Summer I barely knew thee....

The labour day weekend is now a memory in the past.  Albeit an awesome memory - of belly laughs, beer and campfire smoke, of learning all about "pitchfork bacon" (voted the most perfect man food of all time) and of one last ride before it was back to work you fool (which in my reality is the adult working stiffs version of back to school)

Yes, the bugs of this past weekend still cling to my trusty sporty, the leathers now dry and hopper gut encrusted are folded and wait my attention.  But I can't bring myself to do it - it's like completing the act of cleaning up my riding gear and putting it away is an admission of surrender to fall.

Now don't get me wrong, fall is a nice time of year.  Lovely rusts and golds surrounding crisp mornings and starry nights.  But summer - oh that sweet lass of  the year, was by far the fairest in the land. 

Oh she was a reluctant teary wench, pouring out rain and storms in the beginning but slowly she warmed to the months of July and August - in fact the wench became downright hot and bothered! +33 C degrees, vicious winds and scary thunderstorms punctuated by massive hail - when summer got warmed up, it was a hot flash of menopausal dimensions!  Moody tho she was, there were those pleasant sleepy afternoons, when even the flys didn't bother to  buzz.  Those were the afternoons meant for napping in the lawn chair after a breif and feeble effort at making it through the next 6 pages of my book.  Didn't happen - snoozing won out.

Riding my bike, cruising along on a hot day was devine! Bugs be damned, it was full speed ahead, and listening to the calm drone of my bike was awesome.  A trip down the west (or as we say 'wet'coast) was a balm - a way of aligning my stars and cards and whatever else needed aligning. 

You see a good ride is like therapy.  There is no time to dwell on the flotsam and minutea of day to day life, no need to worry if my hair looks okay, if I'm gonna loose weight, if the bills are all paid or if I changed my voice mail at work.  Not important to me at the time.  All that matters is I'm in the zone. 

And the zone is only focusing on the now - not yesterday, not what is happening tomorrow or in other parts of the world.  When a person gets in the zone on their bike it's all about the  road, the bike and your immediate surroundings.  And assuming you are moving along with traffic, the immediate surroundings change second by second.  So I get in the zone, listen and feel for changes in the way the bike runs, or the road feels;  I watch for the road surface, noting areas to avoid, and adjusting my route appropriately.  I notice the immediate surroundings as I move through them - cars rolling to a stop, on coming traffic if there is any, and if none then the sky, the grass in the ditch, cows watching and cheering for me as I zip along with a goofy grin of zenlike satisfaction on my face. and THAT is when I am at my happiest. 

The Zone - it's when I feel connected to the now - to God, to Earth, to my Bike, and the only other thing that matters is seeing  the back of my hubby as he too zones along on his bike somewhere ahead of me.  Sure there are elements trying to distract me - an occassional kamakaze beetle that dings off my forehead at 75 mph - a good wake up call from the Big Guy Above to pay attention perhaps?  Or a mare and colt who try to race for a few hundred feet and then veer off to enjoy their day without me. And once a hawk who just couldn't seem to pull up fast enough to avoid a near miss with my helmet.  But overall, as in 98% of the time - it's a glorious wonderful brush with life. 

My friends hear of all the bad parts of riding a motorcycle, and my mom worries that it's dangerous.  Well it is.  Let's be honest, between me and the big truck hurtling along beside me - I'm the softest thing out there.  And if it's my fate - well then I hope it's quick.  But this is not something I, or most riders dwell on.  We know what can happen, and if that is too much to fathom, and all we think about - then it's time to hang up the helmet and get back in the Buick.  I have faith in my ability to avoid dangers, to look ahead and be defensive.  That too is part of the Zone.  You don't remove yourself from the traffic or  road or horrible wind - you are there - 100% in the moment, paying attention and it becomes second nature. 

And that's why I do it - I love it! I feel energized, even after three hours battling a wicked headwind.  Because I'm alive!

