Saying goodbye to 2018

Art, travel, death, introspection, an amazing loss of activity on the blog. My worst year since 2013, by far.

More readers (many thanks to the pest control folks in Australia), but fewer likes, comments, views, visits, and interest.

The question is, to continue, or not to continue?

A Christmas Tradition

The 10 of us gathered to enjoy the day. Since we would all be scattered about on Christmas Day, we decided to have our feast on the 23rd.

Our Humble house of Beef served a 13 pound Prime Rib with all the fixings.

Lots of laughter, wine, and prayer with the family.

What a great day.

Where ever you might be for Christmas, I’m wishing you and yours the very best.

Merry Christmas.

Trial runs

In the pre-planning stages of Christmas, and my husband’s birthday we have Beef Wellington! It’s my first stab at this recipe. My lucky husband and children get to experiment with me.

I added a bit of sautƩed greens, and a little red wine reduction to bring it all together.

Cooking is one of those things that I really enjoy, especially when it works!

Gas Station dining

Gas Station dining is always tricky. How do you decide which small town gas station has the best eats? Do you check with the locals? Do you consult Yelp, Yahoo? Trip Advisor? It’s hard to do in Hallettsville, TX. Not a lot open on a Sunday, except Walmart. And, they don’t serve breakfast.

Do you just pull in where there is a crowd and take a chance? Not a lot of crowds at 7:30 am on a Sunday in a town of 2500. Not even at Walmart.

This is a small town spot. Morton’s gas station on Hwy 77 in Hallettsville, Texas has Diane’s Diner, clean restrooms, antique store, farmers market, and a great color nursery next door.

I took this shot from our table at the diner. I Love the Hub Caps.

The coffee station had a lovely variety of dark roast, pecan, light, and barely coffee.

I love the God Is Good All The Time sign over the coffee. It reminds you where you are.

On Sundays, the Local Catholic Mass is Simulcast into the diner, gas station, and restrooms. Just in case you missed church. God isn’t going to miss you!

Small towns, have such great charm. But what Charmed me most, was my man refilling my coffee, at the coffee bar, at a diner where there were no waitresses, just order and get your own stuff.

It’s always the little things. The big man, taking my coffee cup, and fixing it special for me. It doesn’t matter where you are, Gas Station dining can be quite romantic and special. It just matters who you are with.

I think they will get coal this year

Image from Facebook.

Back from the bee yard

I smell of wood smoke and honey. I’m sweaty, tired, and swollen.

Limping a bit from the 8 stings this weekend.

The first 5 yesterday left my heart racing, probably from the adrenaline. The three today just ticked me off.

I’m getting an Epi Penn before we go back out.

Why they like my left thigh, and backside?……Those girls are wicked. I think some of that venom went straight to an artery. Two stings on top of each other. I’m polka dotted with dark pink 5″ diameter swollen marks.

If they hang their stockings out….They are getting coal.

Haven’t they heard “don’t bite the hand that feeds you?”

Or in my case, ‘butt’. They tore me up yesterday and today as we feed them for winter.

It takes the ultimate patience to get over being stung by the bees I strive to keep alive.

Momma might order some new queens for Spring…..time for a regime change in the bee yard.

Santa, Can I get some new Queens for Christmas?

Me and Santa

Yes, I still watch all the Christmas animation from my youth.

I remember the first time I saw the Abominable Snowman in the Rudolph The Red-nosed Reindeer animated show, and ran and hid in the kitchen.

My dad would even climb up on the roof to put carrots out for Santa’s Reindeer while my mom and I put cookies out on a plate for him.

The anticipation of Christmas morning was always too much. I would have the house awake before dawn to see what Santa had brought.

When my brother was big enough to understand Santa, he and I would build a pillow fort and “sleep” in the same room. We didn’t sleep much, as we would wonder aloud what Santa was like, and if the sound in the hall was him, and what the reindeer were like.

I don’t think I have ever admitted publicly that I don’t believe in Santa anymore, because deep down inside I still do….primarily because I became Santa for my children, and I hope to keep that Spirit of Giving alive.

I met my husband at a Christmas Party in 1991, when he was talking to one of my Realtors about ‘Who Played the Snowman on Rudolph?’ I sidled up to the conversation and said, ‘Well, that would be Burl Ives’. We have been together ever since.

Santa Claus is part of me, always. The Spirit of Giving, the wonder of Children, but the essence of God, who gives. Our Father who gave his only begotten Son, Jesus. The reason we get to enjoy the beauty of Giving.