Feel the Spirit – Page 3 – Hot Dog Cool Cats

The Christmas Story (With A Twist)

It is listen up time for Gen and Jakita.

‘So, Momma tell us about Christmas again’, said Jakita and Gen as they crowded her in the lazy boy chair, Jakita cuddled by Momma’s side, Gen perched beside her, paws tucked below her body, Egyptian style. Who knows where Bad Boy Andy was…probably wreaking havoc in the neighbourhood. Meanwhile Charlie was lurking behind one of the kitty hotels, listening attentively, convinced no one could see, although she wished she was brave enough to join them.

Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus, a sheep and a praying angel.

‘Well, long ago, Joseph and Mary’, started Momma, but they stopped her, rather impatiently. ‘No, no, no tell us about the Baby Jesus,’ Jakita and Gen implored, ‘We love babies. Everybody loves babies.’

So Momma sighed and started again, only this time she took another tack. ‘Yes, Baby Jesus was born in a stable and laid in a manger.

As you proclaimed Jesus' birth. — As you proclaimed Jesus’ birth.

An Angel of the Lord appeared to the Shepherds, who were tending their sheep that night, telling them the great tidings of Jesus birth and so they hurried off to Bethlehem and found Mary and Joseph with Baby Jesus as well as cattle, in the stable. Meanwhile, a mysterious light that turned in to a resplendent star shone, guiding the Three Wise men (hard to find three of those today), bearing gifts, came to see the long-awaited Messiah.’ But there is more because, well, Momma has lived forever, so she hears things.

Apparently, in Momma’s day, it was a well-known fact that on Christmas Eve Midnight, if the conditions were perfect, the snow gleaming from the moon and stars radiating beams of kaleidoscope light, if you went in to your barn, all the cattle would bow down and speak to each other about what was and is and ever shall be…..And everyone wanted to go to the barn at midnight at Christmas Eve but there was one catch (isn’t there always?). Every person who had been brave enough to walk that path had never lived to tell the tale.

Who ended up unable to divulge the secrets. He sure does look like a sceptic, eh? — Who ended up unable to divulge the
secrets. He sure does look like a sceptic, eh?

It was rumored that a Great Uncle of Momma’s, who did not believe in stuff and nonsense, well, no one knows what happened to him, there no witnesses (except the cattle and they pleaded the Fifth Amendment), but he was found in the barn the next morning, as the cattle looked on sorrowfully, his eyes and mouth wide open, with a wound to his head, like he had tripped and hit his head on the way to meeting his Maker, God-Rest-His-Soul.

The snowbank where Miss Secret Society of Scryers was found.

And one more person Momma heard of tried it, one of the Secret Society of Scryers and she nearly made it. She was already outside of the barn, on her way home, anxious to share what she had seen and heard but she was found in a heap, in a snow bank, frozen stiff, as the moon and the stars twinkled relentlessly, almost tauntingly, the secrets of the ages, still safe.

Wow, Momma, you sure have heard some fantastic tales. Makes us wonder if they are true but it does not matter, because you know there is more than one truth out there and truth, well it is highly over rated. Pondering the unknown formulates growth. But I tell you what, Gen and I are not going to any barn on Christmas Eve at midnight because we are not the scientific type, okay?

Still, we adore Baby Jesus.

We Wish You A Merry Christmas

Dear Family and Friends;

I am ready, willing and groomed to perfection. Bring on the family and friends. No one will be able to resist me!

Season’s Greeting from our Family who have enjoyed continued progress on a bumpy road, in the year that has just passed.

Hubby’s gardening business struggles on, but you know him. He is fairly threatening so makes a strong Collection Officer as he goes about taking the last $20.00 from some Customers, for cutting their lawns. Although a bag of food for $20.00 doesn’t buy much these days, still, they owe him and it is pay up time. He left his sweat on their lawns and flowerbeds and darned if he is going to be stuck with ‘bad debt’.

