Letters to My Children

I know, I know, this is a very long post but please bear with me.  I promise, if you stick with me, you will find it amusing and eye-opening.

Every once in a while you meet someone you immediately bond with.  You find them funny, intelligent and warm.  Normally, you would have this new friend come over for dinner.  You would make plans to get the families together for game nights and cook outs. That is what you would normally do but my friend and I have never met face to face.  We met via the internet.  He is not a blogger but, lawd, can he write!  I meet him through Facebook of all places.  He is not a complete stranger.  He went to school with my husband.  I believe he was a year or two behind him but this is a tiny school and everyone knows everyone.   We became friends through Farmville and a couple of other FB games.  It did not take long before I friended his wife and his beautiful daughter.  Through Facebook I read about his grandkids, his amazing son, parents and a couple of goofy dogs.

Soon we were FB chatting and emailing.  Like most friend we talked about a variety of subjects our jobs, our town, our hobbies and, of course, our families.  I went through a couple of really rough patches and he was there trying to pick up the pieces hundreds of miles away.  An internet friend who I had never met face to face was putting himself out there for me to lean on.  Now that is a friend.

One thing he did was send me letters.  These letters were intended for his grown children but they related to my struggles.  I was spellbound.  I could not get enough.  Soon I forgot all about me and started thinking how wonderful these letters would be in a coffee table book. This is a book of inspiration. These were life lessons at its best from a tough yet gentle father.  I asked him why he wrote these letters.  He said all the men in his family passed away just as their children we reaching or just beginning their adulthood.  If this legacy of early retirement continued, he wanted to make sure he could leave them a piece of his wisdom. When he wrote these letters he never intended them to be published  for the world to see. He only wanted to help his children  navigate through a tough world without him to lean on.  You can defiantly tell who his audience is when reading his words.  Wow, what a man and a dear, dear friend.

He has a book deal brewing but has consented to write or let me have a couple that may or may not be included in the deal.  Since he is working with a publisher, I am only going to blog a couple of stories on my Monday post.  This book takes his children on a journey through issue they may have with working with people, his own childhood memories, the  love he has cultivated for his family and friends, and he sometimes bring us uncontrollable laughter during these lessons of wisdom.  Whatever he brings to the table it is with a sometimes humorous and always in a loving manner.

I hope you enjoy reading “Letters to my Children” by Tony Oliver

This is Tony and his grandson.

I am merely a guest there

In the second Jurassic Park movie, one of the scientists came to the conclusion that they had accidentally expanded the perceived territory of the T-Rex, and as a result, it would now feel the need to defend its new territory.

That was bad news for them, but it is good news for us, because it explains an age-old problem we have as couples…our perceived territories and our need to defend them.

Your mom never tires of being amazed when I expect to be noticed for helping around the house.  For thirty years now she has thanklessly, endlessly and pretty much anonymously done everything required to keep the household running.  As a result, she looks at me like I just grew a third eye when I want a pat on the back for washing a load of jeans.

For years we wondered why it mattered so much to me that she knows I am contributing.  I whole-heartedly dispute that it is evidence of brain damage, and thankfully the dinosaur illustration in the movie really made it easier to explain.  We each have our perceived domains, and we do not compete for who is in control in those specific areas.

I think most guys perceive that most of the house is “her” domain because she wants control over what happens in the house.  If you don’t believe me, let a guy bring something from “his shop” and leave it somewhere in “her house”.  Whether it is a chainsaw, or a welder, or whatever; it will be treated as an invader…something that does not belong.  The drilling questions, the sarcasm and chilly responses will not end until the invader is removed and returned to “his” domain.

I think that in most homes, men are little more than a guest.  As a result, we don’t feel responsible for its day-to-day operations.  Think about it.  If I showed up with a new couch for the living room without including your mom on the decision, she would be miffed.  When, out of the blue, she shows up with a new entertainment center, I am expected to be thankful and appreciative.  Her domain.  If I walked in to where she is doing laundry and told her she is not using the correct soap, she would look at me like I just climbed off a space ship.  Her domain.

If I were to decide to take apart something greasy, and do so right in the middle of the living room floor… Her domain.  In my shop, I can take something apart and leave it there until I decide to move it.  She could care less.  That is my domain.  The living room is not. Any room in which she is perfectly comfortable haranguing me for making a mess is not my domain.  I am merely a guest there.