Let me end with this little tale from the past: 

Many years ago, it was in Nevada the summer they'd had a lot of grass and brush fires.  Riding west, three of us were blissfully unaware that a storm was waiting to bear down on us.  I thought the horizon looked too dark, but hey it could be a desert thunderstorm and they are wicked! (remind me to tell you about being kinda struck by lightening some time)  And I do  recall wondering why someone would have a campfire going, because I could see a white plume of smoke going straight up in the distance, highlighted by the black behind it.  Hmmmm that might not be a campfire I recall thinking, almost looks like...a TWISTER! And those people in the oncoming lane on the freeway, they aren't being overly friendly - even tho all the drivers were waving like lunatics - they were TELLING US  TO TURN BACK!!!  And those thunderclouds - why it was wind, it was A HUGE DUST STORM rolling down on us! No wonder there wasn't any  traffic headed west along with us, we didn't have radios - we hadn't heard the warnings! 

Yup, God looks after fools and children, because we finally realized what we were about to head into, stopped and turned around.  It wasn't a problem because no one was traveling towards west but us! So three riders, tails between our legs hauled a$$ back to the last town, crossed the interstate median, rolled into a gas station and tucked our bikes up on the board walk next to the grocery store on the leeward side just in time.  We all burst into the store before we even spoke - then watched as the black sooty sand washed down the windows like water.  That day several people died on that stretch of highway as they were caught in a complete black out on that interstate in Nevada.  Thankfully we three were not among them.  And if that wasn't enough, when we finally got ourselves collected and the nervous laughter and adrenalin died down, we walked out to find one of the bikes had a totally flat back tire.  How lucky were we not to have that happen on the road in a storm? 

The day was saved, we found a shop, mended the tire, stayed the night and lived to tell a good tale.  Scary? you betcha - exciting - of course. Did I feel alive? Oh yes! And Thankful beyond words.

To this day I am thankful that I get to ride and smell the sage and see the sights on my bike with my beloved hubby riding ahead of me.  Now this blog didn't really touch on our wonderful trip to California, the vineyards, the olive groves, miles of walnut and almond orchards - but we'll save that for another installment.

Enjoy life.  Don't dwell on the crap you can't change.  And always give thanks for what you got!

Remember The Stance.

Memories and old friends last forever....

You've heard about a snapshot memory right? A time or instance or experience so crystal clear in your memory it's like looking at a photo.  I might not remember what lead up to that moment, or what else was happening just then, but I, like you have many snapshot moments.

One of the earliest is of me as a little tot playing with a huge stuffed dog, a red cheap cotton dog that as I grew older recognized as a prize from a fair.  For those less Gen Y readers, you'll likely recall the stuffing - made out of something that reminded me of wood shavings.  A dog full of potential slivers...hahahaha.  But I recall hugging that dog and the grey speckled congoleum of the floor.  That is all I remember - could have been my mom's house or grandmas.   That big toy dog might not have even been mine - might have been my aunts for all I know...but I do remember that at a very young age - like 2 or 3 I loved that dog at that moment. 

My first bike - ok this is a picture cause I'm not sure if I still have any of the one I rode for a few years,
 but despite bad wiring, Amyl carbs and Lucas wiring - that 750 Triumph was a fun fast little bike!

And here is  why I mention that snapshot memory - because my life is full of them! A bike trip back from California, just north of Boise, there is a large truck stop and sign, and as we rode by on the freeway it just flashed on me - I'd been there before! And I had a picture in my mind of two frozen greasy haired kids on a Triumph, pulling in on the way to I can't remember where,  hungry for a meal, happy to find warmth  - and being greeted by stares and snears and a whole lot of  scary nasty energy from a whole schwack of truckers! Now this was a long time ago - 22 years or more - when it wasn't so "de rigeur" to be on a motorcycle.  I can recall everything about that moment, but not the name of the truckstop, nor what we had, or if we indeed even had anything! That was eons ago - and man, how times have now changed!

When I first got my license, I had already been riding bikes for a few years.  And it was not too often you'd see a girl on a bike - not in the prairie towns I hung in! So it was fun - got to hang with the guys, sit and watch them work on bikes, reading the manuals and pointing out when they were screwing up - and often being right! I learned what made a bike run, what tools were needed and how to make the tool that you didn't have.  It was a cool time of my life, and I have a lot of great memories of a smoky garage, cold beers, loud rock and roll, and a group of fools gathered, "in the stance" talking about bikes. 

Oh yeah about the garage: I'm not talking about the sterile, tiled and organized units attached to the front of the house you see all over now adays.  No this kind of garage (in my day...wow that sounded old!)  always backed onto an alley.  Maybe a long driveway leading up to it - but never in front! Sometimes not more than an expanded  garden shed (wooden) or on occassion an outbuilding on a farm, but more on that later!  The cops knew where they were and occassionally popped round to "make sure everyone was okay" (Okay!!)

