Happy Thanksgiving

As I sit here this Thanksgiving morning, with the Christmas tree sparkling in the corner, I'm thinking of all Thanksgivings from my childhood, as a newly wed, as a mother and now as a grandmother.  What precious memories of cousins running through Grandma's and Papa's house, sitting down to dinner with my in laws, feeding my babies mashed potatoes with a little taste of gravy mixed in and watching as they experience real food, and now I'm thinking about my grandkids bursting through my door and screaming "MIMI!"

I was talking to my son one day about how much fun it was as a kid to go to my papa's house and all my cousins would be there.  I don't remember what the adults did, but I know that the cousins had a blast running through the yard to the woods and then through the fields, usually ending up in the loft of Papa's barn where our imagination took us to far away places.  I was telling him how sad that that part of my life was over.  As we were standing at the window looking out at our yard, fields and woods and what he said to me next made me put a whole new perspective on the memories of times past.  He said, "Mom, now THIS is Papa's place." 

He made me realize that although there was some sadness in memories of times past, I was passing on to my children and grandchildren the fun times, times of sitting around the table laughing, kids running through the house, the yard and lots of love being passed around. 

So, this morning, I'm going to think on all those Thanksgivings past, but not with sadness and heartache, but with a new direction of making Mimi's house the fun place to go.  The place where memories are made.  The place, when I'm gone, that they tell their children and grandchildren of all the happiness made at Mimi's and Poppy's house.

Mister Little Mouse

It's a strange day today.  All I wanted to do is go in my kitchen, as I do every morning, get a cup of coffee and a piece of toast.  Is this too much to ask? It's a simple request.

So I go over and put some bread in the toaster, walk around to the dishwasher, pull out a clean cup, walk to the Keurig and put in my favorite coffee pod, set the cup on the base, pull the handle, push the brew button, and wah lah!...coffee brewing.  After it finishes, I add my sugar and cream and take a sweet sip of my caffeine nectar.   I hear the sound of  "pop" as my toast has reached perfection, so I turn to retrieve my toast and smear some butter on it.  As I take my first step, my eyes catch up to the direction I'm going and .........AHHHHHHH!

Little Mouse, why are you sitting all humped up in front of my refrigerator just staring at me with those beady little eyes????  How long have you been staring......watching......stalking.....

After I scream and nearly drop my cup of coffee, I stomp my foot (well, what else would you expect me to do?).  Little Mouse scurries under my fridge and I tip toe to my toaster.  Okay, I'm feeling some  relief, you know, the whole outta sight outta mind sort of thing.  Feeling pretty good about myself, I take my pretty little plate of toast and my steaming cup of coffee into my living room, sit down on my favorite chair, prop my feet up and settle in to watch a little news while sipping on my tasty cup of caffeine.

I reach down to get my piece of buttery toast, put it to my mouth and raise my eyes.......AHHHHH!
Little Mouse is sitting in front of my chair across the room staring......watching......stalking.......

I jump up, toast still in hand, and Little Mouse runs under the chair, but I can still see him peeping at me under the chair.  So I do the only thing I know to do.  Stomp.  As I lay my toast in the plate, I bend to pick up my weapon of choice....my shoes.

He runs over to the tv stand and I see him starting toward the grandkids toys behind the stand.  "Oh, no you don't, Little Mouse."  Casting all fear aside, I cross the room to fight to the death.  No one messes with my grand kids' toys, not even Little Mouse.

Alright, so maybe I'm not fearless.  Thoughts of "what if he runs up my leg" and "what if he attacks" begin to pass through my mind, so I stop.  It's a stand off.  It's a flashback of the OK Corral.  With shoe in hand, I make my move.  I stomp.  He starts scurrying....I scream.....he scurries.....I throw my shoe.  Then.....OH MY LORD......he starts crawling up my curtain!  AHHHHHHH!

As I'm screaming, I throw my other shoe and pray I don't bust out a window.  It's a direct hit!  He falls to the ground....he's laying there twitching, and for a second I think, "Aww, Little Mouse is hurting and I need to baby him." 

Regaining my senses, I attack again.  Needless to say, Little Mouse will not be playing with my grand kids' toys.  No sir.....not in MY house.....huh uh.....this Mimi's bad to the bone.

So, now Little Mouse is in the resting place of all other little mouse relatives that messed with this bad mama, out in my field...where I threw him from my dust pan like throwing a shot put, turned ran in the house, slammed the door and shivered.

Whew.