Stuff happens. And if you’ve been keeping up here, you know that it’s been happening in my kitchen. We’re nearing completion, but at the time when I should have been announcing the October First Friday Freebie winner, it was really happening! Then, there was an email glitch and the winner didn’t get notified in a timely manner and I didn’t get it mailed out in a timely manner. I also didn’t get the announcement made. I’m starting to think that time has no manners.
Anyhow, give a belated cheer to October’s winner –
Jean from Hurricane, Utah!
Congratulations, Jean!
It is news to me that they have hurricanes in Utah, but maybe Jean could give us some history behind that name in the comments.
I love interesting town names. Once, in high school, my best friend and I got hold of an old zip code directory and found ourselves in fits of hysterical laughter as we perused the pages. I must do that again sometime on some gloomy day when I need a lift.
Jean won the pretty necklace you see her wearing in the photo and she agrees with me that it is much prettier than it appears in photos. Jean has won a First Friday Freebie in the past, so check out all the past winners and their gifts hereon my Freebies! page.
If you’re not yet a subscriber to Midwest Storyteller they might entice you to become one – First Friday Freebies are for email subscribers only.
NOTE: If you enjoy entering to win, please make sure you subscribe with an email you intend to keep and will likely be checking the week after the drawings. This is my only means of letting winners know they’ve won and so if your email isn’t up to date, you may not get your gift!
Look for the subscription area. It’s easy to find on the “CONTACT” page and after subscribing, confirm your subscription when the confirmation email arrives in your inbox. If you’ve done that and not received a confirmation email, please email me at barb@midweststoryteller.com – it seems that from time to time, a subscription will get “stuck”.
Subscribing is the best way to avoid missing what’s new here on the blog because you’ll get an email reminder each time there’s something new – like when there’s a FREEBIE on the First Friday of every month.
Comment as directed on the post that offers the Freebie and you’ll be entered to win.
Freebies help me reach more people with my stories, recipes and more. When you share with all your friends via Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, you’ll give them the opportunity to subscribe and win also. Subscribing is free. Freebies are free. Are you catching on this is a free thing?
Coming soon: December’s First Friday Freebie – that takes place on Friday, December 3rd. You’ll see a photo of the Freebie and you can enter to win at any point all day that day. Don’t forget to check the email that you used to subscribe for notification that you’ve won.
A winner is chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight on the day of the drawing.
ONCE AGAIN (because you tend to forget): Should your name be drawn as the winner, you will be notified via the email you used to subscribe. That means you’ll need to check your email often in the week following the drawing so that you can respond and keep the prize from being offered to someone else.
Take a moment make yourself familiar with the complete Freebie Rules by clicking HERE.
These four simple steps will have you ready to enter to win on Friday, December 3rd, 2021.
Next up: November’s winner – in a more timely manner.
It’s time to take a peek into the Smuffy’s secret life. By now, if you’ve kept up with every episode of “Life With Smuffy”, you probably think that he’s all daredevil and that this nature leaves little time for anything other than leaping across steep roofs, shooting the rapids and having heart-stopping encounters with motorized vehicles.
Oh, not so! There is another side to Smuffy that makes life with him equally as interesting as all the more hair-raising things. I can’t classify it as his dirty little secret, though. You see, Smuffy is clean. He’s very clean.
The casual observer may assume that this characteristic wouldn’t cause much of a stir in everyday life.
Don’t get me wrong – Smuffy is also dirty. When he is dirty, he is very, very dirty and actually enjoys a good dose of grunge. Once, on his birthday, we were unable to locate him to remind him that it was time to get ready to go out for the evening. We finally found in the compost bin. He hadn’t been able to think of a more enjoyable way of spending his birthday than cleaning it out and, having done so, to sit restfully inside in the ninety-degree heat with compost plastered to every inch of his sweaty body. It seemed to him the ideal way to pass the time.
To go hunting and smear himself with disgusting stuff that only an amorous 30-point buck would love and then haul home carcasses and attack them with knives comes as natural to him as, well…bathing. The bright side is that he does a great job of cleaning up the gore. He should have started a business – “Smuff-Pro – Like it Never Even Happened”.
Then, bathe he does! When Smuffy is finished being dirty, he is ready to be clean. Proper soaps become an issue. Subtle fragrance and texture variances can cause them to get banned from the home. When they stopped making his favorite bar soap, our world came to a standstill and he still mutters its name with a tremor of nostalgia.
After boot camp at living with this paradox, I realized I’d married a man who was a complete blending of Grizzly Adams and Felix Unger and each personality would have its high moments.
If Smuffy has a stint at taking over the kitchen, I can always tell. I find counters sopping wet, towels dripping, the whole room is wet. He has gotten all things clean – about 15 times.
I can hear you saying, “How fabulous to have a husband so helpful around the house!” Well, not that I’m going to let you live with Smuffy because he’s mine – all mine – but you might do well to imagine what that really might be like on a moment-by-moment basis.
When we first married, it didn’t take long for me to start feeling much like Ingrid Bergman in “Gaslight”. He’s not only clean – he’s tidy. Should I lay a book aside to go to the kitchen for a cup of tea, when I returned I’d search madly for the book till I questioned my own sanity and Smuffy asked what was the matter. “Oh,” he’d explain after hearing my frustration, “I thought you were finished with it so I put it back in the bookshelf.” The same thing happened with too warm slippers I’d kicked off, a watch that chafed or a hair barrette that pinched. Everything just vanished the minute I released it from my grasp. I was compensated somewhat by the fact that he smelled terrific!
