'TWAS THE WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS!

Last Wednesday, our internet provider informed us he had numerous messages that our internet was out.  It was then I remembered turning off the power strip for the Christmas tree which also contained the plug-in for the internet thing-a-ma-jig.  He then asked us never to unplug it again.  Problem identified.

So that night as I got on my knees under the tree to specifically unplug the lights (not the power strip) I lost my balance, which is otherwise as precise as an atomic clock, and fell head-first into a small tilt table (which tilted graciously) slamming my head and left hip to the floor.  I went over like a top-heavy bowling pin, all the while thinking - this is just the sort of yule tide event that adds to the nostalgia of Christmas!

Husband was already nestled snug in bed with visions of the long run carrying oysters to Harrisonburg dancing in his head.  Therefore I hobbled off to bed to await the holidays with a throbbing hip.  Joy to the world.

Husband, finally home from his run, determined the solution to be a separate power strip for the tree lights.  Friday morning saw him on his back deep under the tree accomplishing that end.  Problem solved.  Then I heard him say, "I can't get up."  Problem #2 identified, to which there was only one solution, since all that was reachable were his feet.  When I checked behind me I realized I had to be the one to grasp him by the ankles and hobble backwards until his head cleared the tree.  He got up on his own.  Problem #2 solved.

Our family will all be together this year, and we wish all of you a happy loved-filled Christmas.

PS:  Show love to someone who needs it.

A VISIT FROM NELLIE AND BILL

On Saturday, as I lay resting on the sofa, a familiar face appeared at the window.  It was my only surviving aunt and her husband Bill.  There is no better news than the sight of them looking so well and happy.

Nellie Pearl Strigle Berger Braxton and LtCol Leon E. (Bill) Braxton

She at 86 and he at 95 motored up from their home in Tampa, FL, to visit relatives and friends along the way, their ultimate destination in Pennsylvania.  They recently relocated to a small rental home on an island off Tampa, finding retirement community living too full of "old people."  I think that was the right decision.  

Bill has just written his third book in partnership with a friend, "Birth of a Legend, The Bomber Mafia and the Y1B-17."  He was a flyer in World War II and kept friends with his whole crew, some of whom lived near us.  The book is a comprehensive account of the bombers of that era and the pioneers of aviation who contributed so much to the building of today's air force.  It is so interesting to be able to hear accounts of his experiences 70 years ago which began at Langley Field, Virginia, just a few miles from us.

The Cover of the Book Bill co-wrote with CAPT Arthur H. Wagner USCG (Ret)

This book may be ordered online at www.trafford.com

or email orders@trafford.com.

It was so great to see them.

And so hard to say goodbye.

THIS BEAUTIFUL DAY

This morning is glorious.  The air is cool, clean and filled with the bright golden hope of autumn days to come.

The View Out My Back Door

I saw on Waverly Lane the wild flowers my mother-in-law so loved and went and photographed them in her memory.  She had tiny little vases on her kitchen window sill filled with the likes of what I saw growing.

When it comes to beauty, Nature has no equal.

Blues shimmering in the morning sun remind me of 

Husband's mother, who wore the color so well.

Before her death, her son John (who died in 1984) planted this Rose of Sharon Hibiscus at the edge of our yard on Waverly Lane.

A beautiful Reminder of Those Now Gone

Plants are preparing to replace themselves by producing seeds in great quantity, and preparing for the long winter's nap to come.

The Magnolia Tree with Seeds for New Trees

HE SAID/SHE SAID

My mother once informed me that in conduct with the opposite sex, a girl must be in charge.  As a four-year-old, this didn't mean much to me, but I took the core caution to heart and as time went on my posture toward men became mostly defensive.  Actually Mother had me so frozen with fear that I didn't thaw out until 1960.

It is amusing that for so long women's monthly tornado of female mood swings have been given as evidence of unsuitability for high office.  The hormonal hand on the doomsday button was always the implied fear for the safety of all humankind.

Then it should be mentioned that men are governed by debilitating powerful hormones also, which nature found to be successful in procreation, and they are not anchored to any monthly cycle but are in force all the time.  They render men mostly disconnected from reason and ready to pounce with the speed and good judgement of a mousetrap upon any willing or seemingly willing female, forgetting completely about the doomsday button.
-

Dance at Bougival by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

And a one, and a two (as Lawrence Welk would say)

She is dancing in her virginal off-white attire trimmed in passionate crimson, 

he appears to be dancing and planning his next move 

This is the source of confusion that men experience when seeking to explore the subject of rape.  Subjective paralysis overcomes their ability to think straight, as they empathize with the male pursuing the irresistible goal of sex:  Was he the victim of deliberate seduction?  Did she say no, but mean yes?  What did she expect dressed in a hot-red bonnet like that?   How dare she dangle her goodies under the nose of so helpless a victim, ever willing to excuse himself from culpability.

