Skinny Skin

While playing with Ranger Dog this morning, I remembered a story that Uncle Henry used to tell us when we were kids.  Ranger Dog and I were snuggling with each other.  He put his head under my chin and he took a deep breath inhaling my scent.  I asked him if he was trying to remember how I smelled in case I got lost.  Then I thought about the story Uncle Henry used to tell us.

Uncle Henry was actually my mothers uncle which made him my great-uncle.  He was my grandmother’s brother.  I used to ask him to tell me stories every time I saw him.  He has some really good ones.  Usually they were kind of scary but they were always good.

Well, one time he told us a story about a Hag that went to “ride” someone.  Whe a Hag goes to “ride” someone, they make them have bad dreams.  But, in order to do that, they have to slip out of their skin to go into the house and affect someone’s dreams.

There were two ways to protect yourself against Hags.  One way was to paint blue around your windows and doors because Hags would not cross over a door or a window painted blue.  The other way was to put salt  on your window and doorsteps.  Since Hags had to slip our of their skin to go inside, they were basically raw….and could not cross over the salt because it would burn them.

So, one night, this Hag slips out of it’s skin and goes into a house to give someone bad dreams.  Someone else in the house finds the Hag’s skin and sprinkles salt on it before the Hag somes back.  When the Hag got back to it’s skin and slipped inside, she began to burn. 

Her response to the burning was to ask, “Don’t you know me skinny skin?  It’s me….skinny skin.  Don’t you know me?”

So when Ranger Dog was inhaling my scent….I asked him if he knew me.  His response was to nip my nose, wag his tail and give me a huge doggy kiss.

Christmas Tree Update

Well, here goes.  Sunday, we went out as a family and found a tree.  We sawed down the tree and brought it to the house.  My husband got the tree stand and put the tree in it.  What he did not share with anyone?  He had modified the stand. 

Most people would say….”Oh, how smart to modify the stand.”  Or, “How ingenious!”  If I had known, I would have said “Oh No!”

Why? You may ask.

Yesterday, “boom!”, the tree fell to the floor.  Then crack, smash… ornaments began to be broken.  The dog and I both were surprised by the demise of the tree.  My husband?  Well, let’s say, he finally confessed that he had modified the stand and that his modification aparantly did not work.  Meanwhile, the tree lay like a dead body on the floor of my dining area.

My husband walked around the tree analyzing the scene much like a detective checking out the scene of a murder.  It was CSI in action.  After making the diagnosis that the tree had fallen and that it would not stand in the stand as it was, he went into action.

His solution?  Put a stake in the stand and tie the tree to the stake.   Of course this required tools and precision.  So, first, he had to pull out his multi-tool and saw the broken end off the tree.  Then, he had to find a suitable stake on which to tie the tree.  Then, he had to modify the end of the stake to fit into the stand.

All along, the poor tree is laying sprawled in indignity on the floor whispering “help me”.  Brought to mind the Monty Python “bring out your dead” scene where the person is saying he is not quite dead yet.  The dog, who thought that we were nuts for bringing a tree in the house when he cannot bring a stick in the house, is now sniffing at the tree to determine if in fact it is really dead.  I am lamenting about the broken ornaments.  For, although the tree looked like a Charlie Brown tree because the ornaments were so old…they all had memories.

Back to the story…. Husband brings in stake.  He inserts it in the stand.  Then he lifts the tree and has me hold it while he first picks up all the ornaments that have fallen.  Then, he straightens the tree and pushes it against the stake.  Then, he takes a moving strap…bright red mind you for Christmas…and wraps it around the trunk of the tree and the stake.  He smiles up at me and says….at least the strap is red for Christmas!

In his mind, the solution has happened and all is well.  I set about putting the ornaments back on the tree.  What looked kind of pitiful but beautiful in its simplicity before, now looks downright sad…..  Now we cannot water the tree because it is no longer in the stand, it is merely tied to the stand. 

