Last One!

          The last one.

          The last letter blog of the year.

          Next time I'll give you letter facts for 2019. I bet you're excited about that!

         

          Christmas Eve, we had a special service at our little church. We sang Christmas songs and Pastor narrated with the origin of them as well as the origin of Christmas itself.

          Afterward, we had a cookie exchange and visited for a while. 

          "Peg, what kind of cookies did you make?" you wanna know.

          Normally I'd've been all over the cookie making thing but this year I ran out of time. I opted to spend my time making gnomes instead of baking. Besides, I knew there'd be plenty of cookies even if I didn't make any.

          I was only able to get four gnomes or elves done and regret only that I didn't have time to make one for each and every lovely lady in my congregation.

          Christmas morning started with this sunrise courtesy of our Lord.

          Despite my curmudgeonly attitude about decorating for the holiday, my Christmas wall has grown.

          "What a beautiful snowflake!" you say.

          I know, right. This little cutie patootie made it for me. This is Addie, the daughter of Duane, the crew boss who built our new and improved (but still characterless) bridge. 

          My beautiful and talented friend Joanie made me this candleholder for Christmas. I grinned from ear to ear when I saw how beautiful it is. My little ray 'o sunshine was spreading sunshine when she gave a few of these as gifts. Isn't it a clever way to use a wineglass? I just love it!

          Speaking of love, my Miss Rosie painted bells for me. Don't 'cha just love them! I do! 

          Being a maker and giver-awayer of things homemade, I really love it when someone puts thought into and takes the time to make something just for me. Time is more precious than money.

          Speaking of precious, just look at this beautiful family — even the little guy with the cheesy grin. Andrew just turned seven this year and owns my heart. 

          Oh! That reminds me! Speaking of the owner of hearts...

          Check out this family. My baby brother John with his beautiful wife Eunice and the owner of John's heart, Jacob. 

          "Those are the only two Christmas pictures I got this year — but that's okay! I'm not bitter!" says me with a side of sarcasm.

          One more Christmas story to tell you.

          My older and very handsome brother David answered my Merry Christmas morning love note with a note of his own. "Santa didn't send the twenty-year-old girl I asked for. LOL. Maybe next year."

          That certainly did make me smile. "What in the world would you do with a twenty-year-old!" I wanted to know.

          "I'd look," he tells me with a wink and a nod.

          Later in the evening, when all hopes of getting a twenty-year-old are dashed to smithereens, he writes me again. "It's late and no twenty-year-old to walk on my back." I guess he thought of another use for her. "My luck Santa would send a 400-pound sumo wrestler girl."

          I got such a kick out of this whole thing that I thought I'd share the fun with my older and much-adored sister Patti. "He has Dad's sense of humor."

          I hadn't thought of that, but she's right, and it was nice to remember my father again.

          I spent Thursday and Friday making more gnomes. When I first made this pattern, I discovered pretty quick that I wasn't going to be able to cut the little round nose out of the beard as you traditionally would. Unless you have a glass saw, when you break such a deep circle you'll break the corners off your beard as well. At least I know I would. And when you have such a small piece of stained glass and foil it, it can get lost amongst all the other solder. Rather than go that route I decided to make the nose a separate piece and glue it on top. Since I wasn't soldering them, I didn't need to foil them, saving me time. It would give it a 3-D effect and solve all my other problems as well.

          There I was, working away making these little cuties when it hits me — BAM! — all of a sudden, just like that! Why not foil the noses anyway? The more I explored this idea the better I liked it. It would help the noses stand out from the beard and give the piece an overall more uniform look. I like it!

          Why not a gray beard? my mind wanders as I work. Why not a blue beard! Why not a glass gob instead of cutting a piece of glass? I pulled a green glass gob from a jar and set it on a noseless gnome just to see if the size was about right — and I thought it was cute. Why not a green nose?

          Peg, just because you like it doesn't mean anyone else will, Myself says to Me. Let's not get carried away here.

          I talked myself right out of using the gobs for noses — this time. With these six, I'm done making gnomes for the foreseeable future. I still owe Miss Rosie a witch's boot that I didn't get made at Halloween. Now I've got ten months until she'll display it so there's no rush on that one. I didn't get her Christmas gift finished either. I'm making her a wreath which she knows cause she picked it. I gave her a choice between a Santa and a wreath so she hasn't actually seen it and that'll be the surprise. I'm hoping that even though Christmas has come and gone, she'll hang it for a few days anyway.

          Speaking of Miss Rosie, she's a bad good friend.

          "Peg!" you exclaim in shock and surprise.