Our one and only son (Wonder Boy) sometimes helps Hubby with the gardening when he has not been out partying the night before, but then he always insists they stop to eat at noon which pretty much cancels any profit made that day. Go figure. This eating regularly is seriously over rated and absolutely not cost-effective.

You remember Hubby’s health is not what it should be with his heart condition and diabetes. Thank goodness we live close to the hospital. He is always conscientious about not spending money on an ambulance.

I mean, it's not that hard...just stop the next time you see someone stumbling through an intersection. He may be headed to the hospital... From Morguefile.com DSC_1144.JPGBy kconnors — Just stop the next time you see someone stumbling through an intersection. H
From Morguefile.com
DSC_1144.JPG By k Connors

In blinding pain, he staggers over to Emergency, weaving his way through the traffic of cars and the blaring horns of buses that seem to think for some reason, that they have the right of way. What would make them think that? Maybe we should get him a STOP sign to carry and he could wear one of those hats with a revolving red light so the traffic can come to a halt accordingly.

RIP Daddy's last project. Is it just me or do you see his divine spirit hiding in the rainbow quartz? — RIP Daddy’s last project. Is it just me or do you see his divine spirit hiding in the rainbow quartz?

The good news is that we finally got the Crack House next door closed down but we can’t take all the credit. It took the effort of all the neighbors on the street. We could not take the disoriented Crack Heads standing on our front doorsteps, knocking plaintively, all hours of the day and night. It was quite the circus to watch (and we all got in free). The good news was the whole neighborhood poured in to the street to watch the live entertainment (just like the TV series – Cops) when the fleet of police cars surrounded the area. We caught up on each others lives as we surveyed the constables, the undercover officers, possibly the RCMP and some one said CSIS, rounding up the undesirables. We hate to complain but it is quiet without them nowadays…..

Still, it sure is energizing to hear about the success of your family. Makes us proud to be (Fill in the blank)_________ (related) or ________ (acquainted). Gives us something to brag about when we talk to our friends and neighbors. We can not wait to get next year’s missive. We’ll be praying for your continued success because it is so nice to know there is someone out there that we are related to (or know) families who has their sugar….. together.

We Wish You A Merry Christmas…And A Happy New Year.

Love,

The Truth-Be-Darned and Don’t-Sweat-The-Little-Stuff

Note: A lot of changes have occurred since this letter was sent. Hubby is now RIP Daddy, gardening in heaven for spiritual bucks and Wonder Boy…well, he turned out just fine too.…….we are not the type to brag, but he works on Bay Street in the Financial District, ya know…where he finally pays for his own lunch.

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

The Christmas card with the Brag Sheet tucked neatly inside.... All is calm, all is bright. — The Christmas card with the Brag Sheet tucked neatly inside….All is calm, all is bright.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go….when you get your first Brag Sheet tucked neatly in a ♥warming Christmas card….Momma says, she does, that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. So began the Christmas Card letter that was supposed to be an update on the progress of family and friends that you may not have heard from since the previous Yuletide Season.

A few years back Momma claims she got such a letter from a friend of the family, let’s call her Lady Brag-Brag. Now Lady Brag-Brag is a good Christian person but she also is a very proud wife and mother whose intention, in all likelihood, was not to boast and make others feel inferior. She just wanted to share her pride in having an upwardly mobile husband and children. Instead it had a negative effect, which made Momma and Her-Sister-the Queen take stock and think that they were sadly lacking. Where had they gone wrong? Were they blessed or cursed, to be passed by such honors?

Now on the other side, but stll lighting up our world. — Our Lovie…Now on the other side, but still lighting up our life.

At that time in Momma’s life, RIP Daddy was still alive and by her side. However most days were spent visiting their gorgeous but long-suffering niece, Lovie. in her last days at the Palliative Care Unit. Therefore Momma took along the letter to astound Her-Sister-the Queen, (Lovie’s mother) so she could also feel bemused about how their families just did not measure up. Since Momma and Her-Sister-the Queen shared a warped sense of humor, they passed time by spinning off a reply about their own family units that Momma could communicate back to these over achievers.