If I don’t load the dishwasher correctly?  Her domain. If I don’t dry the clothes on the correct setting?  Her domain.  If I have the wrong pan for cooking something? You get the idea.

It is further illustrated by putting the shoe on the other foot.  Imagine that she went out into the wood shop when I wasn’t around (my domain) and swept the floor and emptied all the trash.  Now, do you think she wouldn’t be expecting me to at least notice and to thank her?  I have news for you, if she cleaned my shop and I failed to notice and to thank her profusely, it would never happen again.  The reality is that she would be just like me when I do occasionally make the bed.  She would expect me to notice and to express my appreciation that she went above and beyond her responsibility and did something for me in my domain.

It also explains another conundrum.

She has wondered out loud for years how I could walk by a full trashcan and not notice that it needs to be emptied.  Yeah, yeah…again with the brain damage.  If she points it out to me, I am happy to deal with it.  But unless she says something, I don’t even notice.  Not my domain.

In my defense, imagine going to a bathroom at a sports venue and after you wash your hands you go to discard the paper towels, but the trashcan is overflowing. Do you think, “hmm…somebody needs to empty that!” or do you think, “hmmm… I should empty that!”

Of course you don’t think you personally need to empty that, because this isn’t your domain.  You are simply a visitor there.  You don’t control anything.  You have no say in how things are handled.  You feel no responsibility for how well things are done.

That is exactly how I feel in your mom’s domain.  I don’t purposely shun emptying the trash, it simply doesn’t occur to me because it is not in my domain, and therefore not on my radar.  I am a visitor in the kitchen.  I have no control and feel no responsibility.  Ask for my help and I am happy to help, but you have to ask; it is not natural for me to notice things outside of my area of responsibility.

If we were to agree that the kitchen trash becomes my domain, then that is different.  Let me take ownership of it, and it will be on my radar.  But, if it is my domain, I will have to be free to do it how and when I want.  I might even want to buy a different trashcan.  My domain.  Or switch to a different kind of trash bag.  My domain.   I might want to take it out when it is only ¾ full…or maybe my style will be to overfill it and smash everything down until it is difficult to empty…but if I am not free to do it my way, then it still isn’t my domain and I won’t own it.  I won’t feel responsible.

A friend once told me of the strange way that her husband washed the dishes.  He would fill the whole sink with soapy water and wash everything.  Then, with the clean dishes still in the sink, he would drain the soapy water and refill it with clean water.  He would do that several times until the rinse water was clear.  I had to admit; I had never heard of dishes being done that way.

She stated that when they were newlywed, her mother warned her to not say a word.  My friend’s mom very wisely explained that he should be left alone to do the dishes as he pleased, lest she end up washing the dishes herself.  30 years had gone by he was still washing the dishes every day.  He does it his own way. He owns it.  It is a credit to her and her mother for being wise enough to understand how this worked and letting it play out.  She gladly let him have dominion over the dirty dishes.  He was the boss, he did it his way, and he owned it.

Upon hearing this one of her co-workers blurted out “That is stupid.  If he were my husband I’d tell him how it should be done.”  We asked her, though, and sure enough, her husband never washed the dishes.  She would never relinquish control and he was happy to let her keep it.  I’m betting he never helped with the laundry or making the bed either…just a hunch.

Once you understand the concept of perceived domains, you and your spouse can use it to your advantage instead of endlessly ridiculing or resenting each other when things don’t go as expected.

It doesn’t mean that you won’t still have issues…there will be some tasks that neither of you want to own.   There will be other areas where you both want dominion and you will have conflicts over control.  You will have to be mature enough to work through those issues, but for all of the other areas, especially as they relate to doing things around the house, if you will recognize the concept of letting each have their own domain, it will be easier to cooperate and not leave one or the other with an unfair share of the load.

Then, maybe – just maybe – she will quit implying that you rode the “short bus” to school every time you feel inclined to leave the vacuum cleaner out…just so that she’ll notice that you’ve vacuumed.

Next Monday

Yeah Right!  Opposites fight!

p.s. I look forward to seeing your comments on this post, as with all my post.  However, this one is dear to my heart and I can’t wait to hear what you have to say.  As I stated earlier, Tony does not have a blog so I have asked him to reply to any comments on this post.

