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Around noontime today I ventured forth with Skittles and Patches for another walk. This morning's temperature had been intimidating---16 degrees! ---so when the sun came up a little higher and the temperature rose to a whopping 20 degrees, we went out again. The dogs of course were eager for the walk and went bounding out as soon as the garage door opened. Immediately they "watered" the nearest clump of grass. Then they stopped short. Company was there in the form of the neighbor's yellow lab, Lucy, who was free of her electric fence and was running around the lawn. The three dogs began the traditional process of greeting which included sniffing body parts, low barking and growling, urinating on the same spots that the visitor did, and beginning a game of "chase" all around the yard.
As I watched the dogs, I realized that no one ELSE was watching the dogs. Usually someone from Lucy's family was around to keep tabs on her, particularly when the electric fence was not connected. But today the family of kids and their friends were bouncing vigorously up and down, "boing", "boing" toss a ball, then "boing", "boing" again. Although I was too far away to see clearly, there appeared to be a sort of net around the children to hold their balls---and THEM---on the source of the boinging. What was going on? An old mattress left out for play before being hauled to the dump? Pogo sticks? No: Santa had brought them a trampoline! With this much fun, the temperature could be 20 BELOW ZERO and the kids would not complain. When I couldn't get their attention, I called their house when the dogs and I came in. I told my neighbor that Lucy had come over to visit and that I enjoyed seeing her but that she had taken off down the yards to where I could no longer see her. I explained that the kids were so engrossed in their game that they couldn't hear me telling them that Lucy had run off and I was worried that she could be hit by a car. My neighbor thanked me for the call and assured me that Lucy would run after a squirrel or rabbit but then come back. I expressed my relief to her but not my fear that Skittles and Patches would follow along and become lost or injured. My little guys have never become "street smart" and another dog, even without a rabbit or squirrel, would be a big attraction to stray. If that happened, my husband and I would be totally devastated. But trampolines aren't the only presents that Santa seems to have brought. ATV's are now very popular, and one came over to see me with its happy new owner last week. As a child I had dreams of a little "car" that moved when you pushed the pedals under the hood. A neighbor's family had one, and I was envious. We had property, and barns, perfect for a pony, but that was not to be either. However I would have been happy with a rocking horse. I settled for dolls. When my husband and I lived in New Jersey, we were farther north. There were many hills and lots of snow. Popular requests to Santa were for skis and snow mobiles to use at the many winter sports areas. When our first child was born, his grandmother gave him a sled! My own experience with skiing was with water skiing. The summer was certainly warmer, and if I fell it was just into the water. I had friends who had worked as ski instructors during high school and college, though, and they were familiar with the popular ski spots near us. Snowmobiles were alternately the best and worst things around, because they were run by drivers who were too small or too young to control them or who did not know or obey the rules. There were accidents between these quick little things that darted in and around roadways after a snowfall. Really sad reports came in when a snowmobile was running over a frozen lake that was not sufficiently frozen and it went into the water with the driver. This was a far cry from the ice races I remember in Alaska. That far north, lakes froze nearly a foot thick and supported numerous cars vying for titles in the bitter cold. After Christmas is essentially over, and the last choruses of Auld Lang Syne have been sung, people turn to taking down their decorations. Live Christmas trees will appear on the curb, waiting to be collected on trash day. Cans show the remnants of wrapping paper from gifts that were long since opened. Returns have been returned; gift cards have been used to buy what the recipient wanted; stores have basically finished their after-Christmas sales blitzes; and the mail is filled with announcements of "white sales" with nothing white. Our tree is an artificial one with what are called "fixed lights". This means that the argument-starting, marriage-destroying job of stringing the lights has been avoided and I have only to hang ornaments that have graced our trees over so many years. I vow to get some glue and repair the small problems on some of them (that Teddy Bear's broken ear, for example). But 20 years in New Jersey and 10 here at Tangled Oaks have yet to see this done. Either I can't find the glue or the broken piece or I already put the big box of ornaments away. Lately my mail has held something that it seldom does any more: Thank-You notes. I brought my children up to always WRITE a note when they received a gift unless they received it in person. Nowadays it seems that not only do people not teach this courtesy to their children, but they do not practice it themselves. It isn't that I am looking to find War and Peace in the mail, but just something that tells me that 1. The person GOT the gift, 2. It arrived in a timely fashion in perfect condition and 3. It somehow pleased them. That's all. A personal phone call can substitute for a letter or card, if needed, but I've always preferred a note. It means that someone took the time, the paper, and a stamp to be polite. When the neighborhood children come over for Trick or Treat, I am always delighted at how polite they are. Even without parental prodding, they always say "thank you". I know much older "children" far away who do not even respond to gifts they receive on holidays. After a few years, Santa puts a check mark next to the "naughty" box on his list. Hmmm… Just Mom |
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