Back at the Stinkhorn: Concha Returns
reckoned by Monkey Goddess at 2:00 AM
It's quiet here on the ranch. Yup, quiet. 'Cept for the occasional grumble of the old gas heater firin' on and off from the basement. That ol' monster of a heater keeps us ranchers warm from the cold outside--cold is 10 degrees and covered in a fine and heavy blanket of snow with a high flyin' wind that whistles like a freight train. I am the only one awake in the ranch house. Sittin' here in my red longjohns and fuzzy socks, sippin' on a hot buttered rum.
I sent the Chief outa the kitchen 'bout 2 hours ago where we were fixin' some vittles to serve for meals tomorrow. I then tramped through the 4-foot o' snow, went to look in on my birds to make sure the heater was workin' properly. Since I was out there, I did a walk of the ranch's livin' area, admirin' Johnny's handiwork with all them twinklin' lights. Then I went to the power box where he got em all powered in and turned them off fer the evenin. Then all was dark 'cept fer the stars and the wanin' moon turnin everthing the color of yesterday. The snow and the winter moon and the twinklin lights is about the only thing I like 'bout this time o' year.
As some of ya know, I don't celebrate Christmas, 'cept when it comes to children who I might be friendly with at the time. I like the big ol' tree sittin' close by me, the scent o' pine, all the gingerbread cookies the Chief made up to decorate the tree, the long string o' popcorn and cranberries and the constructionn paper-loop garland the kids and me made up. They is all pretty and sweet and fine to look at. But come Christmas day, I took out my horse, Pandora, for a slow ride along the ranch proper, waitin' 'til all the gift openin' was over.Everbodyy here on the Stinkhorn knows not to get me nothin' ('ceptin the kids, who is allowed to make me a present if they wish--I knitted them up some scarves and hats and mittens outa some fine wool yarn I procured while overseas) cause I don't give out nothin.
Some think I'm just an old Scrooge, but those who really know me are understandin' o' my feelins. I don't take to all this craziness that makes this time o' year so difficult fer so many. The pressure is like a boulder fallin' on yer foot: you is forced into it and stuck in a hurtin place forced to hold a smile on yer face. And many of you may like drivin back and forth to the mall, trying to find perfect presents for everbody you know, whether ya like 'em much or not. I don't. I don't like bein' told I have to be happy and cheerful if I ain't. I always give presents to people I love when I can. I always do good when I can, and I don't see why I have to center all that good stuff just at one point in the year fer a way a believin that I don't believe. Don't seem fair if ya ask me. Not fair nor right.
I lit a big ol' bonfire on the Solstice, burnt some herbs, said some blessins, and settled into the cold. I didn't make nobody on the ranch do this with me (although a few did, includin' Jenny Five-Hats, who is the biggest Christmas lover of all). I don't stop no one from havin' their fun, but I ain't participatin' in it. And that's what I love 'bout the Stinkhorn. On Christmas mornin', when I put on all my heavy winter ridin' togs, no one said nothin' 'bout it, nor gave me a funny look. And when I got back to the ranch house, covered in a shiny layer o' ice and frost, there was Chief waitin' with some hot chocolate, and Johnny with a bottle o' somethin' to spice it up. And Daisy regaleded us all with some funny story 'bout a trip he made recently, and the tots was a playin' with all their goodies, and then Chief and I went into the kitchen to pack up the feast which we here at the Stinkhorn don't eat ourselves, but serve up to the needy folks in town.
That's my doin', and Chief has made the whole tradition all the easier and tastier. And it's a "winter" feast, 'cause no matter if you is Christian or Jewish, no matter if youins celebrate somethin or nothin, it's winter and it's cold and a good meal is a good meal. And we will do this ever day up to New Year's Eve Day, when Chief promises all the folks at the ranch a fine ol' meal to celebrate the new calendar year. And Johnny promises a fire work show in the cold night air. And Jenny Five-Hats will sing us songs and play her guitar, and we will countdown the end of this year, and some'll make promises 'bout the next one comin.
Then we'll be in January. Sweet January when I don't have no expectations put on me by folks that don't even know me. We all want to start off clean like the snow I see out the big window here in parlor. We ain't none of us ever gonna be that clean, but I don't hold that 'gainst nobody. Shame some people in this here world don't feel the same way 'bout me.
So, here I am, back at the Stinkhorn. Gotta get up early, feed the birds then get the wagons loaded up with food to haul into town.
