tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77903614099591502482024-03-15T05:16:22.601-04:00MaryBennettMary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.comBlogger236125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-3438796063870303402020-12-24T21:57:00.000-05:002020-12-24T21:57:10.709-05:00Sounds of Christmas<b><span style="font-size:100%;">SOUNDS OF CHRISTMAS</span></b><br /> - by <span style="color:#800000;"> <i>Del "Abe" Jones</i></span><br /> <br /> There's music of the holidays<br /> Playing on the radio -<br /> There's Christmas decorations<br /> Almost everywhere you go.<br /> <br /> The Salvation Army bells<br /> Ring out for the poor -<br /> The "Ho,ho." of Santa Claus<br /> In the department stores.<br /> <br /> Carolers sing Christmas songs -<br /> Going, house to house -<br /> Tales about, where no one stirs<br /> Not even, a mouse.<br /> <br /> Hoofbeats in fresh fallen snow<br /> Pulling, an open sleigh -<br /> Children asking Mom and Dad<br /> "Is Santa on his way?"<br /> <br /> Cracklin' from the fireplace -<br /> Roasting chestnuts 'neath the coals -<br /> The soft murmur of prayers<br /> Said, for the lost souls.<br /> <br /> Friends and family gather<br /> To toast, Christmas cheer -<br /> There's sounds of angels singing<br /> (If, you really want to hear.<br /> <br /> The sounds of Christmas, fill the air<br /> As we celebrate His birth -<br /> Wishing joy, to all mankind<br /> And peace to all on earth.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-37566336363550353012020-10-30T16:14:00.000-04:002020-10-30T16:14:00.188-04:00A Halloween Story<p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%;" align="LEFT"> <span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It was the 31st of October, so it was Halloween. But everybody knew that Halloween didn't </span></span></span><em><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">officially</span></span></span></em><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> start until after school was out, and after it started getting dark.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Ria was happy, this year her parents had finally agreed that 12 was old enough for her to Trick or Treat until 8:30. This year, she would Trick or Treat by the light of the full <a href="http://home.hiwaay.net/%7Ekrcool/Astro/moon/moonnames.htm">Harvest</a></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Moon with her best friends Erin and Tina. Ria's mother insisted on the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddy_system">buddy system </a>any time she went anywhere.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">When Ria got off the school bus that afternoon, she scanned the yard for Reagan, her cat, before she dropped her books inside her bedroom. Reagan was a completely black cat, and some people had some sick ideas of what to do with black furred animals on Halloween. Reagan had been kept inside the house for the last few days, just in case. He was going stir crazy and was trying harder and harder to escape to the freedom of the outdoors. </span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Their yard sided a wooded building lot on one side and on the other side was a narrow dirt road that led to a housing development that had gone bankrupt before any houses could be built. Reagan loved the woods. He would climb the trees and keep their yard free of squirrels, which Reagan considered Public Enemy Number One.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">As Ria walked down the hall to her bedroom, her sister Katie said "Reagan is sleeping in the living room window. Mom says before we go Trick or Treating to make sure that Reagan is closed in a bedroom so there's no chance of him getting out."</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Ria dropped off her books and then opened a can of cat food for Reagan. It stunk to high heavens, but Reagan didn't seem to mind. He came running from the living room to the kitchen as if he hadn't eaten in months instead of just hours.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">When it came to eating, Reagan was finicky at all!</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Ria called her mother to let her know that she was home. Then she and Katie went into their parent's bedroom to start getting their costumes ready. Their parents had a footlocker in their bedroom that had belonged to their mother since she was a teenager. Inside the trunk was pieces of every costume her mother had ever worn from the time she was a teenager until now. Even now, their mother shopped the after Halloween sales picking up more costume pieces and props.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The girls never had an actual, bought costume. Instead they had choices of one piece "cat suits" that they could accessorize with almost anything imaginable; ropes of plastic beads, cat ears, clown hair, a bald wig, a wig of long black hair, pompoms, grass skirts, pirate hooks, grass skirts and more. All they needed was imagination, and Ria and Katie had that in abundance!</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">After they decided on what they were going to wear that night, Ria popped a microwave dinner into the microwave oven. The family usually ate dinner together, but tonight they wouldn't. Their older brother Tom was still at football practice, and their parents wouldn't be home until just after they left to go Trick or Treating.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Reagan sat on the floor next to Ria as the girls ate their supper. Reagan was a polite cat. He wouldn't jump onto the table, or pull on their clothes as they ate. He just sat quietly, looking at them with friendly eyes that seemed to say "Won't you share?"</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Suddenly, Reagan's ears pricked forward. His pupils grew so wide, that his eyes looked black instead of green.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"What is it Reagan?" Ria asked when she noticed him. "He must have heard something, look at his tail!"</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"It looks like a bottle washing brush!" Katie laughed. "I wonder if Tommy is home?"</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">They waited a minute, but Tommy didn't come in the house.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Tommy?" Ria called.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">No answer.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Reagan's tail de-poofed and they finished their dinner. Then they hurried back into their parent's bedroom to put their costumes on. </span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Soon after, their was a knock on the door. Reagan jumped and landed with his claws out. He hissed at the door.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Silly cat!" Katie scolded. "It's only my friend Suzy! You know Suzy." She let Suzy and her mother into the house. "I'm almost ready, I just have to get my Treats bag."</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Reagan looks scary." Suzy observed.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"I think it's more like Reagan is scared, but of what, I have no idea." Ria replied.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"I'll be bringing Katie back at about 8." Suzy's mom stated. "Will there be someone here?"</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Oh yes, my parents should be home by 5:30 at the latest."</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Will you be going Trick or Treating too?" Suzy's mom asked. </span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Yes, I'm going with my friend Erin, and then we're going to be picking up my friend Tina."</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Good, I'm glad that you won't be out alone."