This morning?  Well, the tree is listing again.  It has pulled away from the stake.  The strap has warmed up in the house and has stretched.  Now instead of standing beside the stake, the tree is leaning away from the stake meaning that it is pulling against it.  So, I am wondering how long this will last before the stake gives up the ghost and the tree falls again.

Brings to mind the ghost of trees past.  I often wondered why my mother did not want the tree up before a couple of days before Christmas and why it came down a couple of days after Christmas.  After all, wouldn’t one want to enjoy the beauty of the tree for a while?  Now, I understand….  Because we often had the same types of mishaps when we were young.  I don’t remember how many trees fell in our house but I am sure there were many!

Keep a lookout!  There may yet be another post about the wayward tree.

Christmas Tree Expedition

After church today, we had brunch.  Our son was here with us for church and brunch.  So, we decided it was time to go into the woods and return with a tree.

After I loaded the dishwasher and we watched “Howie and the boys”, I announced that it was time to don boots and go in search of a tree.  Like always, I had to wait on the men.  Yes, you heard correctly.  I am always waiting on the men in my house.  They always run a beat or two behind me.  So, Ranger Dog and I were outside plotting our strategy.

Finally the men came.  The boy-man, after changing his clothes,  was fiddling with his MP3 player trying to get it to work.  The husband was looking for gloves, axes and a saw. 

We go everyone all decked out and off we went.  Like all men, my husband kept stopping at the wrong tree and saying, “this is the one”.  I had to point out that one side or the other was not full or that the tree actually was two trees together (impossible to fit into the stand).  I finally convinced him that we needed to go in to the woods to find a suitable candidate for felling.

Since all of our trees are either new growth or old growth, I knew that we would have to fell a tree and take the top out of it to get the type of effect I was looking for.  We would also need a tree that was growing relatively by itself so all the branches would be fairly even all the was around the tree.

I finally announced that I thought we had found the tree.  It was about 8 inches in diameter at the base.  So, my husband got the saw and made a knotch on one side and started sawing on the other to get it to fall where he wanted. 

Those of you who have read any of my husband’s adventures know that it is never as simple as cutting down a tree.  First you have to walk around it to figure which way you want it to fall.  (That one I will give him.)  Then, he had to trim away all the brush around the base of the tree even though it would not anything to do with were the tree fell.  Then you get down to the business of sawing.

After that, it went pretty fast.  We got the tree down and decided how much of the top to bring back to the house.  Now, the boy-man and the husband are out there figuring out how much more needs to be cut off and how to fit it in the stand.

What makes this really special….  Well, it’s the beginning of a tradition.  And, it’s the first Christmas tree we have cut on our own property.  And, you can’t get one fresher, as my husband says. 

Ranger dog helped too.  He wanted to help bring the tree to the house.  He was as excited as we were.  He grabbed a branch and began tugging like the rest of us. 

I am sure there will be bare spots.  But, decorated with lights, a star and some ornaments, it will be the best tree ever.

If I Coulds

I think we gather “If I Coulds” all during our lives.  I actually think we start with them before we can ever put them in to words.  You see that look of babies’ faces….”If I could just get these grabby things to work, I could get that thingy and put it in my mouth!”  It goes on from there.

I also think that “If I Coulds” change over time.  When we are small, they are all about what we want or wanted and the time.  They are usually for physical things rather than emotional things.  Of course, adults wish for physical things too.  But, they also wish for other things like to have “do overs” for chances lost or opportunities to do something “one more time”.

Today, I am having one of those “If I Could” days.  December, the month, is not a happy month for me.  There are too may tragic things that have happened during this month for me to embrace it with happiness when it arrives.  Don’t get me wrong….I love Christmas and the idea that Christ came to the world to live among us.  I love the Christmas story and the carols that are sung.  I would not be truthful though if I told you that I rush out and decorate the house and run around singing Santa Claus is coming to town.

So, it is not an odd thing when my mind wanders to the more melancholy during December.  It is almost bittersweet.  I see all the expressions on children’s faces and really understand that Christmas is for children.  We are all children in a way…and we all experience Christmas in a different way.