For those who were there - or hung out somewhere else in a similar garage in those days - I shouldn't have to describe "the stance" but for those who don't know (or just because I like writing about it) I'm going to anyways!

Male or female, it doesn't differ.  The Stance - it's when you are standing, legs slightly parted, one arm folded and on your belly, head tilted to the side and often with a smoke hanging out of your mouth, gesturing with the other hand often while it's holding a beer bottle to whatever or whomever you are talking about. And after a point is made, taking a deep drag or a long pull on the beer - listening to the agreement or disagreements from the others in the vicinity.  At the end of the night, the Stance sometimes required a backward balancing step to off set gravity - which was dead set on taking advantage of those beers!
Gravity can be cruel..and many good laughs were had because of it! 

But that was a lifetime ago, and although I have many memories - snapshot and otherwise - of those long nights in the garage with da boys, it was part of what makes me who I am.  A smart mouthed, quick witted, no crap kind of woman.  And good around bikes!

And from many hours of riding, sharing stories, telling jokes, arguing and just having fun I made some really really good friends.  As fate would have it I just reunited with a couple of da boys after a long absence.  One is my buddy who will be called "chickenhawk" to protect the not so innocent!  The other we'll call SFC.  And you'll read more about them as memory serves me and as time goes on.

For both of these guys - both still friends since well before my favorite husband Mac, it was like old times - and like no time had passed since we'd seen each other.  I'm looking forward to a day when we can assume the stance, and tell tales about where we've been, what we've seen and life in general.

I've had a lot of bikes, and a lot to do with bikes in my life.  Maybe not the fastest rider, the fanciest bikes, or the most exotice places but my riding days are among the most cherished of my life.  And my rides have lead me to some pretty dang good adventures, great people and to my darling Mac. 

Next time when you are at a party, I dare you to slip into the stance.  Betcha all your buddies will assume the stance in about 10 minutes into the conversations!!

Life's Short - Ride Hard!

High Desert in Idaho - amazing big spaces!

There's gotta be a way... 

Some how, some way I need to find a way to make money riding my motorcycle and writing about the amazing experiences I've had!

I could wax philosophical and go on for hours about the zen-ness of being on a bike in a vast wild paradise, how it feeds my soul, renews my spirit, allows me to wrestle and come to agreement with all the old demons and ghosts that hang over my shoulder during my "normal life".

Or I could just go wild, give in to my inner secret self - that old buddy Wanda (as in Wandalust!) who urges me at the most innapropriate and surprising times to set my purse down, grab my keys and boots - and into the sunset I ride!! Ah how blissful would that be? Warm Pacific wind beckoning me to ride faster, over the mountains with wintery peaks, through miles of flowers and forest until I find myself side by side with twisting coastal highways....ahhh yes that would be so nice!

Why not mornings rolling out of a comfy bed in time for coffee with the sunrise, leather's at the ready, tank full of gas and good tires - and just head out - letting the weather determine the route - travelling until the beauty of the surroundings beg you to stop to just sit and listen to ...NOTHING for a while? Watching antelope race through the sage, hearing red tail hawks cry out as they glide for the sheer joy of being able to fly! Seeing fellow riders on the road, sharing a beer, a coffee or a sandwich in a friendly place..chap clad legs stretched out as I lean back into the seat and laugh at a shared experience?

His eyes crackling with laughter, my husband and best forever damn I love him riding partner - sometimes teasing me till I am nearing the red line of anger, only to make me laugh out loud at my foibles, or in amazement that he had the nerve to push me that far! Oh he's a fantastic guy to travel with - knows all the schedules, studies maps and can't remember their numbers once the trip is underway.  Mac is one of a kind - we both studied like it was finals to prep for our most recent venture into California, and be damn if when the rubber hit the road - we both forgot it all! LOL It was heaven all compressed into two and a half weeks!

So my challenge now - or ONE of my challenges now - is to figure out how to make a living riding my bike.  Reporting on the adventures, the highs, the lows, the good, the bad and the ugly of being all over the place on a bike with a variety of people!

This blog has been a starting point and a bit of a test drive - can I actually put to paper in an intellegent way some of my many life adventures? And although it's not going to be pretty - I'm feeling more ready than ever!

