Flight of Fancy

As winter closes in on us, I'm considering our chirpy friends outside. As you might have guessed from all the birds on my Christmas tree, birds figure prominently in my idea of the outdoors, although I don't consider myself a birder. When the weather starts to look like this, it's time to think about feeding the feathery things.

We have several backyard feeders, some hanging, some at ground level, filled with a variety of seeds so the sparrows, cardinals, jays, and whatever else is hanging around will find something to their liking.  This is my favorite feeder.

Yes, I have a bird feeder that's a cat. I learned a long time ago not to fight the weird humor impulse, it's too painful. My family learned a long time ago to pretend they don't know me in public.Wow-look at those fangs! Takes a pretty brave bird to come in for snack past those babies!

The Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation also considers birds an important of our ecology, our environment, our economy, and our entertainment. They have a great site that tells you all about how to attract and identify Winter Birds.

Keeping the feeders filled is a Whee job. That's one cool cat, Whee!

It's a catcicle. A purrfectly frozen feline feeder. "Meowma, stop with the bad jokes."
HA! You are my spawn, aren't you?

The life of an Elf

I see elves. I see elves, which is way better than seeing dead people, or IRS agents, or your doctor. The elves are really, really busy right now, so I see them a lot. I feel kinda sorry for them, they look so tired.


Si-i-i-ghhh. Santa's list is never done. Checking it twice. Making all those toys. Do kids even play with toys anymore? Why doesn't Santa just make a bulk order for Wii games?

Loading the sleigh. Feeding the reindeer. Brushing the reindeer. Shoveling out the reindeer shed. And getting paid in fruitcake and cookies. I'm sick of cookies. For that matter, I'm sick of reindeer. C'mon, this the 21st century. We have rocket propulsion technology now, for Kringle's sake!

Oh well, my shift is almost done. I'll finish out this season and then look into vet school. At least I can claim some real experience with animals. Five hundred years of shoveling reindeer poop ought to count for something.

And then I can be a regular girl and hang out with my buds. I'll find a plastic surgeon and have my ears done. No more wearing only red and green. NO more reindeer!!

All I want for Christmas is a Hippo

I want a hippopotamus for Christmas*

Only a hippopotamus will do


Don't want a doll, no dinky Tinker Toy
I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy

I want a hippopotamus for Christmas

I don't think Santa Claus will mind, do you?


He won't have to use our dirty chimney flue
Just bring him through the front door,
that's the easy thing to do...

In my "Top 10 Best Christmas Gifts of All Time" is Helga the Hippo. She appeared in my stocking last year, after I sang this song apparently one too many times. I love the story about the song's connection to the Oklahoma City Zoo.
 
The song was written in 1950, and in 1953 was picked up by a promoter trying to raise funds for a hippo for the OKC Zoo. An Oklahoma gal, Gayle Peevey, recorded the song, and baby hippo Matilda came to live at the zoo. I've met Matilda. She wouldn't fit on my Christmas tree. Or in my living room, for that matter. You can listen to a recording of The Hippo Song here.

 


Helga has become a treasured, ginormously important member of our family, and the source of a hilarious hippo tradition. Whoever finds Helga hides her for the next person. She's been in the flour bin, the sugar jar, under cushions, inside pillow cases, in book bags, in the shower (she almost got whacked on that one, I thought she was a rat), to name just a few. 

 


We might go for weeks without seeing Helga, and then she'll pop up, only to go undercover once more a few moments later. She's kind of the secret agent of pachyderm humor. Help, we've been hippo-tized

*Song written by John Rox, 1950.

Help! Call Christmas Anonymous!

There are some addictions that are hereditary. Daughter #1 and I have such an addiction and we got it from my mother. It's an addiction to Christmas and all its decor. The wrappings and trappings, the jingle and tinsel, the cookies and cocoa, but especially the ornaments.  Oh dear, the ornaments.

Occasionally we think we're cured, and that the 27 thirty-gallon tubs of Christmas tree decorations, centerpieces, swags, lights, and other decor stored in the garage are enough. And so we venture out confidently to North Pole City, "just to look."

ARGHK. We tried that this week. Alcoholics should not go to bars. Gambling addicts should stay out of casinos. We should not go to Christmas stores.

