Our Tree Trimming

My wrists are still sore. From ringing out my own neck. From ringing the necks of the ones I love. And I think I'm going to rename the tree trimming process the neck ringing process. Because, really, in the end....it's never that fun.

I'm sorry.

I don't want to rain on your parade.

So stop reading if you're looking for something that happifies the hussy.

Because this ain't it.

I have memories of hardened dialogues between my parents as we maneuvered through the maze of choose and cut Christmas trees. My mom liked them short and fat...just like her. My dad didn't. Joy to the World.

I remember the tinsel (THE TINSEL!) having to be put on each branch one strand at a time, per my father's guidance. And then yes, I would be the one to have to pull each one of these strands off after the new year so that the little birds in the swamp we threw the exhausted tree into wouldn't die in a tangled aluminum straight jacket. Joy to the World.

Fights about who gets to put the angel on top. Colored lights or white. Who gets to put which ornament up where. Stringing popcorn strands with popcorn that evaporates when you stick a needle through it. Joy to the World.

And yes, I still am the one who vacuums up the fallen needles and breaks her back to water the damn thing every day.

And, still, we do it.

The boys were 4 months old, wrapped in fleece and tucked deeply in two Bjorns strapped to Paul Bunyan and me. High up in the Starksboro hills at the Harris Plimpton household. We walked to Allan Robert's tree farm, the next house over. He was still selling trees for $19 at that time. Allan's house looks out onto a huge hill, one big field. The Christmas trees are at the top. The girls were almost 3. Paul Bunyan pulled them in a sled. He traversed the high road toward the far end of the field. Mud and I followed behind. Her hounds were all around. Paul Bunyan decides to point the girls down the hill. And let go. We still don't know why. They start moving. They are three. They move faster. Paul Bunyan starts chasing them. One of the boys is on his chest. Mud starts yelling "BAIL. BAIL." The girls are three. They are headed for the row of trees at the bottom of the hill. They move faster. Paul Bunyan stops chasing and watches in disbelief. I am speechless. Mud keeps yelling "BAIL. BAIL". But they are three. They slam into the Norway Spruce trees at the bottom of the hill and miraculously bounce off the low branches. They are crying when we reach them. But okay. We still don't know why.

Since then the stories are, in comparison, boring but frought with whining and crying and pouting.

Joy to the World.

And as of late, within the last three years, I have experienced a physical reaction to the cutting down of a perfectly beautiful tree just for the two weeks we "need" it to decorate and put gifts under. I start to hyperventilate and slightly cross the border of unconsciousness until Paul Bunyan pulls me back by ringing my neck and saying, "It's for the children you idiot." But still I try as I might to find an alternative. The last two years I've tried to buy a beautiful white fir, still with its root ball, to bring into the house for one night and then bury in the ground the day after Christmas. And then Paul Bunyan pulls me back by ringing my neck and says, "It's for the children you idiot." And then last Christmas I drew a picture of the wood tree I wanted Paul Bunyan to make for me with all these sanded wooden branches that we could stick in holes drilled in a beautiful sanded log, which would stand vertically in a home-made stand. Paul Bunyan rung my neck again. I know it's for the children. I'm sick of all this neck ringing. Children...grow up! I tell ya. There is no such thing as Santa Clause!!

But fortuitously this year we had a tornado rip through the homestead last week. And lo' and behold we have a dozen or so trees already down thanks to Mother Nature. And so Paul Bunyan showed me an option.



Here she be.



And look he didn't even need to break a sweat with a silly little hand saw.



You might think Paul Bunyan is happy about this tree based on what appears to be a smile on his face. Well, you're wrong. I happened to catch Paul in mid-word. He was telling me how UGLY my choice was. Let the neck ringing commence.

And Timmy, who also called it UGLY when he first saw it, got his neck rung.

And Claire, who wouldn't listen to please WAIT to put another ornament on until daddy drills the sucker to the floor to keep it falling on your face, she got her neck rung.

And Auggie, who kept opening ornament boxes despite me telling him three times that they were emptied already, he got his neck rung.

And everyone ended up in their rooms, except me. I am sore from the neck ringing but I'm happy. Because I got my way. I got my white lights. I got me a Charlie Brown tree that I didn't have to cut down. I got the ornaments I wanted up. And I think she's beautiful.