</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Nope! My mom insists on the buddy system too."</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Suzy's mom was satisfied, and they left.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">Erin and her brother Dave came soon after. Erin wore a home made clown costume and lots of face paint. Ria could hardly recognize her. Her brother Dave was dressed, as he described it "like a big brother." </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"I'll only be a minute!" Ria told them. "I just have to find Reagan and close him in one of the bedrooms." She began to look for him in all of his favorite places; on the living room windowsill, on her parent's bed, even in the pantry next to his cat treats. He was no where to be found. Erin and her brother joined the search. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">They finally found him on the floor behind the drapes. Erin was petting him when all of a sudden, Reagan looked toward the back door, pulled back his ears and yowled so loudly that it scared them all. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Yikes!" Erin looked scared herself. "What bought that on?" </span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"I don't know, but I'm going to go check out your back porch." Tom told them as he headed for the kitchen door.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"I'm going to go put Reagan on my parent's bed and close the door." Ria said. "He loves their bed." </span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The whole time Ria carried the cat, he licked his lips nervously. "There, there, kitty." Ria tried to soothe. "It's alright." But as soon as she put him gently on her parent's bed, Reagan slunk off and hid under the bed. Ria had never seen Reagan act like that before and she half wondered if she should not go Trick or Treating with her friends and stay home wi th the frightened cat.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">She got down on her hands and knees and lifted the bedspread. Reagan looked like a giant poofball, his eyes large, round black circles with the smallest outline of green.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Rrrrrrrooooooooowwwwwwrrrrrrr!," he half growled, half howled.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Ria decided it would probably be better to leave Reagan alone and allow him to calm down in a quiet house. </span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%;" align="LEFT"> <span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Reagan's antics were quickly forgotten. Dave dropped Ria and his sister at their friend Tina's house and left.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The girls were stunned by Tina's outfit. She was an ice princess. Her costume had not been put together at home from bits and pieces, but had been professionally made. Her ice blue dress had an overlay by a light tulle that was studded with glass crystals and drops. Her beautiful blonde hair was up swept, and cascaded in curls along the nape of her neck. Her face was made up by a professional hand, probably her mother who was a cosmetologist, and even though her lips were an icy blue, and her eyelashes apparently had ice crystals on them, she looked completely natural.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Erin's red clown lips formed a perfect "o" at the sight of their beautiful friend. "Wow!"</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Ria finally found her voice. "You look like you should be going to a party, not Trick or Treating." </span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"You are stunning! I bet you'd win a prize." Erin agreed.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Tina's face grew red under her white makeup. "Uh, thanks. C'mon, lets go!"</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">After getting Tina's curfew and saying goodbye to Tina's mother, the three girls left the house.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The neighborhood sidewalks had groups of costumed children. Adults had joined together with friends and guided virtual herds of children from house to house.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The sky was getting darker as the moon was slowly rising. The street lights were coming and Ria noticed that most of the little children were no longer Trick or Treating. </span></span></span></span> </p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Pools of light came from the un-curtained windows of houses. More and more lit Jack O'Lanterns appeared on the porches of houses.</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The girls met up with another group of friends from school and they all began to Trick or Treat together.</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"Did you hear about Mrs. Robinson's cat?" Ria heard a scarecrow say.</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"Isn't that your neighbor's black cat?" a gypsy asked the scarecrow.</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"Oh, that's unique, a black cat story on Halloween. Boooooooo!" a boy dressed like a fedora wearing gangster said sarcastically.</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"What about Mrs. Robinson's cat?" prompted a clown that wasn't Erin.</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"He's missing. He's been missing since last night. Mrs Robinson has posters up at the supermarket, and she even offered to pay me to look around the neighborhood."</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"Did you do it?" asked the fedora wearing gangster.</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"I did it for free before I bought my little brother Trick or Treating. I didn't catch even a glimpse of him." the scarecrow replied.</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"If I had any colored cat, I wouldn't let it outside anytime near Halloween." opined a girl dressed like a bag of jelly beans. Some of the children agreed and Ria was glad that Reagan was safely underneath her parents bed.</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Tina was walking more slowly, and she waited on the sidewalk while the other children Trick or Treated. The second time she did this, Ria and Erin waited with her.</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"What's up?" asked Erin. "You look kind of like you are in pain."</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"Are your shoes hurting you?"</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"No, but I'm starting to feel sick."</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"Do you want to go home?" Ria asked.</span></p> <p><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">"I think I'm ..... gonna toss my cookies." Tina said, and then she did.</span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%;" align="LEFT"><br /></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%;" align="LEFT"> <span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Tina looked as though she was ready to cry. Ria handed her a bit of cloth from her costume to wipe her mouth.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">She still looked sick. "I think I better go home." she stammered. "Go ahead and Trick or Treat without me."</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Oh no, I'm walking you home." Ria said quickly and Erin agreed.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"We really have enough candy already. My mom steals candy from my bag, so she'll actually thank you." She laughed and Ria joined her because it was true; parents and older brothers always took candy from the Trick or Treat bags.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Tina gave a half smile. "I don't want to ruin the night on you. Go on with out me. I can make it home by myself."