It seemed that the Lady Brag-Brag’s husband’s business had grown in absolute leaps and bounds in the past year. They had managed to get away on two different holidays in the sun, where they rejuvenated their bodies and souls. It made Momma and Her-Sister-the Queen want to cry out, what about their families’ bodies and souls? In the past year plus, Momma and Her-Sister-the Queen felt blessed just to be able to be by Lovie’s bedside daily, little own thinking of rest or relaxation.

The letter writer’s children absolutely ‘took the cake’….. so there was none left for anyone else. They were in various Universities across Canada, on Honor Rolls, graduating at the top of their class, then getting plum positions, shoved down their throats by a shallow society that heaps favors on only the brightest, the most beautiful and the best. It fair made their heads spin, as Momma and Her-Sister-the Queen recalled how their competitive Aunties had children (their cousins) that were carbon copies, so many years earlier and they were not even related. (Reality Check in ‘Real Time’ – none of their cousins have set the world on fire…at least yet).

Are we the only ones that feel this way????

It did not stop there. The partners that her children chose were also gifted, graduating from even more prestigious international universities, and being bid on for future positions. Say what? Even Momma and Her-Sister-the Queen, who earnestly believe in the Mystery of the Reality, were baffled about how so much good karma surrounded Lady Brag-Brag’s family. It was their intention to point out to her that just because their paltry lives were not quite on the same path… yet, it did not mean that they couldn’t enjoy what they had.

Maybe as Momma and Her-Sister-the Queen, ruminated, they stretched the truth a wee bit, but only to make a point, you understand. Their response was swift, although cutting, still laced with absolute, abiding reality.

So wait for it, expect it….like the Baby Jesus, it is on the way.

It Was Long Ago and Far Away

Charlie (on Left) Jakita and Gen (on Right) with Tigger, listen to Ruby talk about Momma wishing and hoping.

Gather round, Jakita, Gen, Charlie and Tigger. You all remember RIP Daddy so this one is for you.

You know Momma, always wishing and hoping, yet a stick-in-the-mud realist who readily admits she just longs for the veil that separates the living from the dead, to be just a bit more translucent.

It just seems every time you pick up a magazine there is another amazing story about someone who died, that had no faith in anything but his own puffed up powers, and he (she) reappears in mysterious ways and even on the anniversary of their death. They write on a mirror in chalk, or send flowers or find a way to have their favourite song played on the local radio station. Momma believes them because well, she is pining for a similar interaction.

Not RIP Daddy, says Momma. No, he is like Houdini. You can hold séances but RIP Daddy is a no-show. Good Christian Reform member that he was for so many years (until he was excommunicated for failure to attend services), he did not believe in that stuff and nonsense.

Uow Momma, good Virgo that she is, wants to have him come visit her while she is in a conscious state, not just sporadically, in dreams that have no beginning and no ends. He just appears, then abruptly leaves, in a middle of a conversation. Come to think of it, just like he did when he shared the earth plane – things to do, places to go, you know….

Momma’s plan is ….well, she would like him to at least sit with her a while and explain the whats, whys and wherefores of life that are a total mystery to those of us still tethered to the earth plane.

Home grown miniature roses, dew from the morning still clinging to the petals and leaves of the yellow and tinged pink yellow roses in front garden.

Now you and I know, the Momma’s of this world are too fanciful. She knows she should be content that he drops by in her dreams and pops up in her flower gardens…those tulips in the spring, peonies, and roses in the summer, mums in the fall …or so she likes to think…..but she could be delusional…or could it be the dreaded dementia descending like a black cloud.

It goes without saying our Momma is always open to learn more, to hear of the meetings that take place between folks and their loved ones that have gone to their greater reward, after a life well liven….or not It makes her envious, yet feeds her hope that any day now, when she least expects it, RIP Daddy will come striding in, with a story to tell, a long story (he was good at that) and she’s ready.

Any bets, guys? I’m thinking Momma should be content with the dreams, even if she can not script questions like a reporter at a White House Daily Briefing.

