T'wasn't quite the season to be jolly

It's January 1, 2009.

Visit my house today and you would hardly know that the Christmas season just passed. The tree has already been picked up from the side of the street. The lights are off of my house. All the decorations are safely back in their boxes and put away in the secret closet under the stairs.

The only signs still visible are the few late Christmas gifts we received after the 25th, and the leftover cupcakes in the kitchen.

Christmas is over over here. And it ended none too soon.

No one was exactly in the mood. We did things half-heartedly. Our tempers were short. Our tears too close to the surface.

This was our first Christmas without Pappy. My husband's first Christmas without his dad, Jane's first without a husband, my kids' first without their grandfather. And he was noticeably absent -- not just in the kitchen.

It was his job to get the turkey done -- his and Marty's. They would spend hours in the kitchen, cutting up the seasonings and soaking the bread for their turkey stuffing. But the time was measured in hi-balls.

Pappy may not have been the loudest or the biggest person in the room, but his presence always was felt. He seemed to enjoy hanging out in the back, on the fringe of the crowd, observing. Rarely commenting. Just enjoying it all.

But I know he would have loved to have heard Lora sing her solo in church. And I know he would have taken a big piece of that apple pie for dessert.

But we said our prayers and our toasts and tried to keep him in the room. We tried not to be too sad, too maudlin. We tried not to miss him too much.

We tried.

Pappy

Valsin Paul "Pappy" Luquet
July 19, 1928 - December 6, 2008

Dad, Grandfather and the hardest-working husband in the world, left this earthly plane on Dec. 6 to go to that big ballpark in the sky. He leaves behind his legacy of three baseball-loving sons, Valsin Jr., Dennis and Marty; five granchildren Daniel, Courtney, Lora Leigh, Caitlin and Jared, and too many friends to count.

He is already sorely missed.

Click to read more: Pappy

The future star

Miley Cyrus, eat your heart out!

Leigheaux the neurotic poodle

This is the story of a dog named Leigheaux.

For those of you not of the Cajun persuasion, that's pronounced "Leo."

He's a standard poodle, and a fine one at that. He has soft, curly jet black fur, with just a hint of a little tuft of white on his chest. And his eyes are so dark that sometimes you can barely see them. He's tall and strong, if a little skinny. His hips and his back legs probably aren't as strong as they should be. And I don't know why that is.

He came to us in the summer of 2006 from a poodle rescue group. Skinny, scared and scarred for life, he wandered out of a swamp near Denham Springs into the backyard of a local woman who promptly named him Big Foot. From there, he was sent to another woman in Prairieville, and she posted his picture on the Internet. That's how I found him.

I'm already the mom to Lollee Sue, the world's greatest poodle. Sweet, soft and very smart, Lollee has never given us a day of trouble. Oh, OK. It took her a while to figure out that she was supposed to go out the doggie door to pee, not just go to it and stop. And she did eat a few of Lora's toys when both were babies. But she grew into a wonderful dog with the sweetest disposition. For the last three years she and I have made monthly visits to local nursing homes and hospitals as part of the Visiting Pet Program.

But I worried about her. Our schedules are so crazy and we are gone so much, I worried that she was home alone too much. So I started looking for a companion. And I got sticker shock! The ads in the paper wanted anywhere between $400 and $800!! Lollee was a gift to us from the owners of a sire who were offered a pick of the litter. They took pity on me after I had to put both of my dogs down the same week. Laycee was my first standard and my constant companion for 13 years. Lucy was the funniest mutt dog I've ever seen. Both crashed the same week and are now buried in our front yard, next to another rescued standard named Lyon and near a statue of St. Francis Asissi. So I started checking the Internet for rescues. And that's how I found Leigheaux.

Marty was adamant. He didn't want another dog. But I drove to Prairieville, "just to look."

He growled at me when I walked in the room. Didn't want anything to do with me. Wouldn't even look at me. He was curled up on the floor next to his caretaker, who tried to shush him. But he just growled at me. He had a slight limp back then, but no obvious injury. I was very leery, not knowing if he would bite. Eventually he took a piece of a bone from me. And eventually he was in the back of my car, headed to Norco.

