Here’s how:

1)  Round up the family.

2)  Get a real tree.

3)  Set it up in a front room by a window to enable outdoor viewing.

3)  String a whole bunch of cranberry/popcorn garlands while listening to the Nutcracker Suite.  This is invariably when I got the giggles.  Sitting still and doing craftsy pursuits are not my forte–in fact sit down activities drive me a little wonky.

4)  Decorate.  Ma always sat and watched us kiddos hang ornaments.  Later she admitted that she re-hung them after we went to bed.  It makes sense, as kids we tended to hang ornaments all in one spot at eye-level. 

4) Put up a huge bed sheet in the doorway (ceiling to floor) so the whippersnappers can’t see into the room.  It helped that my parents hung a sign like “He’s watching you!”.  Plus, telling us kiddies that all the presents would disappear if we peeked discouraged any sneaky business. 

5)  Keep the tree hidden (with the presents) until after a lengthy Christmas Eve dinner.   Dinner was always the dreaded “pink meat”.  At the time, I had no idea I was turning up my nose to pricey prime rib.  My cousin and I always invented new ways to keep from ingesting this bloody steak and sneaking it into gram’s garbage receptacle.  For extra torture show slides or home movies and insist on dessert and coffee before presents time. 

6)  Take the sheet down in time to some prearranged signal for the BIG REVEAL.  Grandpa always took his sheet down in tune to Handel’s Messiah- the part with the Hallelujah Choir.  That was our signal to come flying down the stairs tripping and arguing with each over who got to go in the Christmas tree room first. 

7)  Watch the kids go banana boats.

Family traditions are so cool. 

Just yesterday I was walking down the hall at the school where I “teach” humming happily and dreaming of turkey.  And yup, fell flat on my face on the tile floor.  I didn’t even trip over anything.!  The worse part is there are security cameras ALL over this place so TA-DA! the whole incident was caught on film.  Somewhere there is a security guard laughing his ass off.  Oh the irony, the gym teacher lady had just wished me a “Nice trip home for Thanksgiving!”

You just have to laugh.  So this Thanksgiving I have to really admit that there are tons of things I am thankful for but, probably, #1 on my list is laughter. 

I hope you are enjoying the heck out of your lives!  God Bless and Happy Thanksgiving.

The good news is that I am no longer sleeping on the couch for 7-8 hours a day, and I now have the energy to work out, hold down a job, and go to college.  The bad news is I am still getting tested. My iron fluctuations are an enigma.  More about that later. 

I am greatful for this site.  It really got me through last winter.  I am humbled and thankful to all of you who have read my ramblings.  Thanks for your support it has been a wonderful gift!

You see, part of my new job is to go to gym class and help adapt the activities for a young woman (we’ll call her Sandy and this is definitely NOT her name) with downs syndrome.  However, I never played organized sports growing up and my own PE career was decidedly lack luster.  Why?…because I am a human disaster magnet.

But still, I love my new job.  It’s wonderful.  We have a blast.  Well, most of the time…Then there are the times that I generally fall down, get hit in the head with a foot ball, have one of the soccer players trip over me, or walk backwards into the propped open gate.  Sally just absolutely falls apart laughing.  The last time I fell down I had been jogging backwards egging her on…

…you see it was a fitness day, and we were wearing heart monitors, and we were trying to get into our target heart rate zones.  Sally wasn’t having any of it- she kept saying, 

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can! C’mon Sally lets say it together: ‘Yes We Can!” (Thanks Barack.) 

“I can’t”

Splat!

There I was, rolling on the track, clutching my just-been-healed-from-a-chippy-bone-this-summer ankle…trying not to say, “Son of a biscuit! Holy Snapdragons! and GOD BLESS AMERICA!”  And there was Sally just yukkin’ it up.  I must have looked really fierce at that moment because when I yelled from my supine position “GET MOVING!!!!!” that girl took off at a dead sprint.

Awesome.

Oh cruddy cookies here comes another volleyball.  It’s only a matter of time before I get a black eye. 

I have lots to celebrate!  So why not a party! ? I am in iron remission!  My hemoglobin levels are below 12, my iron saturation is very very low, I have a hemotologist that I can visit nearby, and I think I can actually eat some meat this week!  I do not have to have a phlebotomy this month!  Yes!

I am a little tired go figure…anemia makes you tired.  But so does overload…at least I’m not the slurry, lethargic tired that comes with too much iron! 

Will write more soon.  Have an amazing new job and I just have type about it!

So  feliz dia de los muertos!  (I am horible at Espanol.)

How weird the number is now the big “2-oh”.  When did this aging happen?  How can I be twenty years out of high school, and still be the same silly person who laughs too loud at body noises?  When does one become an adult?  

