Twelve letters of Christmas

December 1,

Dearest Mr. Wellington,

It was delightful to spend the fall holiday with you and eat until our stomachs could eat no more.
I thought your idea to continue our merriment together throughout the rest of the year by resurrecting the tradition of the Twelve days of Christmas especially appealing. What fun it will be to buy each other a small trinket each day to extend our celebration of Christmas.

As previously discussed, beginning our celebration on the 26th of December and concluding it on January 6th is perfect and I will add these festivities to my calendar.

I look forward to seeing you for dinner December 26 at 7 p.m. for an intimate dinner and gift exchange.
Fondly and lovingly,
Miss Lorena Bell

December 18

Dearest Mr. Wellington,

I am just confirming our date and time for our celebratory dinner , December 26 at 7 in the evening.
Dress will be informal.

Looking forward to laughing and toasting our friendship together.

Very fondly yours,
Miss Lorena Bell

December 27

Dearest Mr. Wellington,

What a delightful evening! Especially surprising was your unique gifting of the beautiful partridge in a pear tree. It looks particularly festive in the conservatory, but I had to untie the partridge from its confinement on its branch so it could move around a bit. The dear bird seemed grateful and I want you to know that I  am delighted with such a thoughtful gift. I hope you enjoyed the small leather journal I gifted to you. I look forward to seeing you in a fortnight to thank you in person once again. I have messengered your next day gift so you should be receiving it soon.

Delighted and fondly yours,

Miss Lorena Bell

December 28

Dear Mr. Wellington,

I thank you for your gift of two turtledoves but I feel there must have been an error at the parcel service as I received another pair today in addition to yesterdays, along with 2 more partridges in trees. I feel this is quite enough and you have more than fulfilled our requirement for the twelve gifts of Christmas so let us forgo any more exchanges and I thank you for the birds and trees. The Conservatory is full enough.  Thank you for understanding  and please cancel any further deliveries of birds.

Fondly,

Miss Lorena Bell

December 29,

Dear Mr. Wellington,

I believe I was quite clear about receiving any further birds. The Pear trees are now occupying the outside patio and I have released the partridges to fly about at will outdoors. The Turtle doves , who were quite quaint cooing as a duo, are getting a bit loud now that there are 6 of them and 4 calling birds competing for attention. They are content to perch along the outside patio. There is no need to replicate each days gift along with the new gift.

Thank you tremendously and I hope you will take this in the very best spirit of the season.
You are truly taking this daily gifting seriously.

Fondly,

Miss Lorena

December 30

Dear Mr. Wellington,

What a surprise to receive not one, but 5 gold rings!

Although they are beautiful, I would have preferred the traditional engagement diamond if, in fact, this is a marriage proposal.

At this time, I must decline any overture toward marriage and I will arrange for the return of the beautiful bands. . . along with the additional partridges, pear trees, turtle doves , French hens and calling birds.
I have had the groundskeeper build a coop for the hens and partridges but their numbers are growing and the birds cannot seem to get along. None of them have any inclination to lay eggs.

Regretfully yours,

Miss  Lorena Bell

December 31

Mr. Wellington,

Geese! What am I going to do with Geese? What is it with you and birds. I do not want any more birds. This is a modest home on limited acreage and this property is not a farm, nor zoned to accommodate farm animals of any kind. The birds are quite loud. The rings are welcomed but I now have one for each finger.

PLEASE ....NO MORE FOWL!!!!!  The pear trees are being planted in the far corner, however they do not look like promising fruit producers and the Gardener says they may take up to 3 years to do so.
Stop all gifts immediately! I feel you have lost your common sense and treat our now, fragile friendship as a joke.

Pleading for you to stop and definitely no longer very fond of you,

Miss Lorena Bell

January 1
Mr. Wellington,

Swans?!! Really! I explicitly stated NO MORE Fowl or BIRDS!  Swans are finicky and require special care. I know for a fact that they require regulation in this state! They have taken up residence in my pool and fight the geese for water access. My patio is covered in bird droppings. The Turtle doves are looking peaked because they require specialty grain to  sustain them. They are slated for dinner tonite along with a partridge or two if they can be caught.

Stop and desist!