I just couldn't resist another bird for my Mother Nature Christmas tree. It's so feathery. He speaks of warm and cozy holidays to me.

And this little Nativity. Space is a premium commodity in our apartment, and the little family just fits on my desk.

And the cardinals. I have a soft spot for cardinals. The remind me of my grandmother; she loved cardinals, loved to see them decorating the trees both inside and outside her house. Hmmm, they look a little shocked. The owl just fell over again. Too many rumballs.

Mom found this backpack ornament for us, to commemorate the backpacking trips this year. I believe I squealed when I saw it.

Sighhhh. Back for more therapy. Repeat to myself: I do not need more ornaments, I do not need more ornaments...

All is calm, all is bright

A few years ago I had to "pander to popular prejudice" and trade in my Nikon 35 mm for a digital SLR. That was four years ago and I still don't know how to use the dang thing. It has a mind of its own. I choose the settings, and the camera changes them all by itself, chuckling gleefully in its little electronic brain.

That's why I'm always amazed when a picture actually turns out the way I want it to. I'm even more amazed when it turns out better than I hoped for.

Such was the case last year when the Whee and I were stalking electric reindeer in my mom's neighborhood. Whee 'n me were attempting some night time camera shots. (It's sort of catch-and-release deer hunting).  Mom's house is always decorated to the hilt, and when we returned, hoping for hot chocolate, I tried a shot in the dark. (Merry Christmas. Puns do not take a holiday). This is what I got.

enh- ok. Not horrid, definitely not great. The lights are evident, nice color in the night sky. But kind of glaring. I wanted something that imparted the sense of quiet and stillness we felt. So I tried once more.

Oh yeah. All is calm. All is bright. May your holiday dreams come true.

The Whee in Winter

The Whee. The child that caused me discomfort for nine months of pregnancy, who dealt me intense pain for 20-something hours of labor, and made me cry every day for the first two years of her life because she had constant colic. The Terrible Two's were an improvement over the exorcist infant.

But we all survived her infancy from hell, and toddlerhood of paybacks-for-every-awful-thing-I've-ever-done, and she bloomed into the light of my life. When she was a baby, I thought if she had been born first, there NEVER would have been more children. If I had known a child could be this much fun, I would have had a litter. Fortunately I didn't figure that out until it was too late to be an option.

The Whee is especially wonderful in winter.
Me: Unh-huh- no you don't. Momma has a camera. Snow is bad for cameras.
Whee: SO? Put it down, you weenie!
She thrives no matter the temperature, and finds adventure in the most mundane things. Her imagination never ceases to amaze me.

Awww, Prancer, here's a sugar cube. I'm sorry they tied you up to the electric shock leash.



Aww, Santa you shouldn't have. But since you did...thanks!

           Happy Trails, and may your adventures never leave you cold!

Dear Santa

Dear Santa:

I have tried very hard to be good this year. I hope you will agree with my assessment.

I didn't yell at the rude lady who who threw her car in reverse and backed down the aisle of the parking lot to get my parking spot. I didn't do any Black Friday shopping. When the teenager in front of me in line last night didn't have enough money for her juice, I paid for it, not because I wanted her to be done so I could check out and go home, but to be nice. Well, maybe a just a tiny bit so I could be on my way.

I take a shower at least three times a week, I occasionally cook real meals, and try not to envy the longer kayaks of others, so I hope you won't think my list unreasonable.

1. An Ipad. I could blog while driving. I mean, as a passenger while others were driving. I would never, ever try to type and drive at the same time. I promise. Yo do believe me, don't you?

2. A week's worth of uninterrupted sleep. Nine hours every night.

3. A wrinkle eraser that really works. Instantly.

4. Peace on earth? More funding for the local homeless shelter? I'd settle for either one.

5. Marshmallow santas. The Russell Stover ones. I promise to not eat more than one  two a day.

Hug Mrs. Claus for me, and give my best to the elves. As always, look forward to seeing you on the 24th.

Merry Christmas and God bless.

They sleigh me

Once upon a time, before I had children, I slept through the night. I ate sushi. My house was clean. I had hobbies that included power tools. I might have been bored.

