Today I was chatting with my daughter about Christmas past and what a fast year this has been for all of us. I just started Christmas shopping yesterday but I am making some great progress.Today I am going out to lunch with a girlfriend at the cutest mountain like cabin restaurant in Alpine.
Last night Hubby bought me a beach cruiser bike with the cutest basket. My cousin and I have fallen in love with biking once again.It's nice getting a present early. It was last 24 inch bike so we had to buy it. Since I am short the 26 inch bikes are too tall so this was the only bike that fit me. I can hardly wait to take it camping.
At Christmas time you can't help but think about family.
The biggest trait I feel in my family was that we were constant story tellers. My Dad told great stories of the characters in his youth and made them come alive as he would weave his stories to us.
In those days children were seen and not heard and we were in the middle of the city of San Diego. My grandfather was a gentle man and he always seemed like he had a soft mellow voice. Now my Nana was equivalent to a mean banty hen. She scared the heck out of me lol. There were no cookies or happy hugs from this Nana. She was short stout and with her little beady brown eyes I could easily see her as Ma Barker or Pancho Villa's girl friend. I once saw an old picture of the table where everyone was sitting cigarette smoke all over the place no wonder my cousin had asthma. There was my Nana staring at the camera with a accusatory look.
In those days all my cousins and I would come over every Sunday. So there would be at least Seventeen kids or more running around the little house. We would arrive with our parents every Sunday and then tossed outside to play while the adults talked all day.
Eventually I would head to the backyard and watch my Tata as he watered his garden . He would bend over pick some squash and zucchini as the quiet of the garden gave him peace from all the noisy voices in the house and front yard.
The memory of my Tata is what has always been in my heart around my sweet chickens. When I am out there in my front yard sometimes I think of my Tata. He was always keeping busy in this mist of all those family members invading his house every single Sunday.He was such a sweet Tata. I get my love of chickens from my grandfather. Such a happy sweet memory.