Miss Bell

January 2

Wellington,

I have tried to keep the gates locked and access to my property restricted to any further deliveries from you. The 8 Milk Maids have arrived in shockingly inappropriate attire to expose as much cleavage as possible and persuaded the grounds keeper to let them in, along with their buckets filled with various birds . It is more than one home can handle. I am afraid to call the authorities because I am certain that I will be ticketed and fined for violation of multiple zoning laws and for Audubon cruelty. I am having a goose cooked and feeding it to the maids who believe they are staying here at my home indefinitely.

They seem to be under the impression they will also be paid?

I am calling my lawyers. You will be hearing from them soon.

Lorena Bell


January 3

Wellington, you son of a bitch,

The dancing "ladies" are just too much. An insult to any form of culture or craft! I am sick of dealing with you! The house staff is  distracted and unable to  complete their daily work. The dancing girls are continuously kicking up their legs and half of them fail to wear undergarments that cover much of anything under their much too short skirts. The are now competing with the milk maids as to who can expose the most cleavage without nipple exposure. The maids have lost their shoes and run barefoot throughout the estate. Apparently the only skill they possess is milking cows which I thankfully have none of.

My pool is brown and green with a foot of bird crap on the bottom and we are shooting the geese and hens to feed these people who refuse to leave. Your "golden rings" are made from inferior metal and barely cover the cost of running this place for 1 day. The turtle doves are dead from lack of grain and the swans are looking peaked. The hens lay only 1 egg every other day , as well as the geese. The 24 Calling birds have been  released into the wild.

I am suing you for mental distress and invasion of privacy.

Hoping one of the birds will find you and peck your eyes out.

Miss L.B

January 4

Bastard,

The 10 Lords are leaping over the fence and helping the additional dancing bitches and whoring milk maids over it too. The maids are too stupid, living up to their title of unskilled laborer. There is no more floor or bedroom space to accommodate all of these people yet they will not leave. The  back lawns look as if an army battalion has moved in.  There is a massive bond fire in my back yard, stoked with the wood from your  fruitless pear trees and some of my best patio furniture.  Swan can be delicious if the correct  sauce is applied but frankly, I do not give a damn any longer.

Wishing you were the one roasting over the fire.

L.B.


January 5
Idiot!
Pipers are not a solution and especially not ones who do not pipe the same tune. One of them actually has a smoking pipe and thinks he's part of a grand band! These people are milling around waiting for some direction as to what they are to do besides drive me mad and create noise. I can think of a few choice places for the pipers pipes to be stored and all of those places are on your person! The cook has quit, along with the housekeeper and the gardener. I am left only with the chauffer to help me and he has taken up with a milk maid who has a lazy eye.
The BIRDS!!!! I think you hate them more than me. You send them to an inevitable death by barbecue. The only thing the geese lay are giant bird poo. The calling birds call out mean chirping insults to the remaining doves and peck at the hens.
Why are you doing this to me? What horror do you have planned for the morning? I hope it brings alcohol. I am done in. Even my ink well is giving up. My lawns and bedrooms are ruined beyond repair . The stench is overwhelming.
I wish you no good will and never want to hear your name uttered again.
You are despicable!
L






January 6

You #*(^&$^@#$*!!!!

Drummers! What the hell!

They exceed the sound decibel restriction and I have received a ticket from law enforcement which I have forwarded to you to pay. Obviously they have only one rhythm in their repertoire and it does not go along with the pipers melody at all. If you had any sense at all you would have at least hired capable musicians with more than one song to be played. There is cacophony of nonsense 24/7!

There are now 140 people milling around the grounds, 8 birds left alive and I have sold off the rings to off set the cost of your "Gifts". Thankfully the Drummers, leaping Lords and Pipers have taken to pairing off with the Milk Maids and Dancing Ladies. I dread to think what is going on in my yards!
I am done with you. The 12 nightmare days of Christmas have concluded as well as my friendship and any further association with you!~

Do not attempt to contact me, mail me, messenger me in any way or come within a mile of my home. Your restraining orders have been served. I am closing up the house, evicting these strangers and leaving the country to begin the New Year without a trace of you or your daily onslaught of more problematic deliveries.

Never yours and glad to be rid of you.

I've changed my name........