I did my best to explain to Smuffy that laundry doesn’t get “done”. Laundry is like dishes. Dishes can be clean, counters shined and things put away and within seconds, someone arrives with a cup or spoon. Laundry is always but one sock away from the new pile. Yet, I felt guilty when Smuffy would start up the washing machine because he felt I’d fallen behind.
That is, until the day I discovered his secret. I’d made a concerted effort one week to get all the laundry done so that when Smuffy was home and doing his basement projects over the weekend there wouldn’t be a single thing peeking out of a basket to torment his delicate sensibilities. Of course, a sock or two, a towel and a couple of other things were tossed in by Saturday morning, but what was that in the course of life?
As Smuffy began his project day in the basement, I began to hear the usual sounds waft up the stairs. He likes to enjoy several things at once, so it’s perfectly normal (normal?) to find him down there hacking up a deer, melting wax for homemade candles, mapping out his next woodworking project while listening to the oldies or watching cooking shows all at the same time.
Suddenly, added to the symphony came the sound of the washing machine. What on earth? I went to the basement.
It’s important to stress that Smuffy had never been trained as a launderer. His mama did all domestic duties for him. He’d only entered forced servitude when Pookie came along and he needed to help out by doing things that kept me off the stairs. Though I appreciated the help, the delicates often suffered and I preferred to wash certain things myself.
“What are you washing,” I asked.
“Oh, there was some laundry in one of those baskets over there.”
“But there couldn’t have been more than three or four things. I got all caught up just so you wouldn’t have to bother with it.”
“Oh, I just thought since I was down here, I may just as well take care of it.”
I stood defeated for a moment, feeling as though all my efforts had backfired somehow and then came the revelation. I turned my gaze from the empty baskets to the man at the workbench.
“You love it, don’t you?”
Smuffy looked perplexed and gave me a “Huh?”
“You love it! You didn’t need to do any laundry and you knew it. You missed it! While you were working, you were craving the swish-swish of the washing machine and the soapy smell of clean clothes. You’re doing laundry to enhance your experience!”
Then, I saw it. The blushed cheek and the darting of the eyes told me that I had discovered the truth – Smuffy had an addiction.
Now, it may seem obvious that a person can be addicted to a lot worse things than laundry, but over time I discovered that Smuffy’s inability to keep his hands off soiled textiles led him down the road toward destruction.
Oh, the mangled bras! Oh, the scorched elastics! Oh, the irreversible bleach disasters! I tried to make a deal with Smuffy. If he must do laundry, could he please limit himself to his own work clothes so that Pookie and I could manage to have something that survived his efforts? He’d agree to terms and then, as though they were some sort of irresistible delicacy, sneak those items in with his own and render them rags. Each time, those puppy-dog brown eyes of his would look into mine and he’d profess to having been certain the item was his. It was enough to make me wonder if he had more of a secret life that I thought!
Once he managed to get hold of a pair of Pookie’s jeans she’d bought as an older teen – one of those special pair that she’d saved up her own money to buy because they were “the thing”. Convinced they were his own, he took things a step further this time. After an especially tough morning at work one day, he came in for lunch grubby and tired. As he entered the kitchen, I could tell he was disgruntled.
“Dirty job”, he muttered. “I’m pooped. And it didn’t help any that these jeans have shrunk or something. They’re so tight I could barely move, let alone work.”
I glanced at his behind. There he was, having washed and dried them, stuffed into Pookie’s “cool jeans”, convinced that anything in blue denim must be his. They were ruined and, considering the structural design of gals’ jeans, I’m surprised parts of him weren’t. No amount of TLC was going to restore those jeans to something worthy of the brand label he’d been sporting on his tushy all morning as he put them to the working man’s durability test – which they failed.
I told him he’d better buy her another pair and preached him my “Leave Our Clothing Alone” Sermon Number 843.
Pookie took the loss graciously. He’d been trying to instill in her the need to clean up and tidy up since she was a mere tot.
Once when Pookie was three years old, we returned home after being gone for most of the day. Smuffy scooped Pookie up under one arm and headed for the bathroom. Being exhausted, I headed straight for the sofa, stretched out and closed my eyes. As I lay there, I could hear the water running and Smuffy’s monologue as he took advantage of this important teaching moment to give his little one a ten-minute sermonette on how they were washing their faces and hands and why they were washing their faces and hands. Germs, he explained, were like bugs. They were nasty, icky little bugs that make you sick. You could have lots of them all over your hands and they were so tiny that you couldn’t see them, but they were still there. However, they would take all the warm water and the soap and wash all the invisible bad bugs right down the sink.
Soon after, I heard the approach of little feet and became aware that a little person had arrived and waited next to my head to see if my eyes might pop open. I tried to keep them closed in hopes that her dolls and toys might lure her into letting me rest a bit longer, but she lingered so patiently that I finally peeped one eye open to find her big blue eyes eager and concerned.
“Did you hear what Daddy said?” she asked, as if there’d been headline news.
Interested to hear her three-year-old version of it, I played along. “No, what did he say?”
Stamping her little foot, she narrowed her eyes and pinched her lips together.
“Oh! I wish you did!” came the disappointed whine. “I didn’t understand a word he said!”
