Christmas Memories - Good and Bad

As Christmas creeps up on us, I've been remembering some of my past Christmas'. Some were fantastic, some, not so much.

I remember when I was a little girl, my brother and sister and I would wake up in the middle of the night and sneak in to see what Santa had left for us. One year, (and I'm not sure this was all the same year, Pam, help me out here) there was a transistor radio for Pam, and a small reel to reel tape recorder for our brother (who chooses not to be named here) and a little table and 2 chairs for me. We sat up on our bed conducting "Man on the Street" interviews with each other, before putting everything back and trying really hard to go  back to sleep.

One year my sister teased me about her gift to me...it was big and flowered. I couldn't imagine what it could be. It turned out to be a giant flowered stuffed pig. I loved him and I named him Ivanhoe. This is not a picture of my Ivanhoe, he was larger and had better flowers, but it was as close as I could find.

Middle 70's. I was grown and working at a drug store. I think I had about $12 to spend on Christmas gifts for my family. I bought tiny little sample bottles of cologne for the men and something similar for the women. I was embarrassed but nobody made me feel bad about it.

Fast forward to early 80's. I had been to visit my dad and fell in love with my step-mothers new food processor. They had just come out. All the rage, ya know. I wanted one so bad. Every hint possible was dropped to husband. When Christmas morning came, there was the box...just the right size...just the right weight...OH BOY, I just knew it was my food processor. I ripped into the wrapping and there it was...A Betty Gee Deep Fryer....*+*+*siiiiigh*+*+*

1983. Joe was 3. The oil field was booming. Times were good. I had made Joe a pair of blue checked flannel pj's and a blue fleece robe, and he looked adorable. I've never been very good at picking gifts, but I did good that year, in quantity anyway. This looks very much like the pattern I used.

1985. Gary was 6 months old. We had a tree with an angel on top, dressed in a white dress. He was lying under the tree, fascinated by the twinkling lights. He reached his chubby  little hand up and pulled the tree down on top of himself, busting his lip and bleeding on the angel's skirt. I never had the heart to replace her. She sat on top of our tree, stained skirt and all, until the last Christmass we spent together in 2001.

1995. This one is hard to write. Probably the worst Christmas we ever had, except for '94 when Joe ran away from home on Christmas Day, went with a buddy to Killeen and we didn't see him for a week.

Ok...back to 95. Gary was 10 years old. Joe was 15 and dating a girl who was old enough to drive. We had a beautiful dog named Cujo, whom we'd raised from a baby. He was 5 years old. Over the past few months, Cujo had not been acting right. He was breaking through the living room window and running away. He bit the mail lady. He held a neighbor lady hostage in her house. It was to the point that we were having to tether him either to a tree, or to the leg of our bed when we went out.

Christmas night. It was about 10pm. I had just gone to bed because I had to work the next day. The football game was still on TV. Husband had come into the room to sit with me for a few minutes before I went to sleep. Joe was out on a date. Gary was alone in the living room with Cujo. He was sitting on a skateboard, rolling back and forth a little bit. Cujo was several feet away, sleeping stretched out in front of the door. All was quiet and peaceful. Then the quiet was broken by a blood curdling scream from the living room...and then another....Jim (husband) and I jumped up and ran in, and found Gary, our baby, standing with his arm torn open, bleeding, terrified. Cujo had awakened suddenly and attacked the boy, grabbing his arm and tearing a deep gash in it. After he turned him loose, he came at him and bit him again. The sound of my baby in mortal terror like that is something I don't wish any mother to ever hear.

We wrapped him up and jumped in the car and sped to the hospital. Every time the car bounced, Gary would cry. My heart was breaking. All I could do was hold him in my arms and pray we'd get there soon. We reached Joe and warned him not to untie the dog and let him in the house, as he normally would.

There were all kinds of questions to answer at the hospital. Any time there is a dog bite, the police are called. We immediately agreed to have the dog put down. No dog was worth the risk he had become to our family. It took a mattress stitch down deep in the muscle and 12 more stitches on top to repair the physical damage. For a long time, and maybe to this day, I don't know, Gary was afraid of large dogs. And he said he could tell when the weather was going to change. I'm thankful it wasn't his  handsome face, and it wasn't his throat.

Ok...let's end this on a good one. 2003, my first Christmas with Dave. We had such fun. We drove around looking at Christmas lights. We bought toys for the Toys for Tots. We shipped presents home. We were spending the first of many Christmases together. The only hard part about that year was when the radio would play I'll Be Home for Christmas...that made me cry.

This year is a good one. Money is tight, like it is for everyone. But we have each other and we have friends, and we have family and we're happy with that.