          I know, right! I'm not one to sugarcoat things. Miss Rosie is so dear to my heart and I love her so but I'm trying to shed a few pounds and what does she do! She gives me a plate of cookies!

          "You do the same thing to me," she pointed out and she's right.

          Cookies, I tell ya! Cookies!

          And my oh my! Were they ever good cookies too! Some of the Kipp family all-time favorites come out at Christmas time and Miss Rosie always remembers Mike and me with a plate of our very own.

          This Christmas Rosie made one of her daughter Jenn's favorite cookies and it's the first time I've ever had it.

          "Can I have the recipe?" I asked.

          "Sure," Miss Rosie said. She pulled out an old, old — ancient address book. At least that's what I thought it was. Lovingly she caressed the cover. "My mother gave me this when I got married," Miss Rosie said. She opened the cover and it did indeed look like an address book with tabs except it had blank pages. "She wrote a recipe on the first page in each category," she said as she flipped through the tabs. "Her fudge is in here..."

          "No. Not the fudge. I want the recipe that was Jenn's favorite.

          "I know."

          I'm such an idiot sometimes. She was just telling me that her famous fudge was the recipe her mother had given her on her wedding day and not the recipe she was looking for.  

          Rosie picked through the edges of loose recipes filed in a pocket until she found the one she was looking for. "Here it is," she said and pulled out a piece of cardboard.

          I love that she still has the original from the box of Golden Grahams. I wonder how old this is? I held it up and snapped a picture of it.

          Rosie laughed. "That sure is a lot easier than writing it out."

          I see that they're called Indoor S'mores. It's a good thing I didn't know that before I tried 'em or I might not've tried 'em at all. I don't like S'mores.

          A quick Google search tells me this recipe is still available and has been updated on the Betty Crocker web site but not when they first appeared.

          Recipes are not only recipes for something good to eat, they're memories too. Today I got to remember my beautiful cousin Stacey because I made her recipe for Mac and Cheese. Stacey, you're right. It is better if you make it in the crock of your slow cooker. 

          You know something. Soap really works to ward off leg cramps at night — but not if the bar's on your husband's side of the bed! I woke in the middle of the night with a cramp starting in my calf. I rolled onto my back and stretched my leg and my toes started to pull under. A second cramp was working in the same leg! Two cramps! Where was my soap! My bet was on it being on Mike's side. Mike and my leg cramps were both on the right side. It was all I could do to keep the cramp at bay so I couldn't go looking for the soap with that foot. I maneuvered around a little so I could search for it with my left foot and I'll be fluffersnuffed if I didn't start getting a cramp in that leg as well! It was too much for me and I jumped out of bed. I withstood the pain as I walked the cramps out.

          That hurts so bad, I thought as I hobbled into the bathroom to let my water down. And a thought, an image, pops into my head. Our Lord hanging on the cross. I once heard a program, a very graphic program on what happens in your body while you're being crucified and it's not pretty. One of those things is your muscles cramp.

          Cramp. Cramp cramp cramp. That doesn't sound like such a bad thing. But experience one and it's a different story! Oh, Lord. How did You ever stand it? And I knew the answer. It was for us. For you and for me.

          My muscles were still very tender as I made my way back to bed. One wrong move and they'd start cramping all over again, ya know what I mean? I fished around the bottom of the bed and found the bar of soap — on Mike's side! — positioned it where I could easily reach it, and crawled back in bed. I laid my leg, my foot, on top of it and I swear I could feel the cramps draining away, right down into that bar of soap. It felt so good!

          Is it all psychosomatic? I think it works therefore it works?

          You know what?

          I don't even care.

          Mike and I were playing cards early one morning as the sun was coming up and I looked out the door and saw Mr. Mister sitting on top of the feral cat box, looking down. It almost looks like he's looking down at the rising sun, I thought and snapped this picture. 

          With that, let's call this one done.

         

Oops!

          Oops is right, but you'll have to wait and see what that's all about. For now, let's start at the beginning.

          So much excitement this week!

          Excited to have our bridge done and not have to drive a seven-mile detour. Wait. Is it seven miles or seven minutes? No matter. It'll mean no more driving on sloppy make-your-Jeep-look-like-you've-been-mud-bogging back roads.

          Excited to watch the next and final step in the bridge-building process.

          And I could list a ton of other things that make and keep my life exciting. Things like Christmas, prospects of a new year, family and friends that I dearly love, a home, critters, God...

          God? Peg, you put God last on your list, Me says to Myself. Shouldn't He be first in your life?

