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Well, here it is—the New Year! Christmas with all its hustle and bustle is over,
and hopefully, decorations are now being packed away until next year.
If you live in snow-country, it’s time to nestle deep into that afghan or
granny- quilt, and stay warm and cozy by the fire till this cold spell passes.
So, let it snow, and notice how cleansing-white it makes everything look as
those soft flakes drift down outside your window, piling up like creamy
marshmallows o’re the land. Bring out those hobbies you never find time for, or
work a picture puzzle with your kids or grandkids. That’s what I do. I knit and
crochet, love to do puzzles, (crossword or picture,) and of course, stay very
busy with reading and writing. I collect antique inkwells, and shining them up
about now is an annual chore. I have over two hundred so it takes a few hours to
finish the task.
I also find it fun to bundle up and take a winter walk. It helps to clear one’s
mind and thoughts without continual interruptions. Everything is still, and the
air feels so crisp as I tread along our snowy lane. All sound is muffled under
white padding that covers rocks and twigs that might otherwise snap and crack
underfoot. Car tires crunch in the snow instead of whine or squeal on the
pavement. Sometimes my hubby goes with, and we recall many fun times we spent on
snowy winter days in our youth. It can be very romantic to walk hand in hand,
(glove in glove). One thing great about being past fifty, (quite a ways past in
my case), you have those wonderful memories to take with you into old age. It
gives a great deal of ‘food for fodder’ as they used to say way back when.
Of course, this is the time to make all the resolutions we seldom keep in the
New Year. Mine is always to take off several pounds and keep them off, but like
old friends, they hug me close. Even if I do send them away for a while, they
soon return and beckon me to have another piece of pie or any other favored
treats just so they can remain. Yes, as you can plainly see, we are very devoted
now—those fat cells and me.
Another thing I must keep in mind is to try to be a better person, and to love
my fellow man, (even if we disagree politically.) No joke. I have many friends
who have this flaw but I’m learning to accept their disability, and trying to be
open minded and loving with them until they recover! Tee-hee! I like them as
people but never can figure out why common sense was withheld when the Lord
passed out all those brains they claim to have. Guess that’s why the old adage
says, “Never discuss Religion or Politics,” (with anyone who might not agree
with you, that is.) Ok, I’m now stepping down from my soapbox.
Speaking of boxes—I’m packing several of the cardboard type this month, and
deciding what to sell of our furnishings since we are soon leaving the GREAT
NORTH-WET on a permanent basis. Our home in Arizona is a ranch style house,
(1,600 sg. feet) whereas, the one we are selling here is a tri-level monster.
This paring down has been a challenge but only in deciding what will fit, and
what won’t in a smaller, (much easier to keep) house. Some things you just have
to sacrifice to the yard sale, or give to the kids. I’m anxious to finish
remodeling the new house however, and move my salvaged things in. Hopefully,
this is our last move before the marble orchard,
(get it?)
Enough of my ramblin’s—here are a couple of poems:
Since I mentioned my struggle with weight in years of late,
I’ll send along one
that relates to that very problem, and also one about snowy winter months such
as January,
when life slows to a crawl, and staying warm is a priority…
FOURTEEN CHUBBIES
Each time I pull on blue Jeans,
it ain’t an easy task,
I get to thinkin’ ‘bout those times
my size, nobody asked
Just like the words in Twitty’s song,
‘bout those ‘Tight Fittin’ Jeans,’
I use to turn an’ eye or two
by just such girly means
 But age has not been kind to me,
it’s played a dirty trick,
in places where I was quite thin,
I now am very thick
I tried those diets on TV,
an’ joined Fat-Lady’s Club,
lost thirty pounds a time or two,
but got hungry for more grub
Reckon I’m lethargic now,
don’t get much exercise,
but buyin’ fourteen chubbies
should open up my eyes
‘Cause even then it ain’t no joke
to squeeze into those pants,
I’m now built just like mama,
an’ three or four large aunts
It just ain’t fair to gain this weight
when past a certain age,
my metabolism’s fallin’ short—
it puts me in a rage
I guess my eatin’ habits
have got to really change,
 fried chicken is my favorite food,
an’ I don’t find that strange
But maybe all those vittles
piled high upon my plate,
with gravy poured on biscuits,
ain’t what I shoulda ate
An’ maybe second helpin’s,
especially with desserts,
will never spell success for me
in wearin’ smaller skirts
I’ve listened to Dame Oprah,
an’ even Dr. Phil,
they promise I can lose the weight,
it’s just a case of will
They make me feel inspired,
almost a day or two,
then, I hop upon the scale
an’ start to feelin’ blue
I’ve fought a real hard battle,
danced with Simmons till I sweat,
sore back an’ charlie-horses,
the reward I always get
So, it’s back to fourteen chubbies,
this is my last resolve,
I’ve faced the fact―I’ll not be thin,
an’ now the problem’s solved…
©2006
MOONLIT SNOW
Full moon rises
with luminous essence
falling on fresh white snow—
reflecting myriads of twinkling lights.
Torch-flame radiance
blankets meadow and field,
exuding the shadowy luster
of an imposter twilight.
Refracting moonbeams
encompass deep forests’
dancing like flickering neons
through evergreens.
Moonlight emulates day
in the midnight hour. . .
Night owls hoot in lofty tones,
Ermine play on slippery slopes,
Lynx and cougar prowl—
postponing slumber.
Translucent colors
diffuse the dawn
shimmering on new snow
with great sparkles in morning light.
©2002
A poem can be fun, “Therapy on Paper,” or a beautiful memory of a snowy
night.
Granny Tam
Write To Tamara
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