2009 Chirstmas Newsletter

Welcome to the 2009 Rawlins family Christmas newsletter and I’m happy to report I have not had one carbuncle! Just what you were dying to hear I know. Thank God there was less turmoil at home as I reported in the ever popular 2008 newsletter.
This years letter is so authentic I am actually writing it on Christmas day. The kids are playing with their new toys, Linda is napping. I’m in my robe in my chair with the laptop, gazing out the window at the white. (frozen ground fog but still a layer of white) We just finished breakfast (Costco quiche and cinnamon rolls) We are simplifying this year. The Family Christmas dinner was prepared by Costco and will be pre-heated and served at my insistence and to the horror of my eldest, protesting son. We are going stress- free as much as possible.

Still, a smattering of presents and wrapping cover the floor and the lights glow on the tree that stands before me: The stupidest looking tree in the world.

The tree was Pookies idea. It’s a live tree and I absolutely hate it. Here’s why. Always one to stretch a dollar, Pookie found it in town and made the command decision to buy it, totally unauthorized by myself and the children. “When we’re done with Christmas we can plant it by the barn for shade.” Also, its deer proof, meaning if you touch the needles they draw blood. She brought it home and it took three of us to unload it and drag it into the garage taking special care to not touch it with our faces. Since it was “dormant” it couldn’t come in the house until 4 days before Christmas which was great because my lumbar muscles had plenty of time to heal before I would have to lift it again. On that magical day when we would ceremoniously skid it from the garage to the front door I discovered the root ball was jammed askew in the plastic pot causing the tree to list aft at forty five degrees. Me and Charlie and Wade skidded the monster into the living room without much bodily injury but when I tried to straighten it- with the aid of the entire, gloved family, water poured forth from the crinkled plastic pot and left a big coffee stain type water mark on the carpet. Twice. Soon Pookie was on her knees scrubbing with both hands and demanding more, towels, hotter water, pronto. I could sense she was beginning to hate the tree. Shrub, we call it. Fortunately, in the interest of being a good sport I had bitten my tongue for the most part because I did not want to ruin Christmas time festivities. I went to the barn and brought in a big water tub and with herculean effort deposited the root ball into the tub. The girls covered the tub in red velvet, adjusted the tree so the fat side points east, the bald side to the west, offset at a mere ten degrees to look like a pregnant gorilla, arching her back with hands on hips. They decorated it with enough lights and bulbs to make it official, and wala’! Soon she declaired She wants the thing out of here on Christmas day, when my strong tall nephew Cole is here to help, well within the dormancy window. So I need to get this letter done, so we can wrap Christmas up early, and get the tree back into the garage. So much for simplifying.
Other than the tree episode it has been a wonderful year here at the Chicken ranch. This year’s letter will not contain much about the chickens, or rather what’s left of the chickens, as they have been kind of dying off and disappearing and molting and producing about one to three eggs a day, when we manage to locate the eggs. I built them a for real chicken coop complete with an honest to goodness chicken run. They rarely get out although they are out right now, at the writing of the Christmas letter. No doubt they made a special attempt to be out on Christmas day so they can make some timely deposits before our guests arrive.

One of the reasons they get out often is because they are managed by Wade, 13 who prefers a loose management style, opposite of his mother, whose management style is, by and large that of wanting to ring Wade’s neck most of the time. Often times his mother will turn to me and say, “ Its almost dark and The chickens haven’t been fed yet.” When I hear this I’m hoping she is speaking code and meaning something entirely different but she never is, no matter how much I wiggle my eyebrows. So we gang up on Wade and often times due to our constant admonishing he will feed the chickens well before ten o’clock at night.

We homeschooled Wade the first half of this year. He did public school on the web for half days and in the afternoons he’d hop on the four wheeler and ride over to work for the neighboring rancher who operates a pumpkin patch and petting zoo. It was a cool gig while it lasted. When the pumpkin patch job ended basketball started and he had much interaction with his friends playing point guard at Central Christian where he spent the first 7 years of his schooling career. We all decided it was best if Wade had a more social atmosphere for his schooling so we enrolled him at the Lone Pine school where his mother works part time and is very involved in all the kids schooling. I discovered that perhaps Wade was spending too much time in the world of technology when I caught him one day with a laptop computer on his lap, TV on, texting on his cell phone, and, literally, I’m not machining this up, he was using his big toe to operate the mouse on another laptop, which was on the floor. That’s when I knew he’d hit rock bottom. That, and the chickens were running roughshod throughout the village. He is tall, strong, smart, respectful. As his coach and dad I was very proud of the way he played basketball this fall and proud of his work ethic and reputation in the community. We spent some good time together hunting and fishing, without much catching an killing involved, but if you buy him some soda pop and food he’ll suffer any road trip with a happy attitude. We had fun together this year.

Charlie is in the first grade at Lone Pine school. He is an athlete, specializing in basketball, although as of late and due to the influence of country friends at school he has shown some interest in becoming a mountan man and cowboy, often wearing a coon skin cap to school, or sometimes a cowboy hat and boots. Let it never be said that Charlie Rawlins is all hat and no ranch. He’s a heck of a good little rider and he always picks his horses feet clean before he rides. Also, he is a willing fisherman and goes with dad, and his friends on fishing trips and the men don’t mind at all that he comes along because he is a fine boy to be around, although he doesn’t understand its bad manners to catch more fish than dad.

Gracie is in the third grade at Lone Pine school. She likes to go catch her mare in the pasture and ride, sometimes by herself. She has been known to ask Charlie or me for assistance and Charlie is willing to bring along a mop handle to smack any unruly horse who might show signs of attacking. She is a determined little rider and won some ribbons (as did Charley) at a local horse show recently. She is very conscientious and reliable and organized. I know I can count on her to do anything for me with a happy expedient attitude. She takes after her mom and both her grandmas.

The thing I’m most proud of my kids is that they are willing to hug the elderly, lonely people who live in the nursing home. What a delight to see Charlie and his friend Faith disappear around a corner pushing a sweet, half deaf, elderly man named Bill in his wheelchair, returning 10 minutes later, kids riding double in the wheelchair, Bill pushing them. Sometimes its scary for teeny Gracie to reach out and hug the people because some of them look threatening, but she puts her fears aside and hugs away and smiles and those people are genuinely touched and fed. And so am I. Most recently Charlie administered a hug to Grandma Opal while another, very elderly and somewhat distressed appearing lady in a wheelchair looked on. I asked Charlie to give her a hug. He did so without hesitation and when he returned, he said, as only a child could get away with, simply and without malice, “she stinks.” Ministering to the elderly is not for the feint hearted. The people who work there are saints.

There is so much to be thankful for especially healthy happy kids. So many people are going through hard times. Linda mentioned that several times last night, during the Christmas eve festivities around here. A few old friends and some relatives took the time to call and she was on cloud nine. She kept saying, “I’m so thankful for all my friends.” And so am I. So if you get a chance, please, write, text, call or better yet, stop by and see us- hopefully you can make it this afternoon, and help us get rid of this damned tree.

Timmy and the Rawlins family.