~*~ DIY Christmas Tree ~*~

Some of my daughters' earliest memories of Christmas trees are of branches painted white, stuck in a can of cement, and hung with lights and ornaments. Such was our Christmas tree during the years we spent in Haiti. We loved the uniqueness of it and the way you could see right through the tree to enjoy the ornaments on the other side.

This is not my photo, but I was glad to find it on a blog!

For several years, Anna has wanted to try making a similar tree. She decided on three different types of branches, a pot, and floral foam. Fortunately, when she was ready to put it all together, my grandson Marshall and I were there to help. Oh, and let's not forget Thistle!

Anna cutting foam to fill up the pot.

Action shot: Thistle wants to help!

These are real branches that have been "flocked".

Two sets of branches are pre-lit, so we had to deal with the electric cords.

The shortest branches are metal and could be carefully bent.

Tah Dah!!!

Anna wanted to let her kitty get used to the tree before she added the ornaments. Maybe she will comment here and give us an update on "Thistle Versus the DIY Christmas Tree."

In case I don't post again this month,

Merry Christmas and a Blessed & Happy New Year!

~*~ Thinking & Writing ~*~

The inside of my head is a very active place; no fear of the dust settling anytime soon. But I do wonder where all my memories have been stored. I know they're in there somewhere, but I fear the corpus callosum has somehow run amok and perhaps the hippocampus, thalamus, and amygdala have, themselves, forgotten their work.

Seriously, I find it quite amusing that while I'm in the barn doing chores, I have the best ideas ever. One-liners to post on facebook, names of chapters for my book, inspiration for another yet-to-be-written book. But by the time I get to the house, I can't remember a single one of them. Or, I just find that real life gets in the way and, "Who do you think you are, anyway, thinking you could write a book that anyone would want to read. Hah!"

I'm guessing that a typical woman might have the same sense of her brain being too darn busy. (I am not including men in this discussion because I understand even less about how their brains work.) But what do the rest of you do with all that activity? What does your brain say you want to do but you don't find time to do? Why is it that I say I want to write but don't do very much writing?

I have at least a dozen books on my Kindle in a collection I have named, "Writing - How to." I've started reading one of them, and you know I'll have to read them all before I even begin to write. Can you say "procrastinate?"

Why am I telling you all this stuff? I like to write :-) Oh, and to get back to my second sentence above, about my memories ... I want to write a memoir, but then I realized that means writing about things I remember. Ahhh, there's the rub. My memory sucks! and always has. It's not like loss of memory is a product of my aging process. I still plan to write some sort of memoir ... I'll just ad lib as the need arises. Who's gonna know?

In closing this silliness: I hope everyone is happy in your head - we're all doing pretty well in mine!

~*~ Happy New Year 2012 ~*~

Life gets way too busy! I wanted to tell you some Christmas memories from years gone by, but Christmas has come and gone, and now a new year is upon us! There there, darling. Don't cry. I'm old, so I can talk about Christmas whenever I please. Listen to a few stories from the good old days.

Let's go way back to the early 1950s. Ma & Pa owned a grocery store in Kettle River, Minnesota, and we lived upstairs. On this Christmas Eve, the most wonderful thing happened: the "Gail of the Golden West" cowgirl doll that stood on one of the top shelves in the store was magically transported to lie under our Christmas tree ... for me!!

 

Twenty-seven years later, in Brimson, MN, I was sitting up all night long, finishing a pair of homemade dolls for my young daughter. They were about 18" tall, a boy & a girl, and each had a set of clothes that could be taken off and put back on. Fortunately, my younger daughter was just 5 months old, so she was happy with a store-bought activity board that would attach to her crib.

My dearest Christmas memory from my early years in Haiti (1981-1984) is simply of the girls playing outside in shorts and sleeveless shirts. No snow, no sleds; but white Christmas trees (a tree branch painted white and stuck in a can of cement) and colorful tissue-paper lanterns lighting up the night.

The picture below was taken on Christmas Day 2002, in Charlotte, North Carolina. My grandson was 3-1/2 years old at the time.

This is what I wrote on the back of the photo: I made a birthday cake for Jesus. I asked Marshall if he remembered whose birthday it was. "Yours?" he asked. No! I showed him the snow globe. "Oh! Jesus! He's not here yet. He must be late. Maybe he'll get here tomorrow." I told him he could go ahead and blow out the candle :-)

I hope you have wonderful memories of bygone Christmases that you hold in your heart. May the good Lord bless you and keep you throughout this New Year of 2012.

P.S. The photo of Gail of the Golden West is not mine. It came from eBay and I want to give credit where credit is due.