A Tree in the House

"Great excitement in the house here. I still can't find Dad, but Mom brought a tree into the house. Actually it was in the basement storage room up on the highest shelf, so of course if you are always looking at knees, it was impossible to know it was there. My friend Piper and I danced all around the living room when Mom started putting it together. Mom had to keep telling us to get out of the way. WHAT? You don't find a tree in the house to be one of the most exciting things ever? Do you know how cold it has been outside, and I have short hair. (I probably should wear a coat, but then Mom would think I could be out all day, and I don't want that.). Anyway, it's a twinkly tree with colored lights and now there are things hanging from it. They look kind of fun to play with but when Aile touchs them she gets "no, no", and for me it would be worse, so I leave them alone. BUT, there is candy hanging from the tree. I love candy, and think about this; wouldn't a dog with peppermint breath would be better than the dumpster breath you accuse me of having. Come to think of it, I don't say anything about your breath, and believe me I could. But back to the tree . . . you don't really think Mom would follow through on her threat to take me to the pound if I use the tree - if you know what I mean. Would she?

Not Keeping Up

When I asked Holly to help me get blogging, I thought I'd have hundreds of thoughts and want to be posting everyday. Well that hasn't happened - obviously - so here we go again. The last time I sat down to do this the "keeper of the sign in" wouldn't let me...so I had to play the game of re-entering my password and then, setting the old password as the new password and by then I'd lost my enthusiasm. Not like I'm doing anything great and wonderful that takes up so much time, but I get bored easily. So this must be ADD, "Oh, look, a chicken".

I have accomplished a lot in the days I haven't been posting, like doing the Christmas shopping, getting a cold, doing more Christmas shopping, stressing about the number of gifts for each grandchild, doing more Christmas shopping, still having the cold that's now in the chest and head, wrapping the Christmas shopping, catagorizing ( I need grandma's Instant Speller) and placing Christmas shopping under the tree by family and when they will be here to collect the Christmas shopping, baking three kinds of cookies, baking pumpkin bread, stressing about not enough presents (I need 2 more), still having the cold... You get the picture. Then the big day will come and under the tree will become empty and I will feel empty and stress about whether I had enough Christmas shopping for everyone and why couldn't I just have been able to find the darn Wii's.

So, amidst all this, here is what I strive to remember: The reason for the Christmas celebration is our Savior Jesus Christ. We celebrate His birth, all the wonderful thoughts and words written in Luke 2. But mostly for me the celebration is His life and the gift He gave of himself, to ransom himself so that all of us may partake of His atonement, repent and be able to have the gift of eternal life with our Father, and all our brothers and sisters who avail themselves of this gift. The gospel is true, I know this. It is a gospel of love, we love others because Christ loved us first.

A little book called "Christmas is a Time of Giving" by Joan Walsh Anglund, helps join the secular fun with the spiritual. It says: "Christmas is a time of giving. It is a time of wrapping gifts and making cookies . . . a time of presents, tucked in secret places . . .and of children waiting. It is a time of toys and drums and dolls . . . a time of holly and lights . . . and goldent tinsel and green pine boughs. It is a time of stars and midnight . . . and soft prayers whispered in the dark. Christmas is a time of family . . . and good friends meeting once again. It is a time of song and caroling...and silver sleigh bells jingling across the snow. For some people, Christmas is a time of remembering . . . remembering other happy days filled with laughing voices . . . and other treasured times, now past. But for everyone, it is a time of magic . . . when troubles melt and once again the world is young. It is the time, above all others, when peace may visit earth and find a dwelling place in every heart. Christmas is a time of giving . . . a time of hope . . . a time of joy. Christmas is a blessed time . . . of love.

I love you gang. Love, Mom

Dreams

So Valerie and I were talking yesterday about dreams and their meanings. She said she had looked it up and in whatever she was reading it said that everyone and everything in your dream has a meaning and references back to you (the person dreaming). So we talked about some of our dreams, had a laugh, and then I said, "Every so often I dream about my dad's garden behind the garage in Farmington. It is always so wierd, I know he's dead, we don't own the property but there I am amid the tomatoes, it's harvest time, and the bushes are loaded. The more I pick, the more tomatoes there are, and onions, squash, green beans, cukes, etc. It is too strange. I haven't a clue what it means". Valerie looked at me and said, "Think about it in an eternal perspective - the garden ready to harvest...". It took about three seconds for me to have the "lightbulb" moment, and then I got it. GENEALOGY! My dad's family are ready to harvest, now all I have to do is get on the ball. I think I will contact my cousin today about the death dates for all of my dad's siblings. I am taking this as a definite wake-up call. Wish me luck.

Befuddlement

"Mom left us locked in the kitchen today while she went to work. When she came home she brought presents, she said they weren't for us, but I can tell. Two big blue boxes (can I tell color?, maybe not), anyway two big boxes and they smelled good. I have a really good nose so I can ususally tell where mom's been and who she's been with...she say's "quit that sniffing", but how else am I supposed to get the info? Well, these boxes smell like someplace I know I've never been; salty air, and different people than I'm used to. I'm really not a racist dog, I love love love everyone, but some people just smell different. Too bad I can't tell color. Mom said she was filling them up with the fall stuff - I just love fall stuff - all those leaves, moldy and wet - YUM. But she filled them with stuff from the big table, the counter and some baskets - that's not fall, that's junk. Mom called it junk too, kept muttering about cleaning out the basement but we both know that will never happen. So I kept waiting to see what was in the bottom box, the top one was so fine, but the bottom was empty too, except,for the smells. I know that smell, I rolled in it once, then they buried the roll-thing and made me have a bath. So who was buried in the box? Another mystery.

Such a technophope...

First of all I am deathly afraid of the computer. Secondly,I hope whoever ever reads this will understand that I am deathly afraid. I will try to make it interesting, and I used to have the potential to be funny, but that was then and this is now. Anyway, I have been wanting to get this blog going for awhile, so here goes. My name is gramma, and I am writing in behalf of the red furry friend on the front of this blog. His name is Duke and I think he has a unique view of the world as we know it - from the knees down. Lots of things in life seem to mystify Duke like who went into the garage, who came back, who was in that tote, but most especially, WHERE'S DAD?!

To back up, we adopted Duke a few years ago from the pound (the best dogs come from those awful places), and he was well mannered, friendly, not too outgoing, he seemed just right. He had been incarcerated because "our son just didn't have enought time for him.". LIE He was there because he ate his first owners' backyard, and they couldn't take anymore. When we got him home, he was sooooo good, until someone came upstairs, (who had just gone downstairs), and fearing the worst, Duke went into PROTECT MODE! Since it was a Saturday, and the pound was now closed, he got to live with us until Monday when he was GOING BACK.. However, he did show his finer points of being a sweet loving dog, so a "stay of execution" was given and he is still with us. Not any smarter, but still loving. He did eat our backyard that summer, a hammock, a lawn chair, the hot tub cover, various watering cans, and most recently a pair of rubber garden gloves. (That made for interesting doo-doo.). Question: What's that stuff called that's on the lawn early in the morning? Dog doo. And you thought it was just dew!

So now with big changes once again in our life, Duke will offer his below the knees perspective of what is going on here. Some of the things we may learn are: who was buried in that tote; why can't I play cougar on the trampoline; where have those shoes been; who were you cheating on me with; and most importantly WHERE'S DAD? Stay tuned.