But, back to If I Coulds.  Last night, I watched a “show” on TV that dealt with a man who had allowed his family to think he was dead because he felt that it was best for them.  As all shows go, his daughter wished that she could see her father, if indeed he was alive.  So, the star of the show impressed upon the man that it was important for him to allow the daughter that wish.  He stated that it was impossible for him to hug his father “just once more”.  Well, it worked, of course, and the father went to visit the daughter.  And, as all shows go, fade to black.

Well, my “If I Could” today is about fathers.  Mine died in December when I was only three years old.  But, even today, I can remember how it felt to be picked up and hugged and cuddled by this big strong man.  It is one of the most strong memories that I have about him.  Of course, things are different when you are three than they are when you re fifty-one.  But, I still have the craving to have that hug one more time.

What I would not do for a chance of an “If I Could”  to hug and love up on my father.  So, to all of you that have the chance, hug that Dad of yours for me.  Hug him tight and say how much you love him.  Let him know that he is important to you.  As him to tell you some stories of his own childhood and listen to what he says.  Put them down on paper or store them in your memory so you too can share them with your own children.  Remember what it was like to have that dad sit down and play with you.  Take time to play with him.

Surprise!

The holidays are always a struggle for me anyway.  This year is no different.  And, today, we got yet another surprise. 

Mr. Greenhouse and I were sitting in the kitchen this morning.  I was reading the news on-line and he was finishing up loading the dishwasher.  After he finished loading, he put in the soap and started the wash cycle.  Then, Mr. Greenhouse took his computer, his cup of coffee and headed downstairs to start his day.

Not long after he descended the stairs, he came running back up.  He went over to the dishwasher and it off.  I asked why.  Mr. Greenhouse stated with “there is water pouring out the wall downstairs”.  “The basement is on it’s way to being flooded.”

This is the second time in as many weeks that we have had water in the basement.  Last week, the opposite end of the basement was flooded.  Seems that some of the field tile for the sewer line had buckled and casued a backup.  We were without water for most of the day while the plumber dug up and glued the line back together.  It seems that a shift in the ground had caused the drain to crack. 

Well, Mr. Greenhouse and I scooped and mopped up the inside mess.  Things got back to what I hoped was “normal” for us.  I finally had water and could get clean.

Today, the leak is in the opposite side of the house.  It is coming out the wall which means that sheetrock will have to come down.  Also it is in the soffit above.  My office is flooded.  The water is in the linen closet.  And, it is seeping out into the living area.  This time though, it is “clean” water.  No foul smell. 

I can only imagine what the plumber is thinking.  I can only imagine what our basement will look like for a few weeks while everything dries out.  Then there is sheet rock hanging, and painting.  Debris cleanup….what fun!

I am hoping the builder will stand up and take ownership of the issue.  Obviously something is wrong in the wall. 

The plumber just got here.  Hopefully, the prognosis is more rosy than not.

Christmas Trees Past

When I think about going out on the “lower forty” and looking for a likely candidate to be out “next” Christmas tree,  I get visions of Chritmas trees past.  There have been “real” ones and “fake” ones.  Little ones and big ones.  Those covered in icecicles.  (remember those).  Those with paper chains.  Those with “regular” lights.  Those with white lights.  Those with colored blinking lights.  But, there has never been one with a theme.

Ornaments have been added or taken away during certain times and years.  Those of glass or plastic.  Those broken in transit or from trees falling over.

Speaking of trees falling over, we had one year where we had four “wild” little kitties in the house and they were constantly bringing the tree down by running into the Living Room and climbing up to top of the tree.  They would go treaing around the house at full speed chasing each other.  Then one, followed by the three others, would race into the room and up the tree.  Once all the kitties were on the tree, it would begin to lean and then, over it would go.  It wasn’t funny then. but it sure is now.