Is it because I just got, as they say "another year older and deeper in debt", or is it that a week ago at the local bike dealer's I sat on THE BIKE OF MY DREAMS and as I was drooling over it realized I'll be 60 before I can buy it!! Freaking 60!!!!! Humbling.  Yikes, when the hell did I get this old?

Yup, I pull on the chaps, tie up my boots, zip up my jacket and I'm....ageless! The same as I was how many decades ago? A better rider for sure.  But I feel...so hard to describe - maybe 35? 40? 50? can't say! But I feel good - complete, where I should be. How I was meant to feel as a human being. Can this be my total destiny?

My current job is satisfying, tho a bit restrictive - even with all the freedom to create, be imaginative, it's still a shackle to a computer.  My ride? It's totally free.  Ok not "free" in the monetary sense, but free in the sense I am the one calling the shots, making my own decisions, making the most of the moment.  Not at the expense of my relationships - of course I am happy to be part of a pair, but in the sense that it's so fulfilling to be riding and traveling with my husband, that he's like the icing on the cake!

And with that last almost dewey eyed revelation, reality now demands that I attend another Council meeting, focus on making money to pay the bills -- and to keep me on the road! (at least until I can figure out how to ride and live!)

Keep the shiny side up and the rubber side down friends!

Oh May O Me O My O

Summer signs are here - high winds, keeping hawks aloft, ducks and geese busy building and brooding...hot evenings, cool dawns, and of course a chorus of birds!

About time you might say, with summer yard work, house chores, vacation plans....but hey, it's time that I don't have to spare.  Dust the furniture? On a nice  day - you gotta be joking! Dust is just a way of protecting your surfaces, it provides a good place to write in a phone number when you can't find a pen! Don't laugh - you know I have done this!

And yard work - highly over rated! Why deny the young lad his biweekly $20 bill to mow both front AND back lawns when there are two totally capable motorcycles in the garage?  So a fie o the weeds and crab grass, pfffssstttt to the dusting, and ok I'll start the dishwasher but that is where I draw the line....and onto the open road!

Early season bees abound, and sadly each trip out decreases their number as they insist on smashing into my helmet and if I don't duck quickly enough, into my face! Youch!  The riding tho - it's so wonderful! Our routes don't take us into a lot of traffic, so we enjoy broad vistas, bright sun, and small herds of antelope in the feilds beside us.  I even got to see a wee baby 'lope, sleeping on the green grass, surrounded by mothers, aunts and likey some hidden cousins!

Fuzzy antlered bucks watch us as we whiz past - and how can one not whiz when the only thing on the highway might be the odd gopher or a fast moving snake?   A farmer is mowing his ditches and the smell of fresh grass which smells like the colour green looks - bright, vibrant, new.... ahhh this is why I love to ride!

So it's back to the house, back to the office, and another week...evenings now spent looking at maps and website, making plans for a journey to the west and south. 

And why am I blathering on about this?  Well dear reader, because I love it.  I love the thought of seeing new roads, revisiting old roads from the past, of sharing the joys, the humour and the amazement of a motorcycle trip with my beloved - and then a nice warm evening with wine and reflection....can't wait! End of June is the start of my adventure - two and a half glorious weeks on the road.  Our vacation doesn't take us  to big cities or busy interstates, instead we've found small bed and breakfasts, wee motels and out of the way cabins.  It will be glorious!

Until departure day, we continue to dream, ride to get into shape for long days, chatter about what I want to pack, and polish the bikes.  THEY should be cleaned, the furniture and the floors will have to wait until it rains!

And now......IT'S SPRING!

Sing out for spring - and that is exactly what seems to be happening here in the Foothills! The delicate mauve of crocuses or crocii to be exact, the joyful songs of robins as they push and shove for position and no doubt to catch the eye of some "sexy lady robins" - why do they make me think of Barry White?  No deep rumbly bedroom voices there - but for enthusiastic song, for a trill inserted among the 'cheery-up cheery oh' of those red chested Romeos - there really isn't much comparison!