It's not even Christmas and I'm already looking forward to next year's neck ringing. Joy!

My Blackout Wish

Paul Bunyan was in a bad mood. The freight trains kept rolling up the valley, making his hard work dance in the 80 mile an hour gusts. His wood shed swirling in the snow. The pieces of metal roofing keeping his woodpiles dry flew like large black crows to the tops of trees. The alpaca tent flapped in the breeze, leaving the animals sitting in snow drifts up to their backs. He raced to fix it all, only to come back to the homestead to find the grill pulled mercifully off the porch, it lay on the ground in rusted pieces and his beautiful red pines laying lateral. Paul Bunyan was in a bad mood.

Luckily for us the kids were at school and we could sit and listen to the trains race past and watch the tamarack tree sway like some drunken sailor. But when they arrived home and what, "no power?". We watched as the transformer lit up a fourth of July firework display, right in front of us, free, no admission and POP.

But who would have thunk that as darkness invaded the spawn got lost in the corners of the house with their headlamps on and they clamored to sit on each other's laps by the fire to have Claire read to them and at dinner, which miraculously made its way from pasta water to paper plate, they gave thanks (by the nature of eating dinner by candlelight, which we only do on Thanksgiving) for:

"I'm thankful Claire let us read with her," said Timmy.
"I'm thankful Claire read to us," said Auggie.
"I'm thankful I could read to the boys," said Claire.

And they were all thankful for having an excuse, finally, to not flush the toilet or wash their hands after going pee. And for having candles in their rooms.

But Paul Bunyan was still in a bad mood two days later when we arrived home last night to find out that it was all still dark. But by 9 p.m. the help arrived.



And they shined their little light on us.




And they made the darkness go away by replacing a small little fuse. Hmm. Paul Bunyan wished he could have done that.

But when the lights came on last night and I saw the mountain of dishes in the sink and the scum in the toilets and the detritus all over the house, it made me want to sit in the dim light again, and in the quiet, and knit by the whistling Hearthstone.



And so I did. And I left the Polly Pocket's farm equipment and the remnant of the party Polly was having with the cows sitting in the corner hoping that the kids might put their headlamps on tonight when it's dark and play with each other like there is no other option. Just as long as they flush the toilet and wash their hands when they are done.

Meet The Green Monster

Oh, way back in the days before Paul Bunyan completed this amazing feat we heated our home with a woodstove. It was a Hearthstone...beautiful slate, beautiful size, beautiful warmth, beautiful dust, beautiful whistle. The thing made the house sound like it was whistling its own unique monotone tune. Don't know what it was. But I loved it.

And then along came something bigger and better and I was a little sad. I thought I would miss the ambiance of the Hearthstone- it being at the center of our living, eating, cooking, playing area. But I don't. I thought I would miss its HEAT, which it could throw off quick (but not too far). But I don't. I thought I would miss its convenience (it's right here for gawd's sake). But I don't.

I'd like to introduce you to The Green Monster. We have to, however, take a little walk. It's not too far. Don't worry, you can still come out in your bathrobe. If you've got it on.


He's smokin' now.



But that's a good sign, that means he's workin'.


We've got to head downstairs to meet him. He's in the belly of the shop.


Here's his big ass door. I'm not really allowed to open it, but for your viewing...I'll do it quick.


But every time I do I get smoked out. It's hot!!




Almost 180 degrees hot. But that's gorgeous. Because see, the Green Monster is heating water that is getting pumped both throughout Paul Bunyan's shop (radiant floors) and over to our house. He heats the hot water tank, which in turn heats our home through hot water base board heat. No dust. No dirt. No propane.


He's smoky. But he's hot. Sexy hot. He's on my list of things that Happify the Hussy and here's why:

I like heating all our domestic hot water with wood and not propane because of 1) the polar bears and 2)I like taking long HOT showers. Showers so hot my ass is on fire when I get out. And this way I feel like I'm getting a free ass burning shower. I can be in there as long as I want. Because the Green Monster...he needs stuff to heat. He's gotta have outlets or else he'll blow. And that's a big messy mess if he blows his gasket. There's talk of an outdoor cedar hot tub. The Green Monster is requesting other things to heat. And if we were to comply, well then, you could come burn your ass off with me.