The best stocking stuffer is love

In days gone by and long ago I used to make Christmas stockings for family and friends. I was young and bored and although I don't sew, I'm pretty darn handy with the glue and safety pins. I've mastered the embroidery and basting stich so the socks stayed together well and have fared pretty good over the decades.

The last stocking I made was for my baby girl in 1988. Said baby girl has now grown up and moved to the other side of the planet living her own life and falling in love with a mysterious stranger. She called a couple of weeks back and asked if this new stranger could come home with her for Christmas. After agreeing to this she asked if I would make him a special stocking to hang at the fireplace mantel next to hers. Hmmm. That is a pretty big request and as I said yes to the request, I was already doubting that I could resurrect my crafty stocking creations.

 In the past I had 10 designs and could replicate them. Definitely dated by their decade but still cute. None of them would do for the stranger so I had to come up with a new pattern. After hours of stress and attempts at cutting, success was had. I figure I invested 18 hours into the sock. Best of all I conquered the Singer sewing machine and managed to get it rethreaded and bobbinized after a few dozen attempts. ( It is new in box. A unwanted birthday gift from Mr. Man who had  visions of me sewing a fine linen suit for him). I read the operators manual and followed pictured instructions in 3 different languages before I began. I am college educated and have used sophisticated medical equipment on real people to keep them alive. Surely I could manage a sewing machine.
 Tangled in un-tameable thread of various colors, glittered and sequined in places neither belong, and trekking beads and material bits throughout the house the stocking was done. Awed at my own newfound stitching ability, I was inspired.

   So ensued the creation of 5 new stockings for 5 new people in our lives. My self congratulatory remarks are more from actually using  material and no glue on them than for artistry. All of them are flawed with major boo-boos but its as good as it can be. My fingers are scarred from the billion pricks sewn into them ( noted- keep finger out of way of surging sewing needle.) and blistered by an erroneous hot glue gun but gladly they are done.

Their recipients seem pleased and I am happy to have made them happy.

I am officially Christmas crafted out. The mess has been packed away and any remnants of the creation have been hidden in various drawers and cupboards.

Its time now to hang those stockings up and wait the arrival of our Santa Claus and hope something delightful fills them to the brim. . . but the best stocking stuffer is love and joy.. . . . and a piece of chocolate.

Happy Christmas to everyone this 2015.

 

Don't play with your food.

Far be it from me to ridicule the  poor person suffering from a food malady or wardrobe malfunction. I have been the receiver of many indignant and ridiculous moments caused by food or food related issues.

As I sat watching the other patrons at the restaurant, trying to catch a glimpse of their entrees to help me figure out what I would order, the rented patio began to fill and spill inside to the dining room. I'm not sure if it was a plus or insult to be separated from your party, but there were 6 large tables set up for the over flow (they had the fine linen and decorative candles on their tables). It was chilly outside and the propane heaters didn't seem to have adequate coverage for all the guests outside so I would count dinner inside with us voyeurs as an advantage.

The large table closest to me sat 8 adults. Their menu was a set course so everybody got the same. No help from them to assist my ordering dilemma. Even their salads were the same but it helped me decide that I wanted one too!

The woman facing me  picked at her salad, steering the croutons and lettuce around the plate with her fork as her tablemates chatted and drank. They talked louder and louder to be heard over the band playing. She seemed disinterested in talking to any of  them and she was obviously a single and having to sit at the end of the long table alone.

Let me be clear. I wasn't staring (too much) and I certainly don't want anyone watching me as I chew and fiddle with my food, but she was RIGHT ACROSS from me so what was I to do? My table topic consisted of how many hops are in the the hoppy IPA and my mind was drifting.

The woman wore horned rimmed glasses straight out of the 60's and had curly bangs hanging down over the top of them. She stabbed a large thick sliced ring of red onion and stuck it in her mouth but it didn't fit. As she bit on the lower portion, the top of the onion ring flipped up onto her nose and splattered her glasses with vinegar dressing. Her eyes got big and she stuck out her tongue to try and grasp the top of the onion but then it got caught on the glasses nose bridge. She was so determined to get control of the onion without using her hands or fork. She bit down on the ring, and started pulling it down with her Gene Simmons tongue and contorted mouth, looking very much like the camel I had just seen at the living nativity, eating away at it in a circle until it was gone. I started laughing when she purposely did the same with the second onion slice. Now she had my attention as I watched the new and improved technique. We humans are such quick learners!

