It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

This Polly Pockets are currently at the scene of the Nativity substituting for the wisemen before their arrival. Two pink plastic bowling balls, rather than rum balls, are greeting visitors at the front door. A koala bear keeps watch under the Christmas tree, diverting attention from the baubles beckoning the hands of little ones. The ‘keepy uppy” balloon has been popped, just to lessen the stress of its eventual bursting with a toddler’s teeth. The jingle bell necklace is now adorning the reindeer on the buffet so as not to knock someone’s teeth out in its swinging to and fro. The table runner is no longer within reach of little hands who attempted to pull it off with decor and all attached. And the window seat, usually festooned with beautiful ornaments, lights, possibly candles? Empty.

We are decoratively ready for the season. “Peace,” be unto all.

This seems to be a daily visit…either the buck or the herd. Our lawn still has some green energy, as do the lilac bushes they munch on and continue to prune for me.

The woodpecker was finding something in the backyard, the magpies continue to forage, and that darn squirrel is looking for his buried treasure. It’s a beautiful day – and will be warm again – I would say “unseasonably,” however, it seems we get these warm spells and the trees considering budding again in December.

Adele Clee – “Life is like the weather – unpredictable. When it is dark and miserable, we must have hope. But when it is warm and sunny, we must rejoice. We must embrace it and trust that its memory will sustain us when the rain comes again.”

We “must” do a lot of things! Off I go to tackle the list on this day of rejoicing.

Yesterday was the “razzle dazzle” day, my Mother-in-law’s term for unexpected sightings or things out of the ordinary.

On earth I saw the buck return twice, roaming across the road and through our yard. He is obviously seeking some companionship or food. The rest of the herd came through in the evening, barely visible in the dimming light. However, there was something above us visible in that illumination.

 “If you saw a row of lights moving in unison, chances are you’re witnessing the Starlink satellite array operated by SpaceX.”

I had to google what we were seeing – rather cool. 22 lights in a row like little lanterns being launched into space. It wasn’t a private Christmas light show for us, nor a UFO sighting, nor drone packages being delivered, nor an enemy invasion. It was just a reminder to look around you at the world above and below.

Little “razzle dazzles” everywhere.

When we were dismantling my parents’ kitchen I lost the bid for the roasting pan which we all agreed, was the primo pan in the cupboard. However, I got this!

Last night my sister and I attempted to find this lovely item not commonly seen in stores through a google search. It is not, as we all assumed, a whisk. However, it is the best utensil for making gravy at Thanksgiving, thus it gets used at least once a year. Not a whisk. It is an aptly named, “fish turner.”

We had no idea, growing up in the landlocked Midwest, that seafood required such an implement. Further, it was interesting to note, that it was a gift from the local grain elevator to all who frequented the business. I don’t recall my mother using it to turn the bullheads we consumed on Fridays, but then again, I may have repressed the memory of eating those pond dwellers?

Every kitchen needs one and I am proud to show this relic, complete with its deformed handle from some cooking mishap. The fish turner retains its pride of place.

…it was short. Three littles had napped, matching outfits donned, cameras already set on tripods, the family together. It was a good three minutes worth of snapping nonstop to achieve one family photo!

Then we could resume the rest of the day. Cooking, tending to a feverish, inconsolable baby, setting tables, greeting guests, and of course, toasting to all good things we have. Oh! And retrieving a spouse from the airport and welcoming him home to the chaos. It was a perfect Thanksgiving, and I’m grateful for everything everyone did to help set a lovely meal on the table.

Today I will chill, returning every dish and appliance to its proper home as I stare at the crumb-stricken floors, thanking God for crockpots, bread machines, ovens, and warming trays. Oh, and of course, family and friends.

My favorite scented candle is of the cranberry variety. It’s a warm, deep-fragrance, much as the color of cranberries. Cranberry sauce?

This year’s fixation on food seems to be with cranberries and their place as “least favorite” food at Thanksgiving. It’s commented on in the news and the comic strips. Quite frankly, I hated cranberry sauce as a kid. And stuffing. And I never was a gravy girl. Green bean casserole? Nope. The Thanksgiving meal never held sway over my dining preferences. Perhaps the clean-up portion of that meal also deterred my interest in celebrating with a huge meal?

My sister and I were always considered part of the dish-drying team. I disliked those wet towels sopping up as much liquid as my grandmother left after her serious scrubbing of the dishes, pots and pans. However, standing next to the aunts and my mom and listening to that kitchen chatter was a highlight. (Nostalgic note: that part of Thanksgiving was lost with the invention of the dishwasher.) It would take what seemed an eternity to finish the clean-up and be given the green light to go and play!

I digress. I’ll be serving it all tomorrow – and making the dinner rolls, not purchasing them. I’ll be channeling my ancestors’ spirits and mood in the kitchen, all with my cranberry-scented candle burning.

When you continue to put away your Christmas lights and tree and say to yourself, “Next year I’ll untangle this mess and sort it out,” well, that year arrived this past weekend.

It needed to be done. Old, non-working strands were still hanging on to my little outdoor trees. I just kept putting a newer, working strand on top of them. It was a little unsightly and finally enough to spur me to action. The half-lit strands cobbled together to make one working one? In the recycling pile! (They will offer the option to recycle lights somewhere after the holidays – look for that and do it! No landfill for my illumination. Well, who knows? They possibly dump them somewhere else.)

However, Grandma’s old plastic ornaments still bring me joy. My mom’s stitchery of “The Three Kings” makes me smile. And the little reindeer wine-bottle holder my daughter and I saw and copied years ago – that has pride of place on the counter. If it still made me smile, brought me joy, made me realize I’m the only one who will ever love it, I kept it.

Yes, I’m done decorating for the holidays. Almost.

It’s not always obvious that shoes are needed until they are actually needed.

Walking into my closet I keep looking for the black boots I wore to a nub and tossed last year. They were resoled twice, the emblem had fallen off and was being held on with duct tape on the inside, and they were scuffed beyond recognition. I thought it might be time to replace them, as well as my black heels I’ve worn for over ten years to every funeral or event that called for black heels. The heels are in sad shape. The shoe has seen better days.

Thus, I am prepared to admit that I purchased three, not two, but three new models of footwear. The third pair was just because they were so darn shiny, pointy, maroon-colored, and on sale. I’m not sure what to wear with them but I am up for that challenge!

When it rains, it pours.

This morning I awoke with a scratchy throat. As I clamored to the sink for a drink, a spider jumped out and startled me. Seeking solace in a cup of coffee, my automated machine refused to comply. I think it’s dead.

Since I need coffee to ward off the inevitable headache which comes with the lack of it, I headed to McDonald’s drive-thru for a swig. Satisfied, I returned home to contemplate the bare Christmas tree I have erected in the corner of the family room.

I’m still contemplating. No sense chancing a possible superfecta of things-that-could-go-wrong. Also, Laurence Fishburne is narrating “History’s Greatest Mysteries.” I think I’ll just enjoy the sofa and his deep voice as we learn the identity of someone I do not know.

Last night the herd came through my back yard, nibbling on the lilac bushes I obviously planted for them. Three does and four young ones. Twins in there?

This morning they returned, heading back to their home. It’s impossible to get a decent photo of them as they blend into the surroundings so well, especially at dusk. I thought about chasing them away as they’ve already stunted the growth on a few bushes, as well as destroyed a tree. However, I’ve succumbed to Mother Nature’s way of pruning.

We will just see what Spring brings us oh-so-many months from now.