Peggy's Jibber-Jabber: Goodbye 2017

Here it is!

"Here what is, Peg?" you ask.

Here's the last day, of the last month, of the year 2017.

Christmas has come and gone and it occurs to me that I didn't brag on the gifts I received this year. But I have to tell you, having all of you in my heart and my life is all the gift I need. Nonetheless, Mike, who's a pretty great husband — I know! I know! No one is more surprised by that than I am. When I married Mike, I was perfectly happy to take him just the way he was and yet he's changed. He's become a partner, a true helpmate even. Being married has changed him and he's a better husband than he ever was a boyfriend — and he was a pretty good boyfriend.

But I digress.

Mike got me an electric blanket. Last winter, we had just gone to bed when I smelled something electrical getting hot. I'm sure you know the smell. We tracked it down to the controller of my electric blanket. The smoke curling out the side of it was a dead give-away. I unplugged it and threw it away. Having a warm bed isn't worth burning your house down for. It was late enough in the year that we didn't replace it. So Santa brought me a new blanket this year and I'm very pleased with my gift. I do hate crawling into a cold bed at night. And just so you don't worry, let me tell you that I always turn it off before I go to sleep.

Rosie Kipp and I exchanged gifts Saturday before Christmas and you already know what I gave her. She gave me a Yorkie ornament and she painted a wood box for me. I love it! I just love it! Well, I love both of them, but I especially love the snowman with the Nuthatch. I love Nuthatches. They're the only bird that'll walk down a tree headfirst. Rosie did such a fabulous job on it and I wouldn't sell it for a million bucks!

Rosie also gave me a spatula that says Christmas calories don't count! And it's a good thing they don't either because she gave us a tray of homemade cookies too.

"Lamar, I've been working on those cookies and I've got them almost all gone!" I told him at church the next day.

He laughed and said, "That'a girl."

Okay, okay! I hear you! "Cookies aren't good for your diet," you say.

I know right! But I rationalized it away. We're all good at rationalization when it suits us, aren't we. Christmas comes but once a year, is one excuse, and Rosie bakes the best cookies — and fudge. She made fudge too. I'll hit it hard again after New Year's and I'll be good until at least Valentine's Day. Besides, I have a goal and my goal is to start interval running again in the spring. I figure I need to lose ten more pounds by then and that seems doable to me.

My friend Judy...

I didn't expect a gift from this beautiful lady and maybe that's what makes it all the more remarkable. The Christmas card was a pretty Chickadee on a branch of red berries. I love Chickadees.

"Peg! That's what you said about Nuthatches!"

I know, right! What can I say.

"It's a book," I guessed when Judy handed me the Christmas wrapped present.

"Yeah, but it's not what you think," Judy said.

It's almost like she could read my mind. I was thinking maybe she got me my own copy of One Light Still Shines, or maybe another Christian book.

"Can I open it?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

I very unceremoniously tore the paper off! It wasn't the least little bit dainty like, you know what I mean? I've seen women open presents one piece of tape at a time — taking achingly forever! — trying not to rip the paper as if they might reuse it! Geesh! Not me! I tore into it like a four-year-old on Christmas morning! I briefly wondered what Judy thought of my gift opening technique, then I threw that thought right out the window and didn't spend any more time worrying about it.

"A journal and a matching bookmark!" I was delighted with the gift she'd given me. It was perfect for a project I had in mind.

"What's that Peg?" you wonder.

I've had in my head now, for a couple of weeks, that I would like to start a Thankfulness Journal, or maybe a Prayer Journal, or maybe it'll end up being a combination of the two. Theoretically, if you find something to be thankful for every day, then you can go back and read it when you're feeling blue, and it'll make you feel better — theoretically. And with prayers, you can look back and see how God has answered your prayers. Maybe it won't be this month or next and maybe not for many years. Remember what the apostle Peter tells us; With the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. (2 Peter 3:8)

And now I have a beautiful journal just perfect for the project, and no excuse not to do it.