Merry Christmas, Everybody. And a Happy New Year.

Christmas Recipes

While I think about my Christmas entry, I'll share a couple of recipes with you. The bread recipes bake up really nice in those little pans and make nice gifts. The soup is just super easy and super yummy.
(I can't seem to get my background color right....sorry)

CARROT - PINEAPPLE BREAD

3 c. all-purpose flour 1 tsp. baking soda 1 tsp. salt 1 tsp. ground ginger 1/2 tsp. baking powder 3 eggs 1 c. vegetable oil 1 1/2 c. sugar 2 c. shredded carrots 1 can (8 oz.) crushed pineapple, drained 1 c. chopped pecans Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour 4 (6 x 3 x 2 inch) metal or foil loaf pans.In a large bowl, mix flour, baking soda, salt, ginger and baking powder; set aside. In a large mixer bowl at medium speed, beat eggs and oil until well blended. Add sugar and continue beating until mixture is thick, about 2 minutes. At low speed, beat in carrots and pineapple. By hand, stir in flour mixture just until flour is moistened. Stir in nuts. Pour batter into pans. Bake for 50 minutes or until a wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pans on wire racks for 10 minutes. Remove from pans and cool completely. Wrap and store overnight to soften crust before serving. Breads can be wrapped in foil and stored in the freezer up to 3 months. Serve at room temperature. Makes 4 small loaves.

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TRIPLE CHOCOLATE QUICK BREAD

Ingredients

• 1-1/2 cups miniature semisweet chocolate chips, divided
• 1/2 cup butter, softened
• 2/3 cup packed brown sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1-1/2 cups unsweetened applesauce
• 2 teaspoons Spice Islands® pure vanilla extract
• 2-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 
  GLAZE:
• 1/2 cup miniature semisweet chocolate chips
• 1 tablespoon butter
• 2 to 3 tablespoons half-and-half cream
• 1/2 cup confectioners' sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon Spice Islands® pure vanilla extract
• Pinch salt

Directions

• Ina microwave-safe bowl, melt 1 cup chocolate chips; set aside to cool. In a large bowl, cream butter and brown sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs and cooled chocolate; mix well. Add applesauce and vanilla; set aside. Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt; add to creamed mixture and mix well. Stir in the remaining chocolate chips.
• Spoon into four greased 5-3/4-in. x 3-in. x 2-in. loaf pans. Bake at 350° for 35-40 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes before removing to wire racks.
• For glaze, melt chocolate chips and butter in a small heavy saucepan; stir in cream. Remove from the heat; stir in confectioners' sugar, vanilla and salt. Drizzle over warm breads. Cool completely. Yield: 4 mini-loaves.
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CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP

Ingredients

• 4 cups chopped, cooked chicken meat
• 1 cup chopped celery
• 1/4 cup chopped carrots
• 1/4 cup chopped onion
• 1/4 cup butter
• 8 ounces egg noodles
• 12 cups water
• 9 cubes chicken bouillon
• 1/2 teaspoon dried marjoram
• 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 tablespoon dried parsley

Directions

1. In a large stock pot, saute celery and onion in butter or margarine.
2. Add chicken, carrots, water, bouillon cubes, marjoram, black pepper, bay leaf, and parsley. Simmer for 30 minutes.
3. Add noodles, and simmer for 10 more minutes.

Daddy's Hands

Daddy's Hands ...one of my all time favorite songs.

Pam, go get your hanky, I'm gonna talk about Daddy now....I"ll wait....
*+*+ looks at ceiling *+*+*
*+*+ scuffs toe on floor *+*+
*+*+ checks watch *+*+

Okay, you back? Here goes:

Daddy could do anything. Period. If something was beyond repair, he could build a new one. He could get you the best deal on anything. He could rebuild a car from the tires up. He could mend a broken heart.

And he had a sense of humor. He used to tell us he was so unloved, he was going to change his name to Miss Treated. Or Percy Cuted. He'd put his glasses down low on his nose and make sad eyes. I loved to hear him laugh.

One time, Daddy decided we girls needed a good mirror on the wall in our bedroom. So he was going to hang one.

He measured so he would get the hangers right on the studs to hold it up. Daddy never did anything halfway..he did it right the first time. He hammered in one hanger...right into the stud. Then he hammered in the other one. Uh oh....no stud. What? The measurement was perfect, the stud should be right there. He dropped a little lower and found the stud. Right where it was supposed to be. So he went back up to the chosen height and tried again. No stud. What was going on here? How could the stud be there at a lower level, but not up where he was hammering.


So he went into the bathroom, on the other side of the wall where the mirror was to hang. Measured. Hammered. Yep the stud was there. Right where it should be. Try again. Bedroom, no stud. Bathroom, stud.

