Deborah Lewis

We had family for Christmas, my husbands sister and her husband and their
two kids. The boys are 13 and almost 17.
They came late the Sunday before Christmas, and we all stayed up into the
wee hours, talking until the kids passed out.
Monday we went shopping for stocking stuffers for everyone and wandered
around and ate Chinese food and stopped in a funky little shop that sells
all things Celtic. We listened to the guy play the uilleann (sp) pipes
and there was a woman there buy and trying out low whistles. Very cool.
And we found the most amazing chocolate mints there...
We came home and watched National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.
Tuesday we cooked and listened to music and baked and talked and strung
dried berries and fruit for the birds, then hung it in the pine tree and
watched the dog try to jump for it.
The 17 year old is a musician and he played guitar for us and little bits
on the piano. He liked some of the old songs I learned from my aunt and
tried to play them. We looked for the music on the Internet and
couldn't find it, but he left with a good idea how to play some of them
on guitar.
We went to the Catholic service Christmas eve, it was beautiful. The
only one who's Catholic is my brother in law but his family goes at
Christmas. David and Dylan had never been. That's amazing because even
I had been before, me, the heathen, with Catholic friends.
Christmas morning we opened stockings and made a huge breakfast and
opened more gifts. After visitors and neighbors had wandered in and out
again we made some soup and loaded up and went snowshoeing. We haven't
had a lot of snow so we drove north of town to Millers lake and finally
found enough snow to make it worthwhile. We wanted to go across the
lake so David went out first to check the ice. There is an enticing
little island in the middle and we thought that would be a good
destination but the ice wasn't strong enough and David had to come back.
He's not very tall, and kind of stocky, and he came back to shore with
the determination of a small bulldozer, all that adrenaline I suppose,
and a big grin and one wet boot.<g>
We headed into the trees instead. It was a glorious day. Dylan and
Evan went way out ahead of us slower folk and liked being the trail
blazers. They saw an owl and came back to report it. We saw elk and
deer.
I saw the first Blue jays and Stellers jays I've seen all winter.
We stopped and built a fire and ate hot soup and crusty bread. We made
hot chai and everyone was happily buzzing for the hike out. We couldn't
feel our toes when we got back to the cars.
On the drive out from the lake we stopped where we had found a deer skull
last summer, a big one with the rack still on it. We couldn't find it
again in the snow, but there were juniper trees there on the south side
of this little hill and they were full of Cedar waxwings. Evan said it
was the Christmas tree that God made.

We all changed into warm things when we got home and watched "A Christmas
story." The boys knew the dialog by heart.

Thursday everyone had different plans and my plan was just to stay in bed
forever. The dogs got me up at six but I went back to bed after they ate
and went outside. David went downstairs at seven thirty and I heard him
say, "Oh my God!" Imagining a pile of poo or a big huge hair ball or
something nasty I sprang out of bed and flew downstairs to find the
Christmas tree had fallen over. I hadn't heard a thing. It was
vertical at six, I had both eyes open, I would have noticed. David is
the get excited and panic a little type so he ran back upstairs to get
his shoes on and I just grabbed that tree and yanked it up, Bruce Willis
style. If it had gone south it would have leaned up against the big
window and maybe slithered down from there. If it had gone east it would
have cleared off my plate rail and all my stoneware and Polish pottery.
West and it would have got the piano and all the pictures and candles and
the little paper model of the Globe theater. But it went quietly and
happily north, and laid right down through the kitchen doorway. Only the
tree topper broke. I was feeling a little sentimental about that, it was
the topper we bought our first Christmas together. Nothing special, the
box still said $2.99, we bought it at the Pay n Pack in Wasilla, Alaska.
Then, Dylan told me it wasn't that topper made our Christmas's special,
but our Christmas's that made the topper special. He bought me new
topper that afternoon, an old fashioned looking Santa.