Next question: what do I say when someone asks, “How are you?”  Do I give them a heriditary hemochromatosis update, assuming that the asker knows about my disease and wants said update?  Do I answer with “fine” and leave it a that…assuming that the asker knows nothing about the HH and probably wouldn’t want to discuss health issues like old people discussing their latest aches and pains.  (I mean we can save that for the 30th reunion, right?)

So in honor of the upcoming festivities I decided to make a list of stuff I’ve done in the past ten years.  Not in any especial order.  Just stuff. 

PS :  as this memory exercise is probably more exciting for me than YOU…you have no obligation to me, dear blog reader, to keep reading this…

In the past ten years I…

Saw Paul McCartney in concert, went up in the St. Louis arch, camped in the Smokies (Smokey National Park has no shower facilities…be warned!), learned how to cook cheese cake, decided I believed in God, taught high school, ran 15 miles at one time, started grad school, dropped out of grad school, owned four horses, lost my grandfather, learned how to ride saddle-seat and dressage, quit teaching high school, went through an aimless what does it all mean? phase, laid drunkenly face down in my in-laws back yard, moved, worked as a Vet tech, was trained how to take and process x-rays and to analyze fecal exams, renewed my wedding vows, got two new dogs, was diagnosed with a genetic disease, got confirmed, lost and regained the same 10 pounds, jumped a horse for the first time since I was 16, became an international travler by visiting all the NAFTA countries, started going to college AGAIN (say “again” with a slight Arkansasian accent, please), figured out that Oreos were gross, worked at a rural school district as an aide, found out why corn has to be de-tassled, realized that my hair is always going to look like I am a refugee from an 80′s pop-rock video (why fight it?), toured Mayan ruins, became a vegetarian, started eating meat again after my brother-in-law tempted me with chicken wings, became an “auntie”, realized I really wanted to be a mother, ate sushi in Puerto Rico, fell in love with the skeleton statuettes made for Dia de los Muertos, discovered hummus and pita chips, started teaching Sunday school, started lifting weights, realized that chihuahuas have really tiny bladders, made a bunch of friends, broke my first bone (tarsal), drove a ski-boat in the Lake of the Ozarks (still haven’t seen Party Cove), found some grey hairs in my bangs, (YIKES!) and accepted that the older I get the less I know.

“Everyone is taking their life’s stock.  I say leave your livestock at home.”

First there was the visit from my in-laws.  Usually this is a good thing.  However, this time at my house…my brother in law, let’s call him “Chris”, and my husband Tom tried to reenact the Michael Jackson  Pepsi commercial via a backyard bonfire.  They had the awesome  (read “insane”) idea of mixing oil and gasoline and pouring it on wet wood.  Unfortunately neither has a degree in pyrotechnics or special effects from the Weta Workshop or Lucas Studios.  It went like this:

WHhhhhuuuUMMMP…(Chris running through the backyard)…BIGGGG fireball!

Five year old niece, “Is Daddy going to die?”

Luckily no one needed to go to the hospital (I think).   My husband also has sworn on a Bible, the Boy Scout Manual, and a copy of True Tales of a Mountain Man that he will only start fires the old fashioned way with twisty newspaper and twigs.

NEXT on tap:   Tom reeacting Top Gun while tubing with our friend Ed.  We were in Osage Beach.  Boating, of course, what else do you do in the Ozarks?  Another good friend, we’ll call him “Bob” was driving…which may not always be a good thing depending on how wild of a tube ride you are desiring.  However, Bob was driving fairly tame for a guy whose nick-name is “Snap the Whip”.  Somehow both Ed and Tom who average about twelve feet, three inches in combined heights went flying through the air…bum over teakettle… in  a weird loop-de-loop and CRASH! back into the lake.  Luckily neither of them were playing the part of Goose…both survived … each with a severe racking…

praise God I’m not a guy and have to worry about nut squish issues during extreme water sports!

Not to be outdone…while executing a happy dance on the way to the pool  by yours truly resulted in 1) me falling off a curb  2) insta-cankle due to the Fred Flinstone proportions of my swollen extremity and  3) a chipped ankle  bone!

The lesson here?…Always bring a video camera along, you could win valuable cash and prizes on America’s Funniest Home Videos and get a chance to meet Bob Saget.

To stave off boredom, my kind kept wandering  and it  went something like this:   the weather is lovely and I much rather’d be in the barn hanging out with my pal Phoenix …oooo I wonder if his stall needs a mucking?…now we’re discussing our test grades but ohhhhhh I want a cup of coffee hmmmmmm coffee…but no then I won’t sleep tonight…but I’m sleepy now…wait no I’m not…I’m wired, I’m bored,  NOT BORED  I’m not bored!…I’m, I’m…

“Hey Mary* what did the professor just say?  We’re supposed to be reading an article?’  Oooops.