All my weariness of the day washed away with my laughter over the fact that Smuffy’s germ lesson, though well-meaning and thorough, had gone right over her head and quite possibly, down the drain.
One of Smuffy’s finer moments occurred when I was out of town and I still feel a bit cheated that I missed seeing it in person. This being the first time I’d left Smuffy and Pookie to themselves for more than just overnight, I called every evening to check in. To my surprise, Pookie answered. At age six, she was not allowed to take calls yet. The fact that she answered told me immediately that something might not be quite right. Where on earth was Smuffy?
“Hello?”
“Hello! And how are you today?”
“Just fine.”
I strained to hear any background noise. Things seemed overly quiet somehow.
“Did you have a nice day today?”
“Yes.”
“Did you miss me?”
“Yes.”
“I missed you, too. Is Daddy there?”
“Yes.”
“Well, can I talk to him.”
“I’ll ask him. He’s sweeping all the bubbles out the back door.”
“Bubbles? You have bubbles?”
“We have lots of bubbles. Daddy’s got the broom.”
Smuffy made it to the phone. I asked him how he happened to be sweeping bubbles out the back door.
Always having lived by the motto that “more is better” when it comes to soap, he had decided that what our dishwasher needed was a thorough cleaning. So while it was empty, he’d given it a good dose of liquid dish soap and turned it on. The entire kitchen had filled with bubbles. He’d been doing his best to get them all out onto the deck where they could ooze through the rails and down the stairs.
The bright side is that this is probably the cleanest our kitchen’s ever been.
Oh, how I wish I’d been there! I’d have felt just like Doris Day in “The Thrill of it All” (1963). Her hubby (James Garner) got things clean, too.
Things are not so spit ‘n polished around here these days due to endless remodeling and toddler-keeping, but that, they tell me, won’t last forever. When the first is complete it will be a huge relief, but the latter will, I’m sure, make me a little sad.
It’ll be interesting to watch little Snookie take cleaning lessons from his Paw-Paw. This time, I’m recording.
My Life With Smuffy is always exciting. Read about our Smokin’ Hot Honeymoon. You’ll find, in Smuffy Takes the Cure that I did try intervention. Try his river adventures here and here for the white-knuckle type of adventure. Even on dry land, he tends to get himself into situations, so check that out here.
Are you living with a “cleany”? Oh, please do share in the comments!
Since Smuffy shares a birthday with the greatest country on earth, things will be busy for me in the next couple of days. So, let me take this First Friday Freebie post to also wish you a Happy & Free Independence Day! (And, Happy Birthday, Smuffy!) I invite you to make this Sunday more than a great time for family and fireworks. Spend some time with those you love celebrating the real meaning of what it means to be an American and the brilliance and freedoms established and granted to us by our Declaration of Independence and our Constitution. These are short documents, but do we know what’s in them? We are a country of political will and ideals that are not found anywhere else on earth.
If I may quote Ronald Reagan from a 1988 speech –
“America represents something universal in the human spirit. I received a letter not long ago from a man who said, ‘You can go to Japan to live, but you cannot become Japanese. You can go to France to live and not become a Frenchman. You can go to live in Germany or Turkey, and you won’t become a German or a Turk.’ But then he added, ‘Anybody from any corner of the world can come to America to live and become an American.'”
I just heard some early fireworks going off outside as I finished typing that quote, as if to punctuate this truth.
Now, remembering that today is the first Friday of the month, let’s take a look at your Freebie.
This bright red metal daisy with its sunny yellow center from The Spring Shop shouts of summer and also of the fact that I’ve been roaming around Hobby Lobby again. It measures 8.75” across and is ½” deep. My first thought how this would make your garden area pop if hung on a fence. Then, I quickly realized that it would look great inside the house as well, adding a little summer to any room. Kitchen, kids’ room, porch – anywhere that bit of red to catch the eye is needed.
To enter to win the red metal daisy, all you need to do is “Leave a Comment” on this post, saying, “I love freedom and a freebie!” You’ll need to do that before midnight TONIGHT, July 2nd, 2021.
NOTE: There seems to be an occasional problem with subscribers not receiving confirmation emails. If this happens, please email me at barb@midweststoryteller.com so that I can report it and have the issue resolved.
First Friday Freebies are for email SUBSCRIBERS ONLY, so you’ll want to subscribe over on the right sidebar or use the menu to navigate to the “Contact” page where you can subscribe to Midwest Storyteller if you haven’t done so.
I love it when people enjoy my blog stories and recipes and get excited about winning freebies. Share with all your friends and family through all your social media. If you like an idea, recipe or story you see here, be sure to hover over the photo and “pin it”. Help me get the word out!
Subscribers win every single month! On the “Freebies”page, you’ll be able to see what they’ve been winning.
A winner will be chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight tonight, July 2nd by leaving a comment which says, “I love freedom and a freebie!”
For the complete First Friday Freebie rules, click here.
Why not subscribe and confirm right now before you forget?
Do you have special Independence Day traditions? Leave a comment and let me know how you make the day special.
My “job” keeps me hopping and a bit too busy to come up with new ways to sneak into Phoebe June’s diary without getting caught. The grandma life is sweet, but with my Sweet Boy here almost every day, I have to be sure that Phoebe June gets the attention she demands. That’s right – demands! She’s fully aware that she’s grown into her title of “Queen of All Cats”, and still prefers to spend plenty of time practicing her hunting skills (even if she has to do it by murdering catnip mice, leaping onto house flies and basement crickets and slamming me with surprise attacks). In Phoebe June’s mind, I am the other kitten in the barn loft, just waiting for the next big surprise as she spikes up her fur and advances toward me with “Let’s rumble!” written all over her face. I have the scars to prove this.
