Call of the Wild

One of Lamar's redeeming qualities is the herd of deer living on the town's edge. They bed near my parents' home and we often see them when we go for walks. During our last Christmas visit, Skip and I hunted the group in hopes of capturing a large buck in a sunset photo. Or Skip was trying to get his pregnant wife to workout.

He dressed me in snow camo and tugged me through the foot of snow until the deer sensed us. Then he'd have me crouch down and sneak up to them. Yes, me and my 7-month baby bump slowly approaching a buck with antlers larger than my frame. My family way did nothing to soften the deer to me, but I think they remember Pippa.

Today on a walk along the creek, Pippa and I came across the same herd of deer with their fawn. I had Pippa in her carrier. You'd think she'd revel in snuggling next to my chest, a gentle breeze on her face, chirping insects and birds singing, and my undivided attention. I gazed into her eyes the entire time, chatting away about her beauty. No, tonight this did nothing for her but interrupt her nap and she softly whined for the first mile of our journey.

A whine that called to the deer. As they crossed our path they watched us intently. Pippa's lower lip would tremble, her face drawn in a so sad clown frown and "meeeeehh." The deer would instantly stop, turn their heads and stare at us curiously. The closer we got and with Pippa's continued whimpers and whines the curious stare turned into a glare as if to say, "why do you torture that child."

I'm glad the bucks missed this chance meeting, no need to become a statistic of mother's gored by an angry buck trying to protect an infant. Much better to report that Pippa is her daddy's daughter and has perfected her stranded fawn imitation. Bow season opens in September?

The Plaid Pants of 1999

As a teen my mom, and church leaders, encouraged me to accomplish some goals. I think the end goal was to make me a well-rounded self-sufficient gal, or at least more interesting. I'm not sure it did any of those things, but it prepared me to clothe my husband.

Over Christmas break Skip announced that he'd forgotten to pack pajama bottoms. I told him not to worry, between my dad, two brothers and a brother-in-law who lives in Lamar, Skip was sure to find something comfy to lounge in. He stared at me with big puppy dog eyes and a seriously doubtful look. So I started scrounging around the drawers in my room.

I went through a phase where I didn't want to have to pack to stay at my moms. Never mind my mom lived at least 12 hours away, I found pleasure in leaving clothes to wear, shampoo to use, hair brush, toothbrush, blow dryer, shoes, outdoor gear, etc. in my bedroom so my suitcase could be filled with twenty more outfits.

My hoarding abilities saved Christmas as I pulled out a pair of oversized green and red plaid pajama bottoms. Teenage Breanna had taken a regular pants pattern and made the legs wide and straight, the waist a few inches longer than necessary so it could be fashionably rolled and pockets appropriately placed (when the waist had been rolled). Teenage Breanna had no idea that anyone else would ever want to wear these ridiculous but splendid pants. Teenage Breanna had never met 40-year-old Skip who put them on with glee.

And then took them home to Peoria. So now the lounge pants I wore every Sunday in high school have become his go-to weekend wear. He won't even look at the cool pair I bought him from Banana Republic. All I can say is I used to be a visionary.

A Christmas Miracle

'Twas the Eve of the Eve of Christmas and while I lay sleeping the wires in the fuse box in the wall near my feet melted and oozed and burned out their protective covering. Coincidence that my feet felt extra toasty? Yes, as the Christmas miracle has nothing to do with the almost fire and obituary of 2009.

This miracle left a much sweeter memory in the form of the forgotten wedding cake. Actually it was late and misplaced finally to be delivered by Santa's helper.

The cake was a trial run by my sisters (in hopes of making an actual wedding cake soon or becoming the next Landers sisters or first Martha Stewart twins) and I with my fetish for wedding cake asked to join the mess. It was a huge mess and wasn't done in the one day we'd left time for it. So I left Lamar without tasting the masterpiece. The twins finished it and Daniel was appointed to bring a slice to me in Salt Lake.

He forgot the frozen slice and had to backtrack to get it. Then in a redeeming haste thought to refreeze in a guy's collegiate apartment on the first night of his travels where he again forgot my cake.

I believed the cake had been eaten as soon as he left but one of two things happened. Either his friends were repulsed by the many flowers glued to the thick fondant frosting or they possess elfin qualities enabling them to resist the cake and deliver it on Christmas break.