Wednesday, November 25, 2015

I've complained before about the way small appliances accumulate in my kitchen. Finding a home for them is tough.

Flip. Waddle. Flop. Splash. I'd probably see black and white birds in my sleep. I stretched back to relieve my stiffness.

Our Christmas gifts told the tale. My daughters have outgrown toys. Now, they are caught up in the micro-packaged world of encapsulated entertainment.

No matter where each of us is at the end of 2005, when the clock strikes midnight, we shall have moved into a new year.

Drifts of snow far higher than the little girl's head lined the long lane that led uphill to her home.

"What did the volcano say to the earthquake?" My dad's joke hung over the table as we stopped cutting candy and readied ourselves for his punch line.

It's hard for me to accept something that was new in my lifetime becoming a classic. From my tail-end-of-the-baby-boomers perspective, compared to the antics of Crosby, Kaye, and Clooney in White Christmas, the animated escapades in A Charlie Brown Christmas are new.

Winter fast approaches and so does the Christmas holiday. I see large snowflakes blending with spattering rain as I wait to taxi my daughter Kathie and our neighbor Michael to school.

Our menu is planned and the table is partially set in my mind until it's time for us to really put everything in place.

"Many years ago in the '60s, Black squirrels of London Were exported far away, To Kent State University Where they populate today.