Ice Ice Baby

AAAAhhhhh!

I’m home alone.

With an eye to the winter weather, the college girls left yesterday afternoon to get back to school. Super Dad followed right behind them and continued beyond to Atlanta for the week. 

He was rewarded for his efforts with a beautiful winter snowfall and used his shiny little blackberry to capture some evidence. 

 

Braggart.  

As for me, I sit here alone in the piney stick forest without even a flake or flurry to call my own.  

Instead, I have ice. 

Schools in this area were canceled by late yesterday afternoon because that’s pretty much the way things fly around here. If we hear the words SNOW and FORCAST in the same sentence, we shut down Dixie. 

Now, I would have gladly driven a dog sled to get to the school this morning because I’m a contract employee who is paid per session. But no…The Great Ice Adventure of 2011 is costing me a day’s wages.

And it’s neither pretty nor useful.

You can’t play in it.

No one throws ice balls…

Or builds an ice man.

Instead, you stay housebound and pray that your roof is not invaded by torpedoes

  from the piney stick forest.

 

South Georgia pines, you see, are gangly sticks which shoot up branchless for about fifty feet before pluming out like feather dusters at the top. When they get iced, they look like hundreds of little porcupines.

Their needles are very long and heavy and the natural prey to heavy winds.

And ice, of course.

Sometimes, they just drag down the the branch.

Sometimes, it's the entire top heavy piney stick tree.

I'm waiting for that one to go next...

And so I sit here this morning, listening to the snap, crackle, pop of pine boughs giving up the ghost. Periodically, I peek out windows to see the damage. For the most part, I stay downstairs because I’m a scaredy- cat.

If the piney stick torpedoes were not enough, our power has teased off and on all morning as well. I’m  praying that it stays intact until the Ice Capades are over.  I did bring in some firewood in advance of the storm, but if you recall from our Fuddy Duddy Adventure, the wood is green.

Plus, we’re short of newspaper to start it.

Plus, I forgot to bring in any kindling.

And besides, I have never started a fire in my life. 

I have visions of myself huddled in front of a very large candle, dressed like the unibomber,
drinking iced coffee, and crying because there is a skylight in my bedroom where my roof used to be.

So I did the only logical thing I could do about it.

I blogged.

How’s the weather in your neck of the woods?

Simply Walking

The experts say if you can converse while walking, you’re not walking fast enough to do your heart any good. In fact, they say, you can't even rightly call it exercise.

 If that’s the case, then I haven’t exercised in 26 years. All signs point to that being true.

No matter, I don’t really walk for the exercise anyway.

I walk for the fellowship.

The husband and I have been taking walks together since our flower plucking days at the University of Georgia.  For over a quarter of a century, we have chiseled out time nearly every morning that he’s home to take a walk around the nearest block.

We strolled our way through college

all the way to the newlywed years.

We waddled through two pregnancies

and power walked through two recoveries.

We meandered all the way to our empty nest, and by the grace of God, we’ll limp over the hill to our golden years, even if we have to add a layer of Ben Gay to do so.

Our neighborhood stroll takes about 30 minutes.
Hot or cold, we take our walk.   

This troubled my father-in-law when I was carrying The Practical One so he loaned me an enormous hooded sweatshirt to cover my matching enormous belly.

It worked so well that he told me to take it home where it has lived ever since, the mainstay of my winter walking uniform.   I can pad it with multiple layers and still have plenty of room to spare.  (Not quite as much room to spare these days as I used to have, but that’s not for the lack of walking.)

On very cold days, I layer it over three shirts and a pair of thermals, tuck my hair inside the hood and stroll incognito through the neighborhood behind a pair of sunglasses.

The husband calls me the Unibomber. 

 

No matter. It gets the job done, and off we go.  I yakkity yak through the neighborhood, and he scouts out the fun stuff.

And we walk…

Past the laughing trees…

And the Davy Crockett stockades…

 

And the guest who overstayed her welcome...

We walk all the way to the back of the neighborhood where we stop just shy of the final cul de sac and those two black dogs who bolt out of their lawn and growl at me.

We turn around at this sign.

As we turn, I have the OCD need to reach out and tag it. Then, I sing the first line of Delta Dawn in my very best deep south twang.  In my head, I sound just like Tanya Tucker.

In his head, he probably wonders why he married me.  It must not bother him too much, though, because he always shows up the next time. For that, I'm truly grateful.

Because walking with my husband is one of my favorite simple pleasures.