When I was small, my brothers were in charge of going out into the woods and coming back with a tree.  I guess that used to be something they did with our dad.  I can tell you that we had some pretty ugly trees.  But, at the time, they were all as beautiful as they could be.  (Charlie Brown, eat your heart out!)

We later graduated to a “fake” tree.  We would put it together a few days before Christmas and take it apart before New Years.  I don’t know why but in our family, the tree had to come down before the New Year was rung in.  Something about bad mojo. 

I am glad that we never had one of those silver trees with the rotating lights.  My parents for a while had a white tree.  It looked like bottle brushes.  But is sitll had an assortment of ornaments on it that made it look Christmasy.

So, now, back to the Christmas “present”.  Which one will we choose?  All I know is that it will beautiful when it is in the tree stand and decorated with all those hand me down ornaments.  The colored lights blinking in the darkened room.  And, it will be the best tree ever!

What’s Life

I am a survivor.  I come from a long line of survivors.  My family….my ancestors…came here some time after the MayFlower and before Ellis Island.  Way before Ellis Island.  I would not be surprised if I were related to some of those hearty souls on the MayFlower.

We have always had to be survivors.  After all, we got here way before the USA was the USA.  Probably way before states were formed.   Probably lived way out in the woods and learned from the Indians in the area.  We have always been peace makers too.  So, I would guess if offered a peace pipe or an olive branch, we would have readily accepted.

Why am I writing about surviving?  What got me thinking about this.  Well, today, Ranger Dog and I decided to go walking in the woods.  My original aim was to look for a Christmas tree on our land.  We have Cedar trees all over, so it’s just a matter of finding one that has limbs on all sides.  I saw some pretty good candidates.  So Mr. Greenhouse and I will have to see what we can come up with.

Anyway, our property is full of creeks and gullies.  So, you can be walking along and literally cannot “get there from here” without having to get across some water.  I love to hear the gurgling as it runs over the rocks.  But, you can get rather messy if you are not careful where you cross. 

Ranger Dog was having the time of his life.  Sniffing and running.  I could hear that nose of his working overtime when he was walking near me.  He did not ever get out of earshot.  And, really didn’t get our of eyesight much.  He always comes when I call.

I was saying a little prayer up to God asking for protection against broken legs, torn tendons and the like.  I was thinking about where I was going to cross the gully and was calling for Ranger Dog.  Some times, it is easier to cross things where you see paths that animals have crossed.  That is just what I did.  The only issue, I forgot that dogs, deer, squirrels and cats can jump.  I can’t. (Hey wasn’t there a movie about white men and jumping?)

So, I found a tree growing in the gully that had a knot hole that I could put my foot in to lift myself up to the other side.  The first time, I fell down.  The second time, with Ranger Dog cheering me on, I made it.  It wasn’t easy but I made it.  That got me thinking about life.   

Life is the same way.  What’s life if it is easy all the time?  To really enjoy it, there have to be adventures and rough spots.  If you always stay on the “bunnie trail” you miss so much.  That doesn’t mean you have to go out and make things difficult for yourself.  But, don’t back down from a challenge either.  You can learn what you are made of if you give yourself a chance.

It is amazing to me how God gives me little messages all the time.  Some times they are suttle and I miss them.  Some times, He knocks me on the head.  Mostly, its a constant conversation between us.  I talk and He listens.  He talks and I listen.  Today, the lesson was….What’s life if it is always easy?

Holiday Season

Yesterday was December 7th.  That day has a lot of history.  Not only for the United States and Japan but for my family as well.  Why?  Well, December 7th was my grandmother’s birthday.  It is also the day my father was buried when I was 3 years old.  I cannot imagine having your only son buried on your birthday. 

My father died at home.  From what I have been told, he had recently gotten out of the hospital.  He had what my mother called “blood” issues.  He had Undulent Fever when he was a child.  It had damaged his heart.  But, he also had issues with his blood and clotting.

My mother said they had been arguing before they went to bed.  About what, I don’t know.  Then, when they got into bed, she had a bad habit of rubbing her feet together.  He asked he to stop rubbing her feet.  Then he died. 

