A sense of satisfaction washed over her.

A day well spent indeed. Yes… the spirit of Christmas was plentiful from dawn to dusk.

A family filled with love and joy. Splendid moments shared. A spectacular meal in every way (except for the carrot, fennel, and beet salad….. it can’t ALL be perfect.) Most of all the essence of good will poured forth.  There was caring for one another, and a genuine appreciation of the blessings in their lives.

As the night sky took charge, and the house fell quiet… she settled back in her chair… and breathed it all in. The memories made.  The hearts touched.

A grin crept across on her face…like the mist that prowls a meadow at sunrise.   She knew it had been a one-of-a-kind-Christmas.   For on that day….. she was given two gifts.  Two things which had been lifelong dreams.  She stared across the room a them both.  A “Replica Lamp-Nightlight from ‘A Christmas Story'” AND her VERY own “Dave the Robotic Funky Monkey.”  She pinched herself hard on the arm… to ensure the moment was real.

The excitement was nearly too much to bear.

How would she ever, ever sleep?

Yes Virginia.  There IS a Santa Claus.

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“Think of all the beauty still around you, and be happy.”  -Anne Frank

“Your mind knows only some things. Your inner voice, your instinct, knows everything. If you listen to what you know instinctively, it will always lead you down the right path.”  -H. Winkler

“Christmas gift suggestions:
To your enemy, forgiveness.
To an opponent, tolerance.
To a friend, your heart.
To a customer, service.
To all, charity.
To every child, a good example.
To yourself, respect.”
-Oren Arnold

“I heard the bells on Christmas Day; their old familiar carols play, and wild and sweet the word repeat of peace on earth, good-will to men!”
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Merry Christmas
…..and May Peace Be With You…  …. along every step of your path.

You can’t please all the people all the time.

I’ve gotten a lot of letters lately, asking why I didn’t do “My Version” of “The 12 Days of Christmas” again this year. (Funny….. after it’s first run last Christmas… there were a lot of critics.)   C’est la vie. Such is life.

Well, the fact of the matter is…. I tried it this year.  A reality version of the Twelve Days.  I hate to admit it, but  …. things didn’t work out. I am not one to “give up” on a task …. Yet…. I just HAD to bail on this one.

If you must know, here is how it went.

12 Days of Christmas:
1. A partridge in a pear tree. Not so hard to do… we have a pear tree right out back. Partridges, however, are hard to come by. But I heard David Cassidy has been out of work lately. I called his agent… and apparently, Davey is desperate. I hired him for 12 days to sit on a branch out back. One Partridge in a Pear Tree. Check.

2. Two turtle doves. I didn’t know what the heck these were… some kind of Mutant Ninja Turtle Bird? So I Googled it. Turns out they look a HECK of a lot like mourning doves. I caught two. I am on my way. Two turtle doves. Check.

3. Three french hens. This one was pretty easy too, but I had to make some assumptions. There are tons of chicken farms in these parts. I wrangled three hens one night. (Holy smokes those things cackle like crazy when you grab ’em by the neck)  When I got back home… I asked each one… “Do you speak English?” “Bwaaawk. Bwaaawk.” No English?  “Okay then,” I said….”How about French?” “Bwaaak. Bwaaaak.” Yes… they DO know French. Three french hens. Check.  I think.

4. Four calling birds. I caught four little sparrows… and got each one a little cell phone. Four calling birds. Check.

5. Five golden rings. One quick trip to Lucky Floyd’s Pawn Shop…. I’m IN. Five golden rings. Check.

6. Six geese a laying. We have a pond….. lots of geese. But the dang things like to mill about all the time… they waddle, sit, swim. Not many of them lay. Soooooo…..  I put a good dose of Bourbon in their water bowls… problem solved. They laid right down… dead as door nails.

Ahhh… Uhhhhh… I hope they are not dead as door nails. Six geese a laying. Or dead. Check.

7. Seven swans a swimming. While we have lots of geese…. we don’t have any swans. I am counting the really cute geese as swans. Seven swans a swimming. Check.

Now… here’s where the big trouble came in.

8. Eight maids a milking. Again… there is a bit of ambiguity here. Milking what? Or are they themselves giving milk? Well… I know there are lots of people down in the south with maids. So I dialed a few. “Hello… yes… this is Polly K… blah, blah, blah. Yes… you employ a maid, is that correct? Yes… well… does she happen to be milking right now?… or giving any sort of off milk?”