A Beautiful Christmas Eve Morn

We have had quite the winter’s storm these last two days.  I snapped this as I pulled into work.  It was an awesome moment in the quietness of the morning.

Then I got this one as it was shining behind the Church steeple

If you are interested I also posted the Weekly Photo Challenge: Between

at

Life is a bowl of Photos

I wish I knew how to use Photoshop.  Could you imagine how wonderful these shots and the Challenge Photos could look with just a little enhancement?

Tomorrows the big day!  I have asked Santa for a better new year.  I sure hope I, WE, get it.

note:  After I got home I tweaked the above photo if you care to see click here.

Speed Dating in a Bag

I have something I call the mating bag, and I often play the dating game with it.   Abandoned, lonely, and mismatched signatures all gather  in this

The Infamous Forbidden Closet, where all things go that shall remain nameless

little bag of mine.  Some lay straight, some crumbled and crushed, some are young and new, others are old and worn; but all are awaiting and willing to play this game with me.  I play  mainly, no… always, in the winter.  This secret game started well before I married.  It is an addiction that I do not wish to stop.  It is a game I so look forward to every year.  This bag is kept hidden deep within a closet that know one dare enter.  Just the thought of this bag sends goose bumps down my neck,  moisture to my lips, and then concludes with gloriously, sensual warm feet! FEET?

Yes, people.  I am talking about my white plastic sock bag.  What did you think I was talking about?   Dirty, dirty, dirty little minds.  I am sure many of you have one, a sock bag not a dirty mind. There may even be a few of you that also play this game of shame with Nike, Nononesence, and others.   This bag is where the lost and misplaced one-sided sock goes.  I can’t bear to throw them away.  Heck, half are brand new.  Most of the mates suffered an unknown death, others were eaten by the washing machine or met their demise by the playful antics of my Mutt; however, all the remaining partners still have life and great potential when hidden by my knee-high snow boots.  There are soft cuddly ones, rough but warm ones.  There are short ones and tall ones.  Socks of every color in the rainbow adorn my bag and delight my eyes.

The sock bags of many colors

In winter I can pull this bag out and play the dating game.  Sometimes the game is nothing more than   catch and release other times a true courtship will ensue.  Qualified applicants must pass a series of questions. Do the potential mates have compatible texture or weave?   Do they have the same  integrity?  Do they have fun together on your feet? How about their comfort value and what about that “wow!” factor, is it there?  Do polar opposites attract?  For example,  would the sophisticated plaid entertain the idea of being paired with the, oh so special, fun loving Ho Ho HO  message sock?

After careful consideration, I often use the speed dating technique, in which I try them on my feet and do a short test run through the house. I love how the newer ones slide across the hardwood floor when I take them on a test run.   If it all works, they are then paired and put into the sock drawer until it’s time to put away my beloved snow boots.  Of course, this marriage of blended colors, designs and textures are forbidden in today’s society but who will be the wiser under all my layers of cloths and boots?

I take pride in my rebel ways and look forward to winter.    However, the New Year will bring change.  You see, my bag has seen better days and my mates have been put through the ringer year after year.  Most are ready to move on to the retirement home they call The Good Samaritan Compost Heap.  There, they will find new uses beyond their comprehension.  For me, this year will bring something more than a plastic supermarket bag to stash them in.  I have a new recycled, reusable bag which will hold all my potentials looking for mates.  I also went shopping for new socks.  They are stacked up on the washer awaiting a good spin.  My Mutt has spied them and the drool has started flowing.  In her mind, this is equivalent to a new toy just out of reach.

So here is to all the mates I’ve loved.  The good. The bad.  The lost.  May your next life bring happiness and ripe juicy tomatoes!

Other uses for socks are: dusting, also storing your prized Christmas tree ornaments for next year.

Oh yeah, you can cover your golf clubs with them when putting away for the winter.

Just out of curiosity, what do you guys do with your lost mates?

Weekly Photo Challenge: Self-Portrait

This week’s photo challenge was a tough one.  I thought it was only tough for me until I read the island traveler‘s post.  I felt the same way as he did.  And up until I read his, I was going to pretend that I missed this weeks challenge.  I started thinking how do I see me?  What is my perception of myself?  How do others see me?  I came up with this.

Frequently, I am pressed for time.  I feel like I have the whole weight of the world on my shoulders.  It feels compressing and at times devastating.  I feel small compared to the way I was in my youth.  I feel squished between family and responsibilities.

