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Saturday, Apr. 30, 2016

Brazil Buzz

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Today, we experienced a seasonal change in the little blue house at the end of the road.

Autumn decorations, touches of amber, ochre, bright orange and warm brown have been now put in storage for another year.

Bisque pilgrims and Indians rest in the China cabinet behind the alabaster statues from Athens.

Ceramic turkeys rest on their roost.

Several chubby, rosy-cheeked Santa Clauses, snowmen and beautiful porcelain dolls dressed in holiday finery brighten every room and mood today.

We plan to decorate the tree tomorrow.

Our trees sparkle with keepsake ornaments that date back to as early as 1900.

All carry a story.

Our daughters generously contributed to the family's Christmas trees over the years and continue the tradition with additions.

Some ornaments are expensive.

The items that our artistic daughters and grandchildren constructed are priceless.

Others survived a house fire.

I get excited every time I take the box out of storage.

My sister, Sandra Lynch Gallardo, adds her special touch to our home, too.

Other most prized keepsakes came from my father's family as well as the maternal side.

I cherish the ornaments and gifts from old friends that I once knew.

The late Mrs. Lucy B. Hayes gave me a beautiful angel several years ago.

I placed the optic- lighted piece on the tiger oak pedestal table.

I think of Lucy.

Some ornaments belong to Tootie Mae.

I see a family resemblance in all of the little dachshunds that dance amid the branches of the tree each time the backdoor slams shut.

Facebook friends and family provide me with fresh decorating ideas every day during the season.

We missed the Black Friday stampede and the madness that is associated with the early morning hours the day after Thanksgiving.

That morning, Paul and I found the traffic to be light during our trip to Richard Roudebush in Indianapolis, and the pace slowed.

Paul's appointments concerned his eye surgery.

We arrived with time to spare.

When we reached the eye clinic office, he learned that his scheduled appointments canceled earlier.

The staff for the most part, was enjoying an extended holiday.

At first, it appeared as if we would need to go back home.

We were beginning to think that the much-needed corrective surgery would be delayed again.

After talking to my mild mannered husband, the staff on duty brought it together for him.

Even an anesthesiologist came in.

In no time, those kind professionals served him well.

The doctor apologized for the oversight to inform him of the change.

He needed to postpone the skin cancer treatments until after the eye surgery.

Before we came home, Paul received his flu shot.

Something funny did happen to him while the nurse was preparing for his EKG.

He said, "I sure will be relieved when I can see well."

He brought his hand to his glasses and with a puzzled look, spouted, "I lost one of my lenses."

His finger agreed.

The old boy failed to miss its absence from the fragile metal frame.

When we arrived back to the parking garage, the missing plastic lens was looking back at him from the driver's seat of the car.

He removed it in haste from his tight-fitting clip-on shades after we parked.

I am not sure why he is saving his latest pair of glasses with the pile in his junk drawer.

One time, during a pre-op appointment before his knee surgery, the nurse asked him to remove his shoe and sock.

She needed to examine his foot.

She left the room while the small task was in progress.

When he removed the articles, it was clear to see his new black socks lost a lot of lint.

The fluffy stuff was peeking out from between his toes and halfway up toward his troubled knee.

To make matters worse, a small fan on shiny tiled floor picked up a wad of the fluff sending it beneath the nurses' chair.

We chuckled as we quickly cleaned up the problem.

By the time she came back, we gained our composure and he was ready to put his best-looking foot forward.

Never again did he wear socks fresh out of the pack.

Well folks, I hear someone calling my name, "Mom."

I will check to see what he is doing now.

I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by e-mail at pamsarq@frontier.com.