You can imagine my concern over introducing a baby to such a needy cat who thrives on rough and tumble human interaction. Should I expect jealousy? Fury? Or, perhaps most worrisome, an attitude that if Mommy loves this new critter, it must make the perfect plaything!
Well, she’s had over a year to adjust and I think Phoebe June’s handled it fairly well, considering. I thought it might be time to take a peek at some of her observations on those first days.
Monday, February 10, 2020
It arrived not long after Christmas – The Snookie. I was familiar with Pookie and she’s all right by me as long as she resists the urge to tweak my nose, but after all these months and months of talk about Snookie coming, I started to wonder if Mommy intended to trade me in for it, whatever it was. Then came the socks. They looked just my size, but Mommy stuck them on her thumbs the other day and (she’s done strange things before) massaged my cheeks! They smelled funny. She said I could expect Snookie to smell the same and that I would just adore him. Well, he showed up today, socks and all, taking up a large portion of Mommy’s lap that I required for other purposes. I jumped in and tried to be sociable even though he does smell funny. He’s got to learn – the red furry thing is mine!
Sunday, March 1, 2020
Mommy says tomorrow’s the Big Day. Snookie will be all ours – all day! She got excited and fixed his cage. He must be pretty puny if he can’t jump out of that. After festooning it all over with soapy-smelling soft stuff, she put a critter inside, smiled at it and called it Pooh. She pulled the thing on its head and the minute I heard the noise, I knew that the Pooh varmint must die. I hunkered low and went in for the kill, yanking him through the bars. Just as I was showing him what real cats are made of, Mommy said I mustn’t and put him back in the cage. She just doesn’t understand some things. I tried my best all day to murder that thing, but finally she stuck him on top of the wardrobe. I can jump up there, but she’d take it personally. I’ll bide my time.
Thursday, March 12, 2020
Sometimes the noise is almost unbearable. How Pookie stands it in the middle of the night at her house is beyond me. I get a strong feeling that Mommy wouldn’t like it much if I just popped him on the snoot when he makes that racket, so when Snookie got all fretful today, I decided to help out. I jumped up next to him and demonstrated how to self-soothe. Cats know these things. Step 1: Find the furry thing. Step 2: Give it a thorough stomping, giving care to exercise the toes and claws. Step 3: Purr very loud. Step 4: Curl up on it and konk out and stop making noise! Did he listen? No! Did he make the slightest effort? No! And so I suffer.
Friday, April 10, 2020
He isn’t always noisy. The endless snuggles Mommy gives The Snookie can really get on my nerves sometimes. She thinks he’s darling. I suppose he’s tolerable. He still smells funny, but she doesn’t seem to mind, even when he spits. I’ll forgive her for acting goofy over him today. She’s been telling him how it’s his Great-grandma Emmabelle’s birthday today and how she’s looking down at him from Heaven and loving him. All pretty drippy stuff, but that’s how Mommy is. I’ll just be glad when she gets back to snuggling me and calling me all my sappy nicknames.
Monday April 13, 2020
I have to admit, The Snookie has his moments. I’m starting to see why they take such a shine to him. Of course, he’ll never be as cute as me – he’s far too furless – but he has perked up and started to act like something I might want to play with someday. He also looks like something that’s going to try to pinch my fur. Those fists clutch at everything, including my tail if I let my guard down. There is a twinkle in his eye. He does stuff now. He moves, but I can move faster. If I stay a couple of feet away, I can study him without getting nabbed. I have a funny feeling Mommy would take his side if I had to pop him one. What worries me is that he learns a new trick every day. It’s such a relief that walking is never going to be one of them. And note the absence of any teeth – the advantages are all mine!
That’s only the beginning of Phoebe June’s observations on babies. More to come in the days ahead, so subscribe now so that you don’t miss out on what she has to say about crawlers and toddlers!.
Our Phoebe June – lovable and opinionated! “Share”, “Like” and “Pin” her thoughts and adventures with the cat-lovers in your life.
If you missed the first installments of “The Phoebe June Diaries”, you can catch up by clicking hereand here. Check out everything on her page here!
I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. There would come a month that I would go straight from First Friday to First Friday with nary a post in between. All I can say about this regrettable situation is that this is what happens when your daily charge is 16 months old, walking and talking and it’s also weed pulling/planting time. I had loads of fun this week, but most of it was spent as being Lil’ Snookie’s on-demand playmate. I didn’t bother to count, but today it felt like we played 4,672 games of “Pi!” (his way of saying “Surprise!”). This involves running around to opposite sides of the bed, ducking down, popping up with hands in the air to say “Pi!” and then ducking back down to crawl/toddle around the end of the bed where we meet to giggle and tussle.
One of us is thrilled to no end with this and the other is overwhelmed by the cuteness but not getting to the computer to be much of a storyteller. My apologies, but I’m not gonna quit my day job.
Oh, well, as my mother used to say, it’ll all come out in the wash.