Finally, frustration got the best of him, and he took his hammer to the bathroom wall. He knocked a giant hole into it. He was determined to find out why that stud wasn't where it was supposed to be.

Turns out there was a knothole in the stud. It caused the stud to be solid on the bathroom side, and 'holey' on the bedroom side.

Daddy swore he wanted to update the bathroom walls anyway. And we got our mirror, just a little bit higher than he originally planned.
                        *****************************************************
There was one other time when Daddy's hammer went to flying. Mother wanted a Venthood over her stove so Daddy got her one and was hanging it. Simple job. Hang it. Plug it in.

Oops. Something wasn't right. It was plugged in, but nothing was working. So he took it down, checked the wiring. Everything seemed fine. Hang it again. Plug it in.

DAMN! still not working. Memories of the mirror must have been going through his mind. Finally, frustration got the  best of him and he pulled the vent down from the wall and sent it sailing out the back door and down the driveway.

Unfortunately when he pulled it down, he also pulled down a large chunk of the kitchen wall. Mother, at this point, is in the corner of the kitchen wondering just what could happen next. Well.....not wanting to have the evidence of his failure staring him in the face, he went to the dining room and got one of  the brass plates off the wall, and drove a nail over the hole, and hung that plate. Never mind that it was about three feet off center.

That's when Mother lost all composure. She collapsed into gales of laughter. She called her friend, Betty, and was laughing so hard, that Betty thought she was crying and came flying into the house, breaking every speed limit between her house and ours. When she saw the offset plate, and Mother sitting on the floor laughing, and the vent in the driveway, it all came together.

Daddy swore he wanted to update the kitchen walls anyway. And Mother got her Venthood, after Daddy found the "ON" switch inside it.
                             ****************************************************
Daddy was especially good at dealing with the hearts of little girls. And big girls too.

One time, when I was in the second grade, I saw an advertisement that the Korn King Giant was going to be making an appearance at our local grocery store. A GIANT, a real GIANT! This, I had to see! But, alas, the time of his appearance to the commoners coincided with school. What to do, what to do? Fake sick and somehow get Mother to take me to the store with her, just in time to see 8 foot royalty? Hmmm...not likely that she would take me out if I was sick. So I did the next best thing. I told Daddy what I wanted. I wanted to see a real giant. So he did what any daddy would do....he made my heart's desire come true. He took me out of school, and drove me to the store just in time to see the giant. And boy! Was I disappointed! It was just a skinny man, just a little taller than Daddy, in a cheesy crown.

I think I learned a lesson from this. Things aren't always what they are hyped up to be. Maybe that was Daddy's plan in the first place.
                                ***************************************************
Fast forward 15 years. My husband and I had separated for the first of many times. I was devastated. I didn't think my heart would ever mend. So Daddy did what any daddy would do. He took me dancing. And on the dance floor, he assured me that I didn't have to cry any more, and life would go on, and things would be better. All while Freddy Fender sang "I'll Be There Before The Next Teardrop Falls."

                                **************************************************
We lost Daddy on July 11, 2000. His hair was no longer red, and his arms were no longer strong. When he first went into the hospice, I remember him sitting cross-legged in bed, visiting with us all as we stood around. I wondered if he knew then that he had gone there to die. He was in a coma for the last 10 days or so. But I got a miracle. After he had been unconcious for a few days, I got a phone call. It was him. He just said a few words, just that he loved me. And he called me his baby girl, one last time.
He never spoke again, not to me, anyway.
                               *************************************************
It's not easy to lose your hero. But I can imagine him up in Heaven, blue hammer in hand, looking for a wall in his mansion that needs updating.

I love you Daddy.

Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered

Ok, so I'm not really bothered, it was my mother who was (rumored to be) bewitched, but I am still a bit bewildered by what happened. You might wind up that way too.

We had a neighbor once (Pam, I'm sure you remember the Rawls' down the street 4 doors) who was convinced that my mother was a witch. Not a caldron-stirring, spell-casting witch..

......more like a Samantha Stephens type witch.











Here's why:

We had another neighbor, on the other side next door on the corner, who lost her wedding ring one weekend. We happened to be away that weekend. When we returned, the lady of the house (I don't recall their names now, all I remember is they lived there before my best friend Lesley moved in when we were 5, and they had a boy whom we convinced to taste doggy doo one time.) told mother that she had lost her ring in the back yard and despite looking everywhere she had been, she could not find her ring.

Now this yard had 3 narrow sidewalks leading from the back door. One went to a covered patio. One went to the side door of the garage, and the last went to the gate leading to the driveway.