Hope you had a fine holiday, how ever you celebrate, or if you, like me, choose not to. Keep your longjohns on and stay warm.
Hugs and Kisses
Concha
--------------------
About the Writer
Concha Loca is a Stinkhorn Rodeo
Ranch Boss and resident Chicken Whisperer.
I sent the Chief outa the kitchen 'bout 2 hours ago where we were fixin' some vittles to serve for meals tomorrow. I then tramped through the 4-foot o' snow, went to look in on my birds to make sure the heater was workin' properly. Since I was out there, I did a walk of the ranch's livin' area, admirin' Johnny's handiwork with all them twinklin' lights. Then I went to the power box where he got em all powered in and turned them off fer the evenin. Then all was dark 'cept fer the stars and the wanin' moon turnin everthing the color of yesterday. The snow and the winter moon and the twinklin lights is about the only thing I like 'bout this time o' year.
As some of ya know, I don't celebrate Christmas, 'cept when it comes to children who I might be friendly with at the time. I like the big ol' tree sittin' close by me, the scent o' pine, all the gingerbread cookies the Chief made up to decorate the tree, the long string o' popcorn and cranberries and the constructionn paper-loop garland the kids and me made up. They is all pretty and sweet and fine to look at. But come Christmas day, I took out my horse, Pandora, for a slow ride along the ranch proper, waitin' 'til all the gift openin' was over.Everbodyy here on the Stinkhorn knows not to get me nothin' ('ceptin the kids, who is allowed to make me a present if they wish--I knitted them up some scarves and hats and mittens outa some fine wool yarn I procured while overseas) cause I don't give out nothin.
Some think I'm just an old Scrooge, but those who really know me are understandin' o' my feelins. I don't take to all this craziness that makes this time o' year so difficult fer so many. The pressure is like a boulder fallin' on yer foot: you is forced into it and stuck in a hurtin place forced to hold a smile on yer face. And many of you may like drivin back and forth to the mall, trying to find perfect presents for everbody you know, whether ya like 'em much or not. I don't. I don't like bein' told I have to be happy and cheerful if I ain't. I always give presents to people I love when I can. I always do good when I can, and I don't see why I have to center all that good stuff just at one point in the year fer a way a believin that I don't believe. Don't seem fair if ya ask me. Not fair nor right.
I lit a big ol' bonfire on the Solstice, burnt some herbs, said some blessins, and settled into the cold. I didn't make nobody on the ranch do this with me (although a few did, includin' Jenny Five-Hats, who is the biggest Christmas lover of all). I don't stop no one from havin' their fun, but I ain't participatin' in it. And that's what I love 'bout the Stinkhorn. On Christmas mornin', when I put on all my heavy winter ridin' togs, no one said nothin' 'bout it, nor gave me a funny look. And when I got back to the ranch house, covered in a shiny layer o' ice and frost, there was Chief waitin' with some hot chocolate, and Johnny with a bottle o' somethin' to spice it up. And Daisy regaleded us all with some funny story 'bout a trip he made recently, and the tots was a playin' with all their goodies, and then Chief and I went into the kitchen to pack up the feast which we here at the Stinkhorn don't eat ourselves, but serve up to the needy folks in town.
That's my doin', and Chief has made the whole tradition all the easier and tastier. And it's a "winter" feast, 'cause no matter if you is Christian or Jewish, no matter if youins celebrate somethin or nothin, it's winter and it's cold and a good meal is a good meal. And we will do this ever day up to New Year's Eve Day, when Chief promises all the folks at the ranch a fine ol' meal to celebrate the new calendar year. And Johnny promises a fire work show in the cold night air. And Jenny Five-Hats will sing us songs and play her guitar, and we will countdown the end of this year, and some'll make promises 'bout the next one comin.
Then we'll be in January. Sweet January when I don't have no expectations put on me by folks that don't even know me. We all want to start off clean like the snow I see out the big window here in parlor. We ain't none of us ever gonna be that clean, but I don't hold that 'gainst nobody. Shame some people in this here world don't feel the same way 'bout me.
So, here I am, back at the Stinkhorn. Gotta get up early, feed the birds then get the wagons loaded up with food to haul into town.
Hope you had a fine holiday, how ever you celebrate, or if you, like me, choose not to. Keep your longjohns on and stay warm.
Hugs and Kisses
Concha
--------------------
About the Writer
Concha Loca is a Stinkhorn Rodeo
Ranch Boss and resident Chicken Whisperer.