We had a guy come and haul our scrap metal away. Donnie Kipp is a nephew to Lamar Kipp and lives in Tennessee. He was back up in this neck of the woods for Christmas and he scraps for extra income. His wife Kim helped him so Mike didn't have to and now our metal scrap pile is reduced to practically nothing. Some of it was frozen to the ground and he couldn't break it free, so there's a little left, but not much.

They have a six-year-old daughter. "Mom! Look at the ice!" Megan said spotting a frozen puddle.

"Yeah, I see it. She'd like to have a pond to go ice skating on," Kim said.

"I have a pond and it's got ice on it. Can I take her down and show her?"

"Sure," Kim agreed as she zipped into her cold weather overalls.

"Megan, do you want to go see my pond?" I asked.

"Yeah!"

And off we went. On the way there we found another puddle that had frozen over. "Here's some more ice," I said.

Megan was happy to test it with her foot. When it didn't crack she put more weight on it, then she stomped it. Finally, in an effort to crack the ice, Megan jumped on the ice with both feet.

"Oh no!" you say.

Oh yes! And down she went. THUMP! Hard onto her butt.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Noooo-oh-oh," Megan whimpered.

"Can you get up?"

Rather than answer, she got to her feet, and rubbed her backside.

"Did it hurt?"

"Ye-ess," she answered and her voice cracked. She'd been doing a super-duper job of keeping her tears in check up to that point.

"Are you going to cry?" I wondered aloud.

She didn't answer but she didn't cry either. After a minute or so we continued on our way to the pond. The pond isn't very deep and with all the cold we'd been having, I thought it might be frozen the whole way through. I stepped on the ice and it cracked. I stepped back off the ice.

"Can we go over there?" Megan asked, pointing to the other side.

"Sure." And we walked around the pond.

I tried the ice on that side and it cracked too, so I didn't let Megan get on the pond. We headed back to where Donnie and Kim were sorting through the scrap pile. They hadn't yet made a dent in it. It was cold and I didn't want to stay out, and I didn't feel right about leaving the six-year-old out in the weather either. I did the only thing I could think to do. "Megan and I are going in, okay?"

"Okay," Kim responded.

So Megan and I went in the house.

Walking in the door I yelled, "We're here!" to give Mike a heads up. "I brought Megan in with me!" Then I turned to Megan. "Take your boots off here at the door," I told her and she did. She slipped out of her boots, coat, hat, mittens, and scarf, throwing them over a chair. After shedding my outdoor gear, I went to the sink to draw a cup of water for coffee and sat at my desk to wait for the microwave to do its magic.

Megan came back from the living room where Mike was watching TV. "Look what I got," she said and held up a cookie. Mike obviously opened up his recliner-side stash of snacks and gave her one.

"You've got a cookie! You want a glass of milk to go with that?"

"Yeah!" She enthusiastically nodded her head, her hair flying about her face. "I can dunk my cookie!"

I set Megan up to the breakfast bar and got her a glass of milk. As soon as I set it in front of her, she tried to dunk her cookie. It was too big — or the glass was too small. "Break it in half," I said and she did.

She sat there, her feet swinging back and forth, and happily ate her cookie. Macchiato, our tabby, strolled out from the other room. "I'm allergic to cats," Megan declared.

"Really! Should you be in here then? I have two cats."

She twisted on the bar stool, "Where's the other one?"

"I don't know. After you finish your cookie and milk we'll go look for her."

That last piece of cookie disappeared into her mouth so fast it was like magic! I must of looked surprised because Megan put her hand over her mouth and sheepishly giggled.

"Are you going to drink your milk?" I asked.

She shook her head no, her mouth was too full to talk, and I was reminded of that feisty redheaded neighbor of mine. Rosie doesn't like milk and yet she puts it on her morning cereal. "Then I'll very carefully get cereal on my spoon with the least amount of milk I can get," Rosie told me. "And when the cereal's gone, I won't drink the milk." Maybe Megan is like that. Maybe she likes to dunk her cookie in the milk but doesn't like the milk.

"Okay, then, let's go." I got up from my seat at the desk and led the way to the bedroom, thinking Molly might be sleeping on the bed. She wasn't. But Megan looked down the hallway and spotted my closet.

"Do you have high heels?" she asked.

