Currently in Coosada

 

Save its last few coppery leaves, I'm fascinated by the trees' bare limbs ...  seemingly performing a macabre dance.

Meanwhile!

I'm feeling ... 

super disappointed.  There's not a  quart of egg nog to be found anywhere.  Sure, my thighs will thank me someday, but my taste buds are taking it badly.

I'm tickled ... 

by the gizmo my friend sent for Christmas.

A no-contact door opener and stylus for touch screens, too.  I'm unsure what all it does, but it's got some weight to it.  A weapon, perhaps?

I made a thing!

Honestly, I should be embarrassed to say how easy this corn casserole was to make using the Instant Pot.   This isn't my picture (I didn't have any leeks) -- but I gotta say, ours looked just like this.  (That never happens!)

Here's the recipe.

I'm going to try making Tom's date nut bread this way tomorrow.  If it fails, we can always give it to the squirrels

I'm excited

to get the Christmas present I bought myself.

(Tom and I no longer exchange gifts.)

You've no idea how much I'm dreading January 6 (Epiphany) when we box up the tree.  Really.  I've never been so besotted by anything like it.  In fact, it stays 'on' 24/7 (unless we're both leaving home).  The soft glow makes my heart happy.

So! I've been wanting one of these electric fireplaces for a few years now.  I thought and thought ... pondered and debated.  Then, growing impatient with myself, punched the 'Buy' button.

Thanks for the push, Terre!

Finally ...

I may not get around to posting again before January 1, but wanted to wish you all a wonderful - and safe - New Years Eve.

It's a brand-spanking new year ... handle with care!

Hugs,

Myra

  

Christmas Chronicles, Finale

 

Whew, that sure went by fast!

... and if you're anything like me, you don't want to even think about eating again 'til the new year.

Our Christmas was definitely low-key.

Just the way I hoped!

The days preceding did bring some nice surprises.

Tom's son sure knows our carnivorous habits!

One of my mother's long-time friends called Wednesday night to say she'd just received our card and how much it meant.  Mary Joe's 97 years old now and still living by herself in New Mexico ... sharp as a tack.

Then early Thursday, the funeral director (from my short-term stint at White Chapel) texted to say hi and said, "I miss talking to you."

Little things mean a lot!

💓

Tuesday morning, when the third member of our already-small congregation was diagnosed with Covid, Pastor Janet immediately canceled in-person services.

Thankfully, everyone was able to participate in Christmas Eve services via Facebook live streaming.

If anyone's interested, I recorded her hubby singing Silent Night. (Click here)

Meanwhile!

Tom was preparing a scrumptious rib roast.

Oh m'gosh, y'all.

We'd not used this rotisserie in years, so I'd forgotten how noisy it sounds.  Judging from the dogs' growling and carrying on, you'd have thought it was Godzilla himself come to carry them away.

💓

Christmas Day.

As usual, there was more food than should be allowed. (Yes, I remember mother saying something about all the starving children in India. Or, was it China?)

DIL's mother, Jeanette

I'm not especially fond of ice cream ..... 

but never having tasted Blue Bell before, I thought "There's no time like the present!"

Requisite family photo

..... minus Grand #2, who'd left to visit her boyfriend's family.

Blame it on Grandma Myra's spidey-senses, but I strongly suspect this might be "the one."  Just wish I'd thought to include Matt's name on the card.

💓

Have you time for one more tale?

At one point I saw Grand #1 stick her head in the front door, saying something about needing CPR.

Turns out, Molly Jane had captured a lizard.  Thinking it was dying, Sarah enlisted her mom's help.

Fortunately, my country-raised DIL is a 'cool-hand Luke.'

UN-fortunately, the lizard had affixed himself firmly to her palm and wouldn't let go!

Believing it paralyzed from the frigid temps, Lois tried warming it under the light figure.  No dice.

If you look closely at the group photo (above), he/she was still stuck her palm.

(Later, yes. But I wonder if there's not a children's story there about the lizard that came for Christmas.)

And so it goes.

I hope everyone's warm and well.  Thank you for the precious gift of your friendship!

Hugs,

Myra

P.S.

Some of you may get this.  Santa, you're the best!

My Grown-up Christmas List

 

But first!

A shout-out to the person who invented wrapping paper with 'cheat lines' on the back!

Unlike my mother's pretty giftwrap, my cuts were all over the place ..... prompting her to get the yardstick and draw pencil lines for me to follow.   The results were still a bit homely, but I blame it on being a southpaw.  (LOL)

* * *

Obviously, I'm not the only soul who prays for an end to the pandemic.  Vacant children's cancer wards and animal shelters. too.  Slimmer thighs!   How about a lump of coal to those who thrust the 'new blogger' on our unsuspecting selves?