Mother told her to look halfway between the garage sidewalks and she would find her ring. The lady protested that she had already had all the kids down on their knees scouring the yard inch by inch. Mother finally convinced her to look again, and sure enough, the ring was exactly where Mother said it would be.

When word got around about this, the neighbor down the street, Mrs. Rawls, was convinced that Mother was psychic at best, and  most probably the neighborhood expert on bat wings at worst. So much so, that when Mrs Rawls would take her walk in the afternoon, she would cross the street when she reached our house, walk ONE house, then cross back to finish her trek around the block.

What REALLY happened was this:

Mother knew that the lady and her husband had been arguing over the past few days. She also knew that the lady was a bit of a drama queen, and Mother could imagine her standing at the back door, throwing her rings in the midst of a hissy fit. The rest was just simple mathematics. Mother, being the intelligent woman that she was, figured the trajectory of the toss and VOILA!...there was the ring.
                    ******************************************************
This next story about Mother's "powers" is a little harder to explain. It's the one that's always left me bewildered.

Daddy was a long distance truck driver for a lot of the years that we kids were growing up. It was nothing for him to be gone for days at a time.First he drove an auto transport, but later on he drove chemicals in an 18 wheel tanker truck. Some were pretty nasty, like carbolic acid. And this was  back in the days before HazMat suits and special routes.

One night, when Daddy was on a trip, Mother awoke with a start in the middle of the night. She heard him call her name. Assuming he couldn't find his key, she went to the front door to let him in. He wasn't there. So she went to the back door. Never mind that the back door was too far away for her to hear him call out. By this time she was awake enough to look in the driveway. No car. He wasn't home, and wasn't due home until the next day.

 When Daddy arrived home the next evening, Mother asked him, "What was going on this morning about 1 o'clock?"
She said Daddy turned white as a sheet and asked, "How did you know?"
She told him she heard him calling her name, but he wasn't there.

It seems that at the exact time that Mother heard him call out to her, he had been driving on a mountain road...narrow...steep drop-off....no barriers. Something with his truck didn't feel right. So he pulled over when it was wide enough, and walked back to look at the spot. That's when he saw the tracks of his wheels. 2 on the inside...1 on the outside. The other wheel had been hanging off into thin air.

(Insert Twilight Zone music here)

My question is this....did she tell me this story because it really happened, or did she make it up (she was a gifted writer) so that I would believe that Mother was know-all-see-all and therefore I could not get away with any teenage crap, so don't even try.

What do you think?

Happy Birthday....Part Deux

I just THOUGHT I was through talking about my birthday.

On Monday, Dave and I host a bingo game for the residents here at Limpdik Park. We usually have about 10-12 players.

Today, Dave had a doctor appointment this morning, so we had to rush home to get the game set up in time to play.

To my surprise, our players had planned a surprise party for me!

We had pizza, and cake, and cards with $$ in them and gifts and I was totally surprised!

Happy Birthday

Today is my birthday. I'm 56 years old.

I always felt just a little bit cheated, having a December birthday. Seems like it kinda got lost somewhere in the Thanksgiving clean up and the Christmas preparation.

There are very few of my birthdays that are memorable for me.

Once when I was still in elementary school...must have been 6th grade...I invited the kids in my class to my birthday party. Mother let me buy a pink satiny quilted "hostess gown". I felt so pretty and grown up. No one came. I was so sad. My foster brother, John, went and bought me an "Operation" game and sat and played it with me.

I don't recall ever trying to have another party after that.

Then it was 2007, 2 months after Dave and I moved into Limpdik Park. I had been back at work from my bout with pneumonia for just a few days. He called me after I got off work and told me to meet him in the clubhouse when I got home. I usually went there for the mail after work anyway. When I walked into the clubhouse, there was Dave and a dozen of our new neighbors. He had gotten a ride to the grocery store with a neighbor and made goulash and salad and garlic bread and birthday cake. The neighbors brought balloons and gifts and cards and wine. It was incredible to me, that people I barely knew would turn out like this. For me. It was the first and only surprise party I've ever had and I will never ever forget it.

This year? This year, it's a little harder to get around. And the budget is a little tighter. But it was still a good day for me. I spent it with my Dave. He put together the present I asked for. (A Craftsman mechanic's stool for my kitchen). We had a simple dinner and an hour long Skype call from Jacob, our older grandson, which was priceless. I heard from my younger son Gary, and from my sister Pam, and there were about 50 good wishes on Facebook.

I'm not where I thought I would be by this time in my life, but I'm satisfied with where I wound up. I have two sons that I'm immensely proud of, a man who loves me unconditionally, and friends I can count on to cheer me. And the best big sister anyone could ask for. I am a  happy woman, and I had a happy birthday. :-)