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Sometimes I can set my mind to regroup and start to force life into perspective.  It feels like the gathering of pieces.  A calling to arms to fight the never-ending battles of life.  I pull from all angles tugging, and pasting little squares together.   Don’t get me wrong I am not depressed rather I am the leader of this little dysfunctional group.  Not by choice but by default.  I do not mind this position but it is stressful and most of the time un-rewarding.  However, I love each and every person in my life and that is why I fight so hard to hold us all together.

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After a while, things start to assemble its self.  It begins to happily percolate along.  The pieces are just about aligned and life is beginning to get easier .  The stress and hard work is paying off.  That is until you wake up one morning and the car will not start, son calls needing a small loan, the grands are crying wanting you to come see them, daughter is questioning which college to go to, someone you love is very sick or one of your neighbors has passed in their sleep, the dogs are battles their own little wars, IRS is knocking on your door and hubs, well, Hubs is Hubs.

Life goes on.  Good times or bad.  It will never change it will only continue.   I tell myself we all feel squished at times.  We all try to force the pieces of our life back together and no matter how hard we work at fixing every thing and everybody, life will always find a way to right its self.  Of course before you know it, it will then screw up again.  This is the cycle of living.  This is what makes us strong.  This is what gives us hope and the strength to keep fighting the good fight.  The knowing of life’s circle can help us cope and if we are lucky we can find the humor that Gods leaves us to discover.  I think he only ask us to look for it with wide eyes and open heart.

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My goal, my self-portrait in life is to try with all I have to keep the peace, to bring comfort to others, to be kind and loving to both family and friends,  To realized I am not perfect.  To know without a shadow of a doubt I am going to screw up.  I am going to get angry at times.  I am going to cry and wonder why.  I am going to have loved and lost.  I am going to be okay and feel happy in my own skin because I am mom, MoMo, sister, aunt, daughter, wife.  I am a person of attitude both smart ass and sternness.  I am comforter and understanding.  I am eyes wide open and of giving heart. I am both lover of life and God.   I am  me.

Wow, that was sort of therapeutic!  Thank you island traveler for the push I needed.

Advice from a Waterfall

aMusing Mondays: Flying Things or Drunk on Bug Juice

If you follow my blog, you have read about my dogs Mutt and Jeff. You also know that I have changed their names to protect the not so innocent. Maybe it is time you put a face to the pseudonym. Mutt is the big one. She is a cross between goofy and gentle. I bet you thought I was going to give you a couple of breeds didn’t you? Jeff is a tiny Pomeranian. He is not a cross between anything. He is straight up bossy, which can lead him into the wrong direction and that brings me to this week’s story…

Shortly after moving into our home we adopted Jeff. He was born head strong. He always walked his own path and was just plain hard to warm up to. He was and still is a strange dog with some odd peculiarities. When he was a baby he only wanted to be petted with your feet. Petting him with your hands would drive him crazy and not in a good way. Lord forbid you pick him up that would send him over the edge. Some of his peculiarities have disappeared over the years, some intensified and some are the same like hating ANYTHING that flies. Birds, bees, flies, you name it, if it flies he wants to catch it, defeat it and eat it. Many, many days I would be cleaning the kitchen, look out the window and see this crazy dog running in circles barking and jumping in the air for no apparent reason. (I always looked to see if the neighbors were watching him do this. They already think he is a little rabid he-devil. Seeing Jeff perform this ritual would seal the deal.) After closer inspection, I realized he was chasing little flying insects. It seems his favorite were little sweat bees. Many times he would come in the house after a good day of chase with a blown up snout. Before I really knew what was causing it, I thought maybe allergies.

One evening I was sitting on the back porch with Mutt and Jeff. I noticed Jeff’s head bobbing back and forth. After a few seconds of bobbing, he would stand perfectly still then pounce the ground with his front paws. At first, I could not see what he was after but I could smell it. He had found a stink bug. It didn’t take long before I saw that it would crawl a little bit then try to fly. Of course, that would drive him crazy. Stink bugs have sticky legs with tiny barbs. They can hang on to anything for as long as they want. A few times it would stick to his snout. Oh my, that would send him into orbit. I kept telling him to stop messing with the bug. He would, for about 2 seconds, then go right back at it until I made him go in the house.

