Rose and I are preparing a shipment to go out for Christmas. Already we are having fun with it. We have told the folks here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse that we will commandeering a table to get it ready. It involves  someone being mailed way across a chunk of the country to a new home and Rose has made the comment, “Now, AJ, we have to make the journey comfortable.”

We will keep you posted on our mystery friend’s progress but any pictures will have to wait until her arrival. We have had lots of friends volunteer to help and Sophie is heading out to get bubble wrap . . .

I got up this morning to a skiff of snow on the cars and the roof of the house next door. It has been flurrying all morning and the evergreens look lightly frosted. And, Shane, went out and came in with snowflakes on his back. We all gathered around him and he had no idea why we were all marveling at his back. Then he shook himself, melted snowflakes flying. I don’t know if he has connected the white things floating down with the wetness on his back but it may get interesting.

We had a very hot summer and so I don’t think he truly realized he was not in Texas anymore. Fall has been warm for us. But now we have snow. Last week end when the temperature dropped, Der Bingle remarked that the one with the big furry coat was running to the car at the fairgrounds with no prompting.

We have had years when Quentin had to wade into drifts to rescue Little Ann and lend a hand to Sydney. What will Shane think if we have a nice deep snow? You know, when my dad was alive and he and Miss Alice went out in the winter, he would clear a path for her. They’d bundle up and go on one of their walks and people would wonder who was walking whom. if you asked him, he would say, “Well, she doesn’t walk so much as she sniffs and moseys around.” He always had a rope on her so she could wander but be under his control (HA). One time he dropped the rope as an experiment and she came over and picked it up and put it back in his hand.

Aw, rats, I’m choking up.

One view.

Another view.

Of course, we need some more cows to come on board and you know when we stand it up, it will have to be leaning.

Sometimes people overhear me. I guess it happens to everyone. But now I am wondering if someone just happened to read something I was posting on the QT. You know, overread what I was writing.

I was writing about the book Anglo Files that I saw reviewed in a blog called Rechelle Unplugged. It used to be called My Sister’s Farmhouse for some reason she changed it. God only knows. Oh, smack my hand on my forehead, Rechelle, I forgot there for a moment. Anyway, it was a figure of speech.

I was writing that I really wished Der Bingle would order this book from Amazon.com for me for Christmas – just sort of a one item list.

Then I got to thinking . . . I wonder if he overread that little private notation. Then, of course, it wouldn’t be a surprise. I could deal with that.

I have one of those alpine trees. You know the kind – skinny with scraggly little branches. This one is about four feet high and you can put them around the house in different places at different seasons. About a year ago, I put one of my plant stakes in the branches; this one was a stick with a coil at the top so the cow head would bob around. Yes, cow head. I’ll provide a picture later.

I thought I should decorate this tree with white lights and crystal bells, but the Alien Tree, which is most probably controlling my brain, led me to use LED colored lights and hang some golden and silver ball-shaped bells.

I suppose I am not done; more instructions are probably in the pipeline. So far the cow is looking somewhat perplexed. She may tip the tree.

I don’t think they are up yet, but soon . . . soon. It will be tense. Last Monday, Summer remarked to me that the afternoon of the next day, Tuesday the 23rd, would be the best time of Thanksgiving break. You know, when you walk out of school and vacation looms before you. And we mentioned how each day would bring people closer to the looming Monday.

Well, it’s here.

It is too bad we are the type of personality that just can’t enjoy the here and now. No, the moment that we start something we like we see the end coming at us. I would step off the plane at San Diego and the second I started walking toward the main terminal I would be thinking how sad I would be when it was time to walk the other way.

But back to this morning . . . no, no . . . let’s wait a few more minutes.

I, tremendously wonderful AmeliaJake – yes, THAT AmeliaJake – woke up way before dawn today and thought, “I’ll bet those bozos (Yes, calling folks bozos is not that tremendously wonderful, but it just I am in a position of being the tremendously honest AmeliaJake.) didn’t take out the trash last night.

Let me shorten that: The bozos didn’t take the trash to the curb.

Usually it goes out Wednesday night, but when on holiday weeks, it is a day later. That, of course, was last night . . . and included the increased Thanksgiving debris, dontcha know.

In the cold of Indiana, outlined  against what will probably be a blue, gray sky, AmeliaJake got the trash to the curb.

And just a few minutes ago, I heard the trash truck come.

Other people are up . . .  and I must spread the news of the epic feat.

No, not my rocker. Well, maybe I am but that is not what I was thinking. I’m thinking turkey into the roaster. I decided to forgo the Sarah Grismore “get up at 4 am method” and started prepping myself with a Cure and some Alka-Seltzer (cold variety – Orange Zest -) at 6:03.  I’ll be taking my morning medicine and then I’ll put on my pants and shoes and hit the kitchen.

***

And she’s stopped; the clock says 3:56 pm. The dishes, pots, pans, roaster are washed. The food is packed away and I’ve decided this is possibly the last Thanksgiving I am celebrating in this fashion. I think it is time to evolve. We pretty much feast every day; the people we eat Thanksgiving with are our immediate family. I almost think we should eat very humble food on Thanksgiving so we realize what we are missing is that for which  we are thankful. I don’t think that idea would prove popular here, but it’s a thought.

With the festivities of Christmas encroaching on Thanksgiving (See post below), I also think to have a day of quiet activity would make us aware of how much we take the basics for granted.

Oatmeal, tea, a book, a fire, a comfortable chair and plans for the year to come would be something I would look forward to. (Yes, yes, yes. I know it should be “something to which” but the heck with it. The way I type it out of the gate is how it stays – because that’s how I’m thinking.)

We know it isn’t even Thanksgiving yet, but we are just enjoying making some decorations. Summer and I made this tree, which is dubbed “The Alien Tree’ because of the alien angel on the top. Today we discovered it may be controlling our actions so we are considering wearing tinfoil hats.

Then there was the matter of the garland on the stairs. Cameron and Summer and I did the first part of it and bit by bit we will had special ornaments to mark it as uniquely 2010. Do I have veto power over some choices? Well, I don’t know.

Here is a helper.

Summer in jail-like position.

Cameron practicing for a visit to the jailbird.