I came across an envelope this morning, Dear Reader, tucked into the back of my jewelry drawer. In my mother's printing, it was labeled "Very Precious Notes." I know she meant that envelope for me and that I would find it when I cleaned out her desk after her death. Until this morning I have never had the guts to open it and read those messages Mom had tucked away. Today was the day.CHRISTMAS, PRESENT
by Lois Duncan
I saw the Ghost-of-Christmas Past
Glide by our lighted tree.
Her arms were filled with dolls and toys,
And all were meant for me.
I sensed the rustle of her skirts.
Her blouse was trimmed with lace,
And when she turned to smile at me
She wore my mother's face.
Just as this vision slipped from sight
I heard my daughter call.
Wild footsteps clattered on the stair;
Shrill giggles filled the hall.
She burst into the gift-filled room
And squealed in glad surprise,
And all the Christmases-to-come
Were mirrored in her eyes.
How swiftly fly the rainbow years,
Like splintered shafts of light,
As fragile as the gentle ghosts
Who whisper in the night.
I draw my child into my arms
And hold this moment fast
Against the time my face will be
Her Ghost-of-Christmas Past.
I do know, Dear Reader, that in many parts of the world the weather we are experiencing now in the Pacific Northwest is not unusual. It is common winter weather. Snow and ice are business as usual in many, many places. However, that said, I would like to point out that an inch of snow can bring this region to its knees. Can you imagine what six to twelve inches of this white stuff is doing to us? Added to the snow, tonight we are having major winds in many places. Think temperatures in the 10 to 20 degrees F range and then factor in the wind chill of 35 mph winds. Think no heat. Think no hot water. Think no lights, Christmas or otherwise. Think no hot cocoa. Try not to think about being homeless and thank God and the municipal authorities who have opened shelters all over the area. 
We have had snow and record breaking cold temperates for a week now. Most of the snow was melted away the other day, although ice was still a problem. I have been out and about in town, walking carefully, like a 900-year-old woman, for fear of landing on my backside (or worse, my head!) unexpectedly. I have ventured out and slipped and slid to coffee and the post office (your gift is finally in the mail, Tiff) and the bank. I have even rather enjoyed it. Well, sort of. I am not really a fan of snow in the lowlands. I strongly believe that snow belongs in the mountains, and only in the mountains. It does not belong in cities and towns in the lowlands, especially those that lie along large bodies of salt water, like Puget Sound, fer heaven's sake. Apparently Mother Nature does not agree with me and she has the weather chops while I only have the weather whines. 
And it won't even be officially winter until tomorrow. 
Anyone thinking global warming right now?
Ever since last summer I have been mulling over a conversation I had with my granddaughter Emma about art. At the time we were on our way back from a ferry boat ride to Kingston with most of the family. All the clan had gathered at my house and then trooped down Main street to the ferry, where we walked on and rode over to have breakfast. Mostly it was an outing for all of us and a fun thing for the grand babies to do. The cousins see each other only a few times a year and so, when we all gather, we try and do some "kid friendly" fun activities. Anyway, that was what brought us together this particular Saturday morning in July. On the walk down I pointed out to Emma that her Granty had artwork for sale in a local home decor shop and there was a lovely glass and shell mermaid window of Granty's prominently displayed in the store's front window. Other pieces were just visible, if you peered through the shop window, hung on the wall inside. Emma seemed rather interested in what Granty had done so on the way back Emma, Granty and I stopped to give the art a closer work. (And to compliment Granty, too, of course.)
We showed the shell artwork Granty creates to Emma. She looked at it, very interestedly. Granty told her a little bit about how she made them. Emma, big blue eyes wide, took it all in. Finally I asked her what she thought about all this art.
Silence.
I pushed a little. Emma announced it was pretty and she liked all the shells and the way the colors looked. And that the shells were shiny. And the sand Granty uses as background in may of her works.....but, they were not art. Now, Dear Reader, this was said in a firm and exceedingly confident voice. Emma knew what was art and THAT WAS NOT IT. I am the first person to defend any one's take on what constitutes art to that individual person. Art is, we all know, very subjective. If Granty's work was not art to Emma, so be it. Four-year-olds aren't usually that, er, what's the word I want here.....critical? Secure in their own taste? Emma, however, is. Very sure. Very, very sure.
Granty's canvases were pretty and she truly liked them, but THEY WERE NOT ART. Nope. Not art. Not at all.
We had to know what was Emma's definition of art and why didn't Granty's things live up to that (apparently) very high, Emma set, bar!
After a lot of questioning and conversation it came out that art is sparkly. Art is glittery. Art fairly glows. Disneyland is art. The opening credits of any Disney movie, with the castle and the fireworks and the fairy dust and the glitz is art, to Emma. Granty's work was, alas, pretty but not glittery or sparkly. It did not shriek of fireworks and Tinkerbell's fairy dust or anything. It was just shells.
So, the photo below is art. To Emma.
(It's a lovely photograph of Disneyland taken by someone with the Flickr name of 'Mastery of Maps'. Please give the photographer due credit for a lovely photo.)