One cold, pre-child Christmas season, I was sitting by the fire looking at the stack of building materials left over from building our house. I got the bright idea of doing some woodworking. In the middle of the living room. It's ok, there wasn't any carpet yet.

So I made a couple of reindeer that held potted plants. A book rack shaped like Christmas trees. And some ornaments. Hmm, big stack of wood left. Time to make like an elf. So I made a sleigh. I was very proud of that sleigh. Freehand design, free hand cuts with the saw. I used it to hold gifts by the front door. Very Martha.

The next year I found something even better to put in the sleigh- Daughter #1. And thus was born (pardon the pun) a new Christmas tradition. Daughters in sleigh. I love seeing how they've grown through the years. No, really I don't enjoy that at all. I'd rather they stay my babies.

If I were a really motivated mother, I would go into the cold garage, dig through the piles of tubs till I found the one with the old photo albums, carefully remove the Christmas pictures made in the good ol' days of film, scan them into my computer, and show them to you. It ain't happening.  Not this week, anyway.

But I will show you the ones that have been made since I switched to digital. Ugh, I can't believe those words just came out of my mouth.

2005-The Whee. She doesn't really fit in it anymore. Oh my goodness, look how blond her hair was then.  And that sweet little chubby cherub face. And the blue splotches from the food coloring in the cookie icing.








2006-Not sure where the sleigh is!!!  That's ok, I could look at these cuties all day without a sleigh.

2007-You will notice that the Whee's ear have sprouted wiring. The wires have since become another appendage, and must be surgically removed from time to time. Hmm, still no sleigh. They look so angelic and innocent, don't they?  No hint of the nefarious present-snooping that I KNOW they were doing. What? Momma!  How can you say that?!  We never, never, look under your bed, in the closet, and in the car for presents!

2008- Finally, both of them together! Hey you guys, stop making funny faces. This is serious!  I might want to write a blog someday and put you in it! Momma, these aren't funny faces. This is what you look like behind the camera. Oh really?  Keep it up, I have a hot line to Santa.

Oh dear. Do you see the evil expression on Daughter #1's face? Guess where the Small Daughter learns all the bad stuff. The Whee is just an innocent victim.

Unh-huh- I knew it. Stop that D#1, you're scaring Santa and grossing me out! The Whee is thinking: oohhh, new way to irritate Momma!!!  Cool!!

Aww, my little angels. OK, I'll tell Santa you've been good. Kind of. If you bring Momma some hot chocolate and rub my feet.

2009-I know that dang sleigh is buried under that pile of presents. My lordy, can you say excess?!

Oh well, watching Daughter #1 make snow angels is funnier anyway.

HA!  2010. There will be more of these, as soon as I convince Daughter #1 to come over and pose.  I think the sleigh is shrinking...

Oh, my little elves, how quickly the years have flown. And you're both still the best presents I ever got.

Slogging through

I've reached that time of year when I feel like life is Santa's sleigh, and I'm the littlest reindeer. I can't keep up and the cold steel runners are getting closer to my tail all the time.

I can no longer come up with creative school lunches. If it's in a paper sack and includes a bag of chips, it's lunch.

The laundry now has its own address. If it's not moving on its own, it's clean.

The sink and the dishwasher are both full, and I don't know which dishes are clean and which ones are dirty. I'm resorting to paper plates.

The cupboard is bare and I don't have time to go the grocery store. More truthfully, I don't want to go anywhere there might be a line of people. Spinach and peanut butter are a balanced meal, get over it.

I'm really, really ready to run away to my dream home in the mountains...

A little cabin far away, with no phone, no TV, ma-a-aa-ybe internet, no neighbors, no traffic, and my groceries delivered by pack mule once a month.

The whole Gnome-Mom-left-behind would be a good thing. Please, I beg you, leave me behind.

You better watch out,

You better watch out, you better not spy. You better not peek, I'm telling you why...

Santa Claus is coming to town.


He's making a list, you've made yours twice.  Socks are boring but chocolate is nice.
Santa Claus is coming to town.

He'd see me when I'm sleeping, if I weren't always awake, he knows if I've been bad or good, and that I'm grouchy for exhaustion's sake!

Ohhh, you better watch out, you better not pry. Leave the cookies alone, I'm telling you why,
Santa Claus is coming to town!!!