Pitching You a Question, Reader Dear

Reader Dear, oh, Dear Reader, what does one do with all the pretty Christmas cards that have been sitting on display for all  these long winter weeks, until  now it is nearly the day for more cards (the kind that are filled with X's and O's and other sweet sentiments [These cards won't be nearly as plentiful, of course.  But they will make those joyful, bell-ringing, tinsel-and-holly ones look as outdated as pumpkins and dried cornstalks!])


Do I just pitch them?!

And while I'm at it with this pitching question:  What does one do with albums filled with a half-century's worth of real, actual, pick-up-and-squint-at-them photographs (plus all the scattered non-album kind) that have been repining in an overstuffed cupboard box for years and years?!

Looking at the birdie

Most of these photos are not studio pictures (Dress up, drive to the studio, sit with head cocked at whatever angle the photographer orders, look at the little bird above the photographer's head, and smile as though you mean it).  That kind of photo was and is a precious and rare type and must be saved for all of posterity, of course. But what about all the snapshots.  What about the nearly faded-to-obscurity ones, where the photo was snapped by an amateur,  timed for a few seconds, ejected from the camera  and peeled from its backing to oohs and aahs of amazement?  What about those?!

Do I just pitch them, too?!









And here's yet another question to ponder, Reader Dear:   What does one do with all those items so old and rare and infused with decades and decades (if not centuries) worth of nostalgia that it's very tough to rid oneself of them?!  (I'll make a list, but it's going to be long, and it's going to get tricky [I still want an answer])

1.  Lovely old tin box containing thick curly locks of human hair tied in faded pink ribbons, hair that was cut from my mother's head when she was a six-year-old with Undulant Fever (Incidentally, this was the very year that penicillin was discovered, though not in widespread use; she had to survive the illness without it).



















2.  Ancient German books, passed down for four or more generations by the fine folk who lent their    DNA to The Yard Man, many of these tomes inscribed inside the cover with the owner's name (or names from each generation).

3.  Tiny tea sets given to me as a child, one set from each of my grandmothers.

4.  A charming couple of acorn-head dolls, handcrafted by the paternal grandmother of the Yard Man.

5.  A hundred-year-old falling-apart leather book-bag with my paternal grandfather's initials stamped in gold.

6.  Contents of book-bag:  Certificates and school report cards of my father (whose top subject was math, I note). A faded, barely legible, penciled essay on the importance of obeying one's parents.

7.  Ah, and so much more!*  Once again I pitch you the question:

Anybody for pitching?!

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*Viewer Dear, must you see it all?!  The antique dishes?  The dolls?  The paintings? The woven baskets? The braided rugs? The wooden loom?  The antique lunch box?  All of the knick-knacks?!!  Aargh.

Are You Still There,

(Two trees awaiting a match [one of them discarded here as a favor])

Dear Reader Dear?  Am I still a blogger (with a capital B)?

I've been hauling Christmas out the door, parts of it to the burn pile in the meadow, and parts of it back up to the attic. 

I've been turning the pages of the calendar and thinking about the pace of time! Watching the days go by, one after another.

I've been thinking "Life is SO weird!"
and "Hmm, wish I had a video of those horses (the Yard Man's, of course) trotting so splendidly in the morning sun; I'd blog it!"

I've been busy caring for loved ones.  Busy caring for tenants, as well (they're not exactly "loved ones," but needy human beings, nonetheless.)

I've been entertaining guests (though, ahem,  "entertaining" may be a bit of a stretch.  Let's just say, I've been providing a spot to lay their heads, the dear friends!  The dear brother!)

I've been ruing the fact that I didn't share the Christmas videos.  Rueing the fact that I've started countless* blog posts and let them die of expiration.

*Not really countless.  There were six.**

**Dear Reader Dear, I've decided there will not be seven.

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A Flash of Pre-Christmas

Never, Reader Dear, have I had a Week-before-Christmas remotely similar to the one that just transpired!
There were hospital visits to Philadelphia, to the University of PA Hospital  (where Wife of Only Son, aka Only Daughter-in-Law now resides [for what we hope and pray is a successful and shorter-than-average temporary housing stay in ICU]!)

 

Small Actor enjoying his Fruit Robot

(specialty of mine)

The week was stuffed full, with trips to the hospital, as well as good times with the Small Actor (who misses his mom),



plus other events, the  celebratory sort!
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The Yard Man and I had not attended a formal anniversary party together, ever.  During this pre-Christmas week, we were invited to attend not one, but two on the very same day (fortunately, one a luncheon, the other a dinner).  These two celebrations had some things in common, of course.  

