Those Crazy Cut-Ups: Mother Nature and Father Christmas!

A Happy New Year to all!

I'm sure things have been hopping at your home, too,

as time slid into the New Year, and then the 12 days

of Christmas ushered in the season of Epiphany on January 6th.

Our fresh Sunroom tree, back on December 18th, freshly decorated.
You can still see ornament boxes stacked in the lower right corner!
This tree is a Canaan Fir, and took 4 Rubbermaid bins of ornaments,
1,800 colored lights, and one strand of white lights around the trunk.
Howard is a lighting wizard.

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How was your Christmas?

Ours was lovely,

with both of our daughters and our son-in-law under our roof.  

We had a big party on December 21st, but I took no pictures.

Too busy!

Christmas morning at That Old House: 

Josh and Alida made Monkey Bread for breakfast,

a tradition borrowed from his family.

So good, your brains could fall out!

Anne made her lighter-than-air waffles,

this year gluten-free!

Waffles, real maple syrup, and breakfast sausages.
We don't skimp on Christmas feasting!

 And then, it got cold. 

Really, really cold.

Brass Monkey alert cold.

Our fence, this week, with the Christmas lights still
festooning it, and the thermometer crying "Uncle!"

Our resident red-headed bombshell, Gilda,

is not bothered by the cold at all.

She wears a nice, thick fur coat.

All the time. 

 Dylan DiPoochy, whose coat is rather thin

in comparison, is less happy with the frigid outdoors.

We fenced in a play yard for the dogs; here's part of it,

as seen from the dining room windows:

 They haven't spent much time playing in it.

Gee, I wonder why?

Meanwhile, in the house, Christmas still holds sway

. . . in the front hall: 

. . . in the Parlor: 

. . . and in the Sunroom, where the Canaan Fir

still stands, still in good shape.

I really hate to take down a Christmas tree! 

Sunroom tree, on Tuesday morning, 1/7/14.

Gilda has started to yank ornaments off the tree

and put them on the floor.

I think perhaps she's pushing me into restoring

the house to a more normal state.  Gilda is a very opinionated lady.

She likes to sleep on pillows,

and often tips one over to make a bed for herself.

The other day she used her nose to push a pillow off a club chair

and into a basket of clean folded laundry.

Nice little nest, isn't it?

Happy Epiphany to all!

This season of the church year brings us to Lent, to Ash Wednesday.

How 'bout that?  Before we know it, we will be looking at Spring.

I promise.  -- Cass

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Brain Picking, Part The Second

If you read yesterday's post about our Dylan's lust for 
polyester fiberfill and squeakers - how when they are 
inside a toy, they must be brought outside that toy - you 
may remember the pristine new
Alligator-Dinosaur-Dragon pictured 
alongside its bedraggled brothers.

Well, that pristine toy is pristine no longer.

Dylan, Gilda, and I . . . watching television last night in the study.

 I felt a little movement from Dylan.

 Yup.  He had the new toy, and was busily chewing its snout open.

He succeeded.

"Whew!  That was hard work!"

It's quite amazing how much fluff is contained in the head

of one of these little cheap toys.

 When he hopped down to get a drink of water,

I pounced on the toy and gave it a squeeze.

 That is not a big booger bubble coming out of what's left of New Toy's snout.

It's the plastic squeaker that had been in its belly.

Dylan has not eaten any fluff or any squeakers, but we take no chances.

Do you spot the OTHER two green toys on the floor?

Dylan returned.  He sniffed the toy suspiciously.

Mom had touched it.  Eeewww.....

But still, it was deemed snooze-worthy.

So now there are three disfigured Alligator-Dinosaur-Dragon toys.

And only one Dylan.

Many days I think that may be A Very Good Thing.

-- Cass

P. S.  Gilda, bless her heart, has zero interest in de-stuffing

         stuffies.  She just does not see the point.

We Need A Little Magic

I need a Fairy Blingmother to flit into
That Old House and begin the de-Christmas-ing.