*****

Sharing this with Dayle at 

A Collection of This and That
for her Simple Pleasures party.

Follow me there to enjoy more simple pleasures.
I promise you won't be disappointed.

On Your Mark...Get Set...

I started 2010 with a plan. My theme color was orange, and my motto was Do The Next Thing inspired by Elisabeth Elliot’s poem of the same name.  

It was great.

However, as 2010 wound to a close, I found myself with neither color nor theme nor inspiration for the coming year. I have decided that being without inspiration is just about one of the worst places to be. 

What to do...

I considered all options on the color wheel. Since pink is my official favorite color, it seemed a logical choice. I even auditioned several shades of pink to shake things up a bit. I tried out magenta. I tossed around fuchsia. (It’s probably no surprise that I tend to gravitate toward the hot shades.)  My daughters thought that I had settled on raspberry and were surprised on New Year’s Day when I revealed that it, too, had been tossed in the reject pile.

I gave myself a deadline of January 5^th to work this color theme out because I’m odd like that.

And then yesterday morning,  it just sort of hit me. And folks, when you know… you just know.  I could hardly wait to wake the girls and tell them.  I’m sure they could hardly sleep for the want of knowing.

My theme color this year is green.

Not sage or emerald or mint.

Just simply green.

I chose it because

green means GO.  

See, I’m a lousy gardener with a legendary brown thumb, but even I know that you stunt growth when you refuse to pull up weeds, thin out plants, and lop off the dead heads.

I have a lot of dead heads around here, 

and they need to go. 

In this post, I set a deadline of December 18^th 2011 to use or lose some inventory lying dormant in my nooks and crannies.  I’ll yak about plans and progress at a later time, but for now, I’ll just say that after a full year, I’m finally ready for some of it to just go.

As in

Out. The. Door.

Some intangibles need to go as well. You see, the husband and I are the ultimate Cling Ons. We cling to toxic situations and even relationships long past their expiration dates. With very little encouragement, we can even deceive ourselves into calling it being “steadfast”.

As if…

We gnaw away like dogs on bones, often getting so consumed with our gnarling that we ignore the Hand that’s trying to feed us.

Did you ever stop to think that maybe God won’t fix what’s broken because He really just wants us to let go?  

If I’m reluctant to step away, I’m downright remedial when it comes to stepping out. Oh, I’m a well documented adventure seeker.  It’s just that those adventures never step too far out of the box or off the beaten path.

‘Cause I’m a scaredy cat, you know…

So this year, I will go.

Of course, the fact that I have no clue where it is I’m supposed to be going is a bit of a problem, but work with me here. I only know that I am determined to step out of my comfort zone to try that which is uncomfortable or even a little scary.

Maybe even carrots.  

And once I do, I hope see some new growth around here which, coincidentally, is also represented by the color green.  

See how it all ties in together? 

2011...
The year of green.


Go Debbie...
Go Debbie...
Go Debbie...

Mr. Fuddy and Mrs. Duddy

I'm almost positive that we used to have oomph.

Yes, indeed, somewhere around this place, we probably have the pictures to prove it. Though I've never really liked crowds, I do like a little adventure and a shameless excuse to wear a funny hat. Somewhere around here we have photos of a couple of mad hatted twenty-somethings greeting the New Year with a countdown and kiss.

And somewhere around here, we probably have a shot of a couple of thirty-somethings hosting a New Year's Eve Game Night with friends.  By this time, I alone wore the hat, but he generally acquiesced at midnight for the mad hatted New Year's kiss. 

It was when we turned into forty-somethings

 that things began to head south. 

The girls would babysit or spend the night with their friends for travel safety. All of our friends joined us in the aging process and stayed off the roads as well.

By age forty-eight, we had  morphed into what we are today,  a couple of fuddy duds whose biggest accomplishment on New Year's Eve  is staying awake long enough to watch that giant waterford crystal ball  drop for a bunch of strangers  in Times Square.

Did I mention that we're both turning 50 in 2011? 

Well, we are. By the time the next ball drops, we will have tumbled over over the proverbial hill. That being the case, we thought it wise to put forth just a wee bit of effort in the oomph department this New Years Eve.  Here's what we came up with:

A stroll downtown,

a dinner for two,

a movie by a cozy fire,

and a kiss at midnight. 

Just call us party animals... 

I wanted to begin the night by capturing the final blue hour of 2010, and I had chosen a winter wonderland of twinkly white lights in our downtown to take the photo.