Then there is that one gal.  You see…I keep waiting for the professor to leap across her desk and take this student out.  AWESOME… smack down Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday…be there ere ere ere…it’s annoying whiney grad student against  the prof who has ultimate power over her final grade who will prevail????(read this like an announcer for a stomper truck rally or a world wrestling federation tournament).  The student is twenty-something, still lives with her parents,   (Oh yeah, I’m one of the oldest students in the class, the prof is the same age as me oh joy...will I ever be out of school!?) , doesn’t seem to study EVER, and has a penchant for obnoxiously questioning our professor’s teaching techniques in a strident tone of voice.  She seems to have no clue the effect her words are having on our teacher lady. She also seems to have no idea that she asks questions on stuff that we were patently supposed to be fairly proficient at…this is the required material.

“Yes, Mary*, I agree, that gal is one strange broad.”

As for me I’ll just sit there squirming in my seat while that gal continues to berate the professor until…mmmmm coffee would be really good right now, I wonder when this class is over…oh look, I drew a puppy in my  notebook…HUH DID A DESK JUST GO FLYING or is it my imagination…THE SMACK DOWN HAS BEGUN!!!!!!!!!!!

Things are looking up.  I love this class.

*Her name has been changed to protect the innocent.

-fallen asleep during a college class and woke yourself up with your own snoring?

-worn bunny slippers to work…or even had a spare pair stashed under your desk?  (This is awesome until some half wit makes a rule up about no slippers at your workplace!)

-started something, worked your buns off, gotten discouraged, quit that something, beat yourself up over the quitting of that something, found quiet complacency about your decision to quit something, and then realized that  you were never meant to do that something in the first place and the whole darn thing was a “learning experience” that all those motivational posters teachers hang in their classrooms are talking about

-walked around speaking with a fake French accent all day like Pepe Le Pieu or Inspector Cleuseaux?

-looked at the wrinkles on your forehead and decided that since they were beginning to look like the demarcations on an atlas you needed to give them their own street names? 

-woke up in the morning and realized that your hair had a party on your head last night and didn’t invite the rest of your body?

-worked out so hard you saw spots and thought you were either going to poop or puke at the same time?

-climbed a mountain and realized you had no clue how to get back down all those big damn rocks you just clambered over?

-taken the time to watch sunrise and realized how insiginificant you are and at the same time didn’t really care because the scenery was so beautiful?

-thought about  how much really hard work goes into farming?

-pretended to speak a language foreign to your native tongue even though you only know about 10 phrases?

 -thought when someone says, “is your glass half full or half empty”….“hahaha does it matter because I drank the water!”?

-slathered on so much of that fake-tanner cream because you wanted to look sun-kissed and instead you ended up looking like a sunkist orange…all just in the nick of time to stand up at your sister’s wedding?

-fallen while walking up the stairs and at the same time dropped you to-go coffee mug which did its best impression of a volcano and somehow doused you with java on your way back down the stairs…right before a job interview…PS you were wearing a REALLY expensive new business outfit…?

-sneezed in a weird rapid fire fashion and caused someone at the restaurant table near by to get up and try to give you the heimlich manuever?

I’ll add  more after class!

For a while there though, I felt that my muse had left me and I was worried that my prose would be just a bunch of rambling non sequitors.  Then, I realized- hey,  my writing is rambling by nature so why worry?  Plus, I had a longish research paper to write about Asperger’s Syndrome so I was a little burnt out on the idea of typing anything. Speaking of non sequitors, did you realize that the Smokey Mountains National Park has one of the largest populations of black bears in the entire United States?

You see, Tom and I did it…we just finished semi-successfully navigating through IL, IN, KY, TN, NC, AL, and GA…(only got lost 3-ish times)!  And on our twisty turny moutainy side trips…we were able to see the lakes and dams of the Tennesse Valley Authority, stand behind a waterfall at the terminus of a trail in the Smokies, walk through a Civil War battlefield in Georgia (Chickamauga…by my count 36,000 soldiers died there in 2 days), shiver through a HUGE and DEEP cave in Alabama (spooky…they turned out the lights!), go hiking with our nieces (and yup get lost there too), and finally crash with our very  accomodating relatives when we were starting to get loopy from highway hypnosis.  We did a heckuva lot more than I have space to write here…but somehow,  I managed to stay awake for it all…wooo hooo no afternoon naps needed…that’s no mean feat for me lately!  (The secret:  a phlebotomy just before we left town!)

