Gift from The Magi (aka, The Wizard)

I failed miserably at getting anything for Michael this year.  He got himself a new welder - something I am certainly NOT qualified to go out and buy!  But he, in his last minute quest, got me a beautiful Christmas gift and I am delighted!

What could that be, you ask?  What could it be that you want but didn't just go out and buy?  And there is where Mike's wisdom and observations skills turned him into a Magi (a Wise Man bearing a Gift) or as George would note, The Wizard (a nicknamed donned to Michael for reasons I am unsure of, however, a funny and clever name, indeed!).  

You see, Mike knows me very well.  He knows that I would search for years to find an expensive item in a second hand store but I would never go out and buy something so crazy-expensive like a good bread knife.  He also knows we just happen to have one of the crazy-expensive knife stores right here in Jackson Hole New West Knives  This 9" super bread knife is one I have lusted for and Mike knew it.  So, he went right over to the store and got it for me!!  Look how beautiful it is next to a fresh loaf of olive/caper sourdough bread! 

And there is the moral of this story.  It's not about giving but it's about knowing the person you are giving to - knowing them so well and so deeply you understand the exact gift to buy.  At some point, Mike will read this blog and when you do, my Dear One, I hope you know it is my thank you card to you, the one who knows me so well. 

Silent Night

By her bedside all night, they knew death was near.  Janet breathed her last breath of her life Tuesday morning. Heavy sad hearts having to say goodbye.  Her three boys - Mike, Scott, and Steven - gather around, tears falling, hearts breaking.  Their momma is gone.  She lived a long and full life and this they celebrate.  Holding the memories close. 

Life goes on, as it will, as it must.  Mike jumped on the plane and got home just before the airlines started shutting down flights.  It is indeed a Christmas miracle; he has thus far shown no signs of getting the insanely contagious Omicron COVID while away.  I have been worrying and fussing all day about the invitation to a Christmas party tomorrow with 15 or 20 people.  The influx of tourists have made our COVID numbers escalate to numbers beyond what we saw with the Delta variant.  We have made it this far......... 

The snow falls.  Big fat wet flakes splat down, piling up on the beehive, sliding off the metal roof sounding like the deep-throated roar of thunder overhead.  We shovel and plow and shovel some more.  Winter has arrived, indeed. 

I took a walk up and above and around the property today.  No snow shoes, no skis, just my tall Schnee boots which I love so much for this kind of trek.  Uphill through heavy snow made for an excellent jaunt.  Fresh deer tracks in the snow.  Chickadees on the bird feeder.  It is lovely outside. 

Hush

The whisper of someone leaving.  Mike's mom, Janet, has terminated dialysis.  Her sons Mike, Scott, and Steven sit by her bedside providing comfort as they are able and sharing their presence with her as she gets closer to her death.  She is comfortable and they help calm her as she wakes from periodic naps to ask what time it is.  Yesterday, a "comfort" cat was brought into the room and Janet was able to give the furry feline a petting.  How nice.  Janet has enjoyed cats through her life so I know this was very special for her. 

It is hard to let a loved one go.  Holidays do not make the effort any easier.  Heavy hearts as the Trumbower family prepares to lose a loved one.  

“What is lovely never dies, but passes into another loveliness, star-dust or sea-foam, flower or winged air.”
—Thomas Bailey Aldrich

“There are no goodbyes for us. Wherever you are, you will always be in my heart.” 
—Mahatma Gandhi

A Short Story

The woman made the fifteen mile trip back into town to the post office.  Dinner had been served and the night had turned dark.  A deer slipped from the dark and crossed the road successfully.  She parked the car next to the curb, locked the rig, and went inside. 

Tucked amongst rows of post office boxes, she found the recycle bin blue can, removed its lid and began to sift through the pile of catalogs, envelopes pleaing for money, and ripped-up unidentifiable pieces of paper.  Her visit here earlier brought her back to this place.  Standing under bright fluorescent lights, illuminating the gray postal quarters to reveal the bare ugliness of the place, she searched for the envelope mistakenly recycled earlier in the day. 

Catalogs grabbed her attention.  Stylish covers with company names never seen caused a pause in the search.  Some were even opened and paged through.  Sweaters sporting the fancy selling price of $385 for 100% cotton amused her and she went back to the methodical process of sifting through the day's jetsam,  discarded by many mail collectors with the optimistic belief the pages will be put to a better or another use. 

The day had been such a busy day; holiday luncheon, a vehicle that needed washed, phone calls to return, and investigators to provide answers in response to tert and pointed questions.  The stop at the post box was ill-planned in the day's activities as she was already running late.  With the air of  pompousness, she prided herself, once again, at being the sorter of the omnipresent begging missives wrapped in envelopes and found within the two post office boxes she and her husband kept there at the old post office.  His box was filled with these silent paper pleas.  Because he sent them money.  

She quickly went through the pile.  Two letters having the same insignia caught her attention and she decided to keep one and recycle the other.  It seemed like a compromise.  If someone was willing to send two declarations for a donation, she would deliver one home. 

And then she got home.  It was then when it was discovered there was a tag for a year's snowmobile permit within the one envelope.  No, she had not read the letter insignia.  

And that is when she traveled in the dark of the Wyoming winter night to revist the old post office. 

The other envelope was found at the very bottom of the blue recycle bin. 

The End. 

Introducing: Bacon Sourdough Bread

This. Bread. Is. Amazing.  Exclamation Mark!!

It is however, a bit onerous to make.  First one must crisp a half pound of bacon (without eating it all).  A half pound of cooked bacon equals not much more than a half cup of delicious, crunch bacon bits.  There is plenty of bacon fat to add to the recipe. 

Then, you have to make the bread.  Friend Katie says, "Sourdough Bread is Love!"  She knows how much work and time goes into every loaf.  Oh yeah, and love!!  

This loaf came out of the oven this morning with three others and I'm still slobering, mouth-watering crazy-tempted to cut into one when I get home.  The real discipline with making sourdough bread is not eating tons and tons of it (slathered with real butter, of course!). 

See, your mouth is watering too now - just looking at it!!  

The other loveliness of the day revolves around saved geranium plants now gracing the window sill.  Isn't this blossom so pretty?!  

For you meteor-shower lovers, Mike and I have been enjoying a meteor or two or three for the last three mornings as we begin our day in the hot tub.  It's a good reason to get up early!