There are just some things we don’t need to know….but don’t tell Momma because she can be like a dog with a bone, digging and digging, in the hope somehow she’ll feel the earth move under her feet, the sky come tumbling down and there will be…RIP Daddy.

Ruby, Will You Be Mine?

When we, the Inanimate yet clearly Animate, are left to our own devices, totally deserted by the very team that depend on us to deliver love and comfort, we often have our own little parties, sharing tales of days and life times long since.

Case and Point. While I am telling a riveting tale, Gen is wound like a calico ball of yarn, her head pressed against me, sound asleep.

That does not happen very often because it seems that Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte (aka Charlie) and / or Diva Calico Gen spend the whole day sleeping on Momma’s bed, curled close to one, the other, or all of us. When they tell stories, we listen with interest but when we tell stories, like Jesus’ disciple, waiting for sunrise, in the Garden of Gethsamane they can not keep their eyes open.

Now even the inanimate need a club to join (or a union, if we were getting paid) to protect our rights and promote our longevity. In order to be legitimate with Canada Revenue, we needed a club name. I voted for The Ruby Club but apparently all members had one vote so that name was rejected. How about The Monkey Club?No again. Let’s call it The Get Stuffed Club. No, apparently it had to resonate even with Miss Piggy. Let’s see, we were a monkey, (Ruby), a puppy (Babby), a tiger (Tigger), a pig (Miss Piggy), the most recent member, a moose (Moosie) and

Dark Brown Darby Bear and Wonderboy's Lightbulb, always carrying his posie of flowers. — Dark Brown Darby Bear and Wonderboy’s Lightbulb, always carrying his posie of flowers.

sometimes two Teddy Bears, (Darby and Lightbulb). Picky, Picky, Picky! That’s it. We would call it the Tall Tales Club. You’d be right. It took me, the Incredibly Wide Eyes (Wise) Monkey Ruby, to come up with that moniker.

Now, as only fitting, we all had a role, but of course being wise and wide-eyed, it was only fitting that I chaired the The Tall Tales Club. Miss Piggy can always entertain, so we all enjoyed the mayhem that she had lived through over the years, especially when little Zanny was still with us. Zanny would take Miss Piggy outside on occasion and leave her there, expecting the Mothership to rescue her. It did not always happen that way because, well, the Mothership was Momma, who was working ten to twelve hours a day, helping the Two Footed who could not help themselves, so sometimes it took Momma days to realize Miss Piggy was missing. One time Miss Piggy says she was there for days, well at least hours and a family of squirrels came out, encircled her, jabbering away, in squirrelese. Then they sat on their haunches, little paws clasped together and screeched for back up. A couple of more families came and then, out came Mr. Head Hauncho Squirrel.

You can see I am pink, no fur but not exactly a squirrel, especially with those finger nail polished hooves and bright yellow ears (what's that all about?). — You can see I am pink, no fur but not exactly a squirrel, especially with those finger nail polished hooves and bright yellow ears (what’s that all about?).

‘What is this?’ they asked. ‘It is pink, with no fur, like a baby squirrel but it is too fat to be one of ours. Do we take this poor critter home or leave it to its own devices?’

‘No,’ said Mr. Head Hauncho Squirrel, ‘It is like Little Bo-Peep’s Sheep – leave it alone, it’ll get home, wagging its’ tail behind it.’ Then they all darted back to finding acorns to bury for the winter or what ever else squirrels do, leaving poor Miss Piggy all alone and desolate.

Well, Miss Piggy admitted, it may not have really happened just like that. Momma spied with her little eye, a flash of pink in the back yard and fashioned a rescue….she asked poor RIP Daddy to bring in Miss Piggy next time he was in the back yard. No rush apparently. Miss Piggy would have sworn that she was a priority, but the good news was, it rained for three days so all of Zanny’s slobber got washed away. It is self deprecating stories like this that endear all the Tall Tale Club Members to Miss Piggy.