Oh, you can keep your diamonds and sparkly doo-dads, designer handbags and perfumes.  With apologies to David Foster, here's my grown-up Christmas list.  

To whom it may concern.  
If you don't mind, I'd really appreciate getting ...

Rubber bands.
Well sure, I can buy my own.
But no. I remember when they seemingly bred overnight around our doorknobs.  So many tossed in the trash, just for the sin of being too populous.  I can't bring myself to actually pay for them!

A pen that doesn't bleed and smear.
All you right-handed folks can't comprehend the angst that occurs when trying to pen holiday greetings -- that wind up looking like they're written by Pig Pen.

Someone to explain -- in an easy-to-understand manner -- the correct use of 'that' or 'which.'
(I just threw this in after agonizing how to write the paragraph above.)

A can of Durkee french-fried onions.
While I resisted picking off the top of DIL's Thanksgiving casserole, I've been thinking of those bits of deliciousness ever since.

Oh, and if it's not too much trouble?

Please let all the remaining Christmas trees get adopted in time for Christmas Day.
Ever since I was a kid and would see the sad left-overs leaning against 7/11's storefront, I'd cry a little inside.

Most of all, please keep all my bloggy friends and their loved ones safe.  I hope this next year brings unexpected blessings ... and maybe (just maybe!) an opportunity to meet face-to-face.

Thank you for listening.

Your friend,

Myra

 

Banana-nana fo-fana

 

Mother's hand-written recipe card, screen printed on a kitchen towel.

One of the few things Tom actually likes about cold weather is my compulsion to bake.

I'm not one to substitute an ingredient, toss in a sprinkle of this, or a pinch of that.  No, it's the exactness of a recipe I find comforting.  

My favorite?  An ages-old version of banana nut bread.  Friends and family have raved about it ... or pretended to, which is sweet.   Son always gets the first loaf.  A birthday ritual, if you will.

One year, however, that nearly didn't happen.  I believe it was '85 -- our first year in Florida.   Early December I asked R. to pick up a bunch of bananas.   But even after a week's time they hadn't softened.

I reckoned to hurry that process via the microwave.  Nothing.    

"What a strange thick peel!"  

Short of slipping a baggie over my shoe and stomping them, I was puzzled.  And peeved.

Tossing the whole works in the garbage, I abandoned the notion of baking.  The next morning, however, I retrieved one from the trash. At the office I consulted my co-workers, "What do you make of this?"

A couple incredulous looks.  Then, "You're holding a plantain!"

Obviously, I'd never heard of them.  And no.  I've never purchased another.

I've not had this much fun since I tried making divinity by hand .....  and practically spraining my arm in the process.

What a good thing Christmas comes but once a year!

Guilty!

I hope y'all have a great new week!

Hugs,
Myra

An update ... and my answer

 

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas!

Thanks for all your well-wishes!

While the drive to and around Birmingham's not something I enjoy, the roads were dry.  Best of all?  An encouraging report from Tom's ophthalmologist.  The MRI showed no mass!

Not far from the clinic, Tom discovered a new 'toy store' (think RC aircraft) -- and was in such a great mood he suggested we swing by the Cheesecake Factory.  You don't have to ask me twice!

Tom always gets strawberry, but I went for pumpkin.  Lawdy, it's so dense and rich, I couldn't eat another bite all day.  Merry Christmas to me!

Actually, no.

Mother Nature already gifted me the best temps!

27* yesterday morning .... I practically did a happy dance all about the yard.

Oh!  And another thanks! for playing along at Water Cooler Thursday!

Like some of you, I was stumped.

Then, I happened upon my favorite author's blog. (https://jajance.com/Blog/)

Ta-dah!  It was a light-bulb moment, y'all!

It's too late to orchestrate Lil Jul Aften this year.  But in homage to my Scandinavian roots, I'd like to begin that tradition in 2021. Do you know how many years it's been since I've had lefse?

Hope everyone's enjoying a stress-less day.  Talk soon!

Hugs, Myra

 

Water Cooler Wednesday ... on Thursday

Good morning!

By the time most of you read this, we'll be on our way to Birmingham.

Given 2020, I thought this a fun poser. 

Like my mother used to say, "Put on your thinking caps!"

What is a Christmas tradition that you have not yet started --

but that you think would be fun to begin?

I can't wait to hear your thoughts!

Hugs,

Myra

 

 

Wordless Wednesday

 

#1 Grand, Sarah ...
... a 'few' years ago.

