"I almost froze my buns off!"
This from my next door neighbor the day I went over with her mail and some fresh eggs. She was referring to the cold snap we had last week. As a petite woman with a child-like voice, to hear her say "buns" was amusing. She appreciated the eggs and was sure to tell me she likes to look out her window and check on my chickens.
The weather has warmed up enough to bring on rain. The chickens are, at this moment sitting on the back step just under the overhang of the roof, preening themselves. Earlier I caught Braveheart up on the woodpile, looking down on the other hens with a sort of satisfaction mixed with trepidation.
As with most folks, we have decorated for Christmas. We picked out a beautiful tree at the local tree farm. The teenagers helped hang the old familiar decorations despite the fact that they can barely be together for 5 minutes without arguing. Oh, this may be the thing that unravels my ever-lovin' mind!
These "China dolls" were given to me by my 4th grade teacher, Ms. Maxfield. She had been a missionary to the Philippines. These are one of my favorite possessions and while my children think they are creepy, they grace our Christmas tree each and every year.
I read a great book this week, Brain On Fire. This is an account of this young woman's battle with a strange brain disease, how it took her into the throes of madness and back into health again. Now I'm certain, with each forgetful spell and each crazy moment that I am indeed going mad and I have some sort of neuron-killing virus breaking down my brain bit by bit. Or I have teenagers, which is more likely.
The eldest teen is in Olympia today at a rifle competition. The venue for this particular competition is little more than a barn with cement floors and no heat. I think he likes the challenge but I bought him those little air activated hand warmers anyway and told him to stick them in his pockets or his socks or wherever needed the warming!
The youngest teen and I made sugar cookies. We used my mom's old cookie cutters. I love the vintage look of them. And the memories. My boys have been playing with these cutters since they were babies. Whenever I was in the kitchen and they needed something to occupy them I'd get these out, along with some old measuring cups and spoons. They'd be content while I did whatever I needed to do.
The finished product. With some visitors at the back window.
When I was little my dad would sometimes make me lunch. He was great at Top Ramen. I liked it with a squirt of ketchup. It's a sort of taste of my own childhood. Not healthy, barely food, loaded with preservatives, stays in your gut for ages, high sodium. I know, I get it. But today, I fixed myself a package. The brain has a section to remember smells and tastes and it associates these with other, more palpable, memories (I learned this in the book I mentioned earlier). Today, I got to remember my dad.