So This is Christmas 2016

The gifts of generosity and kindness abound in my blogosphere. A sincere thank you to each and every one who has read, commented, and supported me in any way during 2016. I appreciate the camaraderie and friendships I have found here.

We are a community of novice and professional writers, crafters, poets, and artists. Each group shares or gleans information on writing, poetry, crafting, cooking. For this, I am grateful and have learned much.  Discussions about resistance to rampaging or inconsiderate technology (cough) are also shared and lambasted learned through the year.

I wish you a Christmas of joy, peace, and fellowship, which I pray someday finally takes hold. We have hope. May the New Year 2017 continue in good cheer, friendship, and tolerance.

I give you this offering, pulled from the archives (a 1996 company newsletter I’d been volunteered to edit for almost five years). Judy Martin posted a poem earlier this week by the same name. I had already scheduled this and decided to tough it out and post anyway. (Be kind. I’m no poet.)

~ * ~

T’was the night before Christmas and a-l-l through the house,

Not a creature was stirring, not even the m-o-u-s-e;

The hardware was hot and needed a rest;

The wires were near flaming from the fast-tracking quest.

If one more finger teased that p-o-o-r little mouse,

The uproar would doubtless have awakened my spouse!

I was resting and spent from my ceaseless drooling

Over menus of the best buys ever, no fooling.

My eyes black and bloodshot hung to my knees,

But I’d finished my shopping and wow was I pleased.

Something gourmet for grandpa, flowers for Jean,

Pulled off with a mouse, a credit card, and a scheme.

The malls were open all day and all night,

So I shopped when I could ‘cause my schedule is tight but

Tomorrow and next year, when Christmas returns,

Will I be shopping in town or in Internet world?

Where will your presents be purchased with care?

Will it be Larry’s or Cherie’s, or from your own chair?

Will you shop the last minute fighting the crowds,

Or choose from the malls warehoused in the clouds?

Pretty soon instead of by the chimney with care,

We won’t hear from Saint Nick but Paypal and email.

No matter how Christmas and Saint Nick visit,

Tolerate no child around you to miss it.

~*~

 

I’ll be here infrequently as time allows until the Next Post January 6th – Are We there Yet?

©Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles

Beothuks and more

Today I have a mishmash of tidbits. This hadn’t been an exciting day but one filled with lots of interesting information.

On the move again. Luggage out by 6:30 a.m. Buffet breakfast at 7:00 and on the bus by 8:00 a.m. Another wet day pressing the windshield wipers into service. Swish-swish.

Francis, our guide, read a poem: http://www.linda-ellis.com/the-dash-the-dash-poem-by-linda-ellis-.html. Check it out. Maybe you’ll enjoy it, too.

A couple from our group shared a strange incident from the night before. One of them had flipped through the TV channels for something entertaining. A particular station clicked, the air conditioner snapped on. Clicked again, and it turned off. They wondered what else might be off.

A moose will challenge anything in its way. We passed a moose killed on the road the previous night, but I didn’t see it, and we couldn’t slow down even though others asked.

Because we weren’t going to see icebergs today, Francis popped in a DVD about them. Did you know icebergs are about 10 stories high? Pieces break off, the berg rolls over and continues breaking off until it melts in summer. Check this out:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dysuQIDtdoM (Something has changed in WordPress, I can’t seem to insert videos here lately.)

First stop, the Beothuk Interpretation Centre

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Beothuk Facts:

• First Indigenous People
• https://www.tes.com/lessons/gye8OhWExDMW6A/beothuk-tribe (background)
• Beothuk means Red Indian
• Red ochre applied to skin from birth
• Europeans left behind old ships
• Boethuks collected the iron nails, screws and nuts and repurposed them
• Iron artifacts found in their base campsites
• Hunted by Europeans when they came to fish during warm months
• Forced inland away from fishing
• Misunderstanding and fighting / driven out by Europeans
• Disease / had no immunity
• Beothuk Interpretation Centre
• 4,000 artifacts
• Designated a National Historic Site of Canada in 1995
• Boyd’s Cove = 11 house pits

A short stop at Little Harbour, which has one street. In June and July, there are icebergs here, but not during out visit. The weather windy, nippy and overcast, we strolled down the one short street and took pictures of root cellars, the rocky shore and the few houses.

Houses along the one road. Not a car passed us.

Old root cellar. Painted door in good repair, it must still be in use..

