Speaker 1: Welcome to bedtime Stories for everyone, in which nothing much happens,
Speaker 1: you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolai.
Speaker 1: I read and write all the stories you hear on
Speaker 1: Nothing Much Happens Audio Engineering is by Bob Witterersheim. I
Speaker 1: am so grateful to get to do this as a job,
Speaker 1: to write you stories and tuck you in and be
Speaker 1: a soft landing for you at the end of the day.
Speaker 1: And I'd like to thank some recent subscribers to our
Speaker 1: Premium Plus feed because that really helps make it possible.
Speaker 1: So thank you Laura, Thank you Chris, thank you Penny,
Speaker 1: Thank you Adrian. For about a dime a day, you
Speaker 1: can hear our entire catalog ad free, listen to monthly
Speaker 1: bonus episodes and our extra long versions called Slightly More Happens.
Speaker 1: Subscribe through the link in our show notes or on
Speaker 1: the Apple podcast app just search for Nothing Much Happens
Speaker 1: Premium Plus channel. We donate to a different charity each week,
Speaker 1: and this week we are giving to the Good Food Institute.
Speaker 1: The Good Food Institute works to make the global food
Speaker 1: system better for the planet, people, and animals. We have
Speaker 1: a link to them in our show notes. Now just
Speaker 1: by listening to the story I have to tell you.
Speaker 1: By letting your mind follow along with the sound of
Speaker 1: my voice, we are going to train your brain to
Speaker 1: settle and respond to this queue with sleep. It's something
Speaker 1: that improves with practice. Well, what doesn't, So be patient
Speaker 1: if you are new to this. Most listeners report that
Speaker 1: within two to three weeks of regular use they fall asleep.
Speaker 1: Within the first few minutes of the show, they are
Speaker 1: already sleeping, and soon you will be too. I'll tell
Speaker 1: the story twice a little slower the second time through
Speaker 1: now lights out. Snuggle down, my friend. It's all about comfort.
Speaker 1: Now allow yourself to receive this comfort. It is okay
Speaker 1: to rest. Now you don't need to hold onto anything.
Speaker 1: Take a deep breath in through your nose and sigh
Speaker 1: from your mouth. Nice, Do it one more time. Breathe
Speaker 1: in and out. Good. Our story to night is called
Speaker 1: Mistletoe and Marmalade, and it's a story about decorating for
Speaker 1: the holidays with the whole family. It's also about birds
Speaker 1: at the feeder, ornaments made in kindergarten that still make
Speaker 1: it onto the tree, the ways that love can surprise you,
Speaker 1: and a greyhound in a Christmas sweater, mistletoe and marmalade.
Speaker 1: It was our first Christmas together. Well, we'd had Christmases
Speaker 1: as friends, plenty of them, and a Christmas in the
Speaker 1: early days of falling in love, but this was our
Speaker 1: first Christmas as a married couple, as a blended family.
Speaker 1: There was me, my ginger cat, marmalade, my scruffy brown
Speaker 1: dog Crumb, and now my love and his sleepy giant
Speaker 1: greyhound Birdie. In some ways it felt like we'd been
Speaker 1: together for ages, and in others it all felt brand new.
Speaker 1: I'd known how he took his coffee, no milk, a
Speaker 1: spoonful of sugar, and I knew his taste in music
Speaker 1: and the story behind the old green corduroy jacket he'd
Speaker 1: had since college. But I was completely surprised by his
Speaker 1: passion for table top RPGs and near encyclopedic knowledge of
Speaker 1: the history and flavor profiles of many, many varieties of Chili's.
Speaker 1: I think I had surprised him too, when I'd replaced
Speaker 1: the sconces in the bedroom with some vintage ones i'd
Speaker 1: rebuilt and rewired. He joyfully flicked the switch off and
Speaker 1: on several times, admitting that this was well above his
Speaker 1: skill set, and that it seemed like magic to him.
Speaker 1: I had a feeling that this was one of the
Speaker 1: joys of loving someone for a long time, realizing that
Speaker 1: there was always more to learn about them. The animals
Speaker 1: had also learned more, For example, that Birdie liked to
Speaker 1: graze and didn't usually eat his breakfast all at once.