I don’t GET IT. Every single one of those people hung up the phone on me. Hence… I had to skip this one.

As I looked ahead at the next three…. I just couldn’t imagine the logistics. Things are getting crowded around here as it is. The ladies dancing seemed possible. But…. ten lords a-leaping. Please. I had no idea where to start.

Besides all that… the pesky Partridge in the pear tree started complaining about being cold… and hungry. Whiner. No wonder he can’t get work.

At any rate… I chucked the whole idea.

I am trying to work on a new Holiday Story… that I hope will catch on throughout the world… as a yearly tradition.

The working title is….“The really huge penguin who terrified the entire town on his way to Bingo Night at the YMCA.”

“On the first night of Bingo… the penguin came to town….

“One gun was pointed….”
“Two 9-1-1 calls”
“Three people screaming…”

Yeah…. well……  I’m still ironing out the details.

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“Tradition is a guide, and not a jailer.”  – William Somerset Maugham

I try to be positive here. You know… keep it light. I try not to discuss my politics or religion. And when I write, I attempt to find the good side to the story. The older I get, the more I strive to do this in life too. You see, I admire those people who are very peaceful and sublime. The compassionate.  The non-hypocrites of the world.

But the truth of the matter is…. I am a little whirly-gig of whirlwind inside. The not-so-dormant volcano. I am just a strand of dynamite sticks, waiting to be ignited… and implode the helpless-old-shell-of-a-building-set-for-demolition. Yep. That is me.

This time of year undoubtedly seems to bring it out in me. People…. can really bug the holy-heck out of me. The ones on the war path to have a Merry Christmas…. AND let nothing stand in the way. My compassion files out the window. My Chi goes to the dark side.

Oh….. the people with……the kazillion gifts to buy.. and then to wrap. The family gatherings they HAVE to attend.  (Like a “Sentence” to a high crime.)   The meals to shop and fix.. the messes to clean up… and complaining all the way. Over the river and through the woods… Hang on to your sleighs. I’ll tell you.

I read a blog the other day… and the woman went on for days about her hatred for the “Elf-On-The-Shelf” tradition in their household … and how she is a horrible “Elf-On-The-Shelf” mom, and how hard it is to keep up with all of this… and blah, blah, blah…..

Oh sure. (It was funny to read about her pity-party-plight.) But I say to her……   “Lady, YOU put the stupid elf on the shelf in the first place.   And as My mom used to say… you made your bed, now lie in it.”   I totally get it now Mom.

Another thing that bothers me is the people who become comatose in public arenas… specifically shopping areas. It is like someone started a intravenous morphine drip right there on the spot. Aliens swept down and transformed their brains into tapioca pudding. THEY become the ONLY person in that store. Today, I shopped for the holiday groceries…. for a family gathering.  The supermarket was packed like sardines.

And in aisle four… a young couple decides to attach… and make out.. completely blocking the aisle with their cart… and bodies.   The ensuing display of slobbering public affection was ….  …  embarrassing. Yes. Right there in front of the Keebler Elves and their Townhouse Crackers.  So….I politely asked…” Excuse me. Do you think I could pass around you?” Their faces briefly unlocked… albeit still connected by spittle. They looked at me with disdain. Obviously, my request interrupted that magic moment. I just smiled as I edged past them.  BUT….. inside…. I am SCREAMING……”Get a flippin’ room.”

Another.  The weather people.  Not the ones on TV.  The ones who want the snow.  Oh sure.  It is “purty as purty can be”… ON THE FRONT OF A CHRISTMAS CARD.  But the reality of Ohio snow is this:  It gets cold as all get out.  We get more ice than actual snow.  Everything turns grimy black-gray sludge in just a day or two.  Then it freezes over….  and it makes it nearly impossible to avoid cars… filled with the VERY SAME PEOPLE who had the spontaneous morphine drips at the Walmart.  I would rather be singing in the rain, thank you very much.

I’m sorry. I apologize. I am a big old grump tonight. Who knows exactly why. But I think that the most likely reason of all…… May have been that my heart was two sizes too small.

I guess me and the THAT Green Guy have to get our acts together soon… He and I have a lot it common, it seems.  We both have dogs named Max.   However…. now… we just need to get our calm back.  We need to get our Mojo on.  Oh to find that “Happy Place”……   or get the heck out of Whoville.

And what happened then…? Well…in Who-ville they say
That the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day!
And then the true meaning of Christmas came through,
And the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches… plus two.