Holy Trinity Lutheran Church
Port Charlotte, FL

 

Santa baby!

1952




Do you recall when - and how - you learned Old Saint Nick wasn't really real?

For reasons known only to my parents, I was never raised to believe in Santa Claus.

No. On Christmas Eve when we'd gather to unwrap presents, Mother and Daddy made sure I knew the coonskin cap came from Grandpa in Minnesota ... the brown paper package wrapped up in string from my aunt and uncle in Florida.

Christmas morning. however, I'd discover my stocking full of trinkets left by 'Santa.'  (Wink, wink!)


Beloved plastic stocking (hanging above my head).
The little chair?  It still occupies a spot beside the bed where I rest my cell phone.


* * *


So, I've been pondering .....
but can't recall ever being gobsmacked by a Christmas present.

Except!
 Knowing 1980 was my parent's last Christmas on the hill, we drove to New Mexico.

While I can't begin to tell you what gifts were exchanged, I'll never forget what I found tucked into the toe of my childhood stocking ...

There, carefully wrapped in tin foil, I discovered a little bit of mother's sugar-cookie dough -- the same kind I used to filch so many years ago while she baked.  Or tried to. LOL   


Have you been gobsmacked lately?
I'd love to hear about it!

Hugs,

Myra

PS --

Apologies, but I'm not leaving comments on your comments this week ... unless you've a question.  'Just feeling a little overwhelmed.  Thanks for understanding!  

 

 

Here's to the ones that we got

.....Cheers to the wish you were here, but you're not

My 'right now' favorite song.

Here's to you!

Myra

The Christmas Chronicles, Pt. 1

 

Good grief, y'all!   Time's slip-sliding away from me. Again.

Since we visited last ...
Our family celebrated two Very Important birthdays-- Granddaughter #2 (Dec. 3) and her daddy (yesterday).

Chloe: left (ca. 1998) and far right (now)

Our 'social butterfly' was a no-show, but son and Lois came for dinner.

Tom's yakking, I'm taking pictures ... and they're probably thinking, "Are we ever going to eat?"

I presumed Troy would blow out the candles, but Lois was, 'NO blowing on the cheesecake!'   Covid threats aside, we all had a good laugh.

After living 1,700 miles away for so long, I'm grateful being able to see them every so often ... and enjoy one another's company when we do!

* * *

Happy to finish my cards project this afternoon.

Honestly, I'm not holding out hope they'll arrive by Christmas.

See, when the package I sent 'priority' on November 27 never arrived, I decided to pay the Postal Service an in-person visit.

It's really hard to be cross, however, when the clerks are so friendly.  No matter if customers are male or female, 8 or 80 ... they call everyone "Sugar", "Sweetie" or "Hon."  And they seem truly happy to be there.  (I know, wow! Right?)

Back to my dilemma.
After informing me I have to wait 30 days to file a claim, she said, "I wish I could say you're the only one."  Guess there's a huge bottleneck back-up in Memphis.  Think 18-wheelers just sitting, waiting for their contents to be sorted.

Perhaps we should start a new tradition of opening gifts on Epiphany?

* * *

Speaking of the Epiphany!

Like every other grade-schooler I learned to sing, "Twelve Days of Christmas."   Until recently, however, I believed (that) the Twelve Days referred to those dates leading up to Christmas.  Wrong!

So, instead of calling it "12 Days of Christmas",  starting tomorrow I'm going to begin posting a pictorial "Countdown to Christmas" both on Facebook and (perhaps) this blog.

..... those images that inspire memories and bring me joy. Even chagrin.

Want to play along?

'Til then ...

Please stay safe!

Hugs,

Myra

 

 

 

 

 

Currently, a holiday edition

Hello m'friends!   How are you? 

Me?  I'm feeling an odd mix of joy and terror.  

I've been thinking about Traditions. Rituals.

Unlike Tom's extended family ties, nothing in particular stands out. More often than not, my father was at his second shift security job. (Yes, holidays meant triple pay.)   

The only constant?  Despite her reluctance to drive, each Christmas eve my mother made sure I got to the skating rink.   I was no Dorothy Hamill, but it was my favorite place.

1955 ............. 1975

Over the years I/we've dabbled in ethnic dinners, this-n-that. But nothing stuck.

They say. sometimes in different seasons of our lives we have to change traditions.  Well, this year is different for sure!

Totally out of character, but I'm just going to sit back and see what unfolds.

Granddaughter #1's trifle bowl

Speaking of traditions .....

Towards the latter part of her life, mother always gifted me a bottle of Chloe'.  In turn, I'd buy her favorite Jean Nate.