Here is the Tall Tales Club - back row, left, Tigger, then me, Ruby, on right, Babby; fronnt row to left Miss Piggy and in middle Moosie. The Teddy Bears were busy that Day. — Here is the Tall Tales Club – back row, left, Tigger, then me, Ruby, on right, Babby; front row to left Miss Piggy and in middle Moosie. The Teddy Bears were on a picnic without us, that Day.

Still, all the members of the Tall Tales Club have a tail to bring and a tale to tell. There is so much more to tell. Every one of them, like me, have been there, done that, you got to trust me on that one.

I’ll Be Coming Home, Wait For Me

Just as dusk was falling, we gathered together on Momma’s bed because Ruby, the Incredibly Wide Eyed Monkey said she had heard a story that could turn in to a rumor that may be fact or fiction but it was not her place to relegate plausibility. No, her job was to relay an account of what she heard and swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help her God. So we opened our ears, cleared our minds and concentrated, because after it is rolled out, we will all have opinions to share.

Ruby shares the story with Charlie, Gen, and Jakita using Tigger as a head rest. — Ruby shares the story with Charlie, Gen, and Jakita who is using Tigger as a head rest.

It is not like Momma had much experience in seeing ghosts although she was always open to the idea that it could happen. I mean, she didn’t know anyone who had ever seen UFO’s but that does not mean they haven’t.… or so Momma theorized. When Grandmama, Her-Mother-God-Rest-Her-Soul appeared in a dream, it was like an angel coming down from heaven, surrounded by a cloud, with a rainbow over her head. Grandmama’s face shone like the sun, her cloak flashed with fire. And the message she delivered was Momma must talk of, write about, the Mysteries that enshrouded Reality.

About two years after Grandmama died suddenly, (here one minute, gone to her greater reward the next). Grandpapa claimed (but he was always a great storyteller) that one night when he was sound asleep, he was awoken by a bright white light in his room. In the light stood three women, transparent they seemed, like crystal angels without cumbersome wings. Grandmama stepped forward and told him that he should get on with his life. If he wanted to remarry, so-be-it. Life was for the living. He strained to see the other women, but they stood in the shadows and did not talk. He wasn’t sure, but thought it was Grandmama’s two sisters (one a Sinner, one a Saint) accompanying her, to deliver the message. ‘Huh,’ said, the siblings, ‘Imagine that’, with varying degrees of skepticism.

Grandmama and her two sisters - the Sinner and the Saint. From Morguefile.com cha610.JPG By chamomile — Grandmama and her two sisters – the Sinner and the Saint.
From Morguefile.com
cha610.JPG By chamomile

Months later when Grandpapa became involved with the Black Widow, Heart-of-Stone-Lady, some of the family wondered, was the visitation from Grandmama a way to justify the new romance and be convenient to Grandpapa’s long range plans? Momma’s sisters and brother knew Grandmama was the jealous type till the day she died, always cautioning them that she would still be warm in her grave when Grandpapa would start the replacement process. No way would Grandmama sanction remarriage, with her children possibly developing loyalty to another woman. Of course, that would never have happened. The Black Widow could have been Mother Theresa and Momma and her siblings would have pined for Grandmama. Also they were always cognizant that if they didn’t, they would have to answer to Grandmama when they went joined her in Paradise. God knows how she greeted Grandpapa when he passed over!

Funny thing is RIP Daddy was just like Grandmama. He warned Momma within an inch of her life that if he passed first, she was not allowed to have another relationship. No worries, RIP Daddy. Even after all this time, Momma has not moved your clothes from the closet or your change from your pockets, flung on top of the bureau. She says, she does, you might be coming home anytime soon like she thinks the company you work for sent you out-of-town to drum up more business to grow the bottom line. What can I say?

Here I sit in contemplation of Grandmama's visitation. — Here I sit in contemplation of Grandmama’s visitation.

Did Grandmama appear to Grandpapa in reality? Will we ever know? If she did, why did she not warn him about the Black Widow, Heart-of-Stone-Lady? Or did Grandmama think Grandpapa needed a Life Lesson delivered? Knowing Grandmama, no one would put it past her. She had a powerful strong will – that Campbell blood, you know.