</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Her friends didn't leave her side the whole walk home. After making sure that Tina was safely home, they decided to walk to Erin's house together and ask Dave to drive Ria home, but he wasn't home.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Look, it's not far from your house to mine. I'll walk home as fast as I can, and then I'll call you to let you know that I made it home."Ria decided.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"I don't know........." Erin argued.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"I'll be fine!" Ria said as she headed out the door. "Really, I'll call you in a few minutes!"</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Ria saw her brother Tommy's tail lights disappearing down the street just as she was getting home. </span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">'It figured!' Ria thought as she took off her necklace to get to the house key she always wore around her neck.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Once inside she hurried to the phone and called Erin. "Home just fine!"</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">"Are your parents home?"</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Ria listened for a minute and didn't hear a single sound. "Nope, home alone."</span></p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%;" align="LEFT"> <span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Aren't you creeped out to be home alone on Halloween night? Especially when Reagan acted that weird way before?" Erin asked anxiously.<br /><br />"No, I wasn't, until you just bought it up." Ria said heatedly. Then she was instantly sorry. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."<br /><br />"It's okay, I understand. Sorry if I creeped you out even more than you were?"<br /><br />"You didn't." Ria lied. She'd actually had been fine before calling Erin, now the house felt ominously quiet.<br /><br />"Should I ask my parents if I can stay with you at your house until your parents come home?"<br /><br />Ria gave herself a mental shake. "No really, I'm fine. I need to find Reagan and see how he's doing. Poor kitty!"<br /><br />"You sure you don't want to stay on the phone until your parents come home?" At Ria's 'no,' Erin continued "Okay, but if you need me, call and I'll be there in minutes!"<br /><br />Ria could just imagine her friend running down the road in her costume. She chuckled. "Okay Erin. You know you really are a great friend!"<br /><br />Before looking for Reagan, Ria took off her costume pieces and put them back into the trunk. She didn't bother to take off her face paint before laying on her stomach and looking under her parents bed for Reagan. He wasn't there.<br /><br />Ria went into the kitchen pantry and got out a can of cat food. Usually just opening the pantry door was sound enough to drive Reagan into the kitchen, rubbing against her leg, the wall and the kitchen chair legs purring, but not tonight.<br /><br />"Reagan! Here kitty!" she called. Still Reagan didn't come.<br /><br />Ria ignored the more quietly working, manual can opener for the noisy, electric can opener. As expected, the electric can opener whined and whirred and clunked as it laboriously opened the can of cat food. Usually Reagan would have been driven insane by now. Tonight he remained a no show.<br /><br />Could Reagan still be freaked out by what he had heard earlier? Ria began to look for him in his favorite hiding places. It was only after she finished checking the last place, on top of the water heater, that Ria noticed the window curtain caught in the back door. She was sure she hadn't left the house with the curtain caught in the back door.<br /><br />Did her brother come into the house before getting his car and leaving? Had Reagan gotten out?<br /><br />Quickly Ria checked the usual message centers in the house for a note from her brother saying that Reagan had gotten out. There was none but it was the only answer because she had checked the whole house for Reagan and not found him. </span></span></span> </p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%;" align="LEFT"> <span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Ria was angry at her brother Thomas for allowing Reagan to get out of the house, especially on a night that was so dangerous for black cats. She grabbed the open can of cat food and a small penlight and left the house.<br /><br />She checked all the deck furniture before venturing into the back yard. Reagan wasn't in the yard, including his favorite napping spots inside the bird bath or on the wood pile.<br /><br />Ria checked her neighbor's yard for Reagan before admitting to herself , with a shudder, that the only place left to look for the cat was the woods on the other side of a dirt road near their home.<br /><br />Their street was the last block built before the building developer had run out of money to build any more houses. Behind Ria's house was woods. On the other side of her neighbor's house was the developers supply road. The road was barely wide enough for a truck to drive on. It was dirt and had sand and ruts in areas. It ran in the woods from the oldest part of the housing development to the abandoned part of the housing development for a few miles.<br /><br />During the day, the woods were a friendly place for the neighborhood children to play. There were tree forts in some of the trees, and in some of the natural clearings the neighborhood children had picnics. The woods were a quiet place to do nothing more than walk and think about the day.<br /><br />Even on moonlit nights, the sandy road was peaceful to walk on, and not threatening in anyway.<br /><br />But on Halloween night? Ria's imagination ran wild, and she did not want to go into the woods at all.<br /><br />Never the less, tonight she would have to because Reagan was most likely in the woods. Who knew what could happen to him if she didn't.</span> </span></span></span> </p> <p style="text-indent: 0.5in; margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 100%;" align="LEFT"> <span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The moon was supposed to be full that night, but it was still rising as she crossed the thin wooded strip and stood on the dirt road.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Reagan! Here kitty!" she called in a voice she hated. She could hear her own fear in it.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i>C'mon girl!</i></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">she chided herself. </span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i>Look around. These are the same trees that you've walked past a thousand times! You've sat at the base of these trees and read books.<br /><br />Still, the woods seemed spooky.<br /><br /></i></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Ria called for Reagan, pointing the flashlight at piles of leaves or among nests of roots as she walked along. She walked along for about thirty minutes before she saw a black cat rubbing itself on the rough bark of a leafless tree. From where Ria stood, she couldn't be sure if the cat was Reagan.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Reagan?" she called softly. The cat didn't come to her, but it did meow in response. "You've come a long way boy. Why so far tonight of all nights?"</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The cat stiffened. Its ears were so tuned into the sound, it seemed to Ria that they vibrated. Ria listened and at first she heard nothing. Then it seemed as though the ground was starting to vibrate. The vibration grew in intensity until it sounded like the thundering of the hooves of many horses.