Have you noticed lately, all the fragrance commercials playing out, one after another in prime time?  I've not worn cologne in years -- and don't know anyone who does?  Do you still spritz?

Gr'grand-dog Molly Jane
This reminds me of Gayla Peevey's "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas." 

(So that's what I'm singing!)

Greeting cards!

Like some of you, the last few years I've sent fewer and fewer greetings.  This year, however, I'm feeling a bonanza coming on.  Maybe even a corny Christmas letter for the elderly lady who used to babysit me ..... perhaps 'that' cousin who eschews all forms of social media ..... even my high-school beau who sends the occasional 'UN-Facebook' update.

Great expectations.  And yet, here I sit with sparkly stuff all over my lap, shaking my head.  No wonder Hobby Lobby reduced their after-Christmas card selection by 50%!  Nuh-uh. There's no-one I dislike enough to send glitter greetings.  (*smile*)

BTW, if you'd like a card from Coosada, please shoot me an e-mail (myra.guca@gmail.com) with your address.  Thanks!

Stay warm ... stay safe!

Hugs,

Myra

 

The turkey and me

 

It's been several decades, but I still remember the time Debbie and I cemented our friendship.  Something was said about a kitchen being wasted space. "Who needs one, anyway?"

   

Despite my affinity for gadgets, I don't enjoy cooking.

 

But every now and then I forget.  Case in point -- Jack (Ship's Log) recently posted about making a delicious turkey breast in their air fryer.

  

Mind you, I've never made a turkey in my life.  But a small breast in the air fryer?   I can do that!

Because our Ninja Foodi's on the small side, I opted for a 3# Butterball.  "No need to defrost!" it boasted.  Unfortunately, I soon realized there was no way it would fit in our air fryer.   That's okay ... it was 25* outside.  I don't mind turning on the oven.

90 minutes later, I'm ready to check its internal temperature.  I grabbed a couple potholders, then stared in dismay. "Tom, come here!  Hurry!"  He's all grumble-bumbley:  "What IS it?"

Then he looks. "Oh, my God!"

Ya, the Pyrex had split in two!

  

Thank goodness, the bird's juices were still secure in the little baggie.  But it took not one, not two, but THREE temp checks to assure me it was safe to consume.  

The end result?
I was under-whelmed.  At least Tom enjoyed his with loads of gravy and dressing.

I'm just curious WHY, after years of use, that dish would suddenly break.  Have you ever heard of that happening?

Pass the egg nog! 

On the radio

 

"When I was young I'd listen to the radio, waiting for my favorite song ...."

Can anyone else relate?

There exists a snapshot in my head --

Sitting cross-legged in front of my folk's console radio.  Finger poised above my brand-new cassette recorder, anxiously waiting to hear the Cascades' opening sound effects: "Listen to the Music of the Falling Rain." 

I recently learned of the demise of that little station with a bit of surprise (that) it had even existed so long.

Sad?  Not so much.

No, my heart belonged to another.

KOMA

... an Oklahoma City super-station with a strong signal that played all the latest hits.  The soundtrack to my teen years.  

After dark, that is. I don't believe they were allowed to broadcast that strong during the day.  Quoting from their website:  Often teens in New Mexico, Arizona, Wyoming, Kansas, Colorado, Nebraska, and other western states would eagerly await sunset when the mighty 1520 would come booming through with the newest hits of the day. They would sit in their cars on hilltops, turn it up at parties, or fall asleep with the radio next to their beds as they listened to Chuck Berry, the Supremes, Paul Revere and the Raiders, and the Beatles. Soldiers in Viet Nam even reported tuning in KOMA to give them a little feeling of being back home.

I can visualize g'daughters' incredulous faces, hear their giggles.

Oh well. The power was real.

* * *

It doesn't seem that long ago, I was similarly infatuated by a station in Phoenix that played an eclectic mix.  Everything from Nat King Cole ..... to Jagger ... Pat Boone ... to Soul City Symphony ("Do the Hustle!")

Then without warning, Corporate suits pulled the plug on that little station.  Myself and most of Sun City residents (*smile*) were heartbroken.

Imagine my surprise when their former morning host -- a Facebook acquaintance -- announced he has a new gig.

I sent "Congratulations! Wish I could listen, but ..."

Danny responded, "Just ask Alexa: Play the WOW Factor 95.1 in Phoenix, AZ."

I did, and before you know it, I was doing a poorly-choreographed routine to the Stones, "Get off-a my cloud!"

(It wasn't pretty. But ask me if I care. LOL)

Who plays the music of your life?

Hugs, Myra