At one point we were trotting down a trail in the Smokies…and only a trifle annoyed that just about all of Tennessee seemed to be hiking with us… when we noticed a bottleneck of gapers peering in to the woods.  What we soon realized that all of gawking was due to a black bear sow and her cubs that had just lumbered on by.  In most accounts there is nothing so mean-ass, protective than a mama bear…therefore, standing around like the entrees in a buffet seemed like a plan that didn’t quite work for me.  My idea was to get back to the car…quickly!  However, this saddened me a little because even though I love the idea of hiking…when I actually am hiking I’m a little bit of a wuss.

You see, years ago I read Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods.  And ever since I have been just a little obsessed by the idea of walking the entire Appalachian Trail.  Bryson is an author/humorist whose off color way of discussing every day events just tickle me to death. In one memorable scene he describes his supposed reaction to seeing a black bear on the AT as the moment when he dies of a sphincter explosion   (i.e. he shits himself to death).   The lesson here is that if I truly am going to try to undertake this endeavor some day I need to get over my phobias of ticks, spiders, extreme heights (since you’re hiking in the mountains), west nile virus, weird mountain men, sleeping outside, and bears!  After all if Bryson can do it… a self described out of shape, non-camping, suburban sort of guy…why can’t I?

PS:  If any of you think you are brave enough to face the AT with me and can take 6 months off to hike 2200 miles of mountainy trail let me know.  You can only join me though if you are a slower runner than me…I need someone to feed the bears!

(Ohhhhhh…my brains are fried.  I am cramming for an paper about Asperger’s Sydrome that is due for my class on Thursday. )

But the larger point being…where is the swine flu?  Or the bird flu?  What ever happened to the West Nile virus?  How’s about SARS?  Not much mention lately of the antibiotic resistant TB either. Now I know that I may be bringing up a fairly tacky point given that some people have gotten REALLY sick with some of these maladies.  Shouldn’t CNN, CNBC and all the other collective media outlets think twice about broadcasting PANIC journalism over some new virus?  My basic idea is…sometime, someday, somewhere there really will be a disease that we should take very, very seriously.  But, by that time , we will be all so desensitized and blase sitting there in our La-Z-Boy loungers that the new super-bug will be able to sneak up and hit us over the sinus cavities with a giant flu club.  (Flu club…what the heck is that?…and on that note I’d better put myself to bed!)

Awesome. My neighborhood recently has been one giant experiment in first amendment rights. By the way, did you know that only 9% of all Americans can name the five rights granted to them by the first amendment? (Which makes me wonder how many of them can list all of the Bill of Rights?)

I’m sure you know your first amendment so the following is just me conducting a little memory experiment of my own:

-freedom of speech

-freedom of religion

-freedom of press

-freedom of petition

-freedom of assembly.

(This is really not that fair though as I used to teach a government class.)

A little while back we got a new neighbor, let’s call him Tad. Tad is a hoot and a half. He puts the hootie in the hoo so to speak. Tad came to the President’s Day Party dressed (authentically) as George Washington, and during the course of the evening his (cotton) wig disentegrated. Tad took it upon himself hide bits and pieces of it all around my house. (I am still finding random bits of cotton in the back of cabinets here and there.)

Tad is a welcome addition to the block. He plows my driveway and invites us over for beer. I do not know if everyone would agree with me. You see Tad, likes to exercise his first amendment rights…he has (from time to time) hung a Miller Beer light-up sign in his front picture- window and since last Friday it’s the sign.

(If I was tech savvy…I would insert here the song from 1970 by the Five Man Electrical Band: “Sign, sign…everywhere there’s signs…….can’t you read the sign?” I’ll try to link it at the bottom of this page.)

The sign was stationed prominently in front of Tad’s house in the yard. It was more of a banner really. A large, yellow plastic banner…professionally made and printed in large black letters that read: “Tractor for sale! John Deere Sucks! This is CAT country!”

Awesome.

This very well-made sign. I mean, I’ve seen banners like that next to businesses…most people selling stuff use posterboard, cardboard, a piece of old board…whatever’s handy in the garage that can be written on. Parked next to this very well-made sign was a little, green John Deere riding lawn mower. Parked on the other side was a very LARGE, yellow Catepillar Skid-Steer tractor with the scoop in front. (My three-year old nephew would go bananas to see it in front of Tad’s house.)

All that weekend there was a fairly steady stream of drive-by gawkers. Did I mention that I live in a very remote neighborhood that almost never gets any traffic?

I guess some of the block parents must of been upset. We have quite a few families with young children on the street. The scuttlebut is that a few of the husbands went over and asked Tad’s wife to take down the sign due to the “offensive wording”. You see, “sucks” is a word that we must protect minors from even though characters on Sponge Bob, the Disney channel, and the Simpsons use that word all the time.