Speaker 1: Once Crumb realized there was a second breakfast available just
Speaker 1: one bowl over, he'd scarf his own and then dive
Speaker 1: into birdies. This had led to somewhat complicated morning routine,
Speaker 1: involving showing Crumb out into the yard as soon as
Speaker 1: he'd finished his last kibble and convincing bird to go
Speaker 1: on and clean his plate, But most days we managed it. Marmalade,
Speaker 1: as usual, took it all in stride. She had priorities.
Speaker 1: She needed to lay on her perch and watch the
Speaker 1: birds at the feeder. She needed several naps to bathe
Speaker 1: her paws and face and have some uninterrupted one on
Speaker 1: one time with me. And whether there was one dog
Speaker 1: chasing his tail or two while she did it, she
Speaker 1: didn't much care. I knew some of her disaffected nature
Speaker 1: was put on. She liked to appear a bit above
Speaker 1: her brothers, but I'd also seen her bathe both of
Speaker 1: their faces when they'd come back from their checkups at
Speaker 1: the BET and on movie night. Her favorite spot was
Speaker 1: right between them, her chin resting on birds back and
Speaker 1: her back paw stretched out to touch Crumb's belly. We
Speaker 1: were a happy little pack heading into the holidays, and
Speaker 1: decorating had been a good deal of fun for all
Speaker 1: of us. I wasn't a very organized person, so when
Speaker 1: it came time to gather together all the bulbs and
Speaker 1: strands of light and little houses for the Christmas village,
Speaker 1: we'd had to troop up to the attic, down into
Speaker 1: the basement, route through the garage, and dig under the bed,
Speaker 1: but eventually we found nearly everything. Our tree went up
Speaker 1: in the living room, right in front of the big
Speaker 1: picture window, where it could be seen from the street.
Speaker 1: There was a moment of contention while we debated white
Speaker 1: lights versus colored lights, but luckily my sweetheart realized I'd
Speaker 1: made a very convincing argument, and my pick were strung up.
Speaker 1: As we hung up baalbs and ornaments, some from my
Speaker 1: collection and some from his, we told the stories of them.
Speaker 1: Here was the bulb my mom had been gifted the
Speaker 1: year I was born, with the date still etched on
Speaker 1: the side. When the crack that had been carefully glued
Speaker 1: after I'd pulled the tree down when I was three,
Speaker 1: Here was the ornament, made of popsicle sticks and button balls,
Speaker 1: heat glued together in kindergarten, unrecognizable as any particular thing,
Speaker 1: but cherished just the same as we decorated. The animals
Speaker 1: watched a bit nervously from their beds. Boxes were often
Speaker 1: regarded with suspicion by all of them. Things were either
Speaker 1: coming in or going out, and they weren't sure they
Speaker 1: approved of either. Finally, Marmalade, bravest of the three, tiptoed
Speaker 1: up to the tree and reached a paw out toward
Speaker 1: a green glass bulb. I could see her curious eyes
Speaker 1: reflected the surface, and whether she broke the bulb or not,
Speaker 1: I thought I was likely to remember this moment for
Speaker 1: years to come. Her wonder at it, the glow of
Speaker 1: the tree lights through the fur of her ears. She
Speaker 1: batted it experimentally, and I squatted down beside her and
Speaker 1: replaced it with a felted mouse on skis. She reached
Speaker 1: out again, batting at it, and watching the branch bounce
Speaker 1: as it was buffeted. I gave up and just unhooked
Speaker 1: the mouse and tossed it for She caught it and
Speaker 1: kicked it under the couch, where she could just barely
Speaker 1: fit her hind leg and tail sticking out as she
Speaker 1: wrestled with her new toy. We decided to move anything
Speaker 1: breakable up to the higher branches. Crumb came closer to
Speaker 1: sniff at the boxes and tilt his head as I
Speaker 1: wound the key on the bottom of snow globe and
Speaker 1: tipped it up in front of him. A tinney version
Speaker 1: of the Christmas Song played as he watched the suspended
Speaker 1: snowflakes slowly drift down over a little house not so
Speaker 1: different from our own. I hummed along, reached out to
Speaker 1: scratch under his chin to puffs from one to ninety two.