David had to work New years day but the rest of us stayed up and finally
drank some of that bottle of champagne that had been in our fridge since
New years eve 2000. It wasn't very good champagne to begin with, and the
ageing didn't improve it any. We built blue bird houses New years day
and some have gone back to Colorado now, but the others will go up when
we get the information from the bluebird trails folks about where to
place them. Always and forever now we have to maintain them for the
bluebirds, like responsible landlords.
The first bird I saw in 2003 wasn't a bluebird, but the pigeon with a
broken wing and pneumonia who is recovering (noisily) in our living room.
But after that there were little House finches.

We couldn't have asked for a nicer holiday.

Today I took my mother (she'll be 81 in March) and her sister (85)
shopping in the next town at Wal-mart.
Today was the third and that means it's the day these ladies get their
social security checks. It also, always means Wal-mart day.
I hate Wal-mart. But I got to go to the thrift store and I found used
Pendleton wool shirts, just right for cutting up and making rugs, SUCH a
find, five good shirts for $12.00. I was in heaven until I got home and
David said he liked them and they'd be good work shirts and how COULD I
cut up such good shirts for hooked rugs?

So I'll cut up his old cotton shirts tomorrow for braided rugs
instead.<g> One way or another, we will have rugs.

Dylan's playing a Crash Bandicoot game he found for Playstation at the
thrift store, while his dad gives pointers. None of the pointers are
helpful and there's a lot of good natured arguing going on out there.
I'm off to walk the dogs.

Hope you're all recovering from too much food and too much cheer.

Deb L

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Deb,
That was really nicve. I really enjoy when you all post stories.
*~*Elissa Jill*~*
unschooling Momma to 3 beautiful brilliant people
Loving partner for life to Joey
terrible guitarist, fair singer and happy woman.


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[email protected]

In a message dated 1/3/03 8:37:42 PM, ddzimlew@... writes:

<< On the drive out from the lake we stopped where we had found a deer skull
last summer, a big one with the rack still on it. >>

OOOH!

Maybe I should change my font. I read it "with the rock still on it."

I thought, "DAMN! Somebody killed a deer with a big rock!"

Maybe I just need to wipe my glasses off and drink some tea.

But it was an interesting vision, and made your interesting story even more
interesting! <bwg>

Sandra

Deborah Lewis

On Sat, 4 Jan 2003 10:20:12 EST SandraDodd@... writes:

> I thought, "DAMN! Somebody killed a deer with a big rock!"

The brother in law along on that adventure is a big he man hunter guy.
He once paid a small fortune to hunt brown bear in the Yukon, where the
guide baited, and then took his pick which big, hand fed bear to shoot.
My husband told him he might have just gone to the Denver zoo, same big
type bears, no travel and the fine would have been cheaper than the
outfitter.
Anyway when we saw a big bull elk he said how he wished he had his gun
and how well that big elk head would look over his fire place.
The mind of a person who can look at a live majestic animal and think the
dead stuffed thing is more beautiful is beyond me in the first place, but
just because I'm mouthy I told him a real man would charge the bull and
wrestle it to the ground and choke the life out of it with his bare
hands. (I didn't think about using a rock). Then and only then would
the trophy be a real trophy and of course the politically correct thing
to do would be to offer stud service to the herd. Carl is NOT a Montana
native, where men are men and sheep are nervous, he's from Wisconsin and
Catholic on top of that so that part was wholly unappealing to him.
But for the rest of the day we didn't have to hear about how he'd like to
kill stuff.
I bet I know what he'd have really liked to choke.<g>

Deb L

[email protected]

In a message dated 1/4/03 9:28:59 AM, ddzimlew@... writes:

<< just because I'm mouthy I told him a real man would charge the bull and
wrestle it to the ground and choke the life out of it with his bare
hands. (I didn't think about using a rock). >>

I think a knife would be fair, especially a knife he made himself of iron he
dug and smelted by hand.