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">People occasionally rode horses down the dirt road, although not at night. When that happened, the usual practice was to step slightly off the road for the rider to pass. But this time Ria felt a rising of terror, apparently shared by the cat, because it bolted off the road and into the woods. Ria could hear it's passage as it tore through brambles, making crackling sounds, only slightly ahead of her own frantic flight. </span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The sound of the oncoming hooves was unbearably loud now, and impulsively, Ria dropped to the ground and wiggled under a pile of leaves and bramble. She was so frightened that her lungs felt like they were burning, and her breath came in loud heaves that she prayed could not be heard over the sound of the horses thundering hooves.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It was only minutes later that the horsemen came in sight. There were six of them. The horses were huge, bigger than any that Ria had ever seen in her life. They seemed more likely to have come out of a nightmare than to be real. The eyes were rimmed with bright red, the eyes themselves were bottomless black pools. Great clouds of steam came out of the snorting nostrils.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The riders had stopped because the lead rider had held up a huge gloved hand signalling them to stop. In the distance, Ria could still hear the thunder of more horses approaching.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"I smell humans." the first rider growled removing his helmet. It was skull shaped with embossing around the brim.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"There are humans living just on the other side of those woods." The rider lifted up in the saddle as if to stretch his legs from a long ride.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"It be a shame if some of them were in the woods now." The first rider replied with a nasty chuckle.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"They won't be. They are busy gathering candy at this time of night. The children are anyway." It was the third rider who spoke. His saddle supported a long pole, from which hung a macabre lantern, a cat skull with a candle inside of it.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"And the mothers are home alone, just on the other side of those woods?" asked the first rider. "Mayhaps</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> we have time for just a little bit of mischief, eh boys?"<br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">They all laughed.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The fourth rider was silent. Ria studied him. He too carried a lantern attached to his saddle, it was a cat's skull, bigger than the first lantern. All the riders were dressed in black leather, but the fourth rider looked darker than the others. Ria imagined it was as dark as a black hole in space would be.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The rider that had removed his helmet slid to the ground from his horse. He was doing some stretches when he suddenly stopped. "I do smell human!" he said ominously.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"I told you, humans...."</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"I mean I smell them here!" he interrupted. "Here!" he gestured around the general area. "Not in some neighborhood. Here!"</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">They all stood still, even the horses stopped their movements.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Ria wondered if they were sniffing the air too, catching her scent. She almost screamed with fright.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The sound of the other horses was getting louder. They were getting closer. Would they all dismount their horses when they arrived, to scour the woods looking for her? They would surely find her if they did.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The rider mounted his horse again, surprisingly quickly for all the armour and the long cloak he wore. He snatched a lantern pole from one of the riders and urged his horse into the woods.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"What are you doing?" one of them called.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">"I said I smelled a human!" The horse walked heavily into the woods. Even fallen logs snapped under his mighty step. Ria froze with terror and began to pray that somehow, those mighty hooves would miss her.</span></span></span><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /><br /></span></span></span><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">The other riders began to arrive and the thundering of oncoming horses began to lessen. From her hiding place, Ria couldn't be sure of how many horses were there. Twenty? Fifty? Were there more? She couldn't be sure. The black horse was still plowing through the woods seeking her. Every so often, the rider would call out in frustration "I know you're here!"<br /><br />The group parted and from their midst emerged a rider who must be their leader. His horse was as large as any of the others, but the saddle was of a much better quality. It's suppleness shone in the increasing moonlight. He had two lamp carrying riders on either side of him.<br /><br />"Balfour! What are you doing?"<br /><br />Balfour immediately stopped his search. "I smelled a human, my lord." There was the sound of muffled laughing from the group.<br /><br />"Of course you smelled human, you half wit! There's a housing development on the other side of this median!" the leader thundered. "Get out of those woods and get into your position!"<br /><br />The leader addressed the other riders. "Did you recapture that black cat?"<br /><br />"No my lord." the other three riders answered almost shamefully.<br /><br />"No matter, we're sure to come across another one along our ride." He turned to one of his lantern bearers. "Give the signal to assemble. We have far to ride before the moon is at it's height."<br /><br />The lantern bearer pulled a goat's horn from his tunic and blew. The sound was nothing like a horn and yet indescribable. It made Ria shiver. The original four riders assembled into a column of two, and began riding forward. The other horsemen began riding behind them, also in columns of two, except for the leader who was still flanked by his lantern bearers.<br /><br />The procession seemed to take hours to pass. Ria didn't stir until the sound of the last horse hoof had faded away. Then she cautiously got up, slowly, still listening, in case one of the riders had stayed behind without her realizing. Ria turned on her flashlight and scanned the woods, looking for the black cat. It was nowhere to be seen.<br /><br />May-be Reagan had had enough of being outside by this time, Ria hoped. For herself, she had had enough of the woods for one night. She made her way to the dirt road and started to walk home, still listening for the sound of horse hooves.<br /><br />When she was near home, she hear her name being called. "Ria? Ria!" called her younger sister Katie.<br /><br />"I'm here!" she began to run toward Katie's voice.<br /><br />"Ria! What were you doing in the woods on Halloween night? I'd never go in the woods on Halloween night!" Katie gave a shudder.<br /><br />"I was looking for Reagan."<br /><br />"In the woods? He was in the shredded paper box next to Daddy's desk. It was like he dug himself down into the paper. He's never done that before. I wonder why he did it tonight?"<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><i>I'm sure I know</i></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">. Ria thought, but she only said "Hmmmm......." as they climbed the steps of the back deck and entered their house.