          You're right, Myself says to Me. He's not last, I just stopped there because I'm afraid...

          On and on went the argument inside my head. I struggle whenever I touch on religion. I try not to alienate anyone with my beliefs and I know most of you don't even want to hear anything about God or Jesus. First and foremost, it's my letter blog. Second, Christianity is very important to me. My beautiful friend Jody and I are doing a Bible study together and we're both learning so much. One of the studies that we recently did touched on making God first in everything. I still struggle with that as the first thing I do in the morning after letting the girls out, giving Molly a drink from the bathroom sink, getting dressed, and making coffee, is to get on the computer and send morning love notes. See!

          But anyway...

          The excitement to have the bridge done and the excitement of watching them put the guide rails up was too much for my husband and he begged me to take a ride with him early Monday morning.

          "No," is my first and automatic response. Why is that?

          "You want to see them put the guide rails up, don't you? They're probably already there."

          I sighed, knowing he was right, pushed back from my 'puter and got my coat.

          Well, the guys who put the guide rails up weren't there but Duane and Greg were and they were cleaning up the job site.

          Mike and I were sitting in the warmth and comfort of the Jeep when the guide rail crew came up behind us. Mike pulled to the left side of the road and they went around us. 

          "I hate it when I see we've drawn this crew," Duane told us.

          "Why?" I wanted to know.  

          "Well, they're not the fastest. One guy will be working and four guys will be standing around watching him."

          It didn't take long for Mike and me to realize that Duane spoke the truth. These guys got here, got out of their trucks, walked around, looked over the sides of the bridge, stood around and talked, and didn't do anything else for the first half-hour. Okay! Okay! I checked the time stamp on my photos. It was only 10 minutes before one of the guys got up on the truck and starting unchaining the load. 

          We have a tree — a dead tree — on our property, on the other side of the road that has been a source of angst for Mike. "Peg, it's going to fall."

          "So?"

          "It might fall across the road."

          "Okay. When it falls the county guys'll cut it up and get it off the road."

          "It might hit our house."

          I looked it over and made estimates — girlie estimates according to my husband. "No it won't," I said.

          "Yes, it will."

          Mike called two different tree companies and neither one was willing to touch it because of the widow-makers; branches that could fall and kill someone while they're cutting the trunk.

          "When you're taking the track hoe down to the other bridge could you push that tree over for me?" Mike asked Duane.

          "Sure. We'll do that for you."

          Well, this was the day they were moving the track hoe.

          An old rotten tree that has caused endless worry for Mike is gone in like two seconds flat when Greg pushed it with the bucket. 

          Mike gave them permission to park the track hoe on our property until they started work on the lower bridge. As Greg moved it down the road, he spotted another old dead tree and pushed that one over for Mike too. 

          "How much do I owe you?" Mike asked.

          Yeah, he has a really hard time believing that people can do things out of the goodness of their hearts.

          "Nothing," Greg said. "Not a thing. We should pay you for letting us park the track hoe on your property."

          Mike doesn't have near as much trouble giving from the goodness of his heart.

          We went home for a while but had to make a trip to town for a gallon of milk. We stopped at the bridge first to see how the guys were making out.

          Hmmm. 

          On the way home, I asked, "Can we go see where the Schreier's live?"

          The Schreier's. Larry and Sherri. A very handsome couple from my church. 

          Sherri likes to host a women's breakfast from time to time and this was my very first invitation. Although I am very much a homebody and would never go anyplace if I had my druthers, I accepted. I was nervous about finding their place on my own. I'd left the map she drew me at home but a quick Google search provided an address for the GPS and it took us right to their house.

          Road pictures anyone?

                   

           "Two pictures, Peg? Really? That's all ya got for me?" you say.

          Yeah. Just two on the way there. We pulled into the driveway and a hawk launched himself from the tree in front of us. I got my camera up as quick as I could.

          The Schrier's have a beautiful place. They have several barns and other buildings and it's near a pond. 

          On the way out of the driveway, we see four deer near the pond. 

          We took a different way home so I took more road pictures for you. 

          Hidden behind the leaves in summer. 

          Before we went home we checked on the guide rail crew again. It looked like they were making good progress.

          "I'd like to see them drive one of the posts in," Mike said so we sat and watched for a while.

 

          We watched this guy back his truck over a cone marker. There was a stake under it. The cone was to keep people from running it over. See how good it works?

          One of the other guys straightened it out the best he could and stood it back up.

          We watched as they tried to figure out which piece went here. They tried it one way, stood back, and looked at it.

