Okay, maybe, finally . . . today will be tree day. Yesterday was colder and much windier than expected with some reported slickness on the roads. This is just a little update that I am making on my way to the weather forecast and the tree place hours and to intense meditation to heighten my elf powers and stamina.
It is this short. And this is my mantra: Don’t forget the camera.
Reindeer??
Basket on the NW corner desk.
Oh, and while we’re here at his location, some others are as well . . .
William Vance and Lydia Akers on their wedding day.
High school Quentin viewed through moose antlers. Or was it 8th grade?
Yes, sitting on the sofa on the porch. I have been doing domestic things instead of plopping myself in one spot at the PBC & Roadhouse and pontificating. Gathering leftovers and bagging them for freezing . . . cutting up a ham for slices later on . . . grinding up the chunklets of ham remaining for h-o-m-e-m-a-d-e ham salad. (The proceeding typed out approximately to the rhythm of “Bringing in the Sheaves”.) Then I put a roast into cook and then I made cupcakes and then I browned Sydney’s ground chuck for his special dietary rice and meat and dogfood supper. (Now that sentence was quite a bit like alternate lyrics squeezed into the Twelve Days of Christmas rhythm. )
Maybe you are stuck back on the cupcake section. Yes, I can understand that; that is sooo not AmeliaJake. Actually, I am hoping that Summer will decorate them and leave me in peace. Of course if Colin comes in first and sees them and yells, “CUPCAKES!!!!” it could be bad since Summer is in spirit a wolverine. Oh, well, let the games begin.
UPDATE: YES!!!!!!
Tomorrow is “tree day” as in bundle up and trudge out and select a spruce or fir and saw it down and put in on the wagon and haul it back to the barn and pay for it and have it bagged and stuck in the trunk. This is only the lead-up, however, to the “putting the tree up” which for years involved the stand, usually strong cord and frustration. Things have gotten a lot better, though, since I invested in my beloved Krinner tree stand. I just need to remember to cut the tree low to the ground so we will have plenty of stump.
I are so fond of this stand . . . I’m swooning.
Vague post title, I know; but my mind is in a rambling mode so I won’t get real definite here. Of course, I often start off with a title which eventually has nothing to do with the post, so I guess I’m rambling about rambling. Whatever.
Two- hour planned East Noble delay today. Oh, the pain, the pain. Finally at ten they were gone! (Maniacal laugh here.) I may not be an enthusiastic grandma, but at least I haven’t duct taped them to the wall lately. (I’m out of duct tape. mwahahahahahahahahaha)
Kroger’s had a $2 flower cactus on the table by the check-put lanes so I grabbed it up and took it over to Mrs. Feller at the nursing home. I hadn’t intended to go but I knew if I went home first I would be hijacked for something and so headed off in the grungy clothes I had donned to make a quick and stealthy grocery raid. You know, the kind where you keep the hood of your sweatshirt up.
This is borning . . . I’m cutting to the chase: The weather did a quirky thing and hoar frost formed on all the trees very quickly, so I stuck my cell phone out the window and took a picture. It didn’t turn out too well, but here you go . . . Hoar frost in Noble County. Indiana 3.
I am still boring, so I am going to quietly slip away for a while.
Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse is getting spruced up . . . .spruced . . . get it? Hahahahahahahahaha. Over the top again, heh?
A BASKETFUL OF SANTAS
ERNIE and BERT
SUMMER’S WREATH – from scratch, i.e grapevine on.
NO, I DIDN’T DECORATE THIS DOG . . . these are just things waiting to go up, but hey, he doesn’t look bad.
UH . . . LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE
Yes, I am just in a good mood and I’m not certain why, but I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Ack. Cliche alert. I had a peanut butter foldover since Der Bingle is not here to fix me my eggs with the soft yolks that I dip strips of toast in. I guess I could cook them myself, but, oh, the butterfly effect, dontcha know.
The sky has gone from grey to light blue to robin’s egg blue to deep blue to fading blue/insinuating grey. It is doing it quickly, I see even more grey now. Well, okay. It’s 24 degrees here and this morning we are going to deliver a poinsettia to the nursing home. Used to be I really didn’t care for them; now I don’t think they are so bad. Emory had a garden across the street for 66 years, so I’m hoping he will like the color. I read on the Internet that professionals use ice cubes to water poinsettias in locations that are not conducive to typical watering. I’ll have Kathryn tell the aides she’ll need a couple of ice cubes now and then . . . and, in fact, I’ll mention it myself to the folks at the desk.