May the Force Be With Us ALL……

Christmas came early this year. Oh yes indeed-y!

I most certainly heard the reindeer hooves on the rooftop last night.  In my restless state, I thought it was the rain pounding down at first.  And then I heard… “No!  No Donner.. … Donner dang it.  Don’t go there.  How many times have I told you NOT to poop on people’s roofs?  I hope the elves packed the plastic baggies.”

It was at that moment, I knew.

Yes. Kris K and the Gang had landed.

I’m not sure what the reason was for the early visit… maybe he couldn’t stand the wait.  That is how I am…. when I have a really GOOD gift to give someone.  I can’t wait until the “actual event” rolls around.  I always have to spring it on the person right away.   That is my only guess as to why he showed early.

So.  This morning, when the girls and I awoke… we were in for the wonder-of-wonders!  Oh yes.  Just what was around the tree???  We could not believe our eyes….  BRAND NEW SWEATERS.  And not just any sweaters…. NO.  SOCK MONKEY SWEATERS.  Oh, that Santa and his elves are crazy-good-knitters…. I will tell you.

We did hand springs, back flips…. we barked and ka-hooted.  We had a grand old time… one dog even poot-ed.

We played in our sweaters.  We acted like monkeys.  Oh, it was more fun than a…. sorry….. barrel of monkeys.  When it had all calmed down, I asked the girls to pose.   This is how it went…

“Max… you look so pretty.  Will you let ‘Your-Polly’ get a shot of you?”

“No problem, My-Polly.”

“Frances, Ollie… your turn girls.  Will you let ‘Your-Polly’ get a photo of you?”

“Come here chimp-dog…. hey… somebody talking to us Ollie?”   “I’m gonna bite your butt Frances… ha… ha.. ha… ha.. ha…..”

Oh the joys of Christmas morning… and early at that.  Sweaters…. Doggy Coats.

So in the winter time, my dog wears a coat.  And I guess in the summer… she wears a coat… and pants.  (It will be much hotter then.)

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“Joy is the feeling of grinning inside.”  – M. Colgrove

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Mary A Bullen, Photo Credit: Photo # 1:  “Me & The Girls”  (Thanks Mary!!!)

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Today, I asked Ollie what she thought about living with us. We adopted her from the Humane Society… about 6 months ago. She said she liked it pretty dang good here. She wishes we would let her play with that cat downstairs…. but other than that, it is all good.  Oh… and…… she remarked about her strong appreciation of the chicken jerky treats in the blue bag.   Yes, if she could get those more often…it would make her happy.

That little dog is really something.  She is full of energy and vigor.  She is a bit on the clumsy side though.  She rams head first into a lot of walls when chasing toys in the house.  Also, there is an award-winning actress in her.  If she wants commiseration, she limps around on three legs….. holding up her right front wing.

And, unfortunately, she is still bound by fear… of things that probably happened during her first go-around with humans.

But back to our little talk we had this morning.  I inquired why she still had so much puppy in her. She cocked her head sideways and gave me a look, like….  I was completely and thoroughly mindless. “Oh….” I said…. “So you DON’T act like a puppy?” To which she put her paw on my forearm.

Which only leaves one explanation. She is blonde.  A fog dog.

Our other two dogs are much older. Twelve, and nine. But they are dark colored dogs. Ollie’s a blonde.

I feel that it is okay to talk about it. You see, I was born as blonde as the day is long. But lil’ Ollie takes it to new heights.

You can’t really potty train them… or teach them tricks.   She knows one…  …. “Hey Ollie!  Run in circles and chase your tail.” She is really good at this one.  Actually, I think she is much smarter than she lets on.  So…..  The rest is just going to take some time.

Which reminds me…..

A blonde has just gotten a new sports car. She cuts out in front of a semi, and almost causes it to drive over a cliff. The driver furiously motions for her to pull over, and she does. The driver gets out and draws a circle and tells her to stand in it. Then he gets out his knife and cuts up her leather seats. He turns around and sees she’s smiling. So he goes to his truck, takes out a baseball bat, and starts busting her windows and beating her car. He looks back to see that she’s laughing.

He’s really mad now, so he takes his knife and slices her tires. He turns around and she’s laughing so hard, she’s about to fall down. He demands, “What’s so funny?” She says, “Every time you weren’t looking, I stepped out of the circle!”

“Be Smart.  But never show it.”  – Louis B. Mayer

I love hats.