I admit I laughed my tookus off.  I have no children to worry about corrupting, and as they can’t read my dogs didn’t mind…heck Cheech probably thought it was a cool new thing to pee on.  Yet, I am a waffler, a grey-area-thinker, a can’t-we-all-just-get-along-man compromiser…so I agree with both sides of the issue.  The parents probably DO have a point.

By Saturday, the word “sucks” were covered by large stick-on letters “XJYZK”.  By Monday, the sign was drooping quite heavily in the middle and was no longer readily readable from the street. 

By the way Tad wants $850 for the Deere.

A short story adapted from J.K. Rowling’s series for Ryan’s birthday by his Auntie Kay. *

Harry dodged Peeves the pesky poltergeist and jumped down the stairs two-by-two hoping to avoid the trick stair in which he had so painfully lodged his leg years ago. Nearly trammeling over a couple of Hufflepuff first-years Harry yelled his apologies back over his shoulder, and pelted out of the castle and onto the grounds. Hermione would shake her head and tut under her breath if he was late for Herbology again. Quidditch practice had been particularly grueling lately, and he had had back to back detentions with Professor Snape for falling asleep during potions. This, Harry felt, was typically unfair of Snape. Malfoy was constantly nodding off in class and one time even started to snore with nary a consequence.

Harry reached Greenhouse #3 at the exact same minute as Ron who glanced sheepishly over him and said,”Overslept too, mate?” He grinned over excitedly at Harry his red freckles matching his flaming hair,” Lets hurry up, Sprout’s been hinting at a bang-up lesson today.”

Harry grinned back and adjusted his glasses, “I know! I wonder what she has planned?” The boys were shocked to see the towering form of Hagrid blocking the entryway to the greenhouse. Why was he at a Herbology lesson? Their eager anticipation only deepened…

”All righ’ there Harry, Ron?” boomed Hagrid. His flyaway mane of hair was even spikier and more flyaway than usual. The sight of this black matted mess caused Harry to ruefully try to smooth down his own rumply bangs which often had a mind of their own when it came to hair styles.

“Hey Hagrid!” the boys answered in unison and made their way to the table that they shared with Hermione and Ernie Macmillan, the pompous Hufflepuff boy who often annoyed Harry.

“Morning gents.” Ernie nodded officiously at Ron and Harry. Ron grinned cross-eyed at Harry. Harry had to stifle a laugh as he nodded back at Ernie just as solemnly. It was like greeting the mayor. “And wheeeere is Herrmione?” Ernie inquired as if he wanted to know the whereabouts of the Queen of England.

Ron shrugged. Harry and Ron had assumed that Hermione was already at Greenhouse #3. It was their second surprise of the morning to realize that her bushy-headed self was not already ensconced at their table. She never had a bit of a sleep in, in fact she was one of the most perkily awake people they had ever come across.

“Perhaps she’s using one of those time-turner thingys again…you know, to attend more lessons?” Ron suggested. Hermione had once driven herself to exhaustion by trying to carry a heavier load then anyone else, attending more than one class at any give time. Ron and Harry had later learned that she had pulled off this seemingly miraculous feat with the aid of a time-turner necklace.

“All right settle in everyone!” Sprout called. “I asked Hagrid to join us today in our lesson.” Hagrid beamed and nodded. “What we are going to learn about today crosses over the disciplines of Herbology, Transfiguration, and the Care of Magical Creatures.”

“What we are going to discuss is the Muggles’ legend of the Easter Bunny. Muggles actually believe that a cuddly, white rabbit or bunny hops around the eve before Easter Sunday. As legend has it, this rabbit leaves chocolates and jellied eggs behind for little Muggle girls and boys to find and collect in an Easter container.”

“Do you mean an Easter …basket?” Harry corrected Sprout while waving his hand in the air.

“Yes, yes the container…erm…basket…five points for Gryffindor, Harry!” smiled Sprout. Ernie clapped Harry in a congratulatory fashion on the back. Sprout used her knobbed wand to scratch a spot under her floppy patch-ridden hat, dust flew, “Ahhhh…that’s better.” Then she continued, “In fact that reminds me of the special warning spell, ‘a tisket-a tasket…a green and yellow basket’. This is an incantation that the Muggles supposedly use to alert the Easter Bunny to their presence. This way the ever-wary and aloof Easter Bunny can scamper away undetected while the kiddies collect their goodies. This is pure nonsense!”

Harry was inclined to agree with Sprout. He had always thought the Easter Bunny was a rather dubious character. As a young boy he never was left the prerequisite rainbow jellies, marshmallow chicks, and hollow choco-rabbits. Instead, he usually discovered a few pieces of the green plastic grass and a wadded mass of sticky foil wrappers shoved through the cat-flap on Easter morning. The rest of day was a festival of tummy-aching jealousy as Harry would have to endure the sight of his cousin Dudley gorging himself on all of the treats that Harry would have given his left pinkie finger just to sample. Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat at the memory of all of the wonderful candies he had missed out on due to his porcine cousin’s overweening greed.