I love the sayings people have that serve as a reminder to shrug off worry. The Scriptures tell us not to worry about tomorrow because each day has enough troubles of its own. How true! Worrying today about tomorrow only piles more troubles onto a day that already is bound to have its own share of ups and downs.
At various times when I listen to the Trim Healthy Mama podcast, I’ve heard Serene and Pearl share that their mother often says, “Things come and things go” when asked about life’s difficulties.
Perhaps it’s weed-pulling season that brings these sayings to mind, for it does give me time to ponder and pluck up not only the weeds from the ground, but weedy worries from my mind. The beauty of spring helps with that – everything’s starting over.
That’s why this month’s First Friday Freebie caught my eye. I thought it might serve as a great reminder to one of my special readers who needs to pluck up some worries and toss them out.
This inspirational table or shelf décor will help you do just that. While I’m not sure that absolutely everything is figure-out-able (because there are just some things we are not meant to know), I love this saying. It’s another phrase that will stick in your head to remind you that your sticky situation is going to go just as it came, or come out in the final wash or you’re going to be granted a solution. The wood block from The Spring Shop is one of my Hobby Lobby finds and measures 4” X 3”, so it will tuck in perfectly amongst your other décor. The white lettering and painted floral accent bring the message with a hint of summer.
To enter to win the “Everything is Figure-out-able” wood block, all you need to do is “Leave a Comment” on this post, saying, “This may be the best day ever!” You’ll need to do that before midnight TONIGHT, May 7th, 2021!
NOTE: There seems to be an occasional problem with subscribers not receiving r confirmation emails. If this happens, please email me at barb@midweststoryteller.com and let me know so that I can report it and have the issue resolved.
First Friday Freebies are for email SUBSCRIBERS ONLY, so you’ll want to subscribe over on the right sidebar or use the menu to navigate to the “Contact” page where you can subscribe to Midwest Storyteller if you haven’t done so.
Help me get the word out so that more people can enjoy the stories, recipes, laughter and, of course, the FREEBIES here on the blog, too, so share with all your friends and family through all your social media. If you like an idea, recipe or story you see here, be sure to hover over the photo and “pin it”.
Subscribers win every single month! On the “Freebies”page, you’ll be able to see what they’ve been winning.
A winner will be chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight tonight, May 7th by leaving a comment which says, “This may be the best day ever!” After you do that, you can go out and have fun, smell the flowers, pluck a weed or two and toss them out with your troubles. It’s spring! Sow a little positivity.
For the complete First Friday Freebie rules, click here.
Those four steps are simple and quick! Why not subscribe and confirm right now before you forget?
How are you enjoying this most beautiful month of the year? What new things and old favorites are you growing in you garden? I’d love it if you’d share in the comments.
If you’ve been a regular here at Midwest Storyteller, you can’t help but be familiar with April’s winner of my First Friday Freebie. I was so happy to send it on its way to –
Diane Yates in Lake Alfred, Florida!
Congratulations, Diane! I hope you enjoy this little birdie as you stroll along your garden path.
Diane has made previous appearances here on the blog. She’s a fellow writer and great friend and I know that some of you have either won as a freebie or purchased one of her great books. You can find them all at dianeyates.com
If you missed my interview with Diane, check it out here.
This garden pick by Spring Shop was a Hobby Lobby find. I love a great excuse to visit that store (as you can probably tell). If you’d like to see the original freebie offer, click here.
You can see past First Friday Freebies and their winners on my Freebies! pagehere.If you’re not yet a subscriber to Midwest Storyteller they might entice you to become one – First Friday Freebies are for email subscribers only.
Diane entered her email in the subscription area here on the blog and then confirmed her subscription when the confirmation email arrived in her inbox. If you’ve done that and not received a confirmation email, please email me at barb@midweststoryteller.com and let me know as I am trying to work out a few bugs with that. It seems that from time to time, a subscription will get “stuck”.
Subscribing is the best way to avoid missing what’s new here on the blog because you’ll get an email reminder each time there’s something new – like when there’s a FREEBIE on the First Friday of every month.
Comment as directed on the post that offers the Freebie and you’ll be entered to win.
Freebies help me reach more people with my stories, recipes and more. When you share with all your friends via Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, you’ll give them the opportunity to subscribe and win also. Subscribing is free. Freebies are free. Are you catching on this is a free thing?
Coming soon: May’s First Friday Freebie! That takes place on Friday, May 7th. You’ll be able to see a photo of the Freebie and enter to win at any point all day that day. Don’t forget to check the email that you used to subscribe for notification that you’ve won.
A winner is chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight on the day of the drawing.
ONCE AGAIN: Should your name be drawn as the winner, you will be notified via the email you used to subscribe. That means you’ll need to check your email often in the week following the drawing so that you can respond and keep the prize from being offered to someone else.
Take a moment make yourself familiar with the complete Freebie Rules by clicking HERE.
These four simple steps will have you ready to enter to win on Friday, May 7th, 2021. And, by the way, welcome to the most beautiful month of the year! Well, at least if you live in the Midwest.
I’m here today to commiserate with those of you who may be thinking that The Most Wonderful Time of the Year always seems to have some small slip-up that knocks a bit of the sparkle off.
I suppose is happens to us all, but once you become a repeat offender, you tend to get somewhat of a reputation. Family members in attendance at gift-opening time are known to ask outright if one of their gifts happens to be from last year. Or, they lean forward with a raised eyebrow and inquire, “Are you sure that’s all?”