Unfortunately, I don’t look so good in them. I have friends that can put on any hat and look totally great wearing that darn topper. And I mean ANY cap, bonnet, scarf, or brim.

Some people simply wear hats well.  There are a lot of great examples of classic hat wearers throughout history.

Abraham Lincoln comes to mind first and foremost. I always think of him in that big tall stovepipe hat. There are plenty of photos of him without it. But the hat is always on his head…. in my mind.

How about Gilligan? He always had on his little sailor hat, with the rim turned down. Like a bowl on his head.

Sherlock Holmes. Now there was a thinker for you. The old pipe, cape, and the cloth detective hat. I believe it is called a Deerstalker. Kind of creepy… but that is name of this type of hat in the European hunting circuits. I think… in his case…. it helped keep his brain waves all tucked in.

Jackie Kennedy. Pink Pillbox. Say no more.

Cat in the Hat. The leaning Tower of Pisa… red & white striped concoction. If I could wear another hat in public, besides my sock monkey hat… it might be this one. Crazy-good-style Seuss.

Wicked Witch of the West. Elphaba. Pointy. Black. Classic.

Robin Hood. I don’t think the real Robin Hood wore a hat… I think he did the hoodie deal. I am pretty sure that Eroll Flynn prettied up the green felt number with the feather.

Annie Oakley. Shoot ’em up girl. Loved YOUR hat.

Little Red Riding Hood. Her name says it all.

Queen Elizabeth.  That woman has one on constantly.  I think she most likely sleeps in a hat.

General Patton. Helmet head.

The Mad Hatter.   Way too much mercury. Common among hat makers of old. They used the mercury to cure the felt which was used. The mercury made ’em loopy.

Oh, and my favorite.  Minnie Pearl.  Price tag and all.  $1.98.

Yes… lots of historical hat wearers. But back to the present. Some “Clubs” get to wear hats. I have a bunch of friends in Rotary… but I am pretty dang sure they don’t wear hats.  I need to join a club that gets to wear some kind of capper… like the Shriners. Yet…… I don’t think they let women in… which ticks me off.  BUT.  That is for another night.

But the Shriners look like they have all the fun… as far as those clubs go. They get to wear the funny hats… they drive those squirrely little cars in parades and such… and they get cool names… like Grand Poohbah. The Chief Rabban. The Potenate.   Big Kahuna.

Yeah.  Well.  Club or no club…..  I wear hats now. But only when no one is looking.

But I sure do wish I had a Fez….  that might be a game changer.  I would wear that thing…. at……  …..  well… at the drop of a hat.

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“Hey, I bought a new hat today.”

“Fedora?”

“Nope.  I bought it for me.”

______________________

Dear Polly,

I can’t get in the “Christmas Spirit” this year. It just don’t feel like being very merry this holiday.  I am curious though.  Do you believe in Santa Claus?

Scroogey,
Anita
Harrington, Delaware

Dear Anita,

Yes I do.

Most sincerely,
Polly

…. and I’ll tell you why.

Santa Claus was one of the first people to teach me about the magic of giving.

It is a good thing to give. To share with others. To give the gift of yourself. It is truly magical. Giving comes from a genuine heart filled with compassion. When you become filled with kindness, tolerance, and love for others, you find the natural desire to want to give.  At least…. that’s what I think.

This idea has been around as long as mankind. It has been written about in all forms of prose. While I don’t know the bible very well… I have always loved the line from Thessalonians… which says… “So encourage each other and build each other up.”

So encourage each other. And build each other up. Holy smokes… this is good advice.

Giving comes in many shapes and sizes. From the simple to the complex. We have special people in our lives… family and friends, and dogs and cats. It is with those individuals where we find a constant “dialogue” of giving… of encouraging each other… building one another up. Yep. Friends.

Things happen each day which remind me of this wonder and goodness.

Tonight we had a get together here at our house. We invited ALL our Facebook Friends. Collectively, that would have been 418 people… if everyone had shown.

But about 20 or so did show up. I liked being with those friends. We gave back and forth all night.  It was just like the magic of Santa Claus to me.

And, besides all of that Anita…. I think I saw him when I was little. In the sleigh… with the reindeer… flying through the December sky. I hope you can get into the spirit. It is all around you.

After all…….  Sleigh Bells ring… are you listening?

Give what you have. To someone, it may be better than you dare to think.
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

P.S. Anita…. we have lots of leftovers.  We cooked for 418!  So if you’d like some party meatballs, chicken wings, or those little cocktail weenies wrapped in blankies… just let me know.  I can send a package up to Delaware.