CAKE! 

DECORATIVE TABLE SETTINGS!     

GOOD FOOD!

Both parties offered us a delicious meal.

 But, for interest's sake, I'm going to tell you about a unique feature of each party.

The luncheon party was given by a couple celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary.  And who, Reader Dear,  do you suppose was in attendance?  The very same minister who married these two!  (It may not be that unusual; the fact of it, however, both fascinated and pleased me.)

The anniversary dinner, then, was an event planned (by their children) as a surprise for friends who are celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary.  The guests were huddled in a small cloakroom adjacent to the dining room where the table was set.  When these two came through the door, we popped out to shout "Surprise!" They appeared to be slightly flummoxed, and, yes, surprised!  (This, too,  tickled and pleased me!)

Wishing both sets of long-since bride and long-since-groom many more years of marital bliss (er, well, at least marital contentment with loads of downright happiness!)

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And one more episode, which didn't quite sneak into the final pre-Christmas week, but was ten days prior, and definitely deserves a mention:  The Yard Man and I took friends and went to a concert in York, PA**
Darlingside! 
 
**About a thirty-five-mile drive and jeopardized by the fact that we got snow, falling so beautifully all day long, but leaving us to ponder the odds of getting to hear
Darlingside!

As you can no doubt determine, we made it to the concert and it was terrific!  It was so difficult to stop recording snippets of the performance.  If you like what you hear, Listener Dear, be sure that you make a point of taking yourself to a concert by

Darlingside!

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Christmas Eve, coming right up!

Turns out

I fell off the Christmas train.  And then, when I stood up and brushed myself off, it was very nearly Christmas Eve!

I told you, Reader Dear, I hoped to show you the decorated tree when I could manage to get it home and into the tree stand and into its fancy dressed-up state.






A week after choosing the tree, The Yard Man brought it home and into the house.  He secured it in an upright position in the stand.  I untangled the strings of lights and ensured that they all lit up (having learned from experience the importance of taking this step prior to laboriously wrapping the strands of lights around the tree.)

I lugged the boxes of ornaments from the attic.



And then, I happily completed the fun part:
Hanging the ornaments!











The starfish from the Outer Banks of North Carolina.
The cardboard angels which hung on the very first
Christmas tree finagled into a tree stand for me by the Yard Man.

 The angel that has blown his trumpet from the uppermost branch for years and years.

So now, here the tree stands briefly,  and sparkles with Christmas cheer, Viewer Dear!

I've found that time starts

acting like a runaway freight train this time of year.  I make every attempt to prepare for it, but before I know,  Thanksgiving has come and gone, and suddenly the train is careening out of control. I have barely managed to get myself aboard; the Christmas paraphernalia is bumping along behind on the tracks.

Complicating the whole Holidays-are-A'comin' interval is the fact that ordinary maintenance must go on.  Ordinary crises continue.  Ordinary leaves are still falling from the trees, and ordinary pipes go on leaking*.  Tenants keep on stepping into sticky situations.   A plain old cell phone continues its frustrating tendency toward poor reception, and an ordinary car is way past its inspection due date.

*It was an underground pipe, Reader Dear, the one with the leak.  The Water Department at the township office proclaimed that it must have been leaking for months; they'd been looking for it!  Discovery was delayed, but a neighbor who lives nearby finally gave me a call.
"I thought you'd want to know, there's water coming out of the ground at your apartments.  There's practically a  river running down the hill!"

And, "Sorry," said the township Water Department, "but this is your responsibility to repair."
SIGH.
It was a big bloody (er, muddy) mess!

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But, here's the thing,  Dear Reader:  Once aboard this train that's en route to Christmas, there are jolly times as well.
For instance, there was the search for THE TREE.
Now maybe jolly isn't the right word, but I did have a perfectly pleasant time strolling the sprawling fields of evergreens in search of the one that called my name**.  The weather was glorious last Saturday, and The Yard Man was driving his trotting mares at the tree farm again. 

**Naturally, there were hundreds holding their limbs out to me and calling my name.  I inspected them all, Reader Dear!

It's going to be fun bringing the tree home, too, and decorating.
I'll try to show it to you later through the open train window (as we speed along)
future-Viewer Dear.
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