More Quick Facts about Newfoundland:

• The twin towers in New York were built by Newfoundlanders
• Newfoundland only place you’ll find Pineapple Crush. Everyone else knows Orange Crush.
• Doctors Banting and Best co-discovered insulin
• Experimented on dogs
• A boy at death’s door was first human to be injected with insulin (miraculous recovery)
• Planting starts in early June: carrots and potatoes
• Tomatoes need a greenhouse
• Farmers use Biodegradable_plastic over plants to keep in heat and protect from early spring frost

Capelin Facts:

• Capelin – member of the smelt family
• Harvested for Japanese market
• Russians also came to do the same
• Especially for female roe /males discarded
• 30 – 40% are male (a market must be found for them)
• Occasionally an overloaded boat swamped
• Fishermen made the best of their catch
• A lucky fisherman took all he wanted from his nets
• Some fishermen buddied up to make the most of a day’s catch
• http://www.fish-fishes.com/salt_water_fish/capelin_fish.html
• Are food for cod and puffins (we didn’t see these either as we were too late in the season)

Old Irish Tradition: Mummery (check link for Mummers’ costumes and song)

During the 12 days of Christmas, 25 to 30 people could knock on someone’s door. They’d be invited inside, given a piece of chocolate cake, and a drink for adults. Everyone tried to identify each other. The visitors performed plays, sang, played instruments, danced, and had a good time. This old tradition is now enjoyed only at Hallowe’en.

* * *

Next on May 20^th – Twillington

© 2015 Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles. All Rights Reserved.

For more related posts, click on Newfoundland / Labrador tab at the top of the page

Thank you for reading and commenting. I appreciate your kind support.

Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas

Have a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year;

Pockets full of money and a belly full or beer…or wine if you prefer.  

Can it be five days till Christmas already? I popped in to wish my special friends in Blog World a Merry Christmas, a fabulous holiday season, and a Hap-hap-happy New Year. Here’s an Oldie but Goldie for a sing-a-long to put you in the spirit of the season if you need a nudge. I do. We have no snow and it’s warmer than usual for December.

Credit:   ChristmasTimeTV

My granddaughter dressed my tree this year, and even put the lights on—her first time at not yet twelve—because I’ve had tendonitis for the past six months and needed help. She took it a little easy on the ornaments, but the results are a colossal success and I’m grateful she was willing. This means we’ll have less to take down before my trip to Vancouver three days after Christmas. (Can’t let the cats have too much fun while I’m away or maybe cut themselves on broken bulbs, though they’ve been good as long as I took away the tree skirt).

Do you know anyone born on New Year’s Eve? This particular sister I’ll be visiting has missed birthday presents for 60 years.

Credit:  Sarah Robinson

I had no idea my cat Dickens, adopted last January, had FIV and gingivitis. I found out about his health conditions when I took him to the vet shortly after adoption. He’s lost so much weight in the past few days, I took him to the vet two days ago. He’s lost more teeth and his gums have been a bloody mess.  He’s on pain killers and antibiotics now and already his coat looks less mangy today. How I hate forcing kitties to give them medication. On the other hand, it’s a bonus not to bleed to death myself while fighting with them. The pain meds are thick enough to smear on a paw, but the antibiotics are thin as water and he’s not forgiving.

Dickens is the tan one; Lady G. is brindle.

November had me chained to my desk. I’d participated in NaNoWriMo though I hadn’t registered. At the last moment, a friend challenged me and unprepared, I dove in, thinking no way would I complete the task ahead. Had it not been for Karen, I would have given up by day ten—my first brain drain–but she, the competitive type, kept me at it because no way was I pooping out first. Now I have a book of short stories to edit in the New Year and maybe, maybe, I’ll complete that circle too. I tell you to stay accountable. November paid off much better than last summer had workwise.

If I had not had your kind and generous support all year, I have no idea how I might have moved forward towards my long-time goal: indie publication. Thank you. Thank you for the jab in the ribs whether you had any idea or not. I could not have done anything without you, my supportive community, and I plan to return the favor again soon in 2016. I have been mostly absent since the summer, but it has been worth it. I appreciate your kindness and thoughtfulness, each and everyone of you.

It’s been an unusual, but exciting year for me. Thank YOU.  Thank you. I had no idea what a wonderful world I’d entered when I began blogging four+ years ago. I am close to 500^th posts. Close, but still a few to go.

 

Credit: gabychest

Or maybe you’d prefer a more honkytonk version:

Credit:  TheChiefEmperor

Happy New Year!

Hip-hip-hooray 2016

Blog Friends, Neighbors and Countrymen

Due to extenuating circumstances (unexpected family and social obligations: i.e. life in the fast lane), I haven’t had enough time to visit you all more often.

November, I spent writing with furious diligence, while  life around me came to a standstill. Still appointments and family visits continue to take much of my time this month. Off and on holiday entertaining and a visit to the west coast for a sister’s 60th birthday also loom large.

When time permits, I shall flit in and out and can’t wait till my schedule isn’t hampered by all these commitments. You’re always on the edge of my mind. I have not forgotten you and miss you and our daily banter.

