Amish You a Merry Christmas

Just when you think the miracle of Christmas is a holey old joke of a sock- You go to Wisconsin and everything changes.

I live in California. And I love it. But the only other place I would consider living in this world is Wisconsin. Imagine my ultimate joy when I found out that my small clan and I would be celebrating the birth of C in an unincorporated village on the snow filled plains of Wisconsin this year. Yahtzee!

On Christmas day, my family piled into my father's beloved mini van and off we drove to my cousins house- All very "Over the river and through the woods." Amidst explaining to my other cousin the Oakland slang, "Doin too much," my dad drove off the road and into a ditch. Whether he was "doin too much" or "not enough" is still up for debate.

The family squawked about for a minute or two, complaining of cold, making jokes and generally being useless when a little blue light from the distance started bobbing towards us. It was The Amish. Or An Amish. A man with a very long beard. As he chatted with the other Men, another Amish came by. In a horse drawn buggy. A voice from it shouted, "I would help but cars are ugly!"

Mokay. I didn't know the Amish were so feisty. Feisty and efficient. Within 5 minutes the bobbing blue light man came back to us with a small metal wagon sleigh thing attached to a pair of enormous horses. As fast as you could say, "Amish you a Merry Christmas!" the Amish tied a chain from the van to the wagon, cried yehaw; his mighty horses plucking the van from its snowy resting place- then disappeared back into the barn from whence they came.

A country Christmas Miracle. I was thrilled, my faith (in horses) restored, my hands numb from clapping in 30 degree weather. We hopped back into the van to the aroma of Roast Beast and exulted. The Amish are doin just right and yes, cars are ugly.