Speaker 1: Though it's been said many times, many ways, miowie Christmas
Speaker 1: to you. I heard a chuckle from the other room
Speaker 1: and wondered if my appreciation for bad puns had come
Speaker 1: as a surprise, like my electrical handyman skills had. I
Speaker 1: heard him bustling around in the kitchen, a drawer opening,
Speaker 1: and wondered if he was starting dinner. I set the
Speaker 1: snow globe down in front of Crumb, who got down
Speaker 1: on his belly and pressed his nose to the glass,
Speaker 1: still watching the snowfall. Bluebirds stood and stretched beside the couch,
Speaker 1: and I called him over. He sat down beside me,
Speaker 1: and I put my arm around him, and we looked
Speaker 1: up at our beautiful tree. I thought it might be
Speaker 1: a little chilly for him, and I reached for one
Speaker 1: of his sweaters in a box. It was an ugly
Speaker 1: Christmas sweater with reindeer and baubles and candy canes stitched on.
Speaker 1: I laughed as I pulled it over his head. He
Speaker 1: looked at me with consternation and despair. But I told him,
Speaker 1: at least I wasn't making him wear his antlers yet.
Speaker 1: Come see Bertie in his sweater, I called. He peeked
Speaker 1: out from the kitchen with something in his hand. He
Speaker 1: came closer and presented it to me, some leaves and
Speaker 1: red berries tied together with the striped twine we saved
Speaker 1: from the bakery boxes. He squatted down beside me and whispered,
Speaker 1: it's mistletoe. I'm pretty sure these are bay leaves from
Speaker 1: the spice drawer. They may still work, though, Oh they
Speaker 1: probably do. Mistletoe and marmalade. It was our first Christmas together. Well,
Speaker 1: we'd had Christmases as friends, plenty of them, and a
Speaker 1: Christmas in the early days of falling in love, but
Speaker 1: this was our first Christmas as a married couple, as
Speaker 1: a block family. There was me, my ginger cat, marmalade,
Speaker 1: my scruffy brown dog Crumb, and now my love and
Speaker 1: his sleepy giant greyhound Birdie. In some ways it felt
Speaker 1: like we'd been together for ages, and in others it
Speaker 1: all felt brand new. I'd known how he took his coffee,
Speaker 1: no milk, a spoonful of sugar, and I knew his
Speaker 1: taste and music and the story behind the old green
Speaker 1: corduroy jacket he'd had since college. But I was completely
Speaker 1: surprised by his passion for table top r pgs and
Speaker 1: near encyclopedic knowledge of the history and flavor profiles of many,
Speaker 1: many varieties of chilis. I think I had surprised him too,
Speaker 1: when I'd replaced the sconces in the bedroom with some
Speaker 1: vintage ones i'd rebuilt and rewired. He joyfully flicked the
Speaker 1: switch off and on several times admitting that this was
Speaker 1: well above his skill set and seemed like magic to him.
Speaker 1: I had a feeling that this was one of the
Speaker 1: joys of loving someone for a long time, realizing there
Speaker 1: was always more to learn about them. The animals had
Speaker 1: also learned more, for example, that Bertie liked to graze
Speaker 1: and didn't usually eat his breakfast all at once. Once
Speaker 1: Crumb realized there was a second breakfast available just one
Speaker 1: bowl over, he'd scarf his own and then dive into Birdie's.
Speaker 1: This had led to a somewhat complicated morning routine, involving
Speaker 1: showing Crumb out into the yard as soon as he'd
Speaker 1: finished his last kibble and convincing bird to go on
Speaker 1: and clean his plate. But most days we managed it. Marmalade,
Speaker 1: as usual, took it all in stride. She had priorities.
Speaker 1: She needed to lay on her perch and watch the
Speaker 1: birds at the feeder. She needed several naps to bathe
Speaker 1: her paws and face and have some uninterrupted one on
Speaker 1: one time with me, And whether there was one dog
Speaker 1: chasing his tail or two while she did it, she
Speaker 1: didn't much care. I knew some of her disaffected nature
Speaker 1: was put on. She liked to appear a bit above
Speaker 1: her brothers, but I had also seen her bathe both
Speaker 1: of their faces when they'd come back from their chuckups
Speaker 1: at the vet and on movie night. Her favorite spot
Speaker 1: was right between them, her chin resting on birds back
Speaker 1: and her back paw stretched out to touch Crumb's belly.
Speaker 1: We were a happy little pack heading into the holidays,
Speaker 1: and decorating had been a good deal of fun for
Speaker 1: all of us. I wasn't a very organized person, so
Speaker 1: when it came time to gather together all the bulbs
Speaker 1: and strands of light and little houses for the Christmas village,
Speaker 1: we'd had to troop up to the attic, down into
Speaker 1: the basement, roots through the garage, and dig under the bed,
Speaker 1: but eventually we found nearly everything. Our tree went up
Speaker 1: in the living room, right in front of the big
Speaker 1: picture window, where it could be seen from the street.
