‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring……

……except for a mouse.

AH!!!!  SAY IT ISN’T SO!!!!!

The other day, as I was sweeping out the broom closet, I noticed that a package of little black seeds must have fallen on the floor, right behind the bag of dog food.  Alas, a closer look revealed that they were not seeds at all, but…..you know.  *shudder*  It seems that the old unused dryer vent in that closet lost it’s plug and word got out in the vermin community that just inside the hole was a Christmas dinner of Iams Weight Control nuggets.

You must understand what this does to my psyche.  I am not just disgusted by the thought of …..you know….being in my house.  I am completely creeped-out and feel intensely violated. I am unable to function normally and get tightness across my chest.  I walk about the house with eyes darting into all the dark corners; I open cupboards slowly and make loud coughing noises when I near the closet.  This is not just an aversion to…..you know…..it is a flat out phobia.  Standing on a chair and screaming is the only proper way to react to such a calamity.

I can’t even watch cute cartoon movies about these revolting critters. “Ratatouille”?  A mouse in the kitchen?   That’s a horror scene.  And even though Fievel Mousekewitz sang a great song in “An American Tail”, he still had a…. tail.  *cringe*  I know Cinderella was lonely, and I am aware of the fact that Gus and Jaq did free her so she could try on the glass slipper and fall in love with the Handsome Prince, but I would have chucked it all if it meant befriending a …… you know.  I could go on.  Why in the world are m-i-c-e made out to be loveable and kind-hearted in the movies?  *shiver* 

I’m just hoping and praying that sometime in the wee hours of this Christmas Eve night, we will hear that wonderous sound and I’m not talking about sleigh bells.  My heart will thrill at the SNAP of a peanut butter laden spring loaded trap.  Only then will I be able to reclaim my home for the holidays.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!

I lift up my eyes to the hills…  Psalm 121:1

In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him.  Psalm 95:4

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you.  Isaiah 55:12

For who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God?  Psalm 18:31

Mountains just make you want to think lofty thoughts.  They are one thing I wish I could have brought home with me.  Well, that and my daughter.  And my son-in-law.  So…three things.

AND NOW, FOR SOMETHING TOTALLY DIFFERENT:  As promised, pics of people in awkward positions trying to get comfortable in the vehicle.

It’s hard when you’re 6″3.

That’s better!

It’s harder when you’re 6″4.

Yep, those are Subway sandwiches.  The two boys didn’t stay long in the backseat because the back bumper started dragging on the highway.  I did enjoy a glorious hour in the front seat, though. 

Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.

After two and a half lovely days gathered as a whole family in Salt Lake City, five of us hopped back into the van and drove back east.  We decided to change things up on the way home.  We left the beautiful Wasatch Mountains that surround Salt Lake City in the daytime, thus having some real scenery to enjoy for hours.  By the time we hit Nebraska, it was getting dark and that suited us just fine.  The two boys pulled an all-nighter and drove throughout the wee hours of the morning.  My dear hubby took over at sunrise and carried us home, arriving at 7:30 a.m.  We made a pact to never drive 3,000 miles in five days again in our lifetime, but it was memorable and worth the time we had together.

                              The sibs standing in front of the Great Salt Lake.

                                     Carving the Thanksgiving turkey.

                             Looking out at my husband standing in the snow.

                                              Saying goodbye to the fam.

Reporting from somewhere west of where I usually am:

The 20 hour car ride turned into a much longer trek due to snow packed and slippery roads ALL ACROSS WYOMING.  We saw about 3 houses and aside from a lonely gas station along the interstate, very little proof of civilization.  Are there more than 12 people in Wyoming?  ‘Cause that’s all we counted.

My dear hubby drove all but 3 of those treacherous hours, bless his heart.  He’s the kind of man I can trust with my life – he’s proved that over and over.  But, being the considerate spouse that I am, I thought I should help him out on that bad stretch of highway by alerting him when he was getting too close to the truck in front of us, or suggesting he change lanes, or grabbing the door handle and stomping on the imaginary brake on my side of the floorboard.  You know, helpful stuff like that.