A few nights after that incident with the stink bug he was wanting out into the fenced back yard. I let him out while I stayed inside to watch a movie. Around 2 hours later, I noticed he was not back yet. I opened the door and found him sitting on the step staring into space . In he walked, then he stopped in the middle of the floor. As I watched him, I noticed something seemed to be stranger than normal. Not only was he now staring into space he was also swaying back and forth. You know that ‘dipping deep’ kind of swaying. The kind that almost looks like you’re leaning into a strong wind while trying to climb up a steep hill. Then without warning he reared straight up then fell over stiff as a board.

I FREAKED OUT! OMG What is going on? MY DOG! I raced over and held him in my arms crying like a baby. I could not figure out what was wrong but I did notice his breath. UGH! He had the strongest stink bug breath I had ever smelt. In no time at all, he popped out of it and was looking at me like, Why are you touching me with your hands??? He was so confused and so was I. Of course, Jeff could not tell me what he did so I went outside and looked around. Nothing, I found nothing but I smelt that nasty bug smell. I followed my nose until I came upon a hole in the ground. There I saw the remains of hundreds of dead stink bugs. Jeff had dug them up and eaten them. Apparently, stink bugs can make a dog drunk!

The next day he was showing no signs of illness. In fact, he was barking his brains out chasing another flying thingy. I ran out to make sure he did not have another stink bug. One heart attack a year is all that I can handle. As I got to him, I noticed it was not a stink bug but a poor little butterfly. It must have not been as exciting nor as enticing as the stink bug because he spat it out on the spot.

Until next time

The Power or My funny “friend” part 2

Last Monday was a part one and here, as promised, is the rest of the story.

It is a little past 12:00 p.m and around two weeks later. All the electricity it OUT, my husband would prefer that I not write about him again so I will tell you what happened when “my friend” came home.

I greeted my bestie at the garage door, which I had to manually open. He calls out, with the enthusiasm of a 9 year old. “What is wrong?” “The electricity out?” “Yes”, I said.

Here we go…..

Google image

He walks into the garage as quick as knee high snow will let him. He immediately goes to the back porch. For a little while, I hear nothing, nothing at all. The door swings open… There he stands and in his hand is a key and the answers to all our problems, he proudly announced. I swear there were beams of light projecting from somewhere in the background. He looked bigger than life right then. Maybe it was the way he was holding himself

Google image

chest out, head up, and chin straight or it could have been the sun setting behind him. In his hand, a little orange box attached to this long cord, which had been pulled in through the doggie door. (Dogs were looking a little suspicious at him) He sits it up on the kitchen island and with great satisfaction… he turns that key he was holding. This thing has a key to start it remotely!! I might need to get my friend to teach me how to use it. It starts up pretty as you please. He, my friend, smiles. Scurry, scurry all over the place pulling extension cord from everywhere. He starts plugging in the electronics. (notice his level of priority) TV – check, internet, router, and computers – check, refrigerator – check, by the way, he listens this time to make sure it is really off then turns and looks at me. I am standing there, apparently and without my knowledge, with a huge sheepish grin on my face. I’m taking it all in. I don’t want to miss a thing. In my mind, I’m writing this story as we go. He gets this serious look on his face and tells me I can not write about any of this. People in town are waving at him that he doesn’t even know and he attributes the friendly nature of folks to my FaceBook notes. Boy, he sure does give me a lot of credit. 😉

I open the refrigerator door and NOTHING! It was not working.

“It’s NOT WORKING” he says with disbelief and a slight panic in his voice. “I told you we should have tested this damn thing out before we really needed it”, my friend says. Unbelievably, he is directing that shout out at me. It could be because I told him I did not want to fool with all the cords and the hassle of moving things here and there when he first got it. It could be because I told him just to leave it until we really needed it, but who really knows why he would take such a tone. -grins-

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TV – does not work, internet and router not working. What the……? With a bewildered look on his face, heels dug in and tongue stuck out his mouth, for concentration, he sets to work on the problem. In and out, in and out of the house then a few minutes later, da, da, dah, everything is working. He calls me into the kitchen to receive a general lesson. “You have to make sure all the plugs are in tight”, he tell me. “And see this one, this one you have to turn it a half a turn to the right.” (Big Grin) He is really trying very hard to not show how exhilarated he is. He’s convinced I am going to write about this anyway. He’d be right.