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">THE END</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">THIS STORY WAS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN IN 2010 BY MARY BENNETT as a BLOG CHALLENGE Copyright 2010 Mary Bennett All rights reserved<br /><br /></span><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-86177266298064254872020-10-27T22:19:00.000-04:002020-10-27T22:19:00.184-04:00What Holds A Marriage Together<div style="font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Pains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads which sew people together through the years. That's what makes a marriage last - more than passion or even sex.</span></div><div style="padding-top: 2px;"><span style="font-size:130%;">- <a href="http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/authors/simone_signoret_quotes.html">Simone Signoret</a></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-65348525010915086572020-10-14T22:21:00.000-04:002020-10-14T22:21:05.066-04:00The Sweet Calm of October<div> <b>“The sweet calm sunshine of October,<br /> now warms the low spot;<br />upon its grassy mould<br />The purple oak-leaf falls;<br /> the birchen bough Drops<br />its bright spoil like arrow-heads of gold.”</b><br /><a href="http://www.famousquotes.com/author/william-cullen-bryant/">William Cullen Bryant</a> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-42517987511699015152020-05-29T17:18:00.000-04:002020-05-29T17:18:00.139-04:00Memorial Day 2020<img alt="In Flanders Field - Copy of Signed Original" border="4" height="544" src="http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/in-flanders-field-copy-of-original-signed-001.jpg" width="331" /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-62891731320987457652020-04-18T21:59:00.001-04:002020-04-18T21:59:00.551-04:00You Can Live to be One Hundred!<div style="font-size: 12px; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">You can live to be a hundred, if you give up all the things that make you want to live to a hundred.</span></div><div style="padding-top: 2px; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">- <a href="http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/authors/woody_allen_quotes.html">Woody Allen</a></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-67702525983404203962019-12-24T21:54:00.000-05:002019-12-24T21:54:13.238-05:00The Midnight Hour<span style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><b>That Midnight Hour</b><br /> <br /> The Virgin Mother kneels upon the floor<br /> And holds her baby in her arm,<br /> Her heart is gladder than her lips can say,<br /> To keep her new born baby snug and warm,<br /> A babe more sweet and fair and dear<br /> Than any <a id="KonaLink2" target="undefined" class="kLink" style="text-decoration: underline ! important; position: static;" href="http://www.theholidayspot.com/christmas/poems/poetry_page_8.htm#"><span style="font-weight: 400; position: static;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;color:#b00000;" ><span class="kLink" style="font-weight: 400; position: relative;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;color:#b00000;" >rose</span></span></a> bud in the bright sunshine,<br /> Whose little eyes look straight into her own,<br /> O, blessed maid, God's son is also thine.<br /> Twas holy midnight, when He came to earth:<br /> As pours a sun ray through a limpid glass,<br /> Not leaving any mark upon its face;<br /> A drop of dew upon the fresh green grass,<br /> A little star that fell upon her lap,<br /> A cooing babe, that seeks her virgin breast.<br /> The hopes of all the sin-cursed world<br /> Upon this baby's eyelids rest.<br /> And ever since the midnight hour is holy,<br /> And millions of human hearts are stirred<br /> To wonderment and love for Him who came,<br /> To save the world, God's own incarnate Word.<br /> He came in darkness, He who was The Light,<br /> His godhead shone from <a id="KonaLink3" target="undefined" class="kLink" style="text-decoration: underline ! important; position: static;" href="http://www.theholidayspot.com/christmas/poems/poetry_page_8.htm#"><span style="font-weight: 400; position: static;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;color:#b00000;" ><span class="kLink" style="color: blue ! important; font-weight: 400; position: relative; border-bottom: 1px solid blue;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;color:transparent;" >clear </span><span class="kLink" style="color: blue ! important; font-weight: 400; position: relative; border-bottom: 1px solid blue;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;color:transparent;" >blue</span></span><span style="position: relative;" class="preLoadWrap" id="preLoadWrap3"><div style="position: absolute; z-index: 2147482647; top: -32px; left: -18px; display: none;" id="preLoadLayer3"><img style="border: medium none; width: 22px; height: 22px;" src="http://kona.kontera.com/javascript/lib/imgs/grey_loader.gif" class="preloadImg" /></div></span></a> baby eyes,<br /> The curse of earth's first sin was lifted then,<br /> That midnight hour reopened paradise.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-66517420031881042012019-04-18T22:02:00.000-04:002019-04-18T22:02:00.415-04:00Preservatives<div style="font-size: 12px; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I stay away from natural foods. At my age I need all the preservatives I can get.</span></div><div style="padding-top: 2px; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">- <a href="http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/authors/george_burns_quotes.html">George Burns</a></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-43396462817544188662018-12-24T21:52:00.000-05:002018-12-24T21:52:00.324-05:00<span style="font-family:Verdana;"><b>The gates of Heaven open at midnight on Christmas Eve. Those who die then go straight to Heaven (an Irish belief).<br /> </b></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-37288005046361218652018-04-18T22:04:00.000-04:002018-04-18T22:04:00.328-04:00Wisdom<div style="font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Wisdom doesn't automatically come with old age. Nothing does - except wrinkles. It's true, some wines improve with age. But only if the grapes were good in the first place.</span></div><div style="padding-top: 2px;"><span style="font-size:130%;">- <a href="http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/authors/abigail_van_buren_quotes.html">Abigail Van Buren</a></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-31352463981396990702017-12-24T21:47:00.000-05:002017-12-24T21:47:00.168-05:00Grace<b>Grace</b><br /> <br /> Lord bless us now and bless this food.<br /> Bless our minds and <a id="KonaLink4" target="undefined" class="kLink" style="text-decoration: underline ! important; position: static;" href="http://www.theholidayspot.com/christmas/poems/poetry_page_2.htm#"><span style="color: blue ! important; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: 400; font-size: 13.3333px; position: static;color:blue;" ><span class="kLink" style="color: blue ! important; font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: 400; font-size: 13.3333px; position: relative;">bless</span></span></a> our mood.<br /><br /> Divinely bless this humble meal,<br /> The way we think and the way we feel.<br /><br /> Please, bless each one within this place<br /> Every time that we say "Grace"<br /><br /> And lead us, Lord, away from sin<br /> Every time we say, "Amen".<div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-73704137554060423152017-04-18T22:05:00.000-04:002017-04-18T22:05:00.168-04:00Between 50 and 70<div style="font-size: 12px; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always asked to do things, and you are not yet decrepit enough to turn them down.