Merry Christmas Dear Friends

 

Happiest of Christmas Days to You!
All Cats and Kitties,
Bunnies, Doggies and Mice,

All Winged Things,

All of Creation!
May GOD bestow all of His Blessings upon You!

Today and Always!

🤍

How Can It Be? It's Christmas Eve Already!

 

We're wishing you happiness this Christmas Eve.
It's been wonderful sharing 2025 with you all!
Peace & Love,
P and LoneStar

🤍

So, What Do Girls Want For Christmas?

 

            It was a funny time of year for it, but Twigg had been working on something. He had been thinking about the little house of living saplings that he had made for Bernadette and all the B’s. He knew that it could be done full size and he was thinking that a Basket House of his own, near his family would be a fine thing and that it would un-crowd the family cave to have him sleeping in his own place.
            So he picked a spot at the edge of the meadow where tall alder saplings grew in a convenient pattern. It wasn’t too far from the Gifting Stump where he and Marge had first met and made friends. He wasn’t in a big hurry, he was mostly planning and thinking of how best to make it.
            There was some snow out there, but snow doesn’t concern such as Twigg very much, in fact they enjoy the nice cold stuff. Forest People are very warm blooded.
            The morning after the night that he had walked into the campground to Marge’s camp host mobile, Twigg got up early. He wanted to talk to Ramona. He knew she was out there working around her fire, stirring up something for the first meal of their day.
            She was frying a great quantity of grated potatoes and onions, courtesy of Ooog’s winter storage of those two items. There would be warmed over venison too. And coffee.
            Twigg stepped out into the cold morning air, with his breath flying out before him. He closed the green door quietly, and said, “Mom?”
            “Yes, my beloved son?” said Ramona.
            “I wanted to ask you something about girls,” said he.
            “Oh! Ask away. You have come to an expert. Why, I myself, was a girl at one time,” said his mother.
            “I thought so,” said Twigg. “What I want to know is what do you think I can give Marge for this Christmas time that the humans have? What do girls want?”
            She flipped her potatoes and onions over thoughtfully. He didn’t see that her eyebrows were up while she thought. Then she said, “Well, the answer to that comes in two parts. The first part is that if she cares about you, anything that you give her will be precious to her. In a way it doesn’t matter.
            “However, it will matter to you. I think that you must make her something that represents you. Something not too large. Something that will last. Because she will keep it forever and you want it to be well made. But, what, I can’t tell you,” said Ramona at last, turning back to him.
            “Do you remember what I said to you a while ago, Twigg?” she said.
            “Yes, Mom, I do remember,” he said, a little sadly, because his heart was a very sweet and tender heart. Ramona knew this.
            “Some sort of keepsake, Twigg. Maybe a place to keep her hopes and dreams in,” said the mother.
            They heard the door to the cave open then and Ralph came out blowing steam in the cold air and yawning. He was followed by Cherry and Blue in a moment. Cats don’t care for potatoes and onions, so they stayed abed for a while. They do like venison though, so eventually they came out too.    
            So, the family ate and the day began.
            Twigg went out to his chosen building site. He had an idea of what he wanted to make for the gift. It would be made of small twigs. So he gathered an armful of the smaller branches off of the alder saplings. He carried these back home.
            He worked all day, sitting by the fire where the light was good. The cave was dim inside.
            When he was done, he had made an oval shaped shallow basket about 12 inches long with a recessed lid. He decorated the lid with some Oregon grape leaves, which look a lot like holly, though he knew nothing of the tradition of holly at Christmas. He put a layer of small Douglas fir branch tips inside it in a soft layer.
            Next, he made his way to the river. He was losing the light, since the days were so short, but he had time to search among the gravel just at the edge of the stream where he found a handful of small agates and a few other pretty rocks.
            Back at the Home Clearing, Twigg arranged the rocks inside the basket. At last he was pretty pleased with the effect.
            He was eager to take the basket to Marge immediately, so basket in arm, Twigg walked back to the deserted campground, heading to Marge’s little place. As he approached, he thought that it looked so pretty with its string of multi-colored lights arranged around the front of the mobile. The lights framed her kitchen window where the small Christmas tree shone out into the darkness. He could see why the Hairless loved those lights. They weren’t able to make the little lights like he and his people could, which Twigg thought was a little sad.
            Making brand new big footprints in the snow, he walked straight to her door and knocked. Then he waited.
            She opened the door just a crack to see who was knocking on her door in the dark of the campground.
            “Twigg! Come in,” Marge said. “Can you fit through this little door?”
            He ducked his head and stepped in. “I guess so,” he said.
            “What brings you here tonight, Twigg?”
            “I couldn’t wait. I made you a present for your Christmas, Marge, look!” said Twigg.
            And look she did, slowly and carefully. She lifted the lid after examining its décor, and touched the rocks inside.
            “Twigg, this is the most beautiful thing I have ever had in my life. You are a true artist. It’s too wonderful!” she said. She just looked at the basket for a few silent moments.
            “You know what? I have something for you too!” laughed Marge. “Hang on, it’s in the other room.”
            “Let me explain,” she said. “I got you a Swiss Army knife, a red one so it’s easier to find if you drop it somewhere. But then I thought, oh no, Twigg doesn’t exactly have pockets. So, I bought you a crossbody bag to put it in! And here it is!”
            She handed him the knife, after demonstrating how it worked. He handled it as if it were the most precious thing he had ever seen. Then she showed him how to wear the bag and that it had a zipper.
            “Thank you, Margie,” Twigg whispered. “It’s beautiful and I will always and always keep it forever. I could have used a knife today!”
            “Are you hungry?” said Marge, knowing that a Squatch is always hungry. “Let’s make some sandwiches and tea. I have corned beef, Swiss cheese and rye bread. You’ll love it!”
            She made room on her table for the beautiful basket, then gathered supplies for the sandwiches, and started water for tea.
            Twigg watched while she made three big thick sandwiches. Two were for him and one for her. He did love the sandwiches and thought the tea was very nice too, especially since she put quite a lot of sugar in it.
            They talked and laughed for an hour or so, then Twigg said, “I’ll go home now.”
            When he stood to go, Marge hugged him, which was kind of comical because he was about 7 feet tall and she was about 5’7”. So basically she kind of hugged his middle. But they didn’t care.
            They said their goodnights and he left the same way he had come, making even more big footprints in the snow.
            Marge locked the little metal door. Then she sat on her kitchen chair looking at the basket. She wept a bit because she was a girl and that’s what girls do, sometimes. She knew she would keep the twig basket as long as she lived.