Unfortunately, the twinkly lights were still dark when we got there.  We waited for them to turn on, but apparently our town planners are fuddy duds themselves because they never did. We finally headed to the restaurant to beat the crowd.

I did catch the last blue hour photo of 2010 before we went inside. 

Oh well…

Our dinner was nice but I wouldn’t recommend the shrimp and grits there. The shrimp lived up to its name, and the grits were more in the line of cornmeal mush. And why is it that no matter what fancy name you give an oyster appetizer, it still tastes oystery?

We forgot to pick up a DVD for our fireside adventure and had to choose one from the family stockpile. I wanted Somewhere in Time; he wanted Pirates of the Caribbean. We compromised on Miss Congeniality, and he began to pile up the firewood.

Unfortunately, that part of the plan went a little south too because the newly purchased firewood turned out to be green.  He battled that stubborn little stack for the entire first hour of the movie because he hates to call uncle.  On the upside, we don't have that pesky pile of newspaper to haul to the the recycling center anymore.

It’s a good thing he set his blackberry just in case...

It woke us up just a minute before midnight, contorted like a couple of Chinese acrobats in front of a blank video screen and a dead fire.

But never fear.

I scrambled to put on my funny hat, and we stared at the blackberry until the numbers changed to 12:00.

I hastily shouted 2...1... because it's not New Years without a countdown. Then, we shared the kiss because it's not New Years without that either. Then he sent texts to the daughters because he's a high tech fuddy. Then, the party animals headed up to bed with kinks in our necks.

And thus ended our last New Year’s Eve as forty-somethings.  Not exactly what we had planned, but we choose to look at our glass half full. At least as we stumble over the hill next year, we won’t have far to fall.

So, how did you spend your New Year's Eve?

Happy Birthday to...

Someone who is

at least 50...

Which means that it can not be I

 because

although I did have a birthday

this past week...

I'm a proud 49er

and still

too young to deck my halls with

 a red hat tree

With a feather boa for a skirt.

No...

The Red  Hot  Hat birthday girl today is

 the Duchess.

She's seventysomething today.

Here she is giving the Duchess wave in the local parade

It's my favorite picture of her because it captures her completely.

And in honor of her birthday, I thought I would post

 a few more pictures

of her favorite things.

You know...

Christmas trees

This one guards her kitchen door.

She made just about everything on it 

 And most of it is edible.

Gum drop chains and wreaths...

and popcorn balls...

and gingerbread men...

In her bedroom, she has a Victorian tree

Dripping with lace and pearls

Her sun porch has a beach themed tree

With sand dollar snowmen
and all sorts of sea shell creations.

Tucked into this little nook is her Santa tree.

I think she needs a bigger space...

And perhaps a bigger tree!

Her living room tree is less whimsical.

It's full of

 brass ornaments. 





There is an ornament for every

 birthday and anniversary

This one says

Dee and Dave 1957

Of course, the ornaments which decorated their tree

 back in  '57

have made their way to

 this vintage tree in

another bedroom.

It's full of old ornaments and vintage Christmas cards

This simple tree is one of my favorites of all.

But then,

I'm very fond of vintage things,

especially the ones 

which have been cherished by their family

for generations. 

You know...

kind of like

 the Duchess.

A Progressive Nibbling

All the hustle and bustle from the last few weeks paid off as we were able to take time this week to enjoy the company of family and friends.

Yesterday, our luncheon club planned what we called a Progressive Nibbling. Not really a full luncheon, we progressed from home to home to enjoy Christmas tables and have a sampling of food of the hostess's choice.

We started at 10:30 with some coffee punch 

and nibbled our way from house

 to house...

 to house.

 Some pretty wonderful

  husbands and children 

got marching orders via cell phone 

when the group was on the way. 

We enjoyed everything
 from quiche to soup to fondue,

but mostly...

we just enjoyed the fellowship.

 We finally ended up at my house for dessert and hot beverages in the late afternoon.

I carried that shiny red kodak from table to table in anticipation of this post. I had planned to show every home, but very few shots came out at all. Apparently, I lack the ability to eat, yak and snap.

I do have a few shots of my own table
that morning

before the food was set out.

Just imagine

a variety of cheescakes sliced on this tiered dish...

I borrowed that plate stand from the Duchess

and used one each of the three dishes  in my place setting.

They're from a variety of sets, old and new.

See?

The dinner plate is Celebrations by Radko (Target).

 The salad plate is from a set that I've had for years.

