A couple of days ago I wrote about my nutcrackers who avoided the end of season trip to the attic. As of now, they are claiming they have an easement on the top of my cabinet, but that’s another story. The nutcrackers are not the “story” to which I referred in the post title.

This is the that story:

A nice lady wrote a comment about her “Santa” situation and, so you don’t have to go bopping back to the original post again – if you did following the link – I am publishing it right here.

Albug // Jan 17, 2011 at 12:05 pm

I have a large collection of Santas that never made it into the light of day this year because of the flu (mine not theirs). This has happened before and I always hear them in the attic calling me asking to be set free. I would be afraid to let them out during the summer because I know they would never want to go back and I would loose the battle. Then my little house would be taken over by Santas and my family would commit me I’m sure. Good luck on your negotiations, my suggestion is to turn their faces to the wall and begin packing immediately.

Then, today, I received a note from her about an encounter she had earlier in the day. I must say I feel somewhat comforted knowing I am not alone in my dealings with these fellows from the North Pole.

Are you ready for it? Well, here it is.

Okay, I must be insane.  Today I was taking the back road to Garrett from our house.  I was thinking about nothing at all when I saw a yield sign with a SANTA attached to it with one of those plastic zip ties. His eyes were bugged out, his little Santa hat was all whopper jawed and he had a demented grin on his face. I couldn’t take a picture, my phone has no camera.  I don’t know what the poor thing could have done to deserve such punishment, maybe he kept calling from the attic, let me out, let me out.  I  almost went back to rescue him, but then I would have had to put him  in the ATTIC, what a dilemma.

I swear on my grandkids’ heads, this is a true encounter.

Oh, by the way, I did have an Alien Tree you know, but I am not linking to that post now. I’m keeping my head below the radar.

Albug

When Sydney was young and Cameron was little.

Two special guys.

I woke up in the dark, feeling well-rested. I had no sleep in my eyes and out the window the sky seemed light. I lay there, all snuggled in and wondered if it were close to morning or if the sky was just light because of moonlight, weather or whatever. I finally picked up my phone, pushed the button and saw it was 2:33 am.

Ack. I had almost convinced myself to get up get going, but then I saw it was THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. I took it with aplomb; I snuggled down deeper and decided to pretend I had just finished a project and could go to sleep with a good conscience. Well, that brought on a sense of relief and euphoria that was so delicious I considered it might keep me awake. Maybe it did . . . for two or three minutes. I woke again about 15 minutes ago and went outside to the garage to grab a cold drink.

I heard DRIPPING instead of the crystal silence of cold. I had known that the high was to be 37? today; I just had not expected it to be that temperature in the early morning. How long it will stay this warm I will have to check, but I suspect it is a matter of a few hours.

I walked back in and asked if there were a school delay and the answer was yes; I suspect fog came in the night and perhaps that was the light I saw outside in the dark of night. I imagine county roads are slick out there, as well, with water sitting on top of packed snow. In fact, I would not be surprised if my driveway were like that.

I am meandering here . . . meandering in the minute facts of the moment while part of my brain yells at another part: Hey, bozo, remember the euphoria of last night? So forget all that stuff about relaxing by imagining  yourself on a beach; when stressed, just close your eyes and feel that last period being typed. Remember the feel of pressure falling away as you think, “Done” and just enjoy it.

I guess I have spent many years with procrastination; it is like beating yourself over the head because it feels so good when you stop. (Not that I have done that literally.) I’m getting too old for it. I guess I’ll have to sit in my rocker and re-tell stories about the times I woke up knowing a 20-page paper was due the next day . . . and I hadn’t even read the book yet.