It took him a long, long time to trust us. Even longer to love us. He still distrusts strange men (who doesn't?), especially if they're wearing a hat. He has gotten used to the neighbors, but he absolutely hates the mailman and simply cannot understand how and why that stuff comes through the slot in the door every day. In his frustration, he often eats it. And he detests bicycles.

I wish I knew why. I wonder what they did to him. I am so glad I do not know. They did something to his snout that left scars of some type. He is constantly rubbing his nose on the side of the sofa to scratch it. And he doesn't like me to touch it.

I wish I knew what his name was. Sometimes I throw names out to see if he responds. I think he was an Oreo (for his little white tuft). But I should have named him Shadow. Everywhere I go, he goes -- especially to the closet. That is where I change into my walking clothes. He loves, loves, loves to walk. And his limp is long gone.

Like me, he is a night owl. Loves to stay up late, prowling around the yard. Sleeps late. Plays all night. I can hear him sometimes, running around, playing by himself. And on more than one occasion that has gotten him in big, big trouble. He liked to eat things -- toys, furniture, shoes, books. Anything, really.

But he also earns his keep. As much as his barking can annoy us and the neighbors and the meter readers and the pool guy, I feel a lot safer with him here. Lollee would likely invite you in and show you the good stuff. Leigheaux will scare you.

Then, there is his squirrel. Marty has a bunch of bird feeders hanging in the tree outside our dining room window. And there is a persistent squirrel who loves to raid them. And Leigheaux firmly believes he is going to catch him one day. He will stand for hours in the dining room, looking out the window, waiting for that squirrel to come his way. And just when he thinks that squirrel has let its guard down, Leigheaux will barrel out the back door to get him. Of course, that takes about five seconds, giving the squirrel plenty of time to make his get away. So Leigheaux comes back inside, and waits. And this goes on all ..... day ..... long .....

There is no doubt in my mind that Leigheaux would kill that squirrel if he had the chance.. And he probably would bring him inside and plop him on my sofa to show me that he had, as if to say, "See I told you I'd get him one day."

There have been many days when I came home to find a living room full of tattered paper and destroyed magazines. And puddles. And sprays. And plops in the wrong places in the yard. And dead plants. And chewed up Barbies. And some visitors have left our house little teeth marks on their butts. And my hardwood floor has some nasty scratches on in. But I have Leigheaux. And I think I'm pretty lucky.

School Daze

I will never again force my child to wear a skirt to school.

I will make sure that she packs a sweater, even on the hot days.

I understand now the importance of bedtimes and breakfast and I promise to do a better job at both.

And if she decides she wants to start bringing her lunch to school, I won't try to talk her out of it.

These are the lessons I learned in one half of one day as a second grader.

It was "Take Your Parent to School Day" at our little school on Monday. And, being the ever-so-involved parent that I think I am, I went. Every parent should be required to do this. Every school should offer it. It was a true eye-opener.

Of course, I had to get up earlier than I usually do to get dressed to be there, which was very difficult to do. And, of course, that messed up my own morning routine. I did manage to gulp down a breakfast drink -- and I thank God I did.

I arrived at school at 9 a.m. and was ushered into a welcome meeting. They did have fruit and bagels and coffee. I passed -- and later wished I had not, especially on the coffee. By 10:30 I was ready for nap time. So were most of the students.

And we all were hungry. But lunch wasn't until 12:20.... And in between I sat on the floor, got up from the floor, listened to stories, did math problems, learned about less than and greater than, played Around the World and Magic Number, read books, glued in a math journal...

OK. My daughter did.

And I learned that...

She shouldn't have to wear a dress or a skirt if she is going to be sitting on the floor.

She does need to bring a sweater because, although the room was warm at first, it did get colder as the morning progressed.

It is a loooonnnngggg time until lunch. And that lunch was NOT worth waiting for. As soon as I left, I went in search of some REAL food.

And if you don't go to bed on time, you are really tired the next day.

I deserve detention.

The Star of the Pink Room

Pickles Leigh has moved over here as well.. If you have the tenacity to keep up with a 7-year-old (well monitored by her mom!) check it out....

http://starofthepinkroom.blogspot.com/

Dispatches from the Pink Room

Has moved over as well... And there's a new one!

http://dispatchesfromthepinkroom.blogspot.com