 As much as I like tarting up the old barn in December,

is how much I do not like packing it all up again in January.

The house looks so bare and spare when all the

sizzle and lights are taken away.

But needs must, as they say.  This weekend,

slightly behind most of the rest of the world, we will get it done.

And I know there are others of you out there who

are also still gazing at your Christmas trees in full blaze.

You know who you are.

'Fess up.

*********************************

Dylan Dog is unsympathetic.

He doesn't understand the whole

tree-in-the-house thing anyway, and as long as he's got

his stuffed toys and warm soft places to snooze, he's good.

Today was not his favorite day of this week.

He got a bath.

"Watch out, Mom, them's my eyes!"

"I don't think I am supposed to be this wet.  Ever."

"See?  This is not a good look for me!" 

And a few seconds of video, of Dylan in his bath.

He fights getting into the sink, but once in he's pretty cooperative.
Although it takes him awhile, and lots of snacks, for him to forgive us.

That's Anne, telling Dylan he's a good boy.

So, I guess no matter how much I dislike putting away the

Christmas decor, I can always tell myself it could be worse:

I could be a dog, getting a bath.

Have a lovely Friday evening -- Cass

P.S.  My apologies to Mary of Little Red House; she posted on Facebook 

about being willing to pay someone to de-decorate her house, and I thought, "What a great idea!"

And then, I stole it.  Except changed it to a Fairy, whom we all know would work for free.

'Snow What? Our Party's Postponed!

Mother Nature, you are such a card.
On the one hand, you present us with several
inches of fresh fluffy white snow.

On the other hand, you rob us of our party today.

:-(

Dylan Dog is disappointed.

"What?  No party?  What will I do for snacks?"

"Look me in the eye, and tell me you are not being wimps.
After what you expect ME to do in the snow . . . !"

"If the guests are not coming today, can I have the brisket?
I am looking right at you; how can you say No?"

 ********************************

Our Grab Bag Christmas Party is not cancelled.

It is just postponed until Sunday.

Don't forget!  :-) 

Cass

P.S.  In the second picture of Dylan, his favorite stuffed chicken's foot is tucked beneath his muzzle.
It looks as if our little dog has fierce big scary orange fangs.  He wishes!

My owl planter doesn't look too happy, either.

Christmas Primping

It was a working weekend for my husband.

We picked out our fresh tree at a local nursery on Saturday,

and hauled it home in the back of the minivan.

On the drizzly Sunday, up it went in our sunroom.

Howard worked, Dylan snoozed,

I snapped some pictures and, um, supervised.

This year's tree is very dark and dense, and it has

consumed 1,300 lights and still looks not bright.

But since we don't want to cause a brownout in the neighborhood,

we are not adding any more strands!

I began tossing the ornaments on the tree, and as of last night

I'd worked my way through one Rubbermaid bin.  Almost.

Lots more tree and hundreds of ornaments to go! 

Why is it so wickedly hard to take pictures of Christmas trees?

 I decided to take some pictures this morning.

But when I looked at them, they looked . . . odd.
Kind of cool looking, but distinctly odd.

Turns out, Anne had been using my

Nikon Coolpix camera, which I rarely use,

and had left it set on an "only find the red colors" setting.
Duh.

 So what was I doing while Howard was manfully
stringing hundreds of teensy lights in our tree?

 I emptied the Rubbermaid bins full of Christmas decor.  As usual,
the dining room is the staging area.  North Pole, New Jersey.

So things are progressing here at That Old House.

I am getting very into the Christmas spirit, getting excited!

Dylan Dog, however, is taking things rather casually.

As he sees it, his job is still to scramble for treats, be adorable,

perform dogly duties such as being a lap desk for Anne's Ipad,

keep us on our toes by testing his limits

(most recently: "Dylan, no! Don't EAT the tree!"),

and grab a snooze whenever the moment seems right.

Like, now.