Full of Chinese from the local dining establishment, we decided a nice evening drive was in order - so off we "motored" through feild and vale - okay actually it was onto a gravel road near town - to see the spring sights, and listen to the frogs.  Mais ouis, I said frogs - spring peepers to be precise.  Oh okay science boy, that may not be the proper genus and whatever, but if you have enjoyed a spring on the prairies, then you know why we drove out, found a slough, turned off the car and just sat there - windows and sun roof open, the buzz of some early rising bees still sending out scouts to see what was in bloom, and listened to the chorus of peepers! A sound that in my mind, if it had a colour, would be brightest of green - that is how 'spring like' they are! I have never seen one - even as a kid, I'd sneak up to the edge of the water (read puddle, ditch, slough or dugout) and try to locate even one of this little singers.  And although it was obvious to my ear, that this singing miracle frog was some where very near by, just when I was convinced this was going to be the lucky day I saw one in full song, they would all stop.  Dead stop.  Not a peep, not a reep, not a squeak - nuttin'.  So finally, I think I gave up on trying to see one - I think that was last year.  But I digress - as I tend to - the frogs were in fine voice tonight, and as we sat there, hubby said "I heard a meadowlark!".

Now over the years it is I who hear the first meadowlark, it is I who rushes into the house yelling in an excited tone that yes, yes, I heard the first one each spring! And this year? HA!!! I blame the noisy crazy robins, or the pair of overly vocal geese that at that exact moment chose to do a fly by honking like big-rigs overhead.  My friends, in the spring of 2012 I was not first. 

But perhaps there is some justice to hubby hearing that first series of strong, vibrant, fearlessly cheerful sound! So stricking with that brilliant yellow chest, and strong black v neck...sitting on fence posts or down in the tall grass no doubt doing their best Barry White to attract a mate.  Isn't that what spring is all about? Rejuvenation? The joy of life - listen to the thrilling or dare say it optomistic call of spring birds - they really do seem to rise up to the challenge of performing, competing not only for territory but for mates and in my mind, for the right of being 'the first' of the season.

Is there a better way to cheer oneself than to share in the joy of first spring songs? Like the Psalm says, it "doth good like a medicine."  And to me and to my darling husband, it see healing taking place every day, joy returning to our hearts - it's spring and the sun is shining, things are returning to normal, memories are growing fond and deep and we can again laugh and have fun together!

So without sounding like a big soppy mush, let me recommend a belly full of chop suey, a good travelling partner, and a slow drive in the evening sun where the destination is to sit quietly beside a feild and hear the sounds of pure joy.  Frogs, meadowlarks, and all the spring creatures which I think tonight were sent specifically to encourage us to get on with life and not miss a single moment of joy!

Until we meet again .... joyful noise!

A brief note on grief.

“Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.”
― Brian Jacques, Taggerung

Lost: one Mo-Jo. Reward for it's return. With apologies to song writers all over.

If you believe what you read in the papers, and on the 'net' it's apparent there are a lot of doomsday end-o-time kind of people out there.  Books and movies about 2012 - the Mayan year of great change - point towards December 12 2012 - or 121212.  The end of the world as we know it?  Hmm makes me want to put on a Bare Naked Ladies album! Or is it?  In my mind it's more of a march onward through life - as in Hup one two one two one two....

They tell me life is a journey, not a destination.  I so firmly believe that is true! Allow me to wax philosophical for a moment or three: Where a person ends up on the road of life is nothing compared to what one does while on that road.  Which way did you choose - the old straight and narrow or long and winding? And why is this blog full of Beatles lyrics?  Hmmmm points to ponder!

But seriously - and this has been a serious year so far - life can throw even the most ardent traveller a loop just when you think you've recovered from the last crisis.  For example, this year, New Years Eve saw yours truly doing the Joe Cocker imitation of "get by with a little help from my friends".  Let me illucidate.

 For those of you who get all squiggey about personal details, and soul baring pain, maybe today's blog isn't for you. Fair warning.  

The end of the year brought me spasms - not of joy or sorrow, but actual spasms! To be honest the first one was such a surprise I was convinced that it was a stroke! Well, since it was my right side, my menno-logic said noooo it's not a stroke - but what the heck! My arms, toes, fingers, legs and all muscles on the right side contracted for about 2 seconds, no matter the position I was in and making me look like Joe Cocker doing his solo! Very weird! Didn't hurt, but was disturbing for sure for anyone who was with me who hadn't been briefed.  Uhuh.    So off to the doc, the chiro, the massage therapist - only to discover after several dozen vials of blood (ok maybe 4 but I'm a wimp!) that I was low on magnesium! Who knew?? Apparently my fall diet of bread, cookies, meat of all demoninations and noodles didn't have enough of this vital mineral! Enter brocolli, spinach, pumpkins seeds and halibut!  Adding a supplement daily didn't hurt either - so three days after  the culprit was identified, Joe Cocker left the building!