🎁

The Crowds At Christmas Time

🎄 Merry Christmas!🎅

Three Shopping Days to Christmas!

Seattle, in more colorful recent days!

🌟

In 1954 Northgate Mall had the world's tallest Christmas tree.

The whole story about that.

            Do you remember the countdown before Christmas? First there were months of shopping days, then there were 20 something days. Then there would be a week, or less than a week? This was serious business! You sure didn’t want to be out trying to get some shopping done before the stores closed on Christmas Eve. And yet, some people did that very thing.
            I think back to before Amazon, or catalog shopping. You had to show up in person, with your checkbook in hand. This was before the internet ruled life.
            And yet, though it sounds strange now, there was a cheerful busyness to it. It was part of the season, part of the celebration of Christmas was being out there on the hunt for the best gifts you could find at your local stores.
            There was even a time before shopping malls! Do you remember?
            If you lived downtown there were usually some department stores, and that’s where most people did their Christmas shopping.
            Now, as it happens, I remember the 1950s from a child’s point of view. The first place I remember being brought along to while my mother shopped was Seattle’s Northgate Mall, which happens to have been the first mall in the sense we think of a mall in the whole United States. It was built in 1950 and it was a new thing. To a small girl it was quite an experience. Crowded. Everyone either in a sort of Christmas state of mind, or else not so much.
            We used to go out in the world and be among one another. Amazing. Just as if we were social creatures, and even recognized each other as fellow people on a mission.
            Even non-Christmas shopping and other business was done in person, out in the open around other people. It sounds maybe a little quaint now. Heck, the grocery shopping used to be a social experience. You were forced to deal with other humans face to face, more or less. There's nothing wrong with a little anonymous sociabilty.
            I’m thinking it might be good to do some of that again.
            So, back to the countdown, we have today, tomorrow, and maybe Christmas Eve left for Christmas prep.
            I hope that all of your shopping and mailing are done already and you are having a relaxed and cheerful holiday time!

🌟

Suzy's Latest Take on Philosophy

🎄 Meowee Christmas!🎄

4 days!

  

          Sometimes it’s very instructive to just let your cats talk amongst themselves and listen to them. You can learn a lot that way. You really have to pay close attention.

            For instance, last night Suzy was reclining, Odalisque style, on the old gas heater and she looked thoughtful as she often does. Willie, the built-in masculine gainsayer was on the green chair just in front of the heater. They were talking about a workable philosophy of life. Cats are past masters at this because they have nothing else to do really.