“Righ’ then,” Hagrid boomed, out of his element in the greenhouse, his voice loud enough to rattle it windows in their panes. “righ’,” he continued more softly, startled by the sound of his own voice. “Yeah, see its bin a conspiracy of the wizarding world to keep the truth abou’ tha Easter Bunny from the Muggles.” Harry sat up straighter, his interest peaked. All those years of missed Easter goodies would be worth it as he would be privy to such important information, that and that Dudley Dursley would never know.

“The Easter Bunny innit a rabbit at all! A wizarding family, who asked ter remain anonymous, started the tradition of tha Easter Bunny hundreds and hundreds of years ago! A long time ago, one talented young wizard from this family figured out how ter transform inter a rabbit. Tha’s how it all began!” Hagrid opened up his voluminous jacket. To the amazement of the students he whisked out what looked to be a young, garden-variety rabbit similar to the types depicted in Beatrix Potter’s famous story Peter Rabbit.

Harry stared intently at the small, brown rabbit that sat on the lab table unconcernedly washing its paws. It definitely was no ordinary rabbit. Any wild cottontail that Harry had ever encountered usually scampered off in fright before Harry could even begin to get a second look. Amazingly the rabbit seemed to have felt Harry’s intense stare and froze in mid-wash. To Harry’s further bewonderment the rabbit stared back just as intently with big, brown, and very intelligent eyes.

“All righ’ then, Duncan, it’s time!” said Hagrid as Sprout smiled encouragingly.

And in an instant, where a cuddly bunny was once sitting there appeared a young freckle-faced man with blonde curly hair and a big welcoming smile. Ron gasped and rubbed his eyes. Ernie whispered to Harry, “I had no idea, did you?”

Ron stammered, “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it! All these years Fred and George have been calling me a ‘stupid git’ for insisting that a rabbit delivered our Easter treats. I was right! There really is an Easter…Bun…erm…thingy!”

Duncan’s smile deepened at Ron’s words and his nose seemed to twitch. “Young man, you are most certainly not a git. I am real! The bunny gig is rather a part-time thing.”

At that moment Professor McGonagall came rushing into the greenhouse looking flustered and a tad bit unkempt. Harry was surprised at the state of her. McGonagall’s green tartan hat was askew on her head and a rather large rent traveled up the backside of her normally well pressed red wool robes. However, the lesson was just too engrossing to pay much attention to the messy McGonagall. Harry decided to file the mystery of her uncharacteristic appearance away and think about it later.

“I’m so sorry! I had received Professor Sprout’s invitation to join the class, but I was regrettably delayed. Please continue…” stated McGonagall breathlessly.

“Of course, Minerva,” Duncan said with a smile and a slight bow, “A long time ago, my ancestors decided it was time to use their wizarding powers to remind good young girls and boys to use their powers wisely and to continue to do good. My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grand-ancestor, Ryan convinced his very own sister, Sarah, to learn how to become animagii. They both worked at it until they were able to transform into rabbits.”

“Rabbits? Why rabbits? If I were an animagus I’d transform into something really good. Like a tiger or something!” Seamus Finnegan interrupted with a look of disbelief.

“Well you see young man, a ginormous, striped jungle cat wandering around England, is bound to get noticed, isn’t it?” replied Duncan. Harry smiled to himself at the thought of a large Bengal tiger padding down Piccadilly lane with a pink basket full of Easter eggs hanging from its mouth.

“Wild rabbits turn up just about anywhere in the world so they are usually beneath peoples’ notice. They live on just about every continent and are exceedingly common. By transforming into rabbits my family and I can hide treats for deserving children all over the world on Easter’s eve without being discovered.” Duncan continued.

“So you’re an unregistered animagus! You and the rest of your family are in an unlawful conspiracy! The Ministry of Magic must be alerted to you and your kin’s activities!” said Ernie aghast. He looked left and right trying to catch the other students’ eyes to see if they agreed with his astonishment at such egregious law breaking. Neville, pink faced, ducked Ernie’s wild look. Ron rolled his eyes. Seamus and Dean glared and cracked their knuckles. Lavender and Pavarti whispered and giggled.

“Whoa…slow down there, young Ernie!” exclaimed Hagrid. “Duncan an’ his clan are doin’ nothin’ wrong an’ the Ministry full well knows what they’re up to!”

“Mr. Macmillan, “McGonagall pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, “Mr. Macmillan, before you go accusing someone of malfeasance, make sure you have all of the facts. Of course such an ancient and accomplished group of animagii has been completely sanctioned by the Ministry of Magic! As a matter of note, if you paid better attention to the facts assigned in Transfiguration class your own spellwork would improve immensely!”