Add that to $1400 worth of firewood magically appearing after two trees blew down during an epic windstorm onto the neighbors house and had to be removed by a licenced tree trimmer (wallet trimmer is more like it) we were a bit in shock! Eeeep that was not in the January budget - but what the heck we can survive! At least our house didn't burn in a massive prairie fire like 5 other folks that day!

All these are minutia compared to the horrible and sudden loss of my youngest step-son this March, m husbands son Bryon.  How awful it is for a father to lose a child - to have to say good bye to a boy who is going to be 30 in two weeks but who will never reach that age.  Who has struggled with diabetes since he was eight, and who, because of not having his breakfast after his shot of insulin, and falling into a sleep he'd never wake from - has been taken from us. 

The pain is so strong.  I think the hardest is watching a spouse who has lost their joy, who's heart is ripped apart every day.  This is where the small issues of day to day life become even smaller.  Who cares that the car isn't washed and the house isn't spotless?  These things are so trivial  and inconsequential in comparison.  But we continue to attend to these chores to keep life normal.

As a wife, I remain as strong as I can - and draw on our faith, family and friends to carry us both through.  As humans we have to deal with our grief, and the grief of those we love.  Yup it's a process, and not a clean and fast one - it's messy and it takes time.  But we don't quit, we don't give up - we trust in our God and keep moving forward.  As they say, life goes on.

Marching as it were, one foot in front of the other, one two one two one two.  And that is how we in our house, and in the houses of sons will make it through this leg of the journey!

Lost passwords - into the Oh Cr@p Zone!

As often as I've wished, nay pined to blog in the early year, alas all efforts have been thwarted.  Terrorist actions? Subterfuge? Alien invaders?  Alas the reason is simple - as simple as I.  Tis age.  Marching onward, my post 50 age has impacted my memory. 

Life was not so complicated in the long long ago - there was no need to memorize and enact several security clearances in the form of a password.  Or secret log in name.  Or super secret code with vague questions to remind you of the now long forgotten secret password.  Questions framed to jog a memory lead to more confusion.  My first teacher? My favorite pet? My first out of country vacation? Why not ask me what was my favorite blankie or first out of body experience? These are all about as meaningful as...well as my password.

And if the selection of the password was my choice, why on earth did I choose something so obscure, so mundane, that no amount of forehead slapping would reveal to me what it was!  I just couldn't recall - and for some unknown reason I hadn't entered my secret password in my super secure vault on my Blackberry!

Now the Blackberry, or BB to those in the know, is a great way to store all your secret passwords.  It's a vault whose gates hide the passwords to my phone, my computer, my bank account, various other bill accounts and my Kobo.  What tho would happen if my super duper secret deluxe password, the one and only that I use to open this repository to all things Marlean were lost in the O Cr@p Zone! THIS WOULD BE A DISASTER OF EPIC PROPORTIONS! So in order for this massive failure not to take place, I have my code of codes, the big secret squirrel one that is forever embedded in my mind.  And so far - it works!

Unless you get into the safe deposit of all things password-related and can't remember that damn password.  Which eventually I did - after using a variety of combinations of names, places, numbers and upper/lower case.  Phew!

The reward dear reader is my ability to re-enter the sacred world of the blog - that calm, clean, undemanding place where I am able to blather at leisure on topics that range far and wide.  From my pet cat to pinterest...it's all here waiting to be let out, released as it were with the one secret password to my life.

Thank you my friends! Good evening.....

Oratory of the Ornaments - A Basement of Baubles and Bling

Sitting on the couch early January putting away Christmas tree decorations - I asked myself "when did we start journaling our lives by what we hang on the tree?" 

From years ago I have what were likely inexpensive at the time plastic - or maybe something pre-plastic? baubles that I have come to treasure.  Yes they are old, not flashy; they don't blink or make sounds, and many are hung on the original butcher string that my mom used to hang them on the old tree when I was 5 yrs old - but I love them all the same. 