Now we are sitting in the living room. My best friend is feeling quite pleased with himself. Then he looks at me, I could see the excitement building. He asked, “Do you think I should go plow the drive now?” All the while, the snow is being poured out of the sky by the bucket loads.
Thus, is a day in the life of my snow happy husband “friend” deep in the Sacramento Mountains.

All kidding aside, I love it when he is happy. He is my hero, my “friend”.

The Power or Oh Goody, Oh Goody… part 1

 This is the story that started everything, as in my blog.  I put it on Facebook back in Jan. 2010 and it was a hit.  I think it did so well because everyone on my Facebook knows  Hubs.  This showed him in a different light.  All my friends are familiar with the public man.Public man is a burly man, a man of very few words, a man who would never want any one to see the human side of him.  He is also a man that has sworn me to never write about him again.   So everyone needs to keep this one on the QT.

Hubs has been waiting on this day since Christmas morning. He was practically giddy with excitement. Did we win the lottery, a new truck in the drive or, please no, not another huge snow? It was none of the above.  Hubs was walking in and out of the house with an excitement that I have rarely heard, more like never heard.   I laid there listening. Soon he popped his head in the bedroom and reports, “The electricity is OUT!”, with the biggest Cheshire  grin that I have ever seen on his face.

To most folks me included, this is horrid no water, lights, and spoiled food; to my husband, it is music to his ears. After years of dealing with power outages, his father gave him a generator for Christmas. It was like opening his present all over again. He finally got to fill it with gas, start it and hooked it up. He kept telling me that the generator could run the whole house. I said no way. But he insisted it could.

As I laid there in bed listening, I heard it start. It was a smooth start, sort of like a Honda motorcycle. I could hear him going in and out of the house all excited and getting everything ready to be hooked up. He was just having way to much fun. To my surprise, the ceiling fan in my bedroom came on! I was shocked. He was right! This was one time I was happy to be wrong. No more nights without lights or sounds of the TV. This is a good thing. I got up to go check it out. The pure delight on his face was worth getting up to see.

As I am watching him plug the refrigerator into one of the extension cords, it hits me, how could the fans in the bedrooms be working when he is pulling extension cords in the house? He did not plug in the generator to the house at all. THE POWER had come back on without our knowledge. Oh no, how should I point this out? I just watched him plugging stuff in. All the while, a giant grin plastered on his face. Finally I ask him, how could the fans be working in the back of the house if we are using extension cords for power?

The gleam in his eyes and the smile on his face…..gone. “You mean we have power?”, he asked.” I thought I heard the frige running when I unplugged it. But I was not sure.” He, slowly, turned the generator off and returned all plugs to their rightful sockets. With his excitement faded and the reality of a day of delivering mail, in the snow without me, he kisses me good bye and says, “Have a good day off.”

Oh well, at least we know it starts!

 

O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree

This is to be sung to the tune….O Christmas tree.  For your convenience, I have included a link to the instrumentals  of O Christmas Tree.  As you will see, a couple of words must be said fast in order to fit the song.  😉

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O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

The forest we walked looking for a tree. Warning forest is larger than appears in picture.

We started looking around noon.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

We started looking around noon.

We’ve walked 7  miles  down three canyons.

My knees are weak and so is companion’s.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree;

We started looking, around noon.

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O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

image is from tpwd.state.tx.us

The sun is setting it’s dark soon.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

The sun is setting it’s dark soon.

I’m hearing wild coyo-otes.

He needs to pick one soon please!

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

The sun is setting it’s dark soon.

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O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

Hubs violently chopping a baby tree with a tinny tiny ax

He is chopping you down now

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

He is chopping you down now.

He whacked and whacked, until you cracked

I saw you crying pine extract.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

He is chopping you down now.

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O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

7 miles, 3 canyons, one large size Charlie Brown Tree we are ready for home.

Our Charlie Brown Tree you will be.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

Our Charlie Brown  Tree you will be.

Your skimpy branches and crooked trunk

Makes me wish  that I was drunk.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

Our Charlie Brown Tree you will be.

 

 

Meet the large Charlie Brown Tree

 

 

 

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If you are wondering, WHY did she put this to music?  Ask The Hobbler.  SHE IS THE REASON.  I can get her songs out of my head.  It started with Rain Gear and it has not stopped yet.  Check it out she is in a league of her own.