Aging ain't for sissies. Neither is chronic pain.

Posts tagged ‘Christmas’

Twas The Week Before New Years

Twas the week before New Years, and all through the house

not a creature was stirring but the wife and her spouse.

Looking around at the Christmas décor,

her heart skipped a beat knowing what was in store.

The tree and the wreaths, the baubles and balls,

would have to be stored in a place far too small.

Yes, under the steps in what’s known as the cave,

was where all the boxes would go on this day.

Filled with obsession to be rid of the mess,

she called on the husband to get himself dressed.

“Get boxes!”  “Get markers!” “Get bags and duct tape!”

“It’s time to get busy and put all this away!”

The husband, he hurried and tried to escape,

but the wife wouldn’t have it and stood in his way.

They went to the basement with a feeling of dread,

knowing the work load that lie just ahead.

But the day, it flew by as they worked and they packed,

and before they could blink all the boxes were stacked.

The time had now come to store it away,

and with worry and dread they peered into the cave.

It looked so much smaller; and darker it seemed,

and they knew when they finished it would bust at the seams.

As they pushed and they shoved there arose such a clatter,

they looked into the cave to see what was the matter.

The boxes were groaning, the walls wouldn’t budge,

but the husband and wife gave it one final nudge.

Having finally finished, up the stairs they took flight

when it hit them they’d forgotten to take down the lights.

It’s been said they exclaimed as they ran from the scene,

“Merry Christmas my ass, they can stay up until spring!”

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How The Finnch Stole Kibble

How The Finnch Stole Kibble
  (by Terri Onorato – based on a true story of our whippet Finn)

Every dog

In the household

Liked kibble a lot…

But the Finnch,

A real chow hound

Liked it more than a lot!

 

The Finnch loved his kibble.  He would eat it all day!

Don’t dare ask why; no one can quite say.

It could be he thought he might never fill up.

Or perhaps it could be he’s a growing young pup.

But I think the most likely reason of all

May have been that his tummy was two sizes too small.

 

But,

Whatever the reason, his strong will or his age

He wouldn’t give in, and he begged and he begged.

Staring up from his place on the bare kitchen floor

At his mama who stood guard by the old pantry door,

He spun and he jumped and he twirled and he whined.

But his mama held fast and said, “It’s not dinner time!”

 

The greyhounds were quiet and willing to wait

For they knew that at mealtime they’d get a full plate.

But Finnch wasn’t patient, his belly rumbled and roared

And he suddenly recalled where extra kibble was stored.

The spare room his destination, he took off like a shot

And pushed opened the door ma had forgotten to lock.

 

The treasure before him was a royal dog feast

Forty pounds of the kibble, all his to eat!

He’d certainly hit pay dirt; of this he was sure,

He ripped and he tugged till the bag finally tore.

Out poured the kibble, piling up to his knees

He munched and he chewed, never stopping to breathe.

 

He was so busy feasting and enjoying his prize

He didn’t hear mama till she was right by his side.

He munched all the faster and grabbed what he could

Till his ma picked him up and surprised him real good!

She didn’t get angry or say he was bad

She laughed and she hugged him and said, “You’re a brat!”

 

And what happened then?

Well the greyhounds they say

That the Finnch’s tummy

Grew three sizes that day.

And the minute his bloated round belly felt full,

He waddled outside, he had business to do!

He sighed with contentment as he lay down to nap

His dreams filled with kibble still left in the bag.

 

Finn

Don’t Box Me In

Sunday we decided to decorate for the holidays.  Yes, we are one of those annoying families that put their decorations up before December can stick its foot in the door.  Annoying is my middle name, just ask my husband.

Our holiday decorations are stored under the basement steps in an area that resembles a cave.  The cave isn’t spacious by any means; it houses our well pump and is just big enough to store our Christmas goodies.  Little did I know exactly how many boxes my husband could cram in there without busting a seam.

My husband assured me there weren’t that many boxes in the cave and began pulling them out and setting them in our already overcrowded basement. 

As he emptied out the cave the boxes began to mount up, not only in quantity mind you but in size as well.  We’re talking old desktop computer boxes; the ones that many moons ago were used to ship big ass PC towers and mammoth monitors.  The basement began to take on the appearance of a cargo ship and before I knew it I was boxed in, cut off from any possible escape route that would get me away from this holiday hell. 

I could tell that hubby’s enthusiasm was beginning to wane when he came in with yet another box and grumbled, “How the hell did we get so many boxes in one space?”  We?  I’m not the one who packed the damn cave so tight a freakin’ gnat couldn’t fly through without getting a head injury.

By the time the vast array of boxes were stacked in the basement shock had set in.  How did two seemingly normal people (well, one normal and the other, not so much) accumulate so many holiday decorations?  We must have hit some really kick ass after-Christmas sales in years past but damn if I remember.

Once the shock began to wear off and reality smacked me upside the head, I noticed that I had, in a moment of apparent intelligence, labeled all the boxes.  Go me!  My pat on the back suddenly turned to a kick in the ass when I realized that what was written on the boxes did not, in fact, match what was in the boxes.

I opened a box marked “tree ornaments” only to find Christmas stockings, knick knacks and a round disc that looked suspiciously like fruit cake.   Apparently my labeling skills need some work. 

It took awhile but finally the tree was up, the nativity set and lighted village were in place, the stair railing adorned with garland and lights and all the bells and whistles were ringing and singing.  I was exhausted, hungry and cranky but satisfied with the results.  It wasn’t until later that I felt the after affects of my accomplishments.

During my decorating frenzy I had spent a lot of time bending, lifting and kneeling.  After sitting down for a bit I went to stand up and I swear I heard my legs scream.  My knees cracked and my back cussed me out so proficiently it took my breath away.

I’m glad we did it though.  Now we can sit back and enjoy the atmosphere of the holidays knowing our decorating is complete…on the inside that is.

Next on the agenda, spreading holiday cheer and good will with outdoor lights on the front of our home.  Will this marriage survive?

Stay tuned.

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