As Mother said, they can't help themselves and all other men believe in their victim-hood.  I think they have run that play for too long.  The good old boys want to go back to the 50's when women wore pearls and only dreamed about enjoying safe sex.  They are stepping all over feminine toes and thinking they're entitled to the privilege.  I think they misjudge us as well as our secretions, which will happily shut down the whole reproductive process when we are raped, as Mr. Akin said.

I think it is time to stand up for ourselves as women and tell the males wielding all the power to stop being so hysterical and just lie back and enjoy it.

ADVENTURES IN MOWING

August here on Waverly Lane has been hot, humid, stormy, and rainy - all conditions favoring the growth of nature's selected grasses, weeds, native seedling trees - everything but what you planted in June, which is shoulder-deep in thick masses of unwanted wild growth.

In order to keep pace with the green invasion, Husband and I set out on our personal lawn-mowing equipment:  the Cub Cadet (me), and the Toro Zero Turn (Husband).  He sits proudly ensconced between his steering levers as a king on a throne holding two scepters, while I sally forth on the "regular guy" Cub Cadet.  I notice a "sound" coming from my mower deck and get taken to task for mowing too close and bending something.  After his stern lecture, in which he belittles my competency and also defames my noble vehicle as a piece of "*#@!," we resume our work.

After an interval, I notice Husband is on foot beckoning me over and preparing for censure, I conclude I've done something else wrong.  This time, however, he is unusually smiling and pleasant as he asks me to pull him out of the deep ditch that outlines our side of Waverly Lane.  On arriving it was obvious Husband had tried gambling another dangerous edge and lost.

An Unusually Pleasant Husband 

Being Rescued While Wearing

His Biblical Slogan Tee Shirt

We hooked the Cub Cadet to the Zero Turn, in spite of their previous animosities (see wildonwaverlylane.blogspot.com/2011/10/dueling-in-sun.html) and go on with our mowing.

After the lawn is trimmed and beautiful, there was gratitude, and conciliation, and a little tear or two from the wind heron, who was overcome by humidity.

Zero Turn:

"Thanks for Pulling Me Out and You're Not a Piece of #@*!"

Cub Cadet:  "You're OK, if no one else is available."

(Sniff, blubber) "If Only a Group Hug Were Possible!"

I 

FAMILY PLAN

As parents, Husband and I have been described as unstructured slackers and even delinquency contributing bad examples.  We humbly admit that in steering the family ship of state, we have had our share of dragging bottom.  But all's well that ends well, if it ever does end.

Our Three Endure Hardships to Accomplish a

Cross-Country Family Experience (1977)

In spite of our shortcomings, we behold our three offspring and can only feel happy and thankful, whatever their present circumstances, to have them in our fold and their friends too.

Baby Sis, Middle Sis, and Their Friends

Cathy and Judy

At our recent get together, we were joined by several of their friends and listened to reminiscences of times past.  We got step-by-step how to manually strangle a cheating spouse; how to enjoy the ambiance of a gay resort though heterosexual; how to survive a reckless driving ticket (82mph in a 45mph zone...and you thought that would go unnoticed?); how to deal with mentally-compromised adult trick-or-treaters who show up a day early at your house way back in the woods.  Those are just a few highlights.  You had to be there holding your sides laughing!

 There Were Lots of Good Stories

Time and again people tell us that is is rare for families to want to be together, to want to help each other, and to truly show their pride in each other.  Even though we know we made missteps in parenting, Husband and I love what has resulted.

The Three Sisters

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDSON SAM

Happy seventeenth birthday to you and your dimples!

Remember when you came into the world and found yourself

wearing a weird little hat from Finland?  I do.

Remember when they outfitted you like Kareem Abdul

and got you a little guy plastic goal?  I do.

Remember when they took you to baseball games

and you ate it up?  I do.

The playground was fun, I know you remember that.

I do.

Some amusements made you light up that
didn't involve a ball.  I remember that.

You always enjoyed outdoors, the clipping, the cutting. 

I remember.

Most of all I remember that sunny sweet smile and
those dimples.  I do.