            “I think I have it figured out,” said Suzy.

            Willie’s eyes flew open in alarm. “What!”

            “How life works. I’ve got it this time,” said she.

            “That’s a little sinister coming from you,” Willie laughed.

            “No, listen, Willie. You know how they’re always talking about all different kinds of living creatures as if each type is a totally unique entity? Well, that can’t be true.

            “I have come to the conclusion that each species is a different form of cat. Some possessing great feline virtue have a close appearance to a literal cat, such as we are.

            “Some, perhaps having really messed up in a former life, come in forms such as bugs, snakes, fish and all those, or even, shudder, as dogs. It’s hard to imagine what a cat could do to come back in the form of a dog!” said Suzy in wonderment.

            “In fact, upon consideration, I have determined that the UR form of life, the original template is that of cat. Erring past lives have to account for the apparent variety!” she said.

            “I find myself quite speechless,” said Willie. This was, of course, not true.

            “Suzy, what about humans?” inquired Willie. I listened very closely then!

            “What I think is this. Those who come back as human were very silly cats, doing things no cat should do,” said Suzy. “Like building things and organizing large groups of cats. That’s not catlike, is it?”

            “What about mice?” said Willie. “Are you sure there isn’t a whole ‘nother order of creation there that you haven’t wedged into your philosophy?” said Willie.

            “No. Mice fit too. They must have been cringing, Scardycats™. Thus they deserve to be mice this time ‘round!” asserted Suzy.

            “Hold up, Suzy. Do you remember what Toots said the last time you got carried away?” said Willie, stifling his guffaws.

            Suzy seemed to be wracking her brain for a few quiet seconds.

            “Not sure,” she said.

            “I’m probably paraphrasing, but what she said was that cat heads are too little for philosophy. It’s not our specialty. We’re made for love, comfort, and napping. And eating, of course! “Just Purr™, Suzy! It’s all ya gotta do!” insisted Willie, rearranging himself to go back to sleep. “Like, take a nap!”

            “Well, if Toots says so, I’ll consider it,” purred Suzy, as she drifted off to sleep.

            And I was left alone there, at my desk, to consider the merits of her assertions!

😻

December 20, The Mt. Baker Snoqualmie National Forest

           It had been a rainy sloppy fall, with floods in the lowlands, but now there was snow in the forest park where Marge did camp host duty. It wasn’t a great deal of snow, and it melted during the daytime, leaving drifts in the shadows. A few hardy types still came up, in campers to spend the night or a few hours in the forest. No tent campers had come lately.