"Yeah," I answered. "I do." We went into the closet and I reached for the shoebox on top of a stack. I flipped the lid off and pulled out a pair of heels.

Megan's eyes got real big. She sucked her breath in and reached for them. "Can I try them on?"

I laughed. "Sure. Go ahead." What little girl doesn't like to wear high heels? She took the heels from me and looked around. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know where to sit."

"You can sit right there," I said indicating the raised floor of my cedar-lined closet.

"I don't know if I can...."

I didn't understand what her problem was, "Why?"

"My butt..."

I smiled. She didn't complain about her butt when she hopped up onto the barstool to eat her cookie. "There's a towel there, you can sit on that. It'll be softer for you."

Megan hem-hawed for a few more minutes, then she sat.

The next hour was spent with Megan trying on all of my heels and me snapping pictures as she walked up down the length of the closet. "Just like a runway model!" I told her and she beamed.

"I can walk in these!" She exclaimed totally pleased with herself. Then under her breath she added, "If I dig my toes in."

That tickled me and I laughed.

It took Donnie and Kim a couple of hours to clean up my scrap pile. Megan and I went to check on them once during that time but again, I couldn't just leave her out there. We went back inside. This time she saw our Rummikub game sitting on the table.

"What's this?" she asked.

"A game."

"Do you have Domino's?"

"I do! Do you play Domino's?"

She shook her head no. "I just line them up and knock them over."

"Do you want to learn to play?"

"Yes!"

We spent the rest of the visit drawing and matching Domino's and that's where Kim and Donnie found us when they came for Megan.

I'll tell you what. I got my grandmother fix, that's for sure!

Wednesday the temperatures dropped and it was really, really cold! Our water froze but just at the kitchen sink, so it didn't put much of a hinky in our life.

Mid-morning I bundled up, I bundled Ginger up in two sweaters, and we went out to take pictures. The sun was shining but it was so cold it wasn't melting the delicate ice crystals. Luckily, there was no wind so it was tolerable.

The pond was frozen solid! I walked out and looked for pictures from a perspective I seldom see — the middle of my pond.

The sun shone through the ice coating the cattails.

I turned to go back to the place where I'd gotten on the ice and I spot a small crystal Christmas tree complete with ornaments! It was poking up right out of the middle of my pond. I told you it wasn't very deep.

A dried Wild Cucumber pod.

The Winterberries.

The Bittersweet covered in ice crystals.

Virgin's Bower.

Pine needles.

The wind shaped the icicles.

Frozen.

A sawhorse.

"Peg?" you wonder.

I don't know, don't ask me. I take pictures of weird stuff sometimes.

When we were out I noticed I didn't have any cats following me. That hardly ever happens! I decided to take advantage of it and take Ginger for a walk down Robinson Road. The sawhorse is at the end of the back driveway holding a NO TRESSPASSING sign.

The culvert that channels the water from one side of Robinson Road to the other was frozen in mid motion.

Ice built up on the surrounding weeds and branches.

Ginger didn't want to go down the bank for the culvert picures so I tied her at the top. She looks like she's ready to go, doesn't she.

I love this picture of two fence posts. Like the cattails at the pond, the weeds here are coated in ice and the sun shining through makes it look like silver. This picture is my current desktop.

Castoffs.

The Robinson's barn.

A Junco. I got two pictures of him...

....then he took flight.

Yellow wagon wheels are bright on the winter landscape.

Steph and Jon Robinson's house. In the summer you can barely see it from the road.

God and country.

Round hales of bay.... err.... bales of hay.

A gutter hook.

When I got home I did what I always do.

"What? Take off your coat and hang it up?" you ask.

Well, yeah, but after that I mean! I put water in the microwave for coffee. It's like the first thing I do whenever I come in. I do love my coffee!

As I stood at the sink waiting for the microwave, the sun came through the window and shone on the Bittersweet sprigs framing my loves.

Our Thursday morning sunrise.

Our shopping trip this week yielded a couple of pictures for you.

This is the same railroad bridge I had in last week's letter blog, but this time I snapped the picture from the other side of the road. I like the play of light and dark much better in this shot.