And how did I come to feel the need to share this with you, you ask, Dear Reader? Well, every time I look at my Christmas tree and my eye falls upon a glittery ornament, or I look at the beautiful silver glass glitter stars I both saw and bought when I was at Wendy Addison's Theatre of Dreams last August, or a bit of glitter falls from a Christmas card I received in the morning mail, I think back to Emma and her very sure definition of art.
My house is decorated, inside and out. We even had snow yesterday, an unusual occurrence in the Puget Sound region this early in the season. We don't usually get much snow until January or February. Everything looks Christmas-y.
This is Edmonds' official Christmas tree and it's right across the street from my little house---a most festive view, I can assure you.
Even the local geese like flying over in the early morning to take in the decorations from on high.
I've begun my Christmas baking in earnest now. I must stay out of the goodies, I MUST.
I have finished my shopping and have wrapped the gifts and shipped those for my out of town friends and relatives.
It is a joy to walk around town these days, especially these nights, to admire all the decorations and lights. Twinkling white lights, sparkly ornaments and tinsel trimmings, fragrant greens, garlands and wreaths all drive away the darkness of these drear December days.
And visions of sugar plums.....I know just where to get them! Right down to the end of my alley, turn left, walk 50 paces and there you are at Nama's Candy Store, home to all things sugary and delectable.
I enjoy candlelight especially this time of year and have little tea lights all over the house. These are on the kitchen counter, near the stove.
How are your Holiday preparations going? I hope you are enjoying a relatively stress free December and that the light and love of this magical season are in your home and in your heart. .JPG)
LK Ludwig has had another brainstorm! She has now suggested that those of us interested share a favorite song. Here is an excerpt from the email I got from LK explaining her idea:
"A Day of Sharing Song
"The idea: Songs can move us to places we haven't
been in a long time, places we long for every day, or places we someday hope to
be. The combination of music and poetry can transport us across distances, and
through the years. While we listen, perhaps we grin wildly, or are moved to
tears. We all have songs that are "ours" in our very hearts. We have songs that
touch us, move into our hearts and resonate, creating a feeling, taking us some
place- past, present, future- perhaps some place we have never been and may
never go, but for whatever reasons, the song sings for us.
Meeting new
music, musicians, composers, poets, new ways for my soul to sing, is an
intriguing concept. Want to go on this adventure with me? It will be easy to
travel along.
Many of us already do this sharing; this idea is just to
help us find each other and hear the words we have to share.
The Date:
Wednesday, December 3.
The Plan: on your blog, post a song that moves
inside you, touches you, reaches you. You can do any or all of the following:
link to a youtube video (done as you would normally post a link)
link to itunes or amazon for a sample of the song
embed the youtube clip
(instructions here)
post just song lyrics
post multiple songs, if you
can't choose just one.
Include the composer and/or musician and
source (book, album). Perhaps also include the amazon or itunes link if there is
one. no explanation required, no other revelation necessary.
One last thing-
Perhaps add an image. a photo. a video. a painting. a collage., if you would."
My pick is The Littlest Birds by The Be Good Tanyas.
I finally got my lino block cut and have now printed my Christmas cards for 2008. I have this yearly need to make my own cards. I've felt that way since I was a girl and it just makes me happy to do this little project once a year. I bought my cards for years when my children were younger but now that they are beautifully grown and gone, I have time to return to my favorite Christmas art project. 
This is a row of drying prints.
The prints are then trimmed and matted to the backing red cardstock with those adhesive spacer thingies....the ones I never know by what name to call them!
Once the cards are matted, they are then glued to the front of the card.
I can now check Christmas cards off my To Do List.
Today was a sad day at my house. Our rescue kitty, Toes, who has been with us for three years, had to be euthanized for a variety of medical reasons. It was the right thing to do but it was very, very hard. She was a nice old lady who only wanted to be loved and petted. Toes was never happier than when she was ensconced on a lap, getting face scratches and being crooned to. She looked, alas, much like a dust bunny, but she had beautiful green eyes and her nose was a perfect little black heart. She had, of course, six toes per paw. I will miss her very much.
maggie and milly and molly and may
by
e.e. cummings
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, andmilly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles; and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
for whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea.
Today was my DH's birthday. We are now entering into those lovely three months when I can claim that he is "so much older than I" and that he was born "in an entirely earlier decade!" Yes. I can. And I will.
I baked DH a big, big, BIG three layer sour cream birthday cake. With rubber ducky candles, no less. I made such a big cake so he could take it out to the gun club tonight to share with the other Thursday night trap shooters. I'm sure there will be no cake left when he returns home. I rather like the ducky candles. 
He is very fond of his jackalope. DH is smitten with his jackalope, almost smug to actually own one. DH is taking it to his cabin. Tomorrow. He likes it.
DH is taking it to live in his cabin, the huntin'-fishin'-shootin'-manly activities cabin that fairly reeks of testosterone. He's taking it tomorrow. 
Thank God.
Happy birthday, DH.
In loving memory to two gentlemen who fought for their country in World War II. 
My Daddy, Joseph Bell Rawlings
and my father-in-law, Donald Paul Unger. You are missed.
It was a cold, wet and windy Veterans' Day, but the wind made the flags snap crisply and the cold rain couldn't dull the bright colors of the flags.
I honor the all men and women who have made the sacrifice to fight for their country.
Thank you.