Because of one passenger’s aversion to unhealthy fast food, the only alternative was Subway.  So, we stopped at Subway in Iowa, Subway in Nebraska, and Subway in Wyoming.  When we pulled into our hotel last night, we couldn’t help but notice a Subway right across the street, which produced a gagging reflex by all.

      Iowa…or Nebraska…..no, Iowa……or Nebraska

          Nebraska, I’m pretty sure……or Iowa. 

          Definitely Nebraska……..or Wyoming.  A hill!!

              Wyoming…………

             Wyoming…………………..

               Wyoming…………………..

Over the holidays, we will be traveling across the country to see our daughter and her husband in Utah.  Yep, it’s a 20 hour car ride.  So, I’m thinking about what I need to bring along to make the time fly (since I can’t).   I’d appreciate your suggestions.  Keep in mind we are packing 18 years worth of our daughter’s memorabilia and special-somethings in the van, so space is limited.  Also take into consideration that 5 adults will be enjoying close-knit family time, so we all need to be as annoying-free as possible.  That reminds me, I’ll bring my knitting.

Here’s my list so far:

1. Knitting needles and yarn.  I shouldn’t need much yarn since I usually make a mistake about halfway through a scarf and have to unravel it all anyway.  (I don’t know how to pick up dropped stitches yet.)   I’ll knit through Iowa, unravel through Nebraska, knit through Wyoming, unravel through Utah.

2.  Ipod.  I need to remember to download some free podcasts and put all my Christmas music back on.  Thank you, Lord, for ipods.  I couldn’t stand to listen to my kids’ music.  What?  They feel the same about mine?  No way.

3.  Books:  I’m bringing “Radical” by David Platt.  (I had to wait 4 months on inter-library loan for this book.  Gonna be good.)  Oh, and my favorite, “Diary of Private Prayer” by John Baillie.  (See Oct. 6 post)  It’s always good to have some prayers handy in case we hit a blizzard in Cheyenne.  Magazines: Country Sampler, Shop Smart, Real Simple, Bible Study (yes, there is a magazine called Bible Study).  

4.  Videos:  Two sweet friends gave me the PBS presentation of “Emma” for my birthday.  My daughter and I will torture the boys with Jane Austin.  And talk in High English accents for miles and miles.  That shouldn’t be too annoying.

5.  Snacks: Granola bars, string cheese, apples.  Licorice. 

6.  Idea notebook.  You never know when inspiration will hit.  Plus, it’s always fun to record quotes from grouchy people in the backseat, unless I’m the grouchy person in the backseat.

7.  Computer.  Blogging on the road might be fun.  Solitaire will come in handy during hours 16-20.

8.  Camera.  Expect to see lots of pics of people sleeping in awkward positions in reclined car seats.  There will be numerous photos of treeless landscapes and a long ribbon of highway, I have a feeling. 

9. Crossword puzzles:  I’ve been stashing the daily newspaper crossword away for a few weeks.  I’ll try not to cheat by looking at the answers in the next day’s issue.

So, what else should be on my list?

Walking the dog is my job most of the time, which is really okay with me.  Before the sun rises, Bo and I walk around the neighborhood; she sniffs for rabbits, I listen to praise music on my ipod and talk to God.  If we didn’t have a dog, I’d be less likely to get up and go every morning, so I guess you could say Bo has contributed significantly to my spiritual life.  I’ve found I like getting up early to greet the day with a breath of fresh air on nice spring, summer and fall mornings.  Winter, though….not so much.  So my husband and I have worked out a system.  When Daylight Savings Time ends in the fall, he takes over the morning dog routine on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, while I have Friday through Monday.  Not quite even, but then again, there are an odd number of days in the week.   

Imagine my delight this morning, as we were discussing the coming transfer of dog duties, when he made a remarkable suggestion.  “How about a duet walk on Saturdays?  We could walk Bo together and go get a coffee.”  A duet walk.  Never in my life have I heard anything so sweet come from my man.  A duet walk.  I was astonished and amazed.  Instead of suggesting we take turns on Saturday, letting the other sleep in, he proposed a duet.