          "That's not right," Mike says to me. "It sticks way out in the road."

          Me, being a sometimes smartass, says, "Why don't you go over there and show them how to do it?"

          They turned the piece end for end, stood back, and looked at it again. Something wasn't right and one of the guys went for the drawings. 

          I guess they decided it wasn't the right piece because they put the piece aside and got a different one off the truck.

          They put the new one down and decided it wasn't right either. 

          And flipped it end for end.

          "That's not right either," Mike says. 

          "It's like it's their first day on the job," I said.

          One of the guys was pacing off the length and as he came close to the Jeep I said hello to him.

          "It looks like you're having some trouble," Mike said.

          He came up to the Jeep. "Yeah. They sent us the wrong piece. The problem is some guy sits behind a computer and looks at it on Google Earth and says this is what we need. They never come out to the job site and look at it for themselves."

          "That doesn't make any sense," I responded.

          "Between me and that guy in the black sweatshirt we've got 45 years experience. We might be able to bend it and make it work," he finished.

          A couple of the younger guys started horsing around and I think the boss yelled at them because they stopped playing teeter-totter.

          Overnight we had a smattering of snow with an icy base. We needed to run an errand and left the house before the workers showed up for the day. It looks like they managed to get one piece attached.

          Our errand was a trip to the Wal Mart in Tunkhannock. I took some road pictures.

           Fog in the mountains.

           The light snow really emphasizes all the trees that fell earlier in the year. It was so wet they couldn't stand up anymore.

          These have been sitting in the exact same spot for years.

          Snow coming off the vehicle in front of us. I don't know if it's illegal to drive with snow on your car or if they're going to make it illegal. But it can be a hazard to other drivers. Don't ask me how they're going to enforce it. 

          "Peg, how are they going to enforce that?" you ask.

          Smartass.

          My friend Steph thinks maybe they'll make it a secondary violation like they do with seatbelts. "But if I have to clear the snow from the top of my car then they should make all those stone trucks cover their loads," she said.

          Personally, I always cleared the snow off the top of my car.

          Speaking of hazards to other drivers...

          They treated the roads. I don't know with what but there were two lanes going the other way, our side was just a single lane, a semi in the passing lane and just as we drew abreast...

          PING!

          A stone hits our windshield.

          "Did it leave a chip?" Mike asked because it sounded like it hit in front of me.

          I lean forward, squint my eyes, and survey the windshield. "Not that I can see."

          It wasn't long before I noticed a spider web through the viewfinder of my camera as I went to snap another picture. I knew what it was.

          "We've got a crack!" I announced.

          I won't tell you what Mike first said. "These Jeep windshields are notorious for getting cracks. It's the way they're made," he told me. We'd gotten a crack in the windshield of our last Jeep and now this one.

          My phone rang. It was that beautiful, feisty, redheaded neighbor of mine.

          "Peg, they're working on the bridge so you'll have to come in the other way when you come home," Miss Rosie told me.

           Rosie and I talk most days and tell each other what plans we have. She knew we were going shopping this morning.

          I love her.

          Wal Mart.

          Getting old.

          Man o' man! I'll tell you what. Between vitamins, sleep aids, poop aids, allergy pills, stuff to help you stop pooping, and pills to keep your knees from hurting, it can really add up. Two little bags — a hundred dollars! Getting old is not only not for sissies, it's also not cheap!

          Although we expected the bridge to be closed, we drove in that way anyway to check it out. It looks like they brought the right pieces in with them today.

          We got to speak with the inspector. "I always cringe when I see these guys's  names come up on the sheet." We didn't have to ask why. Brian went on, "When I came in this morning one of them was sitting in the truck sleeping!"

          "You'd think they'd want to come in and get the job done. Don't they make more money that way?" I asked.

          "The company might," Mike said. "These guys are just hourly and they're milking it."

          The next day we had snow again. It seems funny to look out my kitchen window and see that track hoe sitting there. 

          Our phones both went off. Weather alerts. Snow squalls with low visibility were expected. Slow down! It advised. It's a good thing we didn't have to go anywhere today.

          We were sitting at the table, playing cards. I looked up and out the window — it was like a blizzard! You couldn't see nothin!

          "Holy cow!" I exclaimed. Mike turned around and looked. I put my cards down and grabbed my camera. It actually picked up more detail than I could see with my eye. In the picture you can't see the track hoe but I couldn't even see the fence at the end of the dog run.

          This was the day we had that huge pileup on Interstate 80. 60 vehicles including 20 semis, two dead, thirty-seven hospitalized. So sad.