100-Word Challenge for Grownups

Click here to join:

The prompt this week is the picture below plus 100 words.

A Fine Sunday

“My granddaddy worked on the docks across there. You listening, Llewellyn?”

“Sure.”

“Where’s your mind at this fine Sunday?”

“It’s nothing.”

Zelma patted the dog. “Our one day off together and your mind’s someplace else?”

“I’ve sorting out to do.”

She backed away. “Like what?”

“Things.” He swiped a forearm across his greasy forehead. “The Rover car factory is opening soon and advertising for workers.”

“You don’t know anything about…”

“I already quit…”

“The Missus cut my hours, and soon I’ll stop altogether.”

“Don’t worry— Stop?”

“I have news. You’ll be a daddy before Christmas.”

“Impossible.”

“This ain’t the Bible.”

 

© 2015 All Rights Reserved Tess and How the Cookie Crumbles

100-Word Challenge for Grownups – Week #162

It’s a new year and the fun continues. To read the rules and join in, click below:

http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2015/01/06/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week162/

The week’s prompt:…   as I put the decorations away I … + 100 words

ANGELS

Smash! “I sorry, Grammie.” Beth’s lip wobbled; solitaire-size tears leaked to her chin.

“Sweetie, it’s okay. Come sit.”

“It was a accident.”

“I know.”

Brushing copper wisps aside, she raised watery eyes. “You mad now?”

“At you? Never. Who wants a hug?”

Beth giggled and climbed upon her lap.

Grammie wiped the little face. “Each year, as I put the decorations away, I remember your mom, no bigger than you. One Christmas I dropped and broke her favorite ornament, a glass angel.”

“Did she cry?”

“No. I did. She said we’d buy another one.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. Two. Mine’s near the top—there.”

“Mine too. My tree”

 

© 2015 All Right Reserved TAK

100-Word Challenge for Grownups – Week #159

Time for another challenge. To join in the fun, click below:

http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2014/12/15/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week-159/

This week’s prompt:…  I need to remember… +100 words

HOME SAFE

“Where are my gloves?”

Mrs. K’s fingers combed through her hair. “You’re burning up.”

“Can’t leave without my gloves.”

“They’re tucked into your belt. Here.”

He rubbed puffy eyes.  “I need to remember something. What?”

“Make it back in time for breakfast?”

“No-no. Where’s the new GPS?”

“In the sleigh, dear. Take Nelson tonight.”

Kris pulled on his bottom lip. “Nelson?”

“The doctor treating you.”

“Don’t think so…”

“What if you get drowsy? Or need meds to get through tonight?

“You’re mighty persuasive, Mrs. K. Ho, ho, ho—but no.”

A green and black blur dashed out the door.

Safe home, Kris. Safe home.

 

© 2014 TAK

These Socks Suck

I like new ideas. These days what you know today is old news tomorrow. Someone somewhere dreams up invaluable and imaginative ways of making money. Time and again I’ve been bamboozled into parting with my hard-earned cash on near worthless product(s). When the darn thing breaks or falls apart, I don’t beat myself up about it because the investment is never large to cause true grief. Life is supposed to be an adventure. No? Sure it is.

Last minute Christmas shopping found me at Walmart in the Pet Department. Lady Gaga doesn’t know or care about Santa, but she would get a treat anyway. I bought her a cart load of Iams canned chicken, beef, and lamb paté. Her favourites. She only gets on heaping teaspoonful in the morning with a quarter cup of dry Iams and at night she has dry cat food only. One can lasts five days: five spoons.

On my way back to pay for all the goodies in my basket, I passed a sock display. Wild and jazzy colours; soft and fuzzy yarn.

Wait a minute. What’s this? The advertisement said the socks had aloe in them or were aloe? Can’t recall. Only hand-washing was recommended. Their softness sold me in three seconds. In winter as in summer, I suffer from callouses on my heels. At three dollars a pair, I almost threw three packages into my cart. Something stopped me.

The first time I wore the socks, I expected magic: soft feet overnight. And yes, I wore them to bed. Canada’s winters are cold; freezing this year. Sigh. No miracle occurred that night or the next no matter how velvety they were to the touch.

For washing, I threw them, inside out, into lukewarm water with a little dish soap. Thick fibres drifted to the top. Awful stuff. Scooping the fuzz balls out, I changed the water and started over again. Why did they shed and where was all that wool coming from? Would my socks disintegrate in the wash?

With care, I squeezed out all the water instead of wringing them out and hung them over the shower to dry.

The next couple of times I wore these strange foot warmers, fluff followed me everywhere: between my bed sheets, on the floor beside the bed, on the bathroom floor. At each washing, I expected a mass of fibres in my hands with nothing holding them together.