Oh, here’s too much information: Last night I was chilled and so tired I fell asleep like a log. I dreamed I had to go to the bathroom, but couldn’t go – even with the dreaming of running water. When I woke up and remembered the dream, I thought, “Yes! Gotta love that animal brain that is somewhere in my so-called more sophisticated human one.” I was a little frustrated in the dream, but oh, so grateful the little red flags went off in my brainstem or whatever.
Maybe with that I’d better stick my head in a soduku and shut up for awhile.
Religion is something I don’t talk about much. I don’t know about miracles or God-given truths. I don’t know about a lot of things involving the universe and dimensions and philosophical stuff. I have come to realize I am bunch of electrical connections in my brain that make me eccentric and iconoclastic and not naturally nice. But in the past couple of years I have come to realize that Christian principles are pretty important and good guidelines. And I have discovered that gritting your teeth and taking the “should do – would be best” route is a sound decision, even though all your little fibers yearn to throw a tantrum and/or bang your head on the steering wheel. Maybe that is what finding God is . . . realizing that you have the potential to be a wise cookie. And maybe the real glory of Christianity is that a group of people actually gathered to pay attention to the teachings of caring and kindness and, well, just being decent.
OKAY – We return you to your regular scheduled AmeliaJake . . .
This morning we’ve been cleaning and getting things picked up and I even put a burgundy tablecloth on the big table room here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse. And I put a metal double-sided cut-out of Santa and his reindeer taking flight. Need some candles for it though.
Someone stepped on the vacuum pipe but I fixed it by pounding a ballpeen hammer into the opening with a mallet to re-round the hole. Yes, yes, sometimes I even astound myself . . . and yes, the ballpeen hammer came out of the pipe. (That it would not was in the back of my mind.)
Cans were packed up and sent to recycling and soon I will shower and sort of cycle my daily way to “the Wal-Mart”. Auuuuugggghhhhhhhh.
The day started out with sun and blue sky and now it is overcast and forebodingly grey. But, but, before that happened, I ate my lunch at my usual table, the one by the window that faces the south. Chili and a small hamburger – don’t tell folks here at the cafe, but can you say Wendy’s? – and the pattern of sunlight and shadow of blinds on the worn red tabletop. The Irish Tenors were on the CD player and when Fairytale of New York came on, I asked all the chatterers to be still. They went to whispers, so soon I will replay it. Ha! Let them whisper with duct tape on their mouths.
Source of Irish Tenors . . . and Bing Crosby . . . and John Denver and Muppets
and
down below, one of AmeliaJake’s cute little guys
Okay, I just heard the name of someone I didn’t know existed in Scully, Mulder history – William – and I don’t know who he is. Must research. Aha, here’s someone’s synopsis: Right Here.
This guy . . . I forgot to tell you about him last night. He looks kind of awful; that’s because when Summer and I were in the general room of the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse by the room divider, which is actually up against a real wall, I reached for him while saying, “Hey, let’s decorate the Colt.” And his helmet fell off. Right on the floor. We laughed.
hahahahahahahahhahaahaha. We are not kind; last year we called him “loser boy.” Okay, I started it, but the others picked it up.
We decided to glue his helmet back on – only we couldn’t find the Gorilla super glue and had to use regular Gorilla glue. First Summer attempted to reattach some skin (flesh-colored paint) on his forehead and the piece broke into several littler pieces that had no intention of sticking. So we went on to the helmet and the head. Noticing Summer had put quite a lot of glue on the helmet, something clicked in the back of my mind . . . but didn’t reach the front until the moment she was going to put helmet and head together. “Put him upside down or the glue will run on his face,” I yelled. Good thought, Grandma. But, uh, when I was in the kitchen making a crunchy foldover and getting a Diet Coke, I noticed glue had overflowed the helmet and run down the outside and he was . . . gluing himself to the counter. I called the surgeon and she pulled him off the counter – but his helmet flew off as she turned him upright and hit the floor again.
So he dried standing up and this is what happened in close-up. Gotta love the tip of the nose glue drip.
Loser Boy.
(Sorry, that was cruel . . . very cruel . . . heartless . . . unkind–What the heck; he gets millions.)
