Bicycles

Before Michael left for Okinawa back in July, he helped me clean out the garage. I wouldn't let him haul it all off because I could make some good money off it in a garage sale. Well, yesterday, we hauled all that good money making junk to the thrift store. It was quite hard for me. I had no problem getting it out of my garage, but losing all that potential $ was killing me. ;)

One of the things to go was the first table and chair set that Michael and I bought as a married couple. It lived and traveled with us for 20 years. Kevin was bummed to see it go. I had to chuckle about my guys and their need to hang on to some things. The mind wandered back to the bicycles.

We have in our garage a little orange bike that Michael refuses to get rid of. Believe me I tried. Then Michael told me why he wanted to keep Kevin's little orange bike.

First, I have to take a brief trip back to the trike. When Kevin was 2 yrs. old he was riding his trike when Michael called every one in for supper. Kevin got off his trike, left it where it was, and came inside. He was told to bring his trike home or it would be pitched in the trash. That was fine with him and when it went in the dumpster he never missed a beat. I, however, had a fit; behind his back. After he went to bed we fished out the trike and hid it away for a while. Kevin never missed it.

Then, in kindergarten Kevin rode his bike with training wheels. I could hear him riding out in the street; he would either be singing or whistling at the top of his lungs. He was the happiest kid on the block. One day my wonderful, drill instructor husband decided that Kevin needed to ride without the training wheels. This day was horrible. I won't go into details; I'll just say there were many tears that day and years later apologies. Kevin never touched that bike again.

Finally, when Kevin was 10 years old we moved to Pensacola, Florida. Michael and I reversed roles; he stayed home to school Kevin and I went to full time work. I don't remember when the orange bike was bought, but this is the time in which it earned it's permanent home in our garage. Michael would run during the day and have Kevin ride this bike beside him. So, when I wouldn't let up on getting rid of the thing Michael shared with me that that bike represented a good thing in a very bad time of our lives.

So, if you're in my garage 40 years from now and see a little orange bike, that's why.

Christmas Pictures!

Nativity

Our first Nativity. The kids could play with this one.

South Western Nativity

Willow Tree Nativity. My Christmas gift this year. Notice how I set it up.

Deep concentration

Yep, much better! The focus of the figurines is now The Christ Child; our reason for having this celebration.

Bearing Gifts From A Far

Happy man, home from Okinawa.

Need Ear Plugs

I know, with out a doubt, that in spite of my Grandfather's lack of hearing, my Grandmother did not cook Christmas Dinner listening to The X-Men at window shattering volumes on surround sound. Just gotta love having my man home.

So far the sausage balls look good and the red velvet cake does too. Course the cake is still in the separate 3 layers with out the icing yet. Icing and stacking is usually when the cake wins and I lose. Unlike my Grandmother though I will serve it anyway. Lopsided or not, it's hard to pass up cream cheese icing.

If you'd like go to U-tube and type in Kylie plays Silent Night. That is my niece playing piano in the mall. From there you can find my extended family singing to me We Wish You A Merry Christmas. Great people. Wish I was with them. Sorry I don't know how to link you over. It is worth the trip if you have time.

Merry Christmas again! If you see me in the next day or two don't be offended if I mostly say, HUH?!

Merry Christmas!

I hope you all enjoy a wonderful day in just the way you wish it to be.

It's Official

Baking and cooking are not my thing! I spent hours in the kitchen the other day, excited to finally have the time to make goodies. Every year I set out to make a plateful of goodies for my friends. Always with the idea of it being a simple inexpensive way to remember people that are special to me. After several flops at several different things I gave up and went to bed.

I whined to my husband about the failure and pondered how in the world my Grandmother managed to do all she did. I was reminded that she too stayed up into the wee hours of the morning. If she were still here on earth I'd ask how old she was when she finally began to get it right on a regular basis.

The next morning I managed to get a good batch of fudge and a cake baked. Then I had more fun making penguins out of olives and cream cheese. (no cooking involved) So I packed up my cake, penguins, and fudge on the same plate and took them to work. I was so proud... until I unwrapped my gift. The fudge had melted a bit and the cake smelled odd to me. I didn't stick around for them to cut it.

So, a baker I am not.

I also came to terms with the fact that I absolutely hate to cook. I have struggled with this for years. When I manage to get a good meal to the table I feel great about myself. It just doesn't come easy for me; it is a lot of work. My husband and daughter can turn out a meal as if it were nothing; and it always taste great. I have to continue to cook like it or not. Our survival kind of sort of depends on it. Advance planning makes a huge difference. (Great post about this at A Day In the Life of A Preacher's Wife; in my side bar.)

My husband has placed a perfect omelet in front of me so I will stop the whining and enjoy.
Fortunately, I do like to clean. It's a good thing, since my daughter and husband do not. You should see my kitchen, I don't look until after I have enjoyed my meal. ;)