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A Short Message About The Day, Before We Get Started

A Happiest of New Year's to all of you out there in SteemitVille. Here's to hoping 2019 is a wonderful year for you, chock full of all the things your heart desires. And a wish as well that the Wondersite of Steemit continues on and grows and grows and grows. This place is the best. Cheers to you all, -DD

~ Happy New Year ~

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The Joys of the Holiday Letter [CONTINUED--Once(?) More]

And here you thought we MUST be at the end of the Christmas Letters. Well, not quite. And since it is still officially The Holidays , I'm going to continue putting out these historical, yearly, typewritten Holiday Opi (That IS the plural for Opus, isn't it?). At least for a few more days. Yes, it is true: I fully believe in dragging out extending as long as possible, the wonderful Holiday Spirit of the Season. And what better way to do this, than with more early renditions of my yearly Christmas Letter. So, once more, WITH further ado, the third in the series: Letters I Have Writ to Santa Past:

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2014

‘Tis no longer Christmas,
The tree’s gone from the curb.
So a holiday letter,
Just may be absurd !
But “later” trumps “never”,
In my world, that’s true.
So Happy, late Christmas Valentines EASTER ,
From me…out to you.

This was supposed to be my official Christmas letter to you all, but I fear this thing may be getting out to the mailbox a 'bit on the late side’. And as such, and owing to the pokey nature of my mailman of today, might be getting to you all a bit ‘ even-later’ than past renditions. That said, I still feel that when the joyous, holiday spirit of things is taken into full consideration on such communicative endeavors, I’m going with the theory that I am still within the proverbial “Holiday Window” of said-such interpersonal connectivities.

A lot has been going on in my life since my last Holiday Letter of a year ago. And though heavily inclined, I shall refrain from using this busy-ness as a partial excuse for my lack of speed, regarding this written-parcel’s velocity of deliverance, herewith.

Let’s see, the highly active, past-year in retrospect. I worked for the Forest Service for a spell, and during the in-between’s, busily responded to something like 12 electric bills, 13 phone bills, only 4 garbage/ recycle bills (they’re quarterly), and 2, count that, TWO property tax payments. And though you all must marvel at such accomplishment, let’s just say that the rubbish is out, the water is running, and the lights are still on, even when no one is home.

Speaking of when I’m home, I found a really nifty, plasti-cuboidal, made-in-China alarm clock, shaped like a blotchy black & white Holstein Friesian cow, at the local Goodwill. When the thing finally goes off, it makes the wackiest sound, like a famous matador, followed by this incessant mooing from an out-of-kilter, electronic barnyard animal, to wake me up. Such a classic, in an early-AM, jangly, highly annoying sort of way.

Other Things Of Grand Note

I had another birthday recently, which is always a good thing. And speaking of getting a year older, another calendric event of significance occurred this past summer. It was the occasion of my high school reunion. Our class was getting together to celebrate the fact that, despite us all approaching the age of a tillable, Midwestern clod of dirt, we are still here. And as such, being a lifetime member of this particular club, I decided to sojourn back to the middle of the country for the occasion.

Much-akin to the anadromous salmon-fish of the Pacific NW, who return swimmingly to their spawning waters of origin, I decided to head East for this grand occasion. UN-akin to the salmonids of Oregon I took a plane, rather than swimming/paddling back to my home town. Owing, I suppose, more to the timeliness of air travel, than the lack of navigable waterways between Oregon and my original spawning grounds.

Whatever the means of eventual transport back home, a fun time was had by all at the reunion. There was a rollicking dance party, with nifty, homemade decorations, much jockularity, and a bit of beer to consume with old friends. And though I didn’t have THAT many beers, since I am now an official “old”, I DID have quite a helping or three of cake.

But what was really fun, besides the cake, was the rambunctious, late-night trip to Denny’s, after the official festivities were all buttoned up. Denny’s--that late night, fine-dining establishment of epicurean delight. A small oodle of old friends gathered there for way-too-large-a-stacks of pancakes, chicken fried steak (what exactly IS C.F.S.?), and other dessertedly marvelous delights. And though we didn’t get kicked out of the place, we WERE told once or twice to "pipe down". Owing I suppose to much, beer-aided-mirth, what with all that social catching up to do, and other nonsensical revelry to accomplish, after so many years apart.

I stayed out WAY too late, evidenced by the early-rise birds chirping away in the hardwoods on our trip back to the hotel. But we’d proven, without doubt of shadow, that we still aren’t THAT old. I’d go so far as to say that if we were fissionable material, we’d be more like Germanium, than Uranium, in an inverse, ½-life sort of way. Though don’t quote me verbatim, concerning the number of years/decay rates on these elements. I couldn’t keep track of them in 11th grade Science Class, so CERTAINLY couldn’t recite them back to you now. All atomic material-comparisons aside, I returned once more to the Northwest in due course, to resume my normal, everyday exciting life.

Some more marvelously riveting facts of my life. It’s almost garden time again. We’re putting the Paul Revere garden in once more, and have even branched out further along the side fence, rototilling in a Dolly Madison garden this year. Sometimes you just have to be extra bold, and go for it in the world of deep cultivation.

While I think of it, I’m going to go out on an etiquette-al limb here as well, and perform a bit of a Christmas letter faux pas. And as such, my apologies to you up front. I’m going to use this letter to update some information I forgot in one of my previous letters:…“My friends Brian and Mary from Idaho came for a visit this year”. (Think it was the fall of 2012). "We had a lot of fun hanging around the homestead, visiting, and catching up”. In hindsight, I can’t really remember much else of what we did when they were here visiting. But I'm sure it was a whole lot of fun, whatever it was.

I did not get around to washing my truck this year, but in retrospect, it rained a lot. And it sure seems like I did innumerable loads of laundry in the past year. I’d call them innumerated, but that would require counting them, as well as making up a new word, which I’m not comfortable doing. So we’ll just leave it at innumerable.

More retrospect...I still enjoy hanging out with HH on a regular basis, and I seem to chase cats all about her place even more than before. And though I still have my own abode, and haven’t moved over to the farmlett to date, she occasionally quotes that infamous Country-Western song of old out loud to me when my annoyance-factor peaks the meters: “How Can I Miss You, If You Won’t Go Away… Now Get Out There and Feed Those Cats!!!"

Uh Oh, I’m back on the cats. I guess I better go mail this, so it gets out to you before the NEXT Holiday on the books. (The 4th??) I hope this finds you all Happy and Healthy, and Enjoying Life to the Fullest.

Take care, and have a nice Easter Season,

Santa Bunny and His Helper(s)

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_{Post Scripte: I almost forgot, I also re-charged the motorcycle battery this year.}

~ Finto ~

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Thanks for stopping in and viewing my NEXT Christmas Letter of Day's Now Gone Past. If you have any thoughts about sending out, or getting these things in the mail, Christmas traditions of times gone by AND still here, extra extra-long Christmas correspondence(s), or anything else this post reminds you of, please feel free to comment away in the spaces below. I'd love to hear from you.

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Please UPVOTE, COMMENT and FOLLOW if you enjoy my works.

And go to @ddschteinn -- There's a whole lot more...

_{Posted: 01/01/2019 @ 13:18}

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Excerpts From Late-Night Conversations With A Mechanical Cat

Fact Number 109