<<Then and only then would
the trophy be a real trophy and of course the politically correct thing
to do would be to offer stud service to the herd. >>

Susan Brownmiller would have a lot to say about that. The spoils of war
through the ages is the spreading of the victors' semen in the surviving
female population.

I think you were politically incorrect, but anthropologically and
historically dead on.
(Except the small inter-species detail.)

Sandra

Deborah Lewis

On Sat, 4 Jan 2003 11:36:25 EST SandraDodd@... writes:

> I think you were politically incorrect, but anthropologically and
> historically dead on.
> (Except the small inter-species detail.)

Ah! I see it now, too late!
But the bull is still happily with his herd and Carl is, maybe, at the
zoo, and I still have time to learn political correctness. (will have
to pencil it in between raiding experimentation labs and throwing blood
on fur clad models).<g>

Deb L

marji

At 09:27 1/4/03 -0700, you wrote:

>The brother in law along on that adventure is a big he man hunter guy.
>He once paid a small fortune to hunt brown bear in the Yukon, where the
>guide baited, and then took his pick which big, hand fed bear to shoot.
>My husband told him he might have just gone to the Denver zoo, same big
>type bears, no travel and the fine would have been cheaper than the
>outfitter.

Yes, and maybe he would have been putting that Denver Zoo bear out of its
misery.

>Anyway when we saw a big bull elk he said how he wished he had his gun
>and how well that big elk head would look over his fire place.
>The mind of a person who can look at a live majestic animal and think the
>dead stuffed thing is more beautiful is beyond me in the first place, but
>just because I'm mouthy I told him a real man would charge the bull and
>wrestle it to the ground and choke the life out of it with his bare
>hands. (I didn't think about using a rock). Then and only then would
>the trophy be a real trophy and of course the politically correct thing
>to do would be to offer stud service to the herd. Carl is NOT a Montana
>native, where men are men and sheep are nervous, he's from Wisconsin and
>Catholic on top of that so that part was wholly unappealing to him.
>But for the rest of the day we didn't have to hear about how he'd like to
>kill stuff.

YEAH!!! I would have loved to been with you on that hike, just to be
witness to this colorful exchange. (Although your telling of it is really
good.)

>I bet I know what he'd have really liked to choke.<g>

(G)

This just gets better and better, Deb!

Marji

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Deborah Lewis

On Sat, 04 Jan 2003 09:03:26 -0800 marji <marji@...> writes:

> YEAH!!! I would have loved to been with you on that hike, just to
> be
> witness to this colorful exchange.

I get along really well with him. He's a nice guy and very interesting
and though we don't agree on much we enjoy the disagreements! <g> He's
colorful and witty and a real pleasure to talk with. And he can sing! I
was sorry to see them all leave. It's been SO quiet here!

Deb L

Tia Leschke

>
> << On the drive out from the lake we stopped where we had found a deer
skull
> last summer, a big one with the rack still on it. >>
>
> OOOH!
>
> Maybe I should change my font. I read it "with the rock still on it."
>
> I thought, "DAMN! Somebody killed a deer with a big rock!"

LOL!

Here's another story. My husband hunts for our meat when he can. Years ago
he was out hunting and saw some antlers sticking up from behind a big rock.
He circled carefully around to where he'd be able to see the whole deer.
When he got there, it was just a skull and antlers, probably an old cougar
kill. He brought it home, and after some years I made a basket out of it,
using the antlers as part of the basket structure but letting them stick out
above the basket. It was really cool.
Tia

marji

At 10:34 1/4/03 -0700, Deb L. wrote:

>I get along really well with him. He's a nice guy and very interesting
>and though we don't agree on much we enjoy the disagreements! <g> He's
>colorful and witty and a real pleasure to talk with. And he can sing! I
>was sorry to see them all leave. It's been SO quiet here!
>
>Deb L

I STRONGLY got this impression from your original post. It sounded like a
lot of fun to have them visiting.

Marji


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