Here in the very western part of the Eastern Time Zone we now are in the month that is a countdown to the shortest day, and, oh yes, Christmas. It is chilly outside and wet and DARK and I am sitting here listening to The Irish Tenors without having to wear earphones. I don’t know why people around me find them annoying, unless it is my predilection to play the same song over and over again until my mood moves on to another song. I particularly like The Holy City; I find it invigorating.

I need to motivate myself to walk about 5o feet and get the alcohol wipes so I can test my blood glucose. Oh, my, it seems such a daunting task. I’m surprised there isn’t an app where I can get a read out from my cell phone. Good thing I don’t have to churn butter; how did they do it in olden times? It all seems so quaint when you see it at fairs and festivals – yeah, because someone else is churning.

It is amusing to remember decades ago when I would watch my grandmother doing some chore and hop up and down, exclaiming, “Let me! Let me.”

Okay, I could use a bit more ice in my drink, so I guess I’ll do the two bird, one stone thing and go and get both ice and alcohol wipes.

A few minutes later: I did it and I added in a bathroom stop and I washed my hands really well and I stuck my finger. Now the sky is getting a wee bit light and maybe, just maybe, I will do something with all this leftover turkey. Then again, I don’t know because using the butterfly wing theory, I might initiate a major disaster across the globe. Maybe I should just sit here.

I went into Walmart here in Kendallville and just after I cleared the entry hall, I encountered a display of Christmas holiday costume jewelry. So I bought a reindeer whose legs moved and I got it home and put it in my pocket and when I reached in to get it, a leg had already fallen off. It was not yet even off the cardboard.

I didn’t come off by the little round circle pulling slightly apart; the little circle broke in half. Sigh. Well, it just wasn’t right – so I went and got some craft wire and wrapped it around the leg and then threaded it through the body of the reindeer. If Rudolph thought he had problems, I think this little guy may stumble through the reindeer games. But, by gosh, he’s doing the best he can.

I think the most posting I did yesterday, the above mentioned November 27, was to text “Here” to Der Bingle and “Lots” when he inquired about rain on the trip. I think I was in a bit of a daze because and, oh crap, I’m going to pun and I didn’t intend it, the days have run together this week.

I don’t know how this could happen. I mean Thanksgiving is on a Thursday, every year. It is not unlike having to be totally brain dead to ask what day of the week Good Friday falls on this year. But it did happen and Thanksgiving failed to be my touchstone; I didn’t feel as if I were driving to Kendallville on a Friday – it was more like a paranormal day. Just the overcast and then raining period of time.

The thermometer on the dash stayed pegged at 57 for so long I felt as if I should bang on the gauge like they do in old World War II submarine and airplane movies. But, finally, somewhere a little south of Van Wert, it dropped to 56 degrees and bit by bit it got down to 41 by the time I pulled into the driveway. It was still raining and by that time it was really dark – the dark and stormy night thing, not fit for man nor beast . . . that sort of eerie arrival.

Are you as horribly bored with this rambling as I am? I wish I had a nice punch line or even a juicy bit of gossip, but I believe I have totally wasted your time. I suppose I should go back to the top and post a warning, but the heck with it.

Saturday morning the roads were dry, but there was talk of snow having hit Iowa and moving across Illinois and, gee, about 11am, big flakes started to come down. They stuck to everything; then the wind picked up and the snow got finer, but it stayed wet and heavy and the temperature was at 32/33 all day. And then we were under a winter weather storm warning. Roads glazed and the branches bent so low in front of the front door, they were at my eye level and I’m short.

You take a look at that and fill your cheeks with air and just blow it out slowly in resignation and go and get a broom to knock the flakes off. As it turned out, those flakes were globs, super-glued on branches and they weren’t moving. This morning I took a heavy rake and attacked them and enough snow came off that they lifted high enough for me to be able to walk under them – which I did not do.

The trunk latch on the car popped open when I pushed the release button, but the weight of the snow on the trunk held it down; I had to shovel the trunk – not just brush it off. We had a very warm fall, but now we have been smacked in the face and it does wake you up.

I snapped a picture and sent it to Der Bingle and he texted back: So Currier and Ives. I had not thought of it that way.

It is not because of the snow that I have not posted; nor it not because I have been cleaning and toting firewood in and hunting down mittens. It is just a lull for me. Why I don’t know; it seems when I am doing chores, a lot of stories go through my head, but apparently they are not reaching my fingers.

Speaking of fingers, I’d better find those mittens and dig out that frozen turkey so it can do its thawing out thing. Like I really want to stick my hand in a cold orifice looking for things like gizzards.

That really inspired me; maybe it’s time for a blanket over my head and some meditation.

I took a spectacular tumble this morning, launching ice, sandwich and myself into the air while walking on the porch. The ice and sandwich impacted and ricocheted; I just impacted, with the brunt on my knee. This is the paragraph with which I am starting “Take Two.”

The “Take One” post started with the following;

I’m 67, political incorrectness can fall out of my mouth as easily as the crumbs from a powdered sugar doughnut. Added to my age is my tendency to pun, joke, all right – outright mock. Not that the the above that are meant to be derogatory, but the word play has an irresistible humor, sort of.

I certainly see no humor in the spate of terrorist attacks, but I still tumble into the pitfall of letting anything set me off-balance concerning straight-faced, somber subjects.

Then I went on to relate various possible terrorist scenarios regarding my fall that popped into my head. Well, rats, I suppose it would have been okay for someone right there, listening at the moment, to hear it; but in writing it does seem not a little over the top, but somewhat under the bottom.

So, I am not including it. Do you know how hard that is for a person who used to write a series of stories about a really odd and crazy family called The Wickhams for a newspaper? Delete my words, Oh, horrors. However, I must say this is not in the same category as boys playing ball with the spongy jell-o salad Aunt Opal made for every family reunion. So, when it comes to ending the post, I’m taking a knee. No, I’m not; I hurt it. Hmmmm:

I guess what is usually said now is: Ya shoulda been there.