They’re not greedy. They’re just offering me an opportunity to right my wrongs. I take a little comfort in the fact that, though this seemingly unshakable tendency of mine irritates me to no end and adds to the general mirth at the festive gathering, at least it’s not dangerous. Unlike Smuffy, no matter how many times this has happened to me, I never run the risk of being drowned, impaled or dismembered. So far.
Are you ready for my Christmas confession? Are you longing to learn of my annual downfall?
I am a lover of gift-giving! My brain is an idea factory! I am a super-shopper and, most of all, I am a master-hider! My skills at the latter are my nemesis, however. All year long, I scrounge, I create, I store up and I stash. I make lists of things I’ve bought, want to buy, want to make and need to assemble and still lack parts. I am in my element at thrift stores, garage sales, online, clearance aisles, craft stores and, yes, retail establishments.
I blame it on the house. Limited storage causes me to scatter my treasures to the four corners, layer them between other stashed away items and wiggle them into cubbyholes already occupied by other items which then serve as camouflage.
Then, the tree goes up. Then, wrapping begins. Amid oven timers and cooling racks, when everyone’s backs are turned, out come all my treasures to be boxed, wrapped and fancied up with hand-made bows. Except one.
I always miss ONE!
Smuffy’s been known to receive a cozy cardigan in May when I’m on a closet cleaning binge. Poor Pookie has learned that she, too, is likely to be handed something in mid-summer that was intended for the Christmas stocking. This has been going on for more years than I care to count. I swore I’d turn over a new leaf when I got a son-in-law, but he’s been around long enough now that when I handed him his last gift this year, he smiled and asked if I was sure about that.
A grandchild is on the scene now, causing me to repent afresh and overcome this tendency. Leaving out something intended for Little Snookie would be unpardonable!
I’ve been known to misplace a paper list. This year, I installed a new app in my phone to help me list each family member and each gift. I had my act together. I cleaned out one spot and one spot only and collected my stash there. I did all the wrapping at once and checked it off again on my phone.
Ah! Christmas went like a dream. I took all the ribbing with a smile, informing everyone that I was 99.9% sure that there wasn’t a single thing that didn’t make it into a stocking or under the tree.
Then, it happened. Christmas festivities wound to a close. The house seemed strangely quiet – too much so – as the car pulled away with Pookie and her loves, leaving Smuffy and me (and Phoebe June and several bags of paper and cardboard boxes). I went into the entryway, checked the front door and turned out the light.
As I turned around, thinking nothing was the matter, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a tuft of tissue amid red and green over there. For behind the TV there sat a small bag. I rolled my eyes and felt my shoulders sag. I knew what it was – there was no denying. I merely chuckled, walked past and refused to start crying.
Pookie will love it! She’ll think it’s just right – when I place The Un-given Gift into her hands tonight!
I know exactly what happened. It was small and easily crushable under the tree with all those bigger gifts. That little bag would be safer tucked away just behind the edge of the TV. Well, wouldn’t it?
What can I say? It’s a tradition.
Happy New Year! May you change the things you can and learn to laugh about the things you can’t.
Any true Christmas confessions? Just leave those in the comments. I can’t be the only one. Can I? Hello? Hello? Anybody out there?
Subscribe so you don’t miss out! If you haven’t taken the deep dive into my “Life with Smuffy”, you really don’t know what you’re missing, so check it out along with the fun things on myLaugh! page.
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Lest you think all Smuffy does is renovate the kitchen, let’s get back to what the man does in his off hours. He doesn’t get too many of those, so he likes to jazz them up as much as possible. I remember closing out Episode 6 of Life With Smuffy by giving thanks that there are enough angels to go around.
If I am to be honest and share the little phrase that floats through my head most often lately, it is this: “Poor Smuffy”. Living in an old house means constant upkeep and what isn’t actually broken needs updating. Then, there are acts of God, nature’s tendency to descend from order into chaos and the animal world to contend with. Because Smuffy knows how to do everything, he does everything. Why call the man when you can be the man?
We try to take a bit of leisure on Saturday mornings before we plunge into the mammoth project of the day and discuss the plan of attack, sighing a lot as we exchange looks that tell us that we are of like mind in wondering when and if this will ever end this side of Heaven. A couple of weeks ago, we were doing just that.
I took a sip of tea and snuggled more comfortably into the sofa. Smuffy, while never having contracted the Boogie Woogie Flu, has had a severe case of Rockin’ Pneumonia all his life and I’ve had to train myself to hold my head still when conversing with him while he’s in his rocking chair lest I get whatever it is people get in their necks from sitting at tennis matches and whipping their heads from side to side all day. I hoped against all hope that I wouldn’t be losing my kitchen contractor for the day. Nature, in the form of a once orderly tree, had descended into such a state that the whopper just to the south of our driveway would soon be causing plenty of chaos should the next big storm send it crashing onto the vehicles or the house.
“What’s the day look like, Dear?” I asked.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that tree,” Smuffy sighed, taking another sip of coffee and making me wonder, yet again, how he can sip the hot stuff while moving so fast. He can hold a plate of hot food and eat an entire meal while rocking at top speed, too, but that’s another story.
I stifled my own sigh and the groan that threatened to escape me. Smuffy didn’t have any business up in that big old tree, but I’d never known that bit of common sense to stop him. In addition to the danger of plummeting from a great height, the day promised to be hot enough to cause a heat stroke.