Yet it seems like we all got some lessons to learn. As far as I am concerned, I got some questions that need answering the very second I meet up with Grandmama on the Other Side. Did she really appear to Grandpapa? Was she setting him up?

So….how far is Heaven, did you say?

Come Here and Take A Lesson

To my way of thinking and it may sound esoteric, trees call out to me, if I will take the time to listen – not all trees but let’s be truthful, but not all Four Footed or Two Footed inspire me, either.

It is majestic in size with the hint of an interesting base, even this far away. — My Smart Tree is majestic in size with the hint of an interesting base, even this far away.

It seems some individuals have that ‘seen one tree, seen them all’ attitude and just bolt past them. Oh, ye of little understanding. If you are one of those unfortunates, listen up and learn the secrets whispered in the wind, shouted across mountains, lingering far and wide, over the great expanse of time.

Once upon a time (oh, you heard that story already), well okay….you know how Momma and I go walking. I observe, I sniff, I listen and I respond. I mean, no kidding, you may meet up with a flower so exquisite, with such an intoxicating smell, that it is impossible to go by without stopping. Or I can gaze for hours at Momma’s shiny stones in her rock collection or lay in the front garden, watching teeny, tiny ants and beetles, busy, busy, busy. Let me tell you about the miles Momma and I have walked, the paths we have taken and all the trees we have seen. Yet none compare to my Smart Tree.

A huge tree, with a thick foliage of leaves, it shades all takers from the hot summer sun or even provides shelter in a rainstorm (NOTE: Stay away during a thunderstorm). It is young enough to be vital and strong, yet mature enough to have a history. And it communicates, not just to me but to all who would take the time. I recall the first occasion I heard it whisper to me, the leaves, rustling gently. I stopped, looked up, up, up, so far that I felt my neck crack in protest. It was a tall straight tree with such symmetrical branches, it looked almost engineered to perfection.

Is that an Eagle eye or a human eye? Is there an angel with a dog's head. Do you see the monkey perched on branch? It is like a ever changing kaleidoscope vision. — Is that an Eagle eye or a human eye? Is there an angel with a dog’s head. Do you see the monkey perched on branch? It is like an ever changing kaleidoscope of possibilities.

Then my eyes scaled down the trunk to the base of the tree and I could not believe what my eyes were showing me. It was as if an artist had painstakingly carved an eagle eye that could see forever and back, a monkey perched on a bench surveying all, an angel with the head of a dog. The more I looked, the more I saw. And toes, much longer than a Two Footed. And is that a forked tail? Is that even possible? No, these toes and tails must be the fossil of the dinosaurs or dragons long since extinct.

On one side of the tree the toes dig in to the earth, stabilizing its position. And no toe is that long? Is that a forked tail? You tell me!

Momma, Momma, Momma what can this mean? I hear the tree tinkle with laughter – like Momma would know their well guarded secrets! Still, Momma has an answer, because well Momma always has an answer, even if it is not the right answer. It is Mother Nature, Jakita, driving rain, wind, ice, exposing roots and carving messages in the trunks, cautioning us, and warning us, while at the same time inviting us to celebrate their wisdom and truth, earned over their long life span. The only problem is that the Two Footed are pretty much deaf to tree whispering.

Not me Momma. I could come here every day to listen, look and feel the power of this tree. It is like the carvings play mind games with me, confusing me by appearing different each time I gaze at them. Some days they appear frightening, some days they are benign and some days they are friendly like, welcoming me to come closer. I am not sure what that is all about but I do know that tree is calling me, beckoning me to not accept things at face value but always be ready for change because change is inevitable.

Here I sit by my favorite Smart Tree. Look at that gnarly, carved tree base.

Still I wonder, what if Momma is wrong? Maybe it is not Mother Nature but instead those wee people who come, in the dark of the night, with chiseling tools and lanterns, to carve the tree trunks.

I mean, Momma, you are the one who taught me, ‘All things are possible.’ Let’s come back some night and see if we can catch them in action, okay, Momma?

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