But for now, we'll just keep his door closed and his fire box full and I'll let you know when the hot tub is hooked up.

Merry Christmass Santa!

While I was selling my wares at a craft fair today, Paul Bunyan was watching the spawn.

When I got home Auggie was quick to show me the picture he made for Santa today.


And I held my breath.


Because I didn't want him to know that I think sometimes Santa can be an ass.

Winter's Passing

They said your funeral
would be down in the valley.
And that the women
would wear white muffs,
in your honor.
I can picture the boys
in their hand knit hats
and me in the boots
I wanted to test out.
I would be standing at
the podium,
weary with your loss.
But I would say something like,
"I'll think of you each December
when I see,
through my side view mirror,
my dog's ears flapping in the arid breeze
and the geese,
who don't know which
direction to fly."

Call Me Clean

Are you ready for the second item on my list? Here it is:

Isn't it beautiful? I know. The facade is not indicative of what's inside.



Because look at this!! Isn't it beautiful? It's call Citrus Sunrise. I bought a box of it.



And I bought some of these.



And some of these.



This is Vermont Soapworks Outlet Store in Middlebury, Vermont. And I love it. It makes me happy. I try to go once a year. I buy a lot of soap. I love buying soap. I love buying all natural soap. Made right there at the factory. I watched them. I saw them making it. I smelled them making it. I was happy.



This is new (and was 50% off) so I bought two. All purpose, all natural, all local.



And this is my favorite flavor, so I bought a whole box.



And I filled a box with a lot of these.



And this fine soap is perfect for the Holidays.



And this Blue Bar is perfect for your acne, cause' I know you got some. That or your Athlete's Foot, cause' I know you got one.



And if I had one of these I could make my own. And then I'd be a real homesteader. And I'd get a goat and I'd milk her and then I'd make goat's milk soap. And then I'd put oatmeal in it and lavender and oranges and all sorts of stuff. And maybe some day you could call me a homesteader instead of hussy. But you could definitely call me clean. Some day.

BUY Vermont Soapworks Soap today! It'll make you clean and happy!

Because I can.

I'm a list person. I've got lists all over my house. Lists next to my bed. Lists next to the phone. Lists in my head. Lists of things to get at the store. Lists of things I want to read. Lists of things I want to do. Lists of things I've already done.

Because it's December. Because it feels like it's actually now winter here in Vermont. Because there are 25 days until Christmas, I feel like making a list. I'm going to start making a list of my favorite things, you know, like Oprah; or like Martha..."It's a good thing". I'm making a list and checking it twice. These are things that make me go hmm. These are the things that make the Hussy happy. They happify the Hussy. They hussify the Happy in me. Whatever. Here is the first item on my list. I just bought it yesterday.


And I'm having a love affair with it. Shh...don't tell Paul Bunyan. Do you know what it is??



It's called a Neti Pot. Don't you just love the name? It just rolls off the tongue.

Do you know what it does?? It's a beautiful thing. You fill it with 1/4 cup of warm water and 1/4 tsp. of non-iodized salt and then you tilt your head over a sink and insert the spout into your upper nostril. The water flows into your nose and out the other nostril. Sometimes it goes down the back of your throat, but then you just gag and spit it out and start again. Then you fill it back up and do the other nostril. And then you blow the nastiest green boogers out of of your nose. I know you love to do this. You can't lie to me.

I'm in love with the Neti Pot. I've never smoked pot. But I'm in love with a Neti Pot. You might be able to smoke pot out of the Neti Pot, but I'm not sure.

I bought this Neti Pot at Healthy Living for $17.99. It was made in Brunswick, ME at a company called Coryell Clayworks. They say they have matching salt containers. Wouldn't that be cool? They also say that, "Nasal irrigation has been used since antiquity as one of the most important of all preventive medical practices. The moisture provided through irrigation works to empty the sinuses of thick, infected mucus which collects there. Irrigation helps to restore normal sinus function and provides relief from nasal and head congestion, headaches, sinus pain and sore throats". Isn't that cool. I'm all, like, antiquated now.

This is a PERFECT stocking stuffer. Especially for someone you know who is full of big nasty green boogers.