“The more I think about it,” he went on, “the less I want to climb it. I’ve decided I’m just gonna call somebody and have it taken down.”
I could have jumped off the sofa and gone into a buck and wing dance right there in my jammies, but I refrained, lest it send him into one of those so-are-you-saying-I-can’t-get-that-tree-down-by-myself? attitudes.
We spent a few minutes discussing who we might call for the job and I actually began to feel like we were getting a little posh just for calling anybody for anything. Smuffy listed off a few smaller outside chores he wanted to attend to before getting to work on the kitchen and then we each went our own way with him heading outside while I set about to get dishes, laundry and a few other things started before I got dressed and plunged into serious cleaning.
Just as I grabbed some clothes and headed for the bathroom, the phone rang. Smuffy’s voice on the other end came slow and measured.
“I’m on the roof.”
Before the “Why?” that trembled upon my lips could escape me, he continued.
“There are wasps. I have agitated them. They are between me and the only way down. I need you to bring the wasp and hornet spray out and throw it up onto the roof so I can spray them and get down.”
“Okay,” I said, “but I hope you realize that I’m the last person you want throwing something at anything. And I’ll have to find it first.”
Smuffy tried to tell me where the can of spray was, but I knew he naively spoke of where it was supposed to be. When we’d moved and reinstalled the reverse osmosis for the kitchen, I’d had to empty the shelf that held all that sort of thing and disperse the items around the basement wherever they’d fit. On the way to the basement, I shed the robe, knowing it would hamper my (as I loosely referred to it in my mind) throwing arm. The neighbors, if they didn’t get too close, would interpret my nightie to be a sundress, or so I told myself.
I don’t know if you have one of those “old house basements” that looks like a game of “Where’s Waldo and How Long Do You Think He’s Been Dead?” but locating the can nearly had me weeping at the thought that by the time I finally found it Smuffy could be sliding off the roof, a swollen mass of stings. Laying hands on it at last, I imagined this must be how Sherlock Holmes felt every time he searched through cigar ash and discovered a speck of something that could only have fallen from a gentleman of independent means wearing a scarf of Shetland wool and carrying an Orpington hen.
I ran outside and around to the back of the house to find Smuffy perched near the highest point of the roof. I thought this might be the proper time to ask him why he was up there. He reminded me that he’d been wanting to adjust the antenna for a while now. He explained that he couldn’t come any closer without agitating the wasps further and that I needed to back up and fling the can with all my might.
It went just about like I had expected. In fact, it went that way three or four times. Finally, Smuffy suggested that I go around to the northwest corner of the house to higher ground so I wouldn’t have so far to throw. He could then climb over the roof and most of the way down and be ready to catch the can. I didn’t balk at this, but I do admit to having the unpleasant awareness that I would now be much nearer to the street in my nightie, flinging myself about while being hollered at by a guy on the roof. Oh, well…
While sound in theory, I had no faith in this new plan of Smuffy’s. The last thing I wanted to see was Smuffy scrambling up, down and sideways across a steep roof trying to catch an oblong metal object launched by a woman in a manner which was bound to convince passersby that she’d been having a couple.
I scrambled in amongst the petunias and boxwood, tightened my grip on the can and drew my arm back in preparation to let it fly.
“It’s not a shot put!” Smuffy yelled. “Here, watch me.” Instructing me to back up, he stood up and motioned with his arm, instructing me how to hold the can, how to swing my arm and when to release. Then, crouching as near the edge of the roof as he could safely get, he cupped his hands and squinted as though he fully expected to receive a concussion.
Well, you can’t call me a slow learner! I’ll have you know I landed it near enough to Smuffy that he managed, with a few interesting dance steps, to grab the can on my second attempt. I ducked inside out of public view and he slithered over the top of the roof and down the other side to tackle the swarm. Watching out the dining room window at the back of the house, I asked myself if this was the kind of thing I’d traded the tree job for and if it might have been wiser to save the money for hospital bills. I gave thanks that there are enough angels to go around and went to get dressed.
A short while later, with the washer and dryer going and now the dishwasher, I finished dusting and pulled out the vacuum cleaner and continued my mission to get the basic chores done before I started my list of extras. It was then that the earth moved.
The whole house shook with the crash. The windows rattled. The floor moved under my feet. Phoebe June did a little shaking of her own. The force was such that I looked around to see if cracks were snaking across the plaster on the walls and I wouldn’t have been surprised to find that the foundation had shifted. Had some huge explosion occurred on the other side of town? Sirens would probably sound any minute. I raced around to the south kitchen window and my eyes followed a tall ladder as it stretched up into the very tree we had just decided not to cut down ourselves. The gutter dangled off the east end of the porch and the fallen portion of the tree wouldn’t let me get down the deck steps. I spotted Smuffy at the top of the ladder before I ran back through the house and out the front door.
I still couldn’t get anywhere near him for the tree lay over the front lawn, flower beds, driveway and the yard on the other side of the driveway, not to mention a portion of our truck.
Seeing me, Smuffy pointed at the truck. “I thought I parked the truck far enough away,” he yelled. “Guess not.”
I looked at our dangling bumper – a nice match for the gutter. Turning to the house, I gave it the once over. No broken windows and the porch remained attached. Shingles seemed to be in their places. Now I gave Smuffy the once over.
“What are you doing up there? What happened to calling the man to come cut down the tree?” I yelled.