Speaker 1: There was a moment of contention while we debated white
Speaker 1: lights versus colored lights, but luckily my sweetheart realized I'd
Speaker 1: made a very convincing argument, and my pick were strung up.
Speaker 1: As we hung up bulbs and ornaments, some from my
Speaker 1: collection and some from his, we told the stories of them.
Speaker 1: Here was the bulb my mom had been gifted the
Speaker 1: year I was born, with the date still etched on
Speaker 1: the side, and the crack that had been carefully glued
Speaker 1: after I'd pulled the tree down when I was three.
Speaker 1: Here was the ornament, made of popsicle sticks and cotton
Speaker 1: balls he'd glued together in kindergarten, unrecognizable as any particular thing,
Speaker 1: but cherished just the same as we decorated. The animals
Speaker 1: watched a bit nervously from their beds. Boxes were often
Speaker 1: regarded with suspicion by all of them. Things were either
Speaker 1: coming in or going out, and they weren't sure they
Speaker 1: approved of either. Finally, Marmalade, bravest of the three, tiptoed
Speaker 1: up to the tree and reached a paw out toward
Speaker 1: a green glass bulb. I could see her curious eyes
Speaker 1: reflected in the surface, and whether she broke the bulb
Speaker 1: or not, I thought I was likely to remember this
Speaker 1: moment for years to come. Her wonder at it, the
Speaker 1: glow of the tree lights through the fur of her ears.
Speaker 1: She batted it experimentally, and I squatted down beside her
Speaker 1: and replaced it with a felted mouse on skis. She
Speaker 1: reached out again, batting at it and watching the branch
Speaker 1: bounce as it was buffeted. I gave up and just
Speaker 1: unhooked the mouse and tossed it for her. She caught
Speaker 1: it and kicked it under the cow where she could
Speaker 1: just barely fit her hind legs and tail sticking out
Speaker 1: as she wrestled with her new toy. We decided to
Speaker 1: move anything breakable up to the higher branches. Crumb came
Speaker 1: closer to sniff at the boxes and tilted his head
Speaker 1: as I wound the key on the bottom of a
Speaker 1: snow globe and tipped it up in front of him.
Speaker 1: A tinny version of the Christmas Song played as we
Speaker 1: watched the suspended snowflakes slowly drift down over a little
Speaker 1: house not so different from our own. I hummed along
Speaker 1: and reached out to scratch under his chin to puffs
Speaker 1: from one to ninety two. Though it's been said many times,
Speaker 1: many ways, MIOWI Christmas to you. I heard a chuckle
Speaker 1: from the other room and wondered if my appreciation for
Speaker 1: bad puns had come as a surprise, like my electrical
Speaker 1: handyman skills had. I heard him bustling around in the
Speaker 1: kitchen a drawer opened, and wondered if he was starting dinner.
Speaker 1: I set the snow globe down in front of Crumb,
Speaker 1: who cut down on his belly and pressed his nose
Speaker 1: to the glass, still watching the snowfall. Bluebirds stood and
Speaker 1: stretched beside the couch, and I called him over. He
Speaker 1: sat down beside me, and I put my arm around him,
Speaker 1: and we looked up at our beautiful tree. I thought
Speaker 1: it might be a bit chilly for him, and I
Speaker 1: reached for one of his sweaters in a box. It
Speaker 1: was an ugly Christmas sweater with reindeer and baubles candy
Speaker 1: cane stitched on. I laughed as I pulled it over
Speaker 1: his head. He looked at me with consternation and despair.
Speaker 1: But I told him at least I wasn't making him
Speaker 1: wear his antlers yet. Come see Birdie in his sweater,
Speaker 1: I called. He peeked out from the kitchen with something
Speaker 1: in his hand. He came closer and presented it to me,
Speaker 1: some leaves and red berries tied together with the striped
Speaker 1: twine we saved from the bakery boxes. He squatted down
Speaker 1: beside me and whispered, it's mistletone. I'm pretty sure these
Speaker 1: are bay leaves from the spice drawer. Hmmm, they may
Speaker 1: still work, though probably they do. Sweet dreams