now you know . . .

the cave is not large but it is filled with the stuff that makes me happy.  as i was permanently tacking what should have been seasonal bells to my mantle a week after christmas, i realized that's what home is.  a place of warmth, memories and pleasure. the bells make me happy.

and so i looked around.  i love the floor to ceiling fireplace made of coquina, jetting two stories up.  i love that over the years, kidlet, the 9TS and i stuffed goodies into the cracks and crevices.  you have to look hard but there are among other things: a crystal pig, a jute bracelet, a rubber dinosaur, a rough amethyst, a guinea pig, a frog, a small pig. i don't even remember when it started.  kidlet was small.  occasionally, someone will notice but mostly not.  it is a family thing.

there is a pair of old clamp-on ice skates hanging on one side.  the hearth is occupied by an antique fire extinguisher . . . the 9TS was, after all, director of public safety which made him a fireman as well as top cop . . . the black rotary phone my father bought me from the black market when i wanted a phone in my room at age 13, there is fat wood and fireplace tongs, two pigs and an elephant . . . and yes three antique hot dog skewers we use for roasting marshmallows.

there's a mirror with metal scroll work doors on the wall that came from a flea market.  under the stairs are two craftsmen leather chairs where the 9TS and i would chatter on cold winters evenings in front of the fire.  the end table has a tatted cover made my the 9TS's mother.  and of course the five foot leather giraffe who still wears the 9TS's hat, glasses and a mourning band.  the television will not be replaced when it dies.  i like this quiet space too much to add the disturbance. 

on the far wall stands my father's scooter.  the first toy he ever bought himself.  and nestled between the sofa and the fireplace is a barrister bookcase the sloth and i picked up in mt. dora.  it holds all manner of treasures:  my grandfather's collection of books by g. a. henty, my father's high school football team photo, my uncle's 100 year old stuffed bear, slightly munched upon by a dog my senior year of college, my mother's college copy of goodbye mr. chips, an old model train engine, a photo of my sister and i age four and one, a tiffany glass something something from kidlet's paternal grandfather, and books from my great grandfather.  sitting on the hardwood floors is a sisal rug, picked for its ability to be hosed off when cat yack has been deposited. 

yep, that's my space and now you know, kidlet.

so there . . .

nope.  i don't print them out.  nope. no one wants them.  nope. i just do them because i can.

and so it's christmas . . .

we made it though christmas with joy, insanity and gluttony. 

wednesday night was our traditional christmas eve dinner.  no longer the feast of the seven fishes.  one, because i don't think i know how to cook seven different kinds of fish and two, because the poor fishies are not very popular with the masses.  so into the gravy we dived.  and then opened presents with the family.  there were gift cards and boots, fish tanks and makeup, tee shirts and head bands, picture frames and contact lenses, pj's and pompom makers, candy and paddle balls, scarves and 'snowman poops', bath salts and breath mints, dresses and sweaters, 'reindeer noses' and bottles of wine, coasters and candy canes, 'christmas tree seeds' and laptop fans, garlic presses and salt cellars.  say all that three times fast. 

thursday, kidlet and i tore into our stockings, discussed eating breakfast, passed on that idea and went straight for the presents.  lots of goodies on our sleigh.  no photos.  i know.  i know.  but for once, i just wanted to focus on the fun and not the camera.  i will take some shots later but my favorite was my crocheted minion slippers from you know who. 

lee came over for christmas dinner and joanie sat with us while we noshed . . .  she had her own family dinner yet to come.  so there was prime rib with gravy, oven roasted taters, sauteed mushrooms, brussel sprouts, asparagus, salad, rolls and butter, and lee brought baked apple slices, fresh fruit and deviled eggs.  and oh those deviled eggs.  i ate six before dinner.  and then an open fire and s'mores.  oh and a little alcohol.  note to self: do not ask kidlet to make the drinks.  wobble.  wobble.  and then jen, tim and 'd' dropped by.  madness and mayhem, i wouldn't change a thing.

only because i have a penchant for lunacy, do i share this with you:

three generations in the kitchen today . . .

busy. busy.  the gravy is made and cuddling the meatballs, pork and sausage.  the deviled eggs are done.  the iced Heath Bar brownies are done.  the ziti is made and ready to be baked.  then tomorrow we will make the salad and bake the garlic bread . . .  cook the peel and eat shrimp, the dip is already made.  the courvoisier is ready and the goods for the strawberry margaritas are stashed.  have i forgotten anything.  oh and the cannolis are on their way.  there's a good reason there are more vowels than consonants in our last name.  table for seven in the corner please.

show and tell . . .

the power went out this afternoon.  when it didn't come right back on, i called FPL to discover it was a blown transformer and they would have it up and running within a three hour span.

meanwhile, kidlet was hungry and wanted some fast food.  all we had to do was disconnect the Liftmaster and manually let her car out of the garage.  no problem.

umpteen hours later, i look out and her car is still in the driveway.  it was dark out and since our next door neighbor's car was stolen a couple of weeks ago, i called her to retrieve it.  again, no problem, manually lift the door to re-engage the garage door opener and go.

not so fast.  the mechanism wouldn't reconnect so kidlet called me for help, as i was just inside the door folding round four of laundry.  problem was, all i was wearing was one of the 9TS's long sleeve tees.  you know the kind you love to slub around the house in.  the kind that covers your butt but just and no more.  the kind you don't want to get caught in while lifting the garage door in a lit garage when it is dark out.  in case raising your arms raises the tee and your entire nether regions are showing.  yeah, that.

i had two choices.  run upstairs and find something to cover the bottom half or see if i could do a 50 yard dash before any of the neighbors noticed.  hum.

so there i was trying to heave the door above my head while trying to keep my shirt down.  not working.  so i enlisted kidlet.  as i pulled on the connection cord with my arms well over my head, kidlet held fast to my tee keeping it from blinding the neighbors.

and then.  only then, did a car drive by.  the door dropped, i ran.  tossed the instruction manual to kidlet and headed back to my much more mundane job of folding.

two minutes later, i hear the door engage.  she's a genius.  a genius.  too bad she wasn't a genius before my display.  i'm telling you, it was much better than old man Parker's christmas leg lamp.

before things get nuts . . .

around here, i'm playing my little heart out:

and no, i didn't take the picture.  you're not going to catch me in the frozen tundra.  i've been down here too long.  forty years.  yep.

but once upon a time, i called this place home sweet *cough* home.  boarding school to be exact.  this was our dorm.  the rooms had window seats with the original blown glass panes. stunning. transom doors. metal beds. community baths unless you had a suite. mice in the kitchen. tudor style dining room.  did you know that a pat of butter flung from a tensed spoon will stick to a stucco ceiling until which time it descends with some alacrity into the head mistresses' dinner plate. house mothers. short sheeted beds.  study hours. lights out. 

a very good day . . .

lunch out with a friend.

a little shopping for kidlet.

some time with my nose in a book.

a little play time on photoshop.

it was a good day in river city.