Ron sniggered. Ernie turned beet red and muttered an apology.

“Set your mind at ease, my family has been fully investigated by and has a very comprehensive file in the Department of Mysteries.” added Duncan.

Neville poked his head back up and waved his hand in the air. “Excuse me, excuse me, Duncan? How do you make all of your deliveries in only one night?”

“Ahhh, good question laddie!” exclaimed Duncan. His nose twitched violently just like a rabbit in the midst of a pile of carrots. “I have a lot of help! You see my family has been transfiguring into rabbits for over two thousand years. My family is similar to rabbits in that our population has grown and grown…there are literally thousands of us now! It is a point of honor that those members of the family that have mastered the feat of rabbiting go out and make the Easter deliveries. Those of us, who do not have the talent to transform, help out by painting eggs, filling Easter baskets, and making candy.”

“Crikey!” gasped Seamus, “Your family must be huge…loads larger than mine…and I have seven brothers.”

“Even with such a big clan, my family would still be hard pressed to deliver all of those candies, eggs, baskets, pastries, jellies, and mallow-bunnies without our family knowledge of the science of Herbology.” continued Duncan.

“This is where I step in.” interrupted Sprout enthusiastically, “You see with the right decoction of sap from the Venomous Tentacula plant picked on a slivered-moon, Sunday evening, at precisely 1:52 AM, you can produce a most potent potion. Potion…dear-dear that reminds me, I really should have invited Professor Snape to this lesson today!”

“Better for us all that she forgot.” muttered Harry. He had spent way too much time in Snape’s dungeon lately. His last detention was an example of Snape’s over the top malevolence as Harry had had to scrub out all of his rusty old cauldrons without the benefit of dragon-skinned gloves. Even with Hermione’s best efforts to help, Harry still had an indelible rash on his left forearm that now was exhibiting a lovely shade of fluorescent orange.

“Any-hoo,” said Sprout, “Once the potion is swallowed a person will have increased speed and unlimited energy for hours. This is perfect for anyone, like Duncan, who needs to be able to run long distances quickly without tiring!”

Eager murmuring erupted throughout greenhouse #3. Snatches of excited conversation could be overheard as the Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindors speculated how such a potion would make their school lives easier.

“Wicked!”

“I need to get a hold of some during finals week!”

“Cool…I wonder how fast I could run?”

“Wait, wait!…My family has been passing down the secret recipe to this potion for generations. Generally this concoction is not available for widespread use as its abuse can cause uncontrollable giggling, oozing purple pimples and an itchy bum. There is no cure for the pimples once they develop on your face! However, it has been cleared for our use by the Ministry and we know that we must use it sparingly…only a few sips and only on Easter’s eve! Remember potions are not to be overused or used for the wrong reasons! They can be dangerous.” explained Duncan

“Why are you telling us all of your secrets?” asked Pavarti Patil.

“Yeah, I was wondering that too…” and a whole chorus of new murmurs broke out amongst the students.

“Well now, most wizards don’t know about tha Easter Bunny cos’ it’s a Muggle legend innit? An’ what Muggle would believe you if you tried ter tell ‘em?” chimed in Hagrid.

The class bell rang signaling the end of the lesson. Yet no one moved to pack up their things or to rush to the door. A hushed silence fell over the greenhouse. The students were impressed that they had been privileged enough to meet such an interesting character such as Duncan. Harry started clapping, and the rest of his classmates followed suit and broke into hearty applause and cheers. Soon even the Professors had joined in. Duncan blushed and transformed back into a rabbit. As students crowded around, he jumped up and danced a little jig upon the table that he had just been sitting next to.

Duncan turned back into a young man and shouted happily, “Happy Easter!” And then began shaking hands with the queue of students that had lined up around him.

“That was awesome!” shouted Ron as he vigorously shook Duncan’s hand.

“Yeah!” cried Harry, munching on the cream filled, chocolate egg that Duncan had handed him after shaking his hand. “Too bad Hermione had to miss it! She would have had a million questions for Duncan! I can’t wait to tell her about it!”

Hastily jamming his spell books into his bag Ron lowered his voice, “Huh, I wonder where she is? Skivving off a class is not like her! I hope she is okay.”

Shouldering his book bag Harry started walking towards the door with Ron trailing.

“Excuse me, Mr. Potter…Mr. Weasly, wait a moment!” exclaimed Professor McGonagall.

Harry turned around to a shocking sight. McGonagall was even more disheveled at closer view than he had originally realized. Her face was haggard, and her eyes looked worried. There was a smudge of dirt on her nose. What had happened to her?