</span></div><div style="padding-top: 2px; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">- <a href="http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/authors/t__s__eliot_quotes.html">T. S. Eliot</a></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-53958837157966670212016-12-24T20:54:00.000-05:002016-12-24T20:54:00.203-05:00Twas the Night Before Christmas<h3 class="post-title entry-title"> Twas the Night Before Christmas... </h3> <div class="post-header"> </div> <div class="gtxt_body">'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there;<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">The children were nestled all snug in their beds,<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuOSiFb8vmaK-XU795716KmhgAPAeDAWAovg_CB3uJAxVAzTgBAB7RzSKyW8PeGMMcyq57mjbXcPG5a1YyP8TSGUVT8Gm2flA57lcnZ_cYaBLl-GvA4hUPbVAjM6TZf3ExNyZLKi67XztR/s1600-h/santa6.gif.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuOSiFb8vmaK-XU795716KmhgAPAeDAWAovg_CB3uJAxVAzTgBAB7RzSKyW8PeGMMcyq57mjbXcPG5a1YyP8TSGUVT8Gm2flA57lcnZ_cYaBLl-GvA4hUPbVAjM6TZf3ExNyZLKi67XztR/s200/santa6.gif.jpg" border="0" /></a>While visions of sugarplums danced through their heads;<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,—<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body"><div class="gtxt_body">Away to the window I flew like a flash,<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash;<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: 0.5em;">The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow,<br />Gave a luster of midday to objects below;<br />When, what to my wondering eyes should appear<br />But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,<br />With a little old driver, so lively and quick,<br />I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick!<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">And he whistled and shouted and called them by name:<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">"Now Dasher! now Dancer! now Prancer! now Vixen!<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body">Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: 0.5em;">As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,<br />When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,<br />So, up to the housetop the coursers they flew,<br /></div></div><div class="gtxt_body" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: 0.5em;">With a sleigh full of toys,—and Saint Nicholas, too.<br />And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof<br />The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.<br />As I drew in my head and was turning around,<br />Down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound.<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: 0.5em;">He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,<br />And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;<br />A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,<br />And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.<br />His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!<br />His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;<br />His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,<br />And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;<br />The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,<br />And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.<br />He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf;<br />And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: 0.5em;">A wink of his eye and a twist of his head<br />Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.<br />He spake not a word, but went straight to his work,<br />And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,<br />And, laying his finger aside of his nose,<br />And giving a nod,—up the chimney he rose.<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body" style="margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 2em; margin-top: 0.5em;">He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,<br />And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;<br />But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,<br /></div><div class="gtxt_body" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">"merry </span><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Christmas </span><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">To </span><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">All, </span><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">And </span><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">To </span><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">All </span><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">A </span><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Good-night!"</span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKSij74sACs7mWTK4Qw7dm23yh-GuW6gvlsiRcPpYowlDqAumIbhqgZJ69IA1A-Jwe7WDv3ktb1pHVY8qxxHAwWs7OQd9vBcGLVokMyO0sQKydIK8K-_8ahX110ygXEUdaNUd-v-cimOZ/s1600-h/santa7.gif.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKSij74sACs7mWTK4Qw7dm23yh-GuW6gvlsiRcPpYowlDqAumIbhqgZJ69IA1A-Jwe7WDv3ktb1pHVY8qxxHAwWs7OQd9vBcGLVokMyO0sQKydIK8K-_8ahX110ygXEUdaNUd-v-cimOZ/s200/santa7.gif.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><span style="font-variant: small-caps;"><i>Clement </i></span><span style="font-variant: small-caps;"><i>C. </i></span><span style="font-variant: small-caps;"><i>Moore</i></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-83125159351782577582016-04-18T22:06:00.001-04:002016-04-18T22:06:00.170-04:00Wrinkles<div style="font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.</span></div><div style="padding-top: 2px;"><span style="font-size:130%;">- <a href="http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/authors/mark_twain_quotes.html">Mark Twain</a></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-37836176388073138492015-12-23T20:51:00.000-05:002015-12-23T20:51:00.852-05:00The Thought and Spirit of ChristmasThis was a poem children were encouraged to memorize in 1916<br /><br /><br />Not what we give,<br />But what we share;<br />The gift without the giver is bare;<br />He gives but worthless gold<br />Who gives from sense of duty.<br /><br />Give aid if thou canst;<br />If not, a kind and gentle word.<br />It's loving and giving<br />That makes life worth living,<br />It's loving and giving<br />That makes life a song.<br /><br />What is the thought of Christmas?<br />Giving.<br />What is the spirit of Christmas?<br />Love.<br /><br />I don't know the author, but please feel free to repost because I am told it is in the Public Domain<div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-65636897367341345072015-05-30T17:12:00.000-04:002015-05-30T17:12:00.284-04:00In Flanders Fields<strong><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">Does anyone remember World War I anymore? as a different time then. For so many immigrants, the conflict wasn't in a strange land, but in a place they were at least vaguely familiar with, it might even have been home.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">And for all the horror that came from that war, especially mustard gas, people still had manners. In fact for Christmas one year, the combatants stopped fighting, met in "no man's land" and sang Christmas Carols and shared food.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Because Catholic prayers were not said in the vernacular of the people yet, Catholics were able to come together and pray in Latin together.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">After Christmas, the war continued.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">I have always found this poem poignant. Truthfully, it brings a tear to my eye. I hope you enjoy it this Memorial Day... and don't forget to say a prayer for the souls of all the soldiers of every nation that died while fighting for their country.</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="color: #3333ff;">In Flanders Fields</span></strong>
<br /><b><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD
(1872-1918)</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>Canadian
Army</span></span></b>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>In Flanders
Fields the poppies blow</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>Between the crosses row on
