'Hello Mr. Livingston'' or 'Don't be messing with Santa!'

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even my spouse;

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I grabbed for my gun to take care of the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters with style and panache.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a gangster in red and eight vicious reindeer.

With clarity of thought, stalking and quick,

I knew this was one bad guy I could possibly nick.

More rapid than eagles my bullets they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called me a name;

"Fell, Dasher, Fell, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!

Down, Comet! Down Cupid! Down, Donder and Blitzen!

To the bottom of the porch! To the bottom of the wall!

Eight deers I did shoot! I got one and all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof;

A rage from the gangster like the devil on hoof.

As I drew back my gun , and was turning around,

Down the chimney he came with one single bound.

My body he grabbed and flung like a sack.

Threatening harm to my soul - as a matter of fact.

His eyes -how they raged! His teeth how they gnashed!

His cheeks were bright red. His fist hit and smashed!

In the wink of an eye, he grabbed hold of my head;

Soon gave me to know I had a whole lot to dread.

He spoke not a word, just gave me a smirk.

He called the cops and said "Arrest this jerk!"

And laying his finger aside of his nose

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team he did whistle,

They magically rose like the down of a thistle.

The cops did explain, ere we drove out of sight,

"You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney.........

___________
Hi Blog Buddies,
This is my 2008 Christmas card . I know! Mr. Livingston would be horrified! But you have to admit, it's unfortunately up to date to our times.

Wishing you a wonderful and safe Holiday season. (Leave your guns at home) Take notes of all your adventures. I want to read all the details on your blogs in 2009.

My Punk Santa is 12"x16" Acrylic on un-stretched canvas. I invite you to visit The Red Chair Gallery. Updates coming next month

I reserve all copyrights to my art. (no resale or reproduction)

Family Secrets and The Christmas Envelope

When I was growing up a strange thing happened at our house every Christmas. A small white envelope would be hung on the Christmas tree dangling amongst the ornaments and tinsel. It was always addressed to my Mother.

It took me a while to realize that my father was the one putting the envelope on the tree but he would never tell me why he did this or what was inside. In fact -he would give me one of those stares, like only a parent can give, warning me to not touch it. So, these envelopes remained a secret between he and my mother for my entire childhood.

Every Christmas morning my father would take the envelope from the tree and hand it to my mother. She would smile at him and take her envelope in another room to open it. Then, she would return to our gathering, say nothing about the contents and we would go back to opening our packages.

My father died in 1973 and along with him went the tradition of the Christmas envelope. I never pressed my Mother on the subject, because the envelope was obviously a secret between the two of them. But, like all secrets , it finally revealed itself.

When my mother died in 1987, I went home for her funeral. Packing up her belongings, I opened her bureau drawer and the smell of her perfume wafted up to me. As I pulled her night gowns and lingerie out of the drawer, I found a stack 30 envelopes, dated from 1943 to 1973, aged with time and tied together.

I set back down on the bed holding the envelopes in my lap and wondered if I dare to open them. Loving my parents as much as I did, I knew their secret needed to be respected but how could I not look inside one now? Both my parents were gone and within my hands was the Christmas secret.

My heart pounded as I opened the first one and there it was. I think I always knew. I so envied the love they shared and relished in the fact that I was a product of that love. Each envelope held a check written in my Father’s hand to my Mother. They were all in the amount of $1,000,000, -un-cashed, but clearly cherished for all time.

Every Christmas of their life together, my Father had given the love of his life all the riches in the world.

Vikki
Have a Christmas secret or tradition? I’d love to hear it.

-The top photo is my only Santa picture. There’s no date on it but, I look to be about 4 or 5 years old and obviously telling Santa of all the riches in the world I would like. I think the location was probably Spokane, Washington.
-The second photo is my sister and I on a Christmas morning. I’m the little one in front. She’s giving me the ‘stink eye’ which still defines our relationship even today.

A Cat Called Feral

Hi! They call me Feral. I’m as wild as wild can be! I have lots of brothers and sisters. We have dinner together every night.

I love kids and I always try to stop and say hello to my friends.
I like to serenade the moon and sleep wherever I find a place to lay my head.

Everyone is so happy to see me.

My mom wasn’t wild like me. She was someone’s pet. When she came in the family way, she gave birth to me under a bush then left me. Did you know that’s how all ferals come to be? Their owners fail to neuter/spay their own pets and sometimes they even move away and leave their pets behind.
Contrary to what people think, domestic pets don’t know how to take care of themselves out in the wild. They usually die from starvation or get hit by cars. Feral cats don’t live to long either. They have an average life span of about 3 years. They die from disease, predator attacks or end up being caught and euthanized (at the expense of about $50 mil. a year in tax payer dollars).

But we leave our stamp on this world. We can have a couple litters every year and 6 to 8 kittens in each litter! You do the math. We breed out of control! Of course there’s an answer for all these sad stories. First- Get your pets fixed. Second- Every states has something called Feral Cat Coalition. All you have to do is call them in your area. They trap ‘neuter/spay and release’ wild critters like me at no expense to you. And third- rescue a pet. You’ll be rewarded ten fold.

I got lucky. I found a lady I liked

and I decided to adopt her.
She says I’m the love of her life. That really makes me happy.
_______________________
These are (just)some of the illustrations I did for a children’s book about the plight of feral cats and the importance of having your pets neuter/spayed.
My model was my kitty Manny. He was born under my Plumbago bush. He’s 4 yrs. old and about 17 lbs today. He lost his tail via a neighbor’s garage door, so he’s a full time indoor kitty.
Ever rescued a kitty or pup and how do feel about the importance of spay/neuter statewide programs? Did you realize they are a bi-product of our lifestyles?
Vikki
Please visit The Red Chair Gallery.

I reserve all copyrights to my art. (no resale or reproduction)