I never learned how to play Hopscotch. I’m not sure why I was thinking about this today….. but indeed… I did. Funny how things come up in our old noggins.

At any rate, we had a few Hopscotch Boards on our playground at Our Lady of Mercy Grade School. We’d run right over the top of them. I think there was one girl in our class…. she had horned rimmed glasses….and always wore white anklets with lace trim….. her name was Linda….   …I think she hopscotched.

But I never did.  Not even once.

The hopscotch area is where we played “Steal the Bacon” and I LOVED that game.  We would nudge that girl Linda right out of our way.    ….Kids.   So… You’d line up on opposing sides… all scrappy and chomping at the bit.  When it was your turn, you would run like crazy to the center…. and stand over someone’s sweater (the bacon) laying in the middle.  You would tease each other and wave your hand around it… and such. Then… ALL OF A SUDDEN… you would make your move. You’d try to steal the bacon and get back to your team’s side before getting tagged.

Man I loved that game. Way more fun than Hopscotch ever looked.  Sometimes it would be full-contact. You just never knew when that “tag” would turn into a “tackle”  (I came home from school with lots of skinned knees and elbows… I’ll tell ya’).

Seems like my love of games carried on. I still like a good game of just about anything. Trivial Pursuit. Bezzerwizzer. Darts. Bowling. Full-Contact-Bridge. You name it.

On the other hand… I don’t like the “games people play.” You know the type… the pouting  games, or the martyr games, or the angry games, or the stubborn games.   There are buckets full of those games people play.   It all comes down to falsities.   Not being true with ourselves… I think.

I’m capable of them.  Everyone is… on some level…. I think again.

Mostly…  I guess….  we use them to manipulate situations.  To get things to happen in the way that we want.   But in the end, being true to ourselves… and being honest with others… is what ultimately works the best.

Those “games” are kind of like watching hopscotch. There seems to be a lot of jumping around, and motion, and hopping… and ups and downs…. but you never go anywhere…. except back to square one.

“The truth, of course, is that a billion falsehoods told a billion times by a billion people are still false.”- Travis Walton

“There are two freedoms; The false, where man is free to do what he likes; The true, where man is free to do what he ought.” – Charles Kingsley

There are a lot of farms near our house.  There is a manure pit on one of them. Cow poop.  Lots and lots of cow poop. Yes. It is a rather large hole in the ground…. and in that hole is where they put the poop.

Before I go any further, let me say this.  I can tell you. Our senses are pretty amazing and keen things.

Each one its own right.

Sight. Hearing. Smell. Taste. Touch.  Aristotle (384 BC – 322 BC) is credited with the traditional classification of the five sense organs.  We have a bunch of different sensory organs which make it possible for us to experience these perceptions.

I truly believe that some of us have heightened abilities when it comes to our senses.

And boy oh boy. My sense of smell seems to be getting more perceptive every day. Now, I accredit much of this to the size of my nose. It is quite large by mere mortal standards. If you have any doubts about this….. check back on Project 368…. just a few days ago.  I displayed a photo of my parents. You may notice that each of them has a wide and protruding proboscis. Holy Honkers. Yes. I get the prolific schnozzola honestly.

This all brings me back to the manure pit. Cow poop, especially large quantities of cow poop, which has been accrued in one locale… has a tendency… … not merely to smell poorly… but perhaps… take on a life of its own.

Recently, this has come to an apex. With all the rain we’ve had, the pit had a Big Pit problem. It overflowed. The farmer…  the one with the pit… not the one in the dell… decided to pump the pit and spread the contents to the surrounding fields.

Imagine my elation.

Me and my gargantuan nose.   Heightened sensitivity.

Truthfully, I don’t think I will ever be the same.

Sometimes, perceptions are so strong, that the senses get crossed.
We were driving by the aforementioned farm one day… during the “pumping” incident. The odor was so intense, I could taste it.

The person who was riding in the car with me… (who I will not name to protect the innocent)… exclaimed at the height of the potent stinky-ness…. “That is the WORST smell I’ve ever heard!” We looked at the pit with scorn.

And there, in that moment, four of the five sense had intertwined…. smell, sight, taste and sound.

I am still trying to figure out how it was the worst smell she ever heard… but I believe her.  Personally, I’ve heard a lot of things… but never a smell.  I guess it was a really, really loud one.