row,</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>That mark our place; and in the
sky</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>The larks, still bravely singing,
fly</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>Scarce heard amid the guns
below.</span></span></span></b>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>We are the
Dead. Short days ago</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>We lived, felt dawn, saw
sunset glow,</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>Loved and were loved, and now we
lie</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>In Flanders fields.</span></span></span></b>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>Take up our
quarrel with the foe:</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>To you from failing hands
we throw</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>The torch; be yours to hold it
high.</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>If ye break faith with us who
die</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>We shall not sleep, though poppies
grow</span></span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span>In Flanders fields.</span></span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span style="color: #3333ff;"><span></span></span></span></b>
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<img alt="In Flanders Field - Copy of Signed Original" border="4" height="544" src="http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/in-flanders-field-copy-of-original-signed-001.jpg" width="331" />
<br /><a href="mailto:beemacguire@gmail.com">Courtesy of Bee MacGuire</a><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-46380131760698382982015-04-18T22:08:00.001-04:002015-04-18T22:08:00.615-04:00Middle Age<div style="font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Middle age occurs when you are too young to take up golf and too old to rush up to the net.</span></div><div style="padding-top: 2px;"><span style="font-size:130%;">- <a href="http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/authors/franklin_pierce_adams_quotes.html">Franklin Pierce Adams</a></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-14171791825028091742014-04-18T22:10:00.001-04:002014-04-18T22:10:00.257-04:00Life Begins at Fifty<div style="font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Life begins at fifty, but so does bad eyesight, arthritis, and the habit of telling the same story three times to the same listeners.</span></div><div style="padding-top: 2px;"><span style="font-size:130%;">- <a href="http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/authors/anonymous_quotes.html">Anonymous</a></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-50524265338851945562013-05-07T22:09:00.000-04:002013-05-07T22:09:00.402-04:00Intrepid Reader<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
My mother was not the kind of mom that made birthday cupcakes to celebrate my birthday at school. She would never have bought soda or juice, because she had read Adele Davis and Carlton Frederics and she knew that<em><strong> sugar was poison</strong></em>.</div>
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If you were over the age of three, my mother didn't hover over you as you played in the sandbox that my father had made for us, swung on the swings, or went down the slide. If you could finally swing very high on the swing and ran in to proudly tell her and get an approving audience, forget it. She'd occasionally check on us through the kitchen window but there is something that is needed to be known about my mom, she detested a hot or beating sun, she got prickly in any but the most benign spring sunshine, and she was scared to death of insects, especially bees. Watching kids, even her own kids swing on swings or dig in a sandbox bored her to death. She was the absolute antithesis of attachment parenting or the helicopter mom.</div>
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Before becoming a wife and mother in the 1960's, my mother had studied not just to be a nurse, but to be a registered nurse. My mother was a professional. Soon she went from being just a registered nurse to being a head nurse. She was responsible for supervising nurses and nurses aides, for taking a doctors order and supervising patient diets, giving out medicines. She interacted with highly educated people every day. House work and making meals, doing laundry and watching kids mould sand into tunnels or sand cakes just didn't measure up.</div>
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What she carried over from her former life was a love of books, a love she had since almost as soon as she learned to read. It was a family affair because her mother, my Meme loved reading also. The high spot of her day was after lunch, when all kids were taking a nap and she could read a book. It must have been a bittersweet time, connecting her too her youth, her single life and present all at one time.</div>
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And then, came my tenth Christmas, when the majority of my gifts were books. She scored 100 out of 100 with the books! I loved every one of them, and two of them I actually made part of my personal library as an adult, and I read them to my children at certain times during the year. My enthusiasm was all the encouragement that my mother needed. From then on, I was never without my own book, bought by my mother. No more having to depend on the library.</div>
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My mother's tastes were eclectic, never in a rut. Some times she would get me favorites from her youth like the Cherry Ames, Nurse series, other times it would be Five Little Peppers And How They Grew. A new Bobbsey Twin or Nancy Drew book from the series would be a gift for a birthday, then The Girl In White Armor. She got me to read a few books from the Mary Poppins series when I was sick, and sure I was too old to enjoy it. I was wrong, she was right, and the Mary Poppins series is in my personal collection now.</div>
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Even as a married adult, in the midst of taking care of littles myself, my mother supplied me with books like Evergreen and Light A Penny Candle. Later in life, when I was feeling a bit down and isolated because my husband had become an over the road trucker, a box of books, the Debbie Mac Comber Cedar Cove series, arrived on my doorstep. While I was in the hospital getting chemo for my cancer, the books Marley and Me showed up, followed by The Help. And then while recovering at home, The Distant Hours, a hefty book that I never would have looked at twice showed up at my home.</div>
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All the books bought comfort, my mother even as an elderly mother to a middle-aged woman was still watching out for me, trying to distract me and bring me comfort. All her choices were great. </div>
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I don't know how she does it. She doesn't belong to a book club. Instead, she goes into a book store and picks up books that look interesting, reads the cover, and if they still seem interesting, she buys them. And she doesn't just do it for me. She finds out what subjects my kids are interested in, and then buys books to match them, often challenging them with books that I think might be too old for them, and then the kids rise to the challenge. One example is The Girl From Limberlost, a huge book that my 12 year old daughter finished reading because she found it so interesting. I haven't attempted it yet.</div>
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My mom has aided making my children into the voracious readers and book lovers that they are. What an enduring legacy!</div>
