Traveller

                                   I wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. 

Mischievous Elf

You've got to be kidding me!  This morning when I drug my sleep-groggy body down the stairs to get my coffee,  I was wary of getting my coffee cup off the hook because of the elf in it yesterday.  No elf in the cup...that was good, I sighed.

 I turned around to pour my coffee and I found this mess on the cutting board. Yikes!

I know what sparked this mischievous behaviour.  Yesterday afternoon I had a conversation with my daughter about my elf blog and whether she had read it or not.  She told me about one of her "facebook friends" who had the popular "Elf on a Shelf" elf and how it was mischievous.  So now I know why my "not so popular" elf has big ears. He listens to conversations.  That's right, apparently he eavesdropped and not only got the flour down, but look closely at the flour on the cutting board.  He made angel wings.  Do I think it is sweet?  Let me just say, it would have been a lot sweeter if he had cleaned up the flour mess.

(Note, all incidents may or may not be true.)

Elf

About 20 years ago an elf came to my house.  Don't ask me how, or why?  He did appear each Christmas and the children and grandchildren would shriek, "I don't like him...not one bit" or "hide him, he's freaky".  O.K., I relented, so I hid him in a box above the computer, but the next day he appeared again. 

Now that Elf on the Shelf is a popular book and stuffed toy and movie, I began to wonder what the little creature that appeared in my house was somehow related to this new Elf. 

This Christmas season has been no different.  I have paid attention each morning, sort of a detective game, to see if this elf is moving about.

Voila!  He did move in the night. 

The next morning, I found him here.  Thinks he's going for a boat ride, I guess.

I found him again.  What is this Elf doing?

I can tell you, Sugar is not happy.  Would you be with this freaky little elf in your lap?

Oh, no...not mycoffee cup! 

What do you want?  Why?  What am I supposed to do?  I'm listening, are you trying to tell me something?  Sshhhhhh!

Cowgirl and Silver

Once upon a time, long, long ago, before laptops and Leapsters, before cellphones and Nooks, even before mini-skirts, there were two sisters.  These girls played outside and made a covered wagon by throwing  sheets over the clothesline and setting a chair at the open end for the wagon master. Their mother let them have a can of beenie-weenies to eat straight from the can.  It was magic to hear the dull click of the spoon on the side of the can.

 Each of them had a horse, of a different color, of course.  These horses were long sticks with names like Blackie and Ginger.  The girls tied strings from the top of the sticks for the mane, and another string from the top so that they could tie Blackie and Ginger up to the chair in the front of the covered wagon so the horses could walk alongside the wagon.  They put the stick horses between their legs and away they rode, around the house, down the hill and around the sidewalk to the back of the house where their covered wagon was, but only after the skirmish when they defended their covered wagon from their brother and his friend. 
Cap guns drawn, "Pop!, Pop! Pop! Pop!  "We win!"
 ("Did not!" came the yell from the obnoxious boys, three years younger than the girls).
"Did, too!"

It must have been late fall because the tall iris had died back and the weeds were tromped over when the most beautiful horse in the world appeared.  Silver would be his name.  Silver the gas tank horse would have a towel thrown over his back, reins attached and would become the immovable, grand horse of all. Silver never participated in the battles, or walked alongside the covered wagon but would always be the majestic horse at the back of the fence.