          We did go out the next day but I don't remember where. We stopped to admire the Kipps' new mailbox. The crew that built the bridge provided the Kipps with a new mailbox and post and put it in for them. How wonderful is that!

          A picture of our new, officially open, two-lane, unlimited weight-limit, no character, bridge.

          "At least it's safe," Mike reminds me.

          At least it's safe.

          Our pretty little creek.

          Our pretty little creek on the Kipp side of the road. 

          We came in right behind the Kipps and stopped to visit — and help carry in groceries. 

          "Miss Rosie," I started as soon as we were sitting, visiting, at their warm and cozy family table. "Ask Mike about the new rules in our house," I said with a grin.

          "Mike, what are the new rules in your house?" She's such a good sport.

          Mike looked at me like he couldn't believe I'd bring that up. Then he got his righteous indignation on and said, "No more Bibles in the house," he ticked off on his fingers, "no more church, no more Jody, and I'm thinking about no more Rosie either!"

          Rosie's mouth opened in a soft O then she looked at me and saw my grin. "Well you can just leave now," she said pointing to the door.

          I laughed.

          "What brought this on?" she wanted to know.

          "When Mike's watching TV and I'm working in the kitchen, I'll wear my headphones and listen to a sermon — especially when he's watching that stinkin' Jerry Springer!"

          "I can understand that," Miss Rosie said.

          "During commercials, he likes to talk to me. Sometimes he has to yell before I hear him and I'm always saying 'what' cause I've got my headphones on. Don't worry, he'll get over it."

          On the way home I watched as the trees sparkled in the sunshine. There's still ice coating the branches.

          The next day we went out again! Boy! For being a homebody, we sure went out a lot this week! This time we planned to go to Dushore. One of Momma's Arizona friends sent some money. She asked me to light a candle at St. Basil's in Momma's honor — or whatever lighting a candle means. I'd made a call the night before.

          "The church should be open tomorrow," Dean said. He's one of the deacons or elders or whatever they call them.

          "Someone hit the guide rail!" 

          Mike was looking the other way and didn't see it. We stopped and I got out to take pictures. There was something laying out in the field. I walked over and picked it up. It was a little light, like the ones they put low in the bumper, from a yellow car.

          Mike had the window down so he could hear me. "I've seen a little yellow car zooming around our road."

          I picked up a piece of cloth. "Airbag?" I asked.

          "Yep," Mike confirmed.

          Whoever hit had cut the airbag off and threw it on the ground.

          I called the Kipps. "Who hit the guide rail?"

          "I don't know," Lamar said. "But it was around 9 last night. We watched them get the car unstuck from the rail, pick up the bumper, throw it in the back, and leave."

          I talked with another neighbor after that. "They broke down just a little way down from my house and a truck came and towed 'em away," Sally told me. "But I didn't realize they'd hit the bridge."

          And that was the Oops! I referred to at the beginning of my letter blog. Here I thought we'd have no more excitement with the new bridge!

          We went on into Dushore.

          Icefalls.

          "The steeples gone," Mike said.

          Me? I didn't even notice.

          "They sent it out for repairs," Mike guessed.

          It had been damaged in a tornado this past year.

          Mike waited in the Jeep for me and I got out to go light the candle. The church was locked. I called Dean.

          "Don has the keys and he's gone to Williamsport..."

          "How about if I leave the money with you and you can light the candle for her?"

          "That'd be all right."

          "Okay. I'm going up to the grave site first, then we'll be down," I told him.

          Momma, Pop, and brother Mike all rest here. I see where the wind has blown snow up onto the headstone. In my mind's eye, I see my oldest and much-adored sister Patti reach down and lovingly brush dried grass from the headstone. We'd just buried Momma a couple of days before and it was Patti's last visit before she went home.  

  

          I decided to brush the snow off. I didn't count on the ice underneath. I scraped it with my fingernails, dug some of the ice from her name, and had to quit when my fingers were red and numb from the cold.

          Anyway, we left the money with Dean who assured me he'd light a candle in Momma's memory and we went home.

          Vernon's auto salvage yard. Mike's friend hates it when you call it a junkyard.

          It surprised me because it's one of those things you don't see in the summertime.

          Michael likes the view of the new power plant. Your eyes can ignore the power lines but my camera cannot.

          There's a sawmill on this road too.

          I played with the resin a little this week. I made a second owl so my daughter's other mother could have a keepsake too.

          

          And for my friend Jody, who was kind enough to give me the jewelry, I made this.

          She likes it!

          

          Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!

          And with that, let's call this one done!