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<a href="http://manybooks.net/titles/portergeetext94limbr10.html" target="_blank">The Girl of Limberlost - free e-book</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/182496.Evergreen" target="_blank">Evergreen by Belva Plain</a><br />
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDFQwcO2aubnbC7LgdsrGsmTn4jwy9BOZd0-fEYzLerec2CrX4DKXmavAWGZiq3tyu8pOrt9A2sLYyN62Nb2nzS70YZbsfaDTnW2xXqRobaGKRz6G1jKBpxWZx2fMPePget5lNjnCy4ho/s1600/Johnny+Tremain.jpg" /><a href="http://www.bookrags.com/notes/jt/" target="_blank">Johnny Tremain book review</a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-55401500622574036602013-04-18T22:12:00.001-04:002013-04-18T22:12:00.551-04:00The Secret of Staying Young<div style="font-size: 12px; font-family: Arial;">T<span style="font-size:130%;">he secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age.</span></div><div style="padding-top: 2px;"><span style="font-size:130%;">- <a href="http://www.famousquotesandauthors.com/authors/lucille_ball_quotes.html">Lucille Ball</a></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-44080058127832675082013-01-23T11:15:00.000-05:002013-01-23T11:15:07.915-05:00Cooking Under Pressure<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I think all but the luckiest of us have cooked under pressure. Some of us have cooked under pressure night after night, trying to make a dinner that will be apreciatated.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">But in this case, cooking under pressure refers to cooking using a pressure cooker.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Pressure cookers have come up in the world, now they are electronic or electric. They are filled with safeties to protect us from the specacular explosions of the past.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">But try finding a basic recipe book for one. I think I've made it pretty well known that we are basci people, not fancy shmancy, so recipes using quail or dried apricots are not for us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Give us the basic info on how to cook rice or spaghetti in one. How to cook a chicken breast, or better, a frozen chicken breast.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Those recipes would better serve us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">In the meantime, I've been searching You Tube. I've found some great recipes, never to be found again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Now this is cooking under pressure, without the cooking!</span><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-655852898881035412013-01-20T15:16:00.001-05:002013-01-20T15:17:57.065-05:00How Blogs Move Us<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Blogs are mostly unsung and ignored. Unless you happen to read them. I've been reading them for about 5 years, and I've seen new ones, or new to me, ones come on, and I've seen them leave.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">The ones that left have done it without drum roll, just me showing up and the blogger not. And that has left me feeling sad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Other blogs are started for a purpose, like what it is like to live off the power grid, which is something I've always wanted to try, but never have, and after my adventures of being powerless after a storm, I probably will never do willingly. This blogger is starting to question if this is the lifestyle she wants to follow. It's a hard life, so I can understand. But the thought of not having this blog to read in the future, is saddening.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Blogs, maybe they aren't as light weight as they are treated by society!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-4482946388998226062012-12-01T19:44:00.000-05:002012-12-01T19:44:24.025-05:00The Advent Wreath<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKVeiy77IN5rrRvrMPQ4fTNS6jyEQsmwIIe0KlupGlqH7sk-_i_vxlbswkO9merY3wsI4KaE5MFlV3fT5Zu1cfNiYFFvmWXsr_n-Q50Rp6X4yw6SF0T7XxIvFDvYYWYm3Sm0IvMVNTQ_Y/s1600/AdventWreath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKVeiy77IN5rrRvrMPQ4fTNS6jyEQsmwIIe0KlupGlqH7sk-_i_vxlbswkO9merY3wsI4KaE5MFlV3fT5Zu1cfNiYFFvmWXsr_n-Q50Rp6X4yw6SF0T7XxIvFDvYYWYm3Sm0IvMVNTQ_Y/s1600/AdventWreath.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Advent Wreath, and indeed the whole season of Advent is ignored by the general public, these days it seems. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Not so when I was growing up. Yes, the municipalities put up the Christmas lights about two weeks before Christmas, but in our hearts, we knew it was Advent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Advent, the time of waiting for Christmas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">First came out the Advent Wreath. My father would bring a small hand saw with him into the back yard and cut some greenery. This was artfully arranged to cover the golden Advent wreath and from out of no where, my mother would whisk out brand new candles for the season. The Advent Wreath was put in the middle of our dining room table, and stayed there in prominence until after January 1st when it was finally taken down and put away. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Considering how easy it is to make an Advent Wreath, and how inexpensive they are now to buy, it seems a real shame that more people don't practice this tradition. All you need is something round; a round plate, a wreath, anything. You don't have to use the usual long taper candles either. In the past, we have used fat pillar candles and candles in glass globes. If you have little children, you could even use battery operated candles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Decorate the wreath with evergreens, or we've used garland wrapped around the wreath. We've left it simple with no adornment, we've put a small nativity inside the circle. We've even hung it from the ceiling over the dining table. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">A good book to read about Advent, and indeed many Catholic Traditions is "Through The Year With The Trapp Family Singers" by Maria Trapp. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: large;">Why not give the Advent Wreath a try this year?</span></div>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-75009429553130762622012-11-30T16:44:00.000-05:002012-11-30T16:44:34.463-05:00The Christmas Prayer<br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="text-align: left;">Hail and blessed be the hour and moment In which the Son of God was born Of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in the piercing cold. In that hour vouchsafe, I beseech Thee, O my God, to hear my prayer and grant my desires, </span><i style="text-align: left;">[here mention your request]</i><span style="text-align: left;">through the merits of Our Saviour Jesus Christ, and of His blessed Mother. Amen.</span></span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7790361409959150248.post-87173368923581494212012-11-28T19:28:00.000-05:002012-11-28T19:28:08.942-05:00AdventThe four candles :<br /> * First Candle (purple)--Prophecy Candle or Candle of Hope (Romans 15:1<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><br />
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2-14)<br /> * Second Candle (purple) Bethlehem.candle or Candle of Preparation (Luke 2)3:4-6)<br /> * Third Candle (pink) - Shepherd Candle or Candle of Joy<br /> (Luke 2:7-15)<br /> * Fourth Candle (purple)- Angel Candle or the Candle of Love<br /> (John 3:16-17)</div>
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This Sunday starts Advent, and if you would like to have an Advent wreath this year, I thought I'd give you a guide on the candles and what they represent.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Book reviews, movie reviews, frugal hints and currrent events.</div>Mary Bennetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02908550586505392408noreply@blogger.com0