Tag Archives: Neighbors

Aliens Landed Just in Time for Christmas!

Oh dear! What to do? As new comers in this neighborhood, we want to fit in, be in sync with those who live so closely around us. Unfortunately, my husband, Chris claims that our backyard Christmas decoration, which I designed and he painfully executed, looks like Aliens laid large eggs in one of our trees. Not quite what I had intended. I do not believe this generates syncing with those around us.

By chance, have we accidently invited beings from outer space to come for a visit? Have we created a gang symbol? If so, what will be expected as our initiation into the group? On the other hand, maybe our creative work will be recognized as a symbol for world peace — maybe intergalactic peace. Regardless of interpretation, our decoration does not seem “Christmasy”. Wise men will not be tempted to arrive with frankincense and myrrh.

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Requesting Comfort and a Reason to Laugh

Today, we go to a wake for a friend I have known since we attended TCU. Following graduation, we became neighbors. Our little girls played together as best friends. My son loved Margie. In fact, who could resist her warm smile and terrific laugh? The following message goes to Dwight, Margie’s husband of many years.
I recall a time when my son, David decided it would be a great idea to juggle eggs in your kitchen. Of course, no one doubted David’s talent. When he tossed one egg too high and it stuck on the ceiling, Margie burst out laughing. Many years later, Margie shared that remnants of the egg still clung to the ceiling when you moved away.
On another occasion, I napped while Rachel and Joy industriously mixed flour, water, and mud. I awoke to discover mud in the hair of two little girls, mud on the drapes, mud ground into the carpet, mud blobbed on the cabinets, and mud smeared into numerous pots and pans. Unlike Margie, I did not find this scene amusing. (I always claimed that if it had been in Margie’s kitchen, she would have not found it quite so funny!) It took forever to get the little balls of muddy dough out of Joy’s hair.

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