“Boys, we need to talk…there is something I need to tell you about Hermione…”

THE END!!!!!
* A couple years ago I wrote this for a nephew of mine-he is a big Harry Potter fan. Plus his birthday always falls right around Easter Sunday.

-I had my first official therapeutic phlebotomy with the Red Cross.  A shout-out of thanks goes to Sheri the incredible phlebotomist  who inserted that honkin’ needle and I didn’t feel a thing.  Wow.  It can be done!

-I had my first facial ever.  Amazing.  My face is now baby’s-butt smooth.

-I had enough energy to work a full 40-hour week for the first time since before Thanksgiving.  (YAY…I think?…)

-And for the first time in my life I fainted…dead away into a pile of dried horse manure…

It was incoherent city.  Population:  me.

It was the perfect storm.  I worked a bunch.  I am sick of sitting, heck friggin’ sick of laying on the couch so I was pushing myself to see just how much energy I had in reserve.  Not as much. Then it turns out that facials actually dehydrate you while they hydrate your skin. Isn’t that an oxymoron?  Someone needs to explain this one to me.  Finally, I never listen to my husband. Or so he claims. So after the prior two activities we went to the barn to muck out Phoenix the pony’s stall.

I probably should have sat down when Tom said, “Hey do you want sit down?”  I guess I didn’t look so good.

But at that moment I was staring intently into the manure-filled wheelbarrow.  For those of you who have fainted before I’m sure you can remember the heart-pounding, extremities-tingling, static-pin-point-vision, and not to mention the unmentionables…fighting the urge to either poop or puke.

On a side note “poop” is a palindrome*…and a fun word to say aloud too..try it now…(if you’re not sitting at your desk at the office or reading this from a laptop in a crowded airport,”poop…poop…poop”… fun, huh?!

Tom said I tipped on my heels and fell backwards just like a cartoon character.  He couldn’t get to me on time because of the aforementioned wheel barrow was blocking the way.

It was rather astonishing to “awaken” lying flat on my back in the middle of a stall, head pounding (even though it was being cushioned so to speak by a couple-day old pile of dried horse turds), and staring up at the barn ceiling.

Yeahhhhhh…now how many people you know have taken a header into a pile of that?

Who knows maybe I found a recipe for the next hottest thing in hair conditioners?  You should know that in the Middle Ages, Europeans used to use dried pigeon feces in “medicines” for everything from stomach cramps to the plague.  So listen up Johnson & Johnson and Proctor & Gamble I am claiming the idea here first,publically on WordPress, manure shampoo…my idea!

*palindrome: A word, phrase, verse, or sentence that reads the same backward or forward. For example: Barack Obama — Hey, Obama! I am a boy, eh?

At any rate the Red Cross has listed on their web-site that hemochromatosis was (and is) a disease in which affected persons are not allowed to donate. 

So I stompled around rather peevishly and thinking rather obsessively:  WHO WANTS TO TAKE MY BLOOD????” 

Do you want my blood?

There’s nothing wrong with it.  Hemochromatosis is a genetic disease…so you can’t catch it from me. 

Say you were anemic…my blood sounds pretty good now…doesn’t it!  (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)

 What if you needed an emergency transfusion?

At any rate I had the task of finding a phlebotomist somewhere in the proximity of the rural area where I live.  And, go figure, I was finding that journey to be a little ominous.  I swear half of the RN’s I have talked to recently really didn’t have a solid grasp what iron overload meant and why I needed a therapeutic phlebotomy.  (This is not to diss nurses…it’s an amazingly difficult job with the added bonus of sneezy-whiny- sick people…I could NEVER do it…you RN guys ROCK…it’s just that hemochromatosis doesn’t seem to be in the mainstream of diseases people even medical people know a ton about.) 

So when I called my general practicioner’s office for help there was one horrifying moment I truly believed that there was nothing they could do to help me with the bleeding.  Up to this point  all of my experiences with the peeps from that office culiminated into one assumption:  HOLY COW they have no clue where to send me either.  It would have been a veritable laugh-riot comedy of errors if it wasn’t so vital I was drained of some red stuff…You would probably have came to the same conclusion that I had if you  talked to one gal who didn’t know the difference between a general (CBC) blood test and a phlebotomy, another who put you on hold and dropped the call, and yet another told you she’d call back and never did, and then yet another told you, “Oh, just call around to the local hospitals.” 

Then Hayley the wonder nurse came on the line!  She took charge, did a little research…and it turns out…doo, doodie doo…The Red Cross WILL take my blood if I have a MD’s order!  (I’m guessing they discard it.)

GOD BLESS HAYLEY AND THE RED CROSS! 

Whew.

PS…dog food fried in the pan is about one of the worst smells I have ever enountered!  Don’t try it at home, trust me.