“Well,” Smuffy replied, and I’m not sure he didn’t give his chin a thoughtful rub. “I just decided I wasn’t going to let this old tree beat me.”
I resisted the urge to scream that for two cents I’d be happy to beat him.
“I suppose it never occurred to you to tell me in advance that you were going to climb up there and cut down that tree?”
At this point I threw my hands up in the air and went back in the house, figuring that his logic must be that after the wasp incident, this was mere child’s play. Your mind can’t help but take some sort of stab at Smuffy’s reasoning.
Once my heart stopped racing and the urge to strangle Smuffy subsided a bit, I stopped to give thanks again that there are enough angels to go around.
The scary part about it is that Smuffy only took down a third of that tree. Maybe he’ll give me a while to recover before the next chapter in this story.
The answer is “yes” in case you are wondering – Smuffy has always been this way.
Dig those socks!
Life With Smuffy does, indeed, have its ups and downs. I’m glad that his angels specialize in bringing him down gently.
We’ve been trudging along through single digit temperatures here again, hanging on to the promise of a pleasant weekend starting today. One has to look for the bright spots in life. Here’s one! Remember that Mystery Freebie? Did you choose what was hidden inside Beautiful Valentine Box #1 or Box #2? It’s time for a reveal.
February’s First Friday Freebie winner is –
Carol
from Boonville, Missouri
Carol chose Freebie
#1 and, in turn, Smuffy drew her name at random from the qualifying
entries.
Congratulations, Carol, on winning this wood and metal wall art from Hobby Lobby. Appropriate for including in your Valentine décor, this plaque can either be hung on the wall or propped on an easel. Mixed media home décor is being used in so many great decorating schemes right now and I hope the galvanized metal on wood ads a bit of rustic charm to your home. You can’t go wrong with the sentiment either!
And what, you may
be wondering, was inside Box #2? That
remains to be seen. I think I’ll keep
that Freebie for another First Friday.
Carol
subscribes to MidwestStoryteller.com via email and that is Step 1 in entering to win First
Friday Freebies here on my blog. The
only other thing you’ll need to do is check your email for the post on the
First Friday of the month and comment as directed in the post. It’s always a quick read and tells you how to
comment “as directed” so that you don’t forfeit
your entry.
Freebies
are my way of reaching more people with the stories, recipes and more. When you share with all your friends via
Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, you’ll give them the opportunity to
subscribe and win also. Subscribing is
free. Freebies are free. It’s one of those “I win – You win – We all
win” situations!
Freebies happen every month. My Freebies pagefeatures past winners and the free gifts they’ve won, so if you haven’t subscribed and entered to win yet, you might want to see what you’ve been missing.
March’s drawing will take place on Friday, March
6th.
A
winner is chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight on
the day of the drawing by leaving a comment as instructed in the post.
REMEMBER: Should your name be drawn as the winner, you
will be notified via the email you used to subscribe. That means you’ll need to check your email
often in the week following the drawing so that you can respond and keep the
prize from being offered to someone else.
Be sure to take a moment make yourself familiar with the Freebie Rules by clicking HERE.
These
four simple steps will have you ready to enter to win on Friday March 6th,
2020.
Leave
a comment! If you’ve won one of my
Freebies in the past, why not let me know how you liked it and whether you kept
the little goodie to yourself or gifted it to someone special.
It’s been cold outside! If you live in the Midwest, you knew that already. I hate it when those single digits shrink my thermometer like this. Come to think of it, I don’t care for it when it falls below 70 degrees, but here we are and that’s how it goes.
January’s First Friday Freebie winner is prepared. Let’s meet –
Ruby
from Boonville, Missouri
You’ve met Ruby
before. She consistently enters to win
on the first Friday of each month and it’s paying off!
Congratulations, Ruby, on winning the eco-friendly green collar scarf by Life is Beautiful. When opened up (like a tube), it slips on over your head and forms a warm fringed collar that can be worn over a top, sweater or coat.
Ruby’s
a subscriber and that is Step 1 in entering to win First Friday Freebies here
on my blog. The only other thing you’ll
need to do is check your email for the post on the First Friday of the month
and comment as directed in the post.
It’s a quick read, but you’ll need to take the time to do that. Otherwise, you won’t know how to comment “as directed” and you may forfeit your
entry.
Freebies
are my way of reaching out to more folks who might enjoy the various stories,
recipes and more here at Midwest Storyteller.
When you share with all your friends via Facebook, Instagram, Twitter,
Pinterest, you’ll give them the opportunity to subscribe and win also. Subscribing is free. Freebies are free. How do I do it – month after month…?
Freebies happen every month. My Freebies pagefeatures past winners and the free gifts they’ve won.
February’s drawing will take place on Friday,
February 7th.
A
winner is chosen at random from those subscribers who enter before midnight on
the day of the drawing by leaving a comment as instructed in the post.
REMEMBER: Should your name be drawn as the winner, you
will be notified via the email you used to subscribe. That means you’ll need to check your email
often in the week following the drawing so that you can respond and keep the
prize from being offered to someone else.
Be sure to take a moment make yourself familiar with the Freebie Rules by clicking HERE.
These
four simple steps will have you ready to enter to win on Friday February 7th,
2020.
Leave a comment! If you’ve won one of my Freebies in the past, why not let me know how you liked it and whether you kept the little goodie to yourself or gifted it to someone special.
