A holiday with humor

I didn’t have to dream of a white Christmas.  Mother Nature provided plenty of the powdery stuff, which I think is part and parcel of the holiday, and not just because Bing Crosby sang about it.  I love the quality of the indoor lighting against the sparkling rime illuminating through the windows.  I love stepping inside from the frosty cold and feeling the warmth envelop my face numbed by the winds.  I love the aromas wafting from the oven and the scented candles of balsam and cedar and spices.  And, most of all, I love my family.

Humor is a spontaneous, wonderful bit of an outburst that just comes. It’s unbridled, its unplanned, it’s full of surprises. Erma Bombeck

We partake in the traditional gift exchange.  This year’s exchange led us to "a spontaneous, wonderful bit of an outburst…"  When my brother arrived. he asked that I help him carry his gifts inside.  I carried a large package wrapped in parcel paper and placed it by our little tree perched atop a table by the bay window.  In the meantime, he gave us other presents while we congregated in the dining room.  He inquired where the large box was.  I replied that I placed it under the tree, in which he responded, "Why?"   We shuffled into the living room where I could open the large package that didn’t have a name tag accompanying it.  And, of course, I was delighted when I discovered the big box was for me.  After tearing through the paper and the old Mr. Coffee box,  I joyously lifted a large, (and I mean large) and what appeared old, sweater from the package.  Thoughts are racing through my head, like why did he choose something like this to he must think I’m really fat. When I exclaimed, "How cute!  Thank you", he added, "Wait, there’s more."  More ?!!!   Obviously, I looked perplexed, and my brother, who looked amused, questioned, "Didn’t you ask me to bring out old 100% woolen sweaters that you could felt for mittens?"   Yes, I did , matter of fact. It just took one nano second for all of us to share in a big belly laugh, an unbridled outburst, at that.

James Thurber said so eloquently,  "Humor is emotional chaos remembered in tranquility." I’ll remember this holiday for a long, long time.

Watching over my buddy

It’s been quite a while since I’ve posted.  However, today I must write for therapeutic purposes.  My buddy, Big Red, is ailing.  For those of you who don’t know who Big Red is, he is the Quarter Horse who lovingly earned the reputation of amassing the most monikers of all our horses throughout the years on our ranch.  He has been known as Baloney, wild child, Mr. Bean, red monkey, and if you give me a sec, I could remember some more.   I gave him these nicknames not out of malice, but from a warm and lively friendship that formed throughout the years.  He has had his moments, but he always has been good to me.  Big Red taught what quiet hands are all about.  He gave me confidence when another horse had stripped it away. He carefully carried me while I was rehabilitating from an illness.  I have always taken care of him, but now I need to step it up a notch.  It’s my turn to watch over this buddy.  Wish us well.