So goodbye for this Monday, from me, and Dylan,

and That Old House -- Cass

Blog Parties!

At Little Red House, it's Mosaic Monday, so click here!

At Between Naps On The Porch, Metamorphosis Monday is the place to be. Click!

P.S.  Dear friends -- I, like you, have shed countless tears the past 4 days, in our national -- no, worldwide -- agony of grief for the families in Newtown, Connecticut.  Is there a remedy for these incidents in a free society?  I think the best personal response that I've heard, other than our prayers, thoughts, hearts, is to respond to this random violence with random kindness.  I'm not sure how I'll accomplish this, and this won't affect those at the fringes who perpetrate these monstrous acts, but it is something, and most importantly, it is the opposite of what was done on Friday in that small New England town.  And, I can celebrate the birth of Jesus, and still rejoice in that.

Happy Frank, Sloppy Snow, Sniffles, And The Turkey Shirt Returns

In our prep for Happy Frank's Giving Day,
we had a serious crisis:  Howard could not find his
(in)famous Turkey Shirt.

Miraculously, it surfaced on The Big Day.

Me:  "Where did you find it?"
Howard:  "In the closet.  Hanging with my other shirts,
                 right where it was supposed to be."

Ladies, you have all been down this road before.

So here he is, Mr. Thanksgiving himself, circa 2012:

Howard and a 28-and-3/4 pound Tom,
looking way better in the picture above than it does in this one:

 Raw turkey.  Not attractive.  But such potential.

What is attractive on Thanksgiving Day?
(Other than Howard in his Turkey Shirt?)

A lineup of pies!

Getting the dessert table set up.  The whipped cream is still being, well, whipped.

 2 apple, 2 pumpkin, one cranberry, one walnut, cookies with
Hersey Kisses, and a pumpkin cheesecake with a gingersnap crust.
We go all out in the dessert department on Thanksgiving.

We fed 22 souls last Thursday, and no one got poisoned.
Another successful Thanksgiving!

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Today, an actual snowfall.

About 3 inches by nightfall.

Little doggy Dylan is not sure about this cold white stuff. 

Out with Anne for a business trip.

"It's getting kind of nippy out here."

"Let me in!"

Houseguests Josh and Alida
went back to Los Angeles this morning.

We stuffed them like they were Strasbourg geese for a week, 
and in a month we'll welcome them back at Christmastime.  
:-)
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Meanwhile, I am sniffling and sneezing.
My first head cold of the winter season.
And I hope it will be my last.  I'm so impatient with colds.

They don't make you sick enough to send you to a doctor

for some sort of magic drug, but you still feel dreadful.  Crazy.

Having doggy Dylan with me on the sofa, snuggling through a

couple of awful old movies today, was therapeutic.

He really tucks himself into the nooks and crannies, does this dog.

Oops.  I think we woke him up.

I was especially thankful this Thanksgiving

to husband Howard, daughters Anne and Alida,

and son-in-law Josh for their wonderful help in getting

Thanksgiving launched here at That Old House.

Without them, it would have been baked beans and hot dogs.

And of course, I am deeply grateful that Howard found his Turkey Shirt.

Turkey Shirt pose, 2012 Edition.

Now, my friends, it's on to Advent, and Hanukkah,

and Christmas, and the New Year, and Epiphany.  

Let the decorating and celebrating begin!  -- Cass

P.S.  Happy Frank's Giving Day?  For the newcomers to the blog, that's the name given to the Thanksgiving Holiday by our much-missed Cavalier spaniel Dion DiPoochy, years ago.  Dion often waited in vain for Happy Frank to bring him a special present, but being an honest pup he also had to admit that most years, he didn't deserve one.

He passed the tradition to our new Cavalier, Dylan.  Dylan is learning his manners fast, but he's still got a few quirks, like biting his leash in order to take himself for a walk.  We're working on that one!  It's amazing what a couple of Cheerios can do; you can't munch a snack and bite a leash at the same time.