She also got the attention of her tablemates. They soon reverted to preschoolers by inventing new ways to eat boring salad amidst what apparently was a boring wedding reception. At least the onion eater was being noticed. It was dinner entertainment for me although Miss Manners would disapprove of all of us.

I was finally drawn back into my tables conversation when I heard  "floaters" in our bottles of "new" water. Yeeuckk! I certainly paid attention to my own food and tableware then. . . and I was especially cautious while eating my salads sliced onions.

Attenzione con che toungue! (careful with your tongue!)
 

The cat came back. . . only to eat

I think of myself as a cat person. Love the kitty. Not more or less than a dog, but I've always had a cat. Reflecting on all the beloved felines in my life, some were more endearing than others but none were the lap cat or cuddle cat.

The cat that I had the longest spent most of her life under the bed, rejecting petting and chin scratches and usually hacking up fur balls. She lived through many traumas, (being nearly eaten by my pit bull), and outlived all of the cats and kittens that we have had through the decades, dying at age 24.

There must be something about myself that my cats can't connect with so I have yet to find a cat that will be cuddled, and carried. . . not just looked at.

Currently, I think I am cat-less. I had a cat. He is very handsome, soft fur and looks like every cat in America, a little bob cat. Recently I went on vacation and left my pets in the capable care of a friend. My cat is an indoor cat, sleeps under the bed like his predecessor, but will occasionally tolerate a head scratch and accept compliments on his soft, shiney coat. My dog, Captain Morgan, despises this cat. He merely tolerates it as a daily inconvenience and interruption of my constant attention for him. Captain has attempted to let the cat outside on many occasions by opening the sliding glass door for it and then look away as if he hasn't a clue the feline has been released. I have to admit that the cat is not very bright. He has no idea what to do outside and less on how to get back in.

During my last vacation, Captain took advantage of my absence and let his cat bro outside. Didn't even blink as he walked casually away from the door and acted like our cat was still inside to distract the pet sitter from looking for it.

Well, the cat did indeed go out. If he attempted to come back, Captain barked viciously to warn him off and if necessary, chase the cat out of the yard then stand watch to ensure it didn't come back into it.

When we arrived home, the pet sitter was distraught and had been searching for the cat daily. We calmed her and let her know it is a dumb cat and he is close by.

Sure enough, there sat my cat under a bush and I told her he was alive and I would just bring him in. As I approached my beloved feline, it went ballistic and feral, hissing and jumping crazily against the fence until it broke free of the yard and was gone. I was shocked. Surely he would welcome the loving embrace and warmth of his people. We were unprepared for the hissing howling and violent antics. The cat must be in shock.

It is day 22 of the cat departure. We have thought him dead for days. It has rained, frozen, winded, and there have been numerous cat screeches beyond the 8 foot wall. Then, there he was, sitting on the top of the fence, barely out of reach, looking at me. Doors wide open into the warm house, cat food on the patio table, soothing clucks from his people, and my cat opted to throw himself over the fence again. How bad are we? The cat chooses certain death over warm comfy home. It was shocking to see him roll off the wall. . . like the kidnapped girl throwing herself off the cliff to avoid being enslaved by the Indians in the movie The Last of the Mohicans. I guess it was the cats movie moment.

I put food and water out for my cat daily . Occasionally we see him snacking on it. His balance and wall skills are improved but I don't think he's any smarter. He has reverted to his feral roots . He looks a little thin and his coat dull but he is alive. . if in fact that is my cat. Like I said, he looks like every other cat in the neighborhood. I built him a waterproof cat haven lined with his favorite blankets and cat nip toy- to which he passes it by with disdain opting for some muddy patch under a grape vine behind the fence.

Do I want a cat who runs away at the sound of my voice or catching a glimpse of me inside the house? If I did capture him, I would only give him a dose of flea repellent, a shot for rabies and then release.

We wish him luck. I'll continue to feed him and the oppossums and squirrels. . . but we're switching to cheap cat kibble. . . and I'm rethinking my status on being a cat person.