How many wearings or washings will they last? This latest adventure may be small but it’s not over yet. All for three measly bucks and no soft skin as anticipated. I wonder if I shouldn’t have put aloe and some O.V.O.O. on my heels before putting the socks on.

~ * ~

You want magic. I’m here to share it with you.  Use a Ped Egg on your heels–dry (the surface is like a rasp). The shower routine with the stone doesn’t work for me. Slather your feet with Vaseline. Put a plastic bag on each foot with a sock over each (cotton is good but not necessary) to hold it all together. Go to bed. In the morning your feet will be soft as a baby’s you-know-what. Honest.

Christmas, Borrowers, and Squirrels

Our traditional Polish celebration called Wigilia has changed since 2010. That year we had a funeral for our Mom on the 24^th instead. Since then, we cannot replicate Christmas Eve without her, and I do not want to try. I share a house with my daughter and her family. They live on the main floor and I live in the finished apartment in the basement. We often accommodate large gatherings in my large open space.

This year, our third Christmas Eve without Mum has been the least traditional: an open house instead of a sit-down dinner. About 30 or so family members attended. My family is small, my son-in-law’s is not. The eight-foot table in my dining-room (area) sagged creaking beneath the weight of various finger foods: meat balls, devilled eggs, pizza bites, veggies and dip, turkey and ham cucumber and cream cheese roll-ups, antojitos, veggies and dip, bruschetta, a pickle / olive platter, cheese and kielbasa tray,  cabbage rolls, and pierogi to name a few. Many items didn’t make it to the table; there was too much food. After eats, the Polish kids (six grandchildren) opened gifts with squeals and mumbled thank yous. The rest of the guests watched, intrigued. My family had travelled and hour and a half to attend and the adults exchanged gifts as well, which is the norml on this night anyway. As happens when you have a large crowd of people in one area, various small groups form. Two of my sisters with their husbands and myself hung around the island in the kitchen. Not uncommon in my house, the subject of books came up. My six-year-old granddaughter had been holding court in another part of the room but wandered over to see why we were so excited. She whispered, “Babcia, did you tell them about The Borrowers (I had given the girls a copy a week previous). “Ah…no. You tell them.” “No, you.” “I believe they’d like to hear it from you. It’s your book,” Lily sprinted away. We adults continued our lively discussion about The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks (by Rebecca Skloot). Lily returned, flashing the heavy book over her head with both hands. “Have you guys read this book about The Borrowers?” The adults stopped and shook their heads. “It’s about tiny people who live under the floor and steal things because they can’t buy them and believe they are borrowing, not stealing.” She handed the book around. The adults oohed and awed. Then, she grabbed it back and disappeared, eyes aglow, pleased she had enlightened the booklovers in the room.

“What just happened?” someone asked. No explanation was necessary though. Everyone knew about our dramatic Lily. As the evening wound down, guests collected their paraphernalia and the room emptied. Lily came back downstairs dragging a green garbage bag. “I came to get my stuff.” I watched her, half-curious. “Why isn’t your sister helping you? That bag looks heavy.” She shrugged and threw the bag over her shoulder, staggering beneath the weight of its contents. “Need some help?” “No, I got it.”

* * *

Before I crashed for the night I’d noticed one of my gifts was missing, a red sweater from one of my sisters. Lily must have squirreled it away in her bag because she found my box in the vicinity of her Christmas stash. What’s hers is hers even when it isn’t because she likes to stockpile her belongings in her bedroom away from prying eyes and roving fingers. That’s our Lily. Do you have any squirrels or borrowers in your family? What event(s) colored your Christmas?

Flash in the Pan – Demented

Katherine dropped the scotch tape and peeked around the corner at the spectacular tree. Warmth and cheer radiated from the fireplace; joyful carols played a touch above a whisper. She hugged herself. Two gifts left to wrap…the best ones.

Brandon tramped into the overpriced kitchen. Feet wide apart, he tossed off his jacket and loosened his tie. “What’s all this mess?” Wrapped boxes and gift bags littered the table.

Unapologetic, Katherine’s voice wavered. “These are a few gifts for a new friend I’ve invited for Christmas.”

morgueFile free photos

“Christmas isn’t for strangers, it’s for family—except mine, that is.”

“But this is a time for giving, good will…”

“Is that a doll? For you? Are you demented?” He persisted forward until mere inches separated them.

Katherine grabbed the baby doll. “It’s for the orphan girl who’s coming to dinner.”

Brandon staggered as if punched. He cleared his throat. “A little girl? Here?”

~ * ~

The Fall Quarter of Flash in the Pan is coming to the end. The theme is Disturbed.

The word limit for Demented is 150 words. I used them 150.

Check how to join:  http://mommasmoneymatters.com/flash-fiction/