            Marge had helped her mom, Enid, decorate for Christmas at her house over on the dirt road near Ooog and Thaga’s place. That done, she brought a string of multi-colored outdoor lights to the park and arranged them on the outside of her tiny mobile. Then, when she was in town, she went to the Walmart store and bought a very small artificial Christmas tree and set it up in her window where anyone could see it, which was the idea, after all. It came with small white lights attached, but she added some trinkets, shiny balls and a string of glittery stuff.
            She went outside when she was done to have a look. The light was fading, it being 4PM. It looked great in the dim light she thought. Her own Christmas décor. She wished that Twigg would wander over and slip into the park to have a look at her work.
            The next day dawned, colder than the one before, and with a fresh six inches of snow on the ground. Marge dressed warmly, parka and all, and put on her boots. She thought she would just walk around the campground to make sure everything looked OK.
            When she got outside she found big bare footprints around her mobile. So, maybe Twigg had seen her handiwork. She had to assume it was he, because who else would come into the park and walk straight to her home?
            But why didn’t he knock or something, she wondered. While she was wondering she messed up a lot of the prints by stomping around. This involved leaving the campground and walking clear to the ranger station and through the parking lot and over to the area of the dumpster where the tracks went on into the forest. She quit there.
            Right as she was about to go back to her place, an old gray Honda Civic pulled in and parked. She knew the driver alright, but they hadn’t talked. It was Dexter, the National Forest trainee coming to work.
            “Hi,” said Dexter when he got out of the Honda. Then he blushed and walked quickly to the station door and went inside. Rick was already there; his truck was parked in its usual spot. All was quiet again in the parking lot.
            “Hi!” Marge had said to his retreating back.
            “Funny guy,” Marge said to the silent air. Then she forgot about Dexter. It was so pretty outside, so crispy and cold. Clumps of snow fell out of some of the firs making soft landings on the snow covered ground.
            Inside the office, Dexter watched at the window as she walked away. He felt like a total clown.
            Rick walked out of the kitchen nook with a coffee mug in his hand.
            “Good morning,” he said absently and plopped down at his desk. “I made the coffee. Help yourself.”
            Dexter did help himself. With his coffee, he took a seat silently.
            Rick glanced up at him, and then down to his laptop, which he was fiddling with.
            “I want you to go up and tell Marge that I’m going to close the camp for January and February. Her mom lives close. We’ll play March by ear depending on the weather,” said Rick.
            To tell the truth, Marge kind of scared Dexter. He hadn’t ever been good at conversing with girls, even at school. But, he manfully got up to follow directions.
            Ranger Rick smiled a little after Dexter left the office.
            On the way up to see Marge, he noticed a whole string of scuffed out foot prints leading from the edge of the forest. It seemed odd. The strange trail continued all the way to the camp mobile.
            As Dexter approached he saw that the mobile had been decorated for Christmas. All his memories of Christmas past crowded into his mind. He loved the lights. He loved how it transformed the world, just by putting up those colored lights. He saw her little fake tree in the window, shining bravely. He stopped and looked for a moment, then walked on.
            Dexter knocked on her door and waited.
            The door opened and there she was. Hair pinned up, Carhartt overalls, a long sleeved black t-shirt with the sleeves shoved up to her elbows. Sharp blue eyes asking a question.
            “Hi, Dexter. Do you want to come in? Are you here on business?” she laughed.
            “Yeah. Both. I’ll come in and I’m here on business,” he said.
            There were two kitchen chairs beside a truly tiny table, the one with the little tree on it. So they sat there by the Christmas tree.
            “When I walked up I thought what you did looked really pretty,” said Dexter.
            “Thank you,” said Marge.
            “The business is that Rick wanted me to tell you that he’s going to close the campground for January and February, and maybe March if the snow is too deep for campers,” said Dexter.
            “I wondered. I was going to go talk to him about winter. I guess, I’ll go stay with mom and her husband for the winter. I guess I’ll still be around in the spring. I think,” she said.
            “I thought you might be upset,” said Dexter. “Hey, I followed some really weird tracks up here. I bet you know something about them. Looked like somebody was obscuring someone’s trail.”
            “Well, yeah. You remember Twigg? I guess he came up here to see me in the middle of the night and I was already asleep,” she said. “So, I messed up his footprints, just in case anyone but one of you guys saw them. There aren’t any Forest People here, by definition, and I mean to help keep it that way.”
            “Can I ask you a question,” said Dexter.
            “I guess so, how bad can it be?” said Marge.
            “Are you and Twigg together, you know?” he blurted out.
            She looked at him for a count or two and then said, “Nah! Me and Twigg are like we had the same mommy and daddy!” Then she giggled like it was a pretty funny idea.
            “I just wondered!” said Dexter. Then he laughed.
            “Alright, I’ll go tell Rick you’ve got the message,” said Dexter. “See ya!”
            And off he went!

🎄

Out Of The Mists Of The Everett Past

   

It vas a black and vhite vorld back den...

  

       As it happens, I was preparing to write a short open thread type post about a guy who wrote and performed a funny PNW Christmas song. 
            When I did my little bit of research on this character, I was surprised to learn that he had been born in Everett, WA in 1925 to Norwegian, of course, parents, who parents were Norwegian immigrants. 
            This town used to be kind of Norski/Native central. That's still here, but less so.
            Anyhow, this funny guy was Stan Boreson. He used to do a kid's live TV show that sibs and I watched pretty faithfully. There were several of these TV shows in those days. I think we put up with his jokes and songs to get to the cartoon. There was always a cartoon tucked into kid's TV shows, the prize in the box of grownup's attempts to entertain children.
            Stan was a Seattle fixture. The kind of guy with a low level public persona. You knew who he was if you saw him around Seattle.
            He did a whole Christmas album, but this song is the one I always think of around Christmas.  

Boreson, Stan (1925-2017)

A nice history by History Link

Musician, recording artist, humorist, and pioneering '50s kiddie-TV show star -- Stan Boreson was Everett's king of Scandinavian humor. He has brought joy to generations in his native Northwest, across America, and around the globe. In his six decades of recording and performing, Boreson became a regional icon, an American treasure via sales of his 15 albums and a half-dozen appearances on Garrison Keillor's radio show A Prairie Home Companion, and an in-demand act who once accepted a direct concert request by King Olav of Norway, and later in 2005, was further honored by Norway's King Harald V with the St. Olav Medal of Honor -- one step shy of full knighthood....

 

🎼

❄