I remember getting out of bed and asking what was going on with all the noise and bustle.  Someone, again, I do not know who, bent down and told me that my daddy had died.  I am sure that my brothers, are older, remember more.  Regardless, it was a painful time for the family.

In our community, they had a habit of bringing the body back home from the funeral home and having a good old Wake at the house.  Of course a Wake in history served two reasons.  No one was buried right away in order to determine if they were going to “wake” up.  Later, it turned into a huge party for everyone to come and eat and visit.  Almost like a family reunion except for a sad reason.

I don’t exactly remember which room they put my father’s casket in.  But, I do remember trying to wake him up.  I would drag a chair over to the casket and look at him and wonder why he was sleeping.  Various people would come over and take me away and try to amuse me.  Some how, I always ended up back where my father was.

Needless to say, the holiday season brings back sad memories for my family.  My mother and grandmother had to put aside their sadness to have “Christmas” for the children.  My dad had actually put some stuff on “lay away” for Christmas for the kids.

So even today, we have to make a real effort to enjoy the holiday.  When I think about the birth of Christ and what his coming means to the world, I can be happy and rejoice.  It is the commercial part of Christmas that gets to me.  All the jolly holly Christmas music etc….  I think about little ones and hope they all have a happy holiday.  Then I worry about all those children who won’t.  I wish every child everywhere never had to go through loss.  But, that isn’t realistic. 

Anyway, family members who see us “sad” during the holidays….understand why.

Life is fragile

I am reminded so often how fragile life really is.  It is by chance that an egg gets fertilized.  It is by chance that it anchors itself in the right spot and begins cell division.  It is by chance that it grows into a healthy infant without being spontaneously aborted.  After all, the body carrying it considers it a parasite that is feeding on a host.

It is by chance…but it is by the chance of God.  He sees.  He knows.  And, He plans life.  He also sees.  He also knows.  And, he plans for your death.

That does not mean that we have no choice in the matters of living a life once it has been given to us.  We have many choices during our lifetimes.  The older we are, the more choices about living we have had to make.  We have free will. 

Some people cannot reconcile that idea with the idea that God knows the beginning the middle and the end.  I don’t have a issue with that.  I am at peace with the idea of God’s hand being there.

This past Saturday, early morning, the child of a good friend and fellow church member was “called home” as my grandmother used to say.  There were three young men in the car, a mini van.  They were going to one of the boys homes (the boy who died).  He was not driving but was belted in the back seat.  The boy driving missed a curve, over corrected, flipped the van and crashed into the woods hitting a tree.

The young man who died, died instantly.  The other two were injured.  Both of them were protected by the air bags in the front of the vehicle.  One had two broken legs.  The other had a broken arm.

This is not the first young man to die because of a traffic accident.  This is not the first child to be lost before what many would consider before his time.  These are not the first parents who have had to bury a child and suffer through all the grief and sorrow.  They are dear friends of a lot of people and are being carried by the love of those who care as well as the peace that God can give.

I have felt for others in this situation.  However, this has hit “too close to home”.  (another tidbit from my grandmother)  I sat an wondered as we were at the wake, how could anyone love a child from the moment it is conceived, greet that child into the world, rock it, feed it, love it, watch it grow into a wonderful young adult, and then put it in the cold cold ground?  I cannot imagine exactly what they are going through. 

We all talk about strength and fortitude.  We say, what doesn’t kill you makes your stronger.  But, really, life is just so fragile.  Death is but a second away.  A wrong turn, a slip, a fall, anything rash…..  Yet, we don’t often treasure what we have. 

Life is also a miracle.  A miracle of chance given by God.  Breathing is a miracle.  The force that makes you up is solely you and special to you.  But, you are made up of energy…..When you die, it does not go away…it is just different.  That is your soul. 

I guess what I want to say is we should all hug those who are dear to us.  Gather them to your heart and let them know how utterly special they are.  You never know when it will be the last chance you have to tell them that.  Never miss a chance.