As I search through our tree for all the stuff I had so much fun hanging almost 2 months ago - it occurs to me that I definately have my favorites.Yes I have named them - you mean you don't??   Oh the Onions and Disco Ball are pretty, but there are leaders in this pack.  The Golden Lantern - a strange open beaded structure - with fake candle which inadvertently pops out each year, and string and wire home made hanger.  I used to imagine it was magic, that the light would shine out to Santa who would come and deliver wonderful presents! I still catch myself staring at it, and day dreaming about sleighs and snow and ..... but I digress!

Then there is the Stag in the Silver Pear - who swings inside, hanging there forever leaping off to somewhere? It was my absolute favorite - and I know my little fingers forever poked and moved it to show the little deer leaping inside - his silver antlers defining him as Santa's best! O the imagination of children.  And if you know me,  you gotta believe I had a humdinger of an imagination when I was a kid.

Those were what hung on the family Christmas tree, along with the fragile glass balls that broke when you walked by them, when I first realized that Santa may have delivered the toys, but mom and dad wrapped them! Laying on my tummy and peaking into the kitchen under the bedroom door as my brothers and sister slept, I saw Ma and Pa on sitting cross legged playing with the airplane, the Easy Bake Oven and toys spread all around them! I can still feel shivers of excitement knowing that I'd peeked!! And after the pandemonium of opening gifts, we'd all pile into the car - something big and American made - and plow through the prairie roads to grandpa and grandmas.  It meant a new comb, clothes, socks, oranges and hard candy.  Ah yes, piling 4 sugar crazed kids into a  car to head out in the snow for an hour drive - what a treat that must have been for my young parents (gasp!)

And now I pack up the schmoopy decorations - the ones my hubby and I have gathered over our past 12 years together - "First Home", "Our Christmas Together", "The Two of Us" - commemorating years, moves, new homes, and the wonder of two people who love Christmas.    And I mean LOVE Christmas!  Each one is put back into its own box, all meaning so much to me that sometimes I get all sniffly when I see them.  Hey yer reading from a woman who drags the tree out of the basement on November 12th.

Our poor old tree - purchased on Vancouver Island, the prelit darling is tall and full - but alas, like many folks as they age, "the lights don't go all the way to the top" any more.  Yes indeed when first it was twinkling in the living room awaiting the balls and ribbons and garland - all lights indeed were shining forth as it were.  Then one day late November Mac says - did ya know yer lights are out? WHAT! How can this be? With Griswaldian attention to detail I checked - he checked, we both checked - plugging and replugging, switching bulbs - but it was not to be.  A dark lightless gap had appeared mid way up the tree - leaving a power outage which implied no one was home.  Closed until furthur notice.

Thank goodness the hardware store was open.  The strick yet efficient salesperson quickly dispersed any illusions of replacing one burnt out bulb - "We don't carry them - you'll have to buy some LED lights".  Rats! So on went the short but brilliant white string of LED lights - and now Hubby says next year we'll replace all the lights on O Taunenbaum with new ones.  Why do I have a sense of many hours of snipping off old wires, trying to attach new wires with teensy weensy straps and an end of heading to Costco for a new tree? THAT isn't positive thinking at all!

Yes the outdoor lights are now rolled and tucked into their respective bunks, the house is returning to normal (It's dusty and needs a vacumm - that's as normal as my house ever gets!)  A huge wind storm early in the year has robbed us of our two mature green ash trees - and left us with a cleanup bill and a pile of logs - which we've given to a friend as a large labour intensive birthday gift! The leftover Christmas baking is safely tucked into the deep freeze, the turkey has been converted to soup, and the BEST EVER Christmas cake is waiting for a cold winter night to come out and warm us.

Even the angel has had it's day - and the one that graces our tree comes from my hubby's youth.  She's petite, no fibre optics or massive wings - but she shines and glitters - occassionally at a bit of a slant - and makes me feel that all is really going to be okay in the world.  She is always the last packed, the first unpacked.  I haven't given her a name but she looks like a Mabel to me.  She watched over us for another loving Christmas.

I feel our house is blessed and look forward to what the Lord has planned for us this year - good, bad or ugly - how we respond to events beyond our control will determine our joy and sorrow.  This I know in my heart of hearts.  We are safe and warm, and have a loving circle of family and friends.  And that, along with Mabel and my old ornaments, sustains me until next Christmas.

Now it's time for a cuppa and some of the shortbread I stashed in the cupboard! Have a wonderful new year, stay filled with faith and pray for some snow!