The mugs match it.

I bought this little tea set at Home Goods.

Yes, I know it's a tea pot.

I served coffee in it instead.

You can do that when you're serving friends.

Of course, I offered cocoa too.

Now, we actually only used these dessert plates

which match that tea set.

My sister gave them to me for an early

birthday gift this year.

They have different patterns.

My favorite it the pinecone in the first picture.

And even though it wasn't an actual luncheon,

I still felt the need to make these little placecard holders

from shoe ornaments.

Because they were only a dollar a piece at Walmart, and well...

they're cute.

So I assigned places even though we didn't even sit at the table.

We just grabbed our dessert dishes and mugs

and headed to the living room for more informal chat time.

We finished the day with an overstuffed

group waddle to the mall.

 All in all,

our progressive nibbling

 made for a fun Christmas adventure.

I hope we make it a yearly tradition.

I'll be posting this on The Porch

when I get home from looking at Christmas lights with the family.

A Merry Duchess Christmas

Let's start at the very beginning.

It's a very good place to start...

I have mentioned that  I'm somewhat of  a simplist and a Christmas decorating dork. 

The Duchess,  however,  is just the opposite.

Around town, they call her

 The Christmas Lady.

 Her home is decorated inside and out.

The outside is always designed for children

and it's different every year.

She makes every bit of it herself.

At 72, she can still run a jig saw with the best of them.

She welcomes anyone, especially children,

 inside to visit and take a peek.

 Inside, she has  trees in every room.  

But to understand the trees,

 you have to understand how the whole thing started.  

  Like most of us, I grew up with a single tree.  

You see, for five long years back in the 90's, my dad fought cancer.  His treatments required weekly trips four hours away to Atlanta.  Every Wednesday, Dad and the Duchess would head to Atlanta, where they would sit for hours for his chemotherapy. It made for very long days.  As she became more comfortable with the area, he encouraged her to venture out a bit.  What she discovered just around the corner was a new store that she had never heard of before. It was called...

Michaels 

And not far from Michaels,

she spied a Christmas Shop. 

 And that's how the whole thing started. While Dad had his chemotherapy, The Duchess embarked on some craft therapy of the Christmas sort. Every year, she planned, purchased, and crafted a new themed tree, believing the whole time that my dad would be around to enjoy it. It put the sparkle back in her eye and hope back in her heart. Dad approved. Even though he finally lost that battle, I'm positive he would still approve of the hobby that she enjoys to this day.  

Because she's The Christmas Lady.

While other women buy cosmetics and jewelry...

 clothes and purses and shoes...

The Duchess buys tree ornaments.

The first tree that you see when you walk in the door is her patriotic tree. It's a pencil tree which fits snugly into a corner of her foyer.

It's full of red, white, and blue.

That little Spirit of '76 ornament is my favorite.

Turning to the bedroom wing, you'll see a simpler tree.

 She calls this one her angel tree.

It's covered with little framed pictures

 of each grandchild.

 (Apparently, she thinks they are angels...) 

They start with baby  pictures

and continue until the cap and gown.

The grandchildren spend the Christmas season

playing a little game of hide and seek.

 They hide their own pictures from the dorky years

 on the back of the tree,

 and seek a dork picture of another grandchild

 to move to the front.

Her snowman theme is in my old bedroom.

With garlands of snowflakes 

 and snowmen in every conceivable shape and size.  

A Bitty Baby in a Christmas dress tops

 the toy tree

in this room which was Grama's nursery

 when grandchildren were small.

It's full of toys and books and childish ornaments. 

Garlands are bright colored beads and wooden blocks.

She even has a children's tablescape in here.

 Since our youngest child in the family is in 15,

 it sits waiting for the next generation.

Can't hardly wait...

She made this little tree skirt

sitting in the waiting room.

 

The next bedroom is the nutcracker room.

I love that paper nutcracker garland stuck in there.

And all the nutcracker characters.

There are more bedrooms and trees, but I haven't snapped the pictures yet.

I did take pictures of the dining room

where two similar trees flank the table.

This one...

And this one

One of them is the nativity tree.

It tells the true Christmas Story.

The other is a  music tree.

With the Angels proclaiming the Good News.
from the top.

Oh, there's so much more...

I'll try to fit the rest of the tour in before Christmas.

You really won't want to miss it,

since the one in her kitchen is edible. 

But for now, I have one daughter home and another on the way.  Why, it feels like Christmas morning in Debbie Land.