I guess that’s what we have been these past thirty-one years: a duet.  Each one playing a melody, but harmonizing with each other to create a life that neither could produce on our own.  There have been some dissonant times, probably when we just weren’t listening very well to each other; but, oh, when we’re on the same page and in sync with each other…..

From now on I am going to introduce him as my duet partner.

While my husband and I were on our first real vacation ever (I’m still dreaming about it), we ventured into town to take a look around.  I was intriuged by a sign adveritsing “Buck Snort Coffeehouse”.  I told my man I just HAD to get a coffee at Buck Snort.  Imagine my disappointment when we found the front door locked and building empty.  Evidently Buck Snort Coffeehouse was no longer in business, so I had to settle for a picture by the front sign.

And a picture by the sign on the side of the building. 

We went next door to the gift shop and asked the owner about the empty building.  And the sign.  She dialed up the owner, Inga, and handed the phone to my hubby.  He was a little startled, but talked to Inga about the sign, expressing interest in buying it.  Inga was perplexed, but said she’d get back to us.  Two days later, we checked back with the gift shop owner and once again, was handed the phone with Inga on the line.    “Okay,”  she said, “would $25 be too much?” 

So we hopped on over to the empty coffeehouse and unscrewed the sign (after borrowing a screw driver from a guy with tools in the back of his pick-up truck.  I love small towns!  He and his buddy and the gift shop lady all came out to watch us take down the sign.)  Then we left $25 in an envelope with Inga’s name on it at the gift shop.  We smiled all the way back to our cabin on the lake.  We smiled every time we got in the car and looked at the sign. 

 I smile every time I walk in my back door and see the “Buck Snort Coffeehouse” sign hanging in my ktichen.

There’s nothing prettier than the morning sun shining through jars of freshly canned grape juice.

In fact, I woke up my husband this morning and made him come out to the kitchen to view the breath-taking sight. He appreciates things like this. It’s one of the things I love most about him.

In the bleak midwinter, this grape juice will taste heavenly. Right now, it’s probably a little weak, but given time, this is grape juice at its finest. It needs to set awhile, soak awhile, sleep awhile. One raw, bitterly cold and snowy January evening, my hubby will pop some popcorn, I’ll get out the cribbage board, and we’ll pop open one of these jars. We’ll strain out the grapes and have a taste of late summer goodness.

Those wrinkly old grapes will have turned water into wine (well, juice, really). Miraculous!

As I get older and wrinklier (is that a word?) I hope I seep out enough flavor to leave a little beauty and sweetness in the world. As God steeps us in the ordinary, may we create something extra-ordinary. Perhaps even miraculous.

Vacation.  I highly recommend it.  I’ve never been on a real vacation before.  Oh, sure, we did some trips with the kids when they were young.  But traveling with little ones is not truly relaxing.  Memorable, but not relaxing.  And we’ve taken some time off to attend weddings, family gatherings and conferences.  Spending time with large groups of people is fun, but not necessarily relaxing.  I’ve always been anxious to return home and get back to a regular routine, and try to rest up from vacation.

We actually did it up right last week.  And for the first time, I wasn’t itching to get back home.  I experienced relaxation, refreshment and a restoring of my soul.  Here’s how to do it:

1.  Wait until the kids are old enough to fend for themselves, and responsible enough to take care of the dog.  ( It took us 31 years….)

2.  Pack a few clothes, a lot of books and fishing poles. 

3.  Drive north for about 4 hours.

4.  Find a cabin on a lake and move in.  Walk out onto the dock and drink in the sights, sounds, and smells.  Be amazed. 

5.  Take a deep breath and let all the knots, worries, concerns, problems and frets go.  Just let it all go.

6.  Repeat several times a day, every day, for as long as you possibly can.

Now, that’s a vacation.  You’ve got to try it.

I’m running away today.  With my husband.  Without my cell phone or computer.  No TV, no internet, no texting.  Only a bagful of books and journals, a boat, and a cribbage board.  I am beside myself with giddiness!

TTFN  (Ta-Ta For Now)