Half-Decked Halls & Other Homestead Catastrophes

Remember this video, in which I use the handy step-in temporary fence posts? Well, those were for the back pasture. The front ones are a little more rickety and some of them are missing the step-part to push them into the ground.

No big deal, right? I just use some force and stab them into the ground. Except last Thursday, when I was hurrying (it was Thanksgiving), I sort of missed the ground and efficiently ruined my boot, sock, and foot in one fell swoop.

So I’ve been down pretty much all week, in bed, by the fire, on the couch. I’ve been sewing and reading Grimm’s Fairy Tales. I’ve been contemplating the Crucifixion and Christ’s pierced feet. I’ve been enjoying a big stack of cards from my kids at the after-school I work at. I’ve been learning to carry things while using crutches. (Blankets can be carried over your head. Carry mugs in your pinkies. Scoot scissors on the floor. Put books between your knees.)

Adelaide is busy at school (the semester’s end is looming) and Dad is busy with all the farm chores plus all of his work. So my mother (who is battling PMR) and I have been laughing at our own inept attempts to keep house and get Advent going. We have, after much trial and error, discovered how to work together to maintain a fire, use a vacuum, and do the dishes. But it wasn’t until we had an unexpected visit from a heating-and-air guy that I really saw our house from a new perspective. We had to swallow our laughter while watching his face as he saw our various arrangements.

I had made a length of garland to go on the arch. Mom tried to put it up but got too tired when she was only a quarter done. So there it hung, looking somewhat like a caterpillar hanging off our arch. She had made a beautiful wreath, but who’s going to hang it on the front door? It’s perched on top of the calendar. Several unused garlands were strewn about the mantel and buffet. And worst of all, Dad and Adelaide had picked out a tree from the woods, but it was scraggly and sparse. Their attempts to make it look fuller by lopping off the lower branches and tying them on to the tree didn’t help. Of course Mother and I refused to decorate the monstrosity, so it hunkered sullenly by the door, reaching out with spindly arms.

Not to mention the state of our floors and the kitchen.

Merry Christmas, but you enter our house at your own risk.