity Oprah has blessed with her contribution.

I wish Oprah would zip her lip and retire.

God, that felt good.

LSW

North of the Border

That would be the upper border of Central Texas, namely the Brazos River.

This morning I arose at an ungodly 4AM to participate in a presentation to a potential client in the Dallas area. "Big D, little a, double l, a, s", as the song goes. I had to be at the office in Round Rock by 6:15 and it was still pitch dark, and cold, when I arrived.

Little brother spent the night with us to mom-sit while I was out of pocket for the day. Previously on "Woolgathering" , you may remember that I had rearranged the guest bedroom with the questionable aid of the bad-ass cats. This was specifically to return the room back to guest bedroom status instead of the junk pile crafts-in-progress room that it has been of late. It was looking pretty good when I left for work Monday morning.

When I got home Monday afternoon, it looked like a tornado had hit. The bad-ass cats had explored my crafts table, found the roll of paper towels I keep there for glue and paint clean up, and shredded it completely and thoroughly ALL OVER THE ROOM. I had to drag the vacuum cleaner back up the stairs to re-clean the room. My mood was not improved when I arrived back in the paper snowstorm to discover Boo lying sprawled in the middle of it with a look of utter satisfaction on his face, content that the job had been well done.

But I digress. I had gone prepared to be the only woman in a group of attorneys, knowing the conversation was likely to center on football, law school and politics. I had knit about two inches of a new afghan and was comfortable enough with the pattern to take it along to work on in the car. It was a great diversion and I had another inch or so completed by the time we got to south Dallas. Three hours of riding in the back seat had zipped by.

Then, just as I was complimenting myself on getting a handle on the complicated back and forth of the cable pattern, the unthinkable happened. My fancy circular needle broke and stitches went everywhere, laddering down the completed knitting so quickly there was no chance of recovery. Believe it or not, all the bad words stayed in my thoughts and I calmly pushed the whole mess into my bag and told myself that I would consider the nearly 4 inches of lost afghan practice for the real thing. I start over tomorrow. With a better circular needle.

I was along on this trip in the event that questions arose about how we would handle the client's data when it hit our office. As it happens, they had no questions on that issue and my participation was minimal. But I got a free meal, a day's outing in beautiful weather, and the chance to see how things have grown in Salado, Belton and Waco since I was in college. I enjoyed visiting with the two attorneys sharing the car ride and with a lady who works in one of our branch offices close to Dallas. On the way back one of the attorneys and I grabbed quick cat naps. So the day wasn't a total loss. Just the afghan.

And the heathen cats had the gaul to greet me at the door like old friends. I'm still looking for what they destroyed while I was gone.

LSW

The War

The heathen cats and I are out-smarting each other today. Due to some particular nastiness on their parts last week, they were banished to the utility room at bedtime for several days. This did not please them, but it did fractionally reduce the amount of vandalism that was taking place in the midnight hours. (They can still do a considerable amount of damage during the daytime, carefully timed for when I'm in the next room. Crash! Bang! Tinkle of broken glass!)

Poor little Scout has been particularly upset about the sleeping arrangements. She had grown accustomed to waiting until the dogs got thoroughly asleep and then sneaking into our bed and curling up against my leg. She did not think that a bathmat on top of the washing machine was a comparable substitute. Add to that the mid-40s temperature the last few nights and she has not been a happy cat camper. But, the fact of the matter is that she is the primary culprit that has brought about this unhappy turn of events.

My heart softened a little this morning and I decided to give them a chance to redeem themselves. They almost scotched their pardon by helping me rearrange the guest room today. The guest room, as family and friends know, is the dollhouse room and is full of little things that just beg to be grabbed by pesky cats. It took twice as long as it should have to get the job done, because they were alternating their attacks and as soon as I would get one chased out, the other one had slipped in and was grabbing what I had just taken away from the first one. I was hoarse by the end of the afternoon from yelling at them to get out.

Unaware that they were being given a reprieve tonight, they put their heads together late in the afternoon and plotted to avoid capture and confinement. It was really kind of funny. Scout began slinking around, dashing under the beds when she thought I was getting too near. Boo went to the top platform of the cat tree and glowered at me, just daring me to come get him. When I settled down with the dogs for a bit of tv and internet, Scout slipped under the bed and began muttering under her breath, "you're not getting me tonight, lady".

So we are calling it a draw. Man, I'm looking forward to the day when they stop being teenagers and start being fat, lazy cats that sleep 23 hours a day.

LSW

Thanksgiving Day Arrives

Our Thanksgiving meal will be this afternoon, so I was up and at 'em early this morning. Not being up to a marathon cooking session, I opted for a batch of the family dressing, a roast chicken, a pre-cooked and sliced ham, sweet potatoes, green beans, green salad and pumpkin pie. The only really involved cooking will be the dressing and the rest is coming out of pre-cut or canned foundations.

It is now 9:15 a.m. and I already have the chicken in the slow cooker, the cornbread and biscuits baked, and the pumpkin pie well on the way. I will be able to take it easy now until mid-afternoon. I feel some quality puppy snuggling in my immediate future. We have come to really love our new chaise and they are quite happy to snuggle down into a blanket and let Mommy read or knit or nap beside them.

Yesterday was another day of good luck. I make it a firm policy to go nowhere near major shopping areas on the day after Thanksgiving. However, I decided to take a quick dash into Wal-Mart to pick up the new Trisha Yearwood album, knowing full well the madness I would be entering.

But, I snagged a front row parking spot, threaded my way through the throngs buying toys and televisions and tool cabinets, found my album, threaded my way back to the front of the store and right up to the express lane clerk and out in under 20 minutes. A true holiday miracle. Then it was off to HEB to pick up a couple of prescriptions and I was the very first customer in the drive thru. Eerie, itsn't it?

I had allowed ample time to get my two necessary errands accomplished before the Artists' Harvest downtown would open. My good luck left me with a whole hour to kill before the gates would open, so I went over to Beall's and spent the time picking out a new purse, billfold, necklace and bracelet. That unexpected shopping excursion out of the way, I still ended up at the art show 15 minutes early.

Another piece of luck was that I had a nice jacket in the car. It did not seem so cold when I left the house, but at the Farmer's Market where the art show was to take place the wind was cold and bitter and there was just enough moisture in the air to make the tiny drops feel like ice. The cold weather did not dampen the spirits of the artists or the attendees, however, and everyone was cheerful and ready to browse.

I had no intention of actually buying anything, but I found two watercolors that spoke to me and 6 terrific photographs of Texas wildflowers. I decided the bathrooms could use some new art. One of the watercolors was of the guardian angel out at Fairview Cemetery who stands guard over the war babies. Naturally I could not resist and the artist was delighted that I knew all about the statue. The lady with the photographs had some outstanding closeups of dragonflies, butterflies and lady bugs and was friendly and informative about how I could improve my own attempts at bug pictures.

I was good and frozen through when I left, so I hit Scooter's for a vanilla latte and headed home to relieve my health worker who was taking off at noon for her own weekend Thanksgiving holiday. The afternoon was a stretch of unpressured piddling.

Sure wish I could extend this nice restful vacation luck a few more days, but unfortunately Monday is back to normal. But there's still today and tomorrow and I intend to make the most of it.

LSW

Boo Shows His Best Side

Heckuva view I have as I eat my breakfast.

(I actually took several pictures, but naturally this was the only one where he was still enough to stay in focus.)

LSW