Thanks FBers
Sunday, December 14, 2025
Happy Funday ~ Odie’s Gift of Warmth ~ by Skip
That cold snap in Truckee right before Christmas? Man, it wasn't your usual winter bite. This was the kind that cuts deep, sharp enough to make you feel alive, under a sky so crammed with stars it looked like someone spilled glitter. Fresh snow blanketed everything, squeaking under your boots like a stubborn door hinge, while the smell of woodsmoke wrapped around you from every chimney. And there in his workshop, surrounded by the good, honest scents of sawdust and machine oil, Odie—everyone knew him as Woodsterman—was right in his element.
Once Odie got going, he was a damn force of nature. Ratty flannel shirt with sleeves worn thin at the elbows, beard flecked with stray tinsel like he'd lost a fight with a Christmas tree. He'd be humming some unholy mashup of "God Rest Ye Merry" and "God Bless the U.S.A." like it was perfectly normal. Behind him, next to an old Army photo gathering dust, sat the Nativity set he'd carved—rough-hewn but solid, just like him.
Every damn year, Odie pulled together his "Christmas for the Forgotten" gig. Not for the kids—the Rotary had that handled. Nah, this was for the old vets at the home, the loners on the ranches, the folks who might get overlooked when the holiday cheer started flowing. The workshop told the story: piles of wool socks, stacks of flannel blankets, crates of oranges, and those molasses cookies of his—ginger so sharp it'd kick your taste buds into next week.
Then the door banged open, snow swirling in with his crew—Lily, fresh out of college, nose redder than Rudolph's; Dave the mechanic, who Odie had drafted by shoving a wrench at him and declaring, "You're on nutcracker duty now"; and Brenda, retired librarian, dead serious about her new gig as "Head Wrapping Honcho."
"Cavalry's here!" Odie barked, his breath fogging up the cold air. "Dave, that sled runner's acting up—go show it who's boss. Lily, cookies. Three per tin, don't get greedy—this ain't a damn buffet. Brenda, wrapping station's all yours. Don't screw it up."
Beautiful chaos. The woodstove glowed in the corner, Bing Crosby crooned from the ancient radio, and then—because of course—Dave cranked a bolt too hard and split the damn sled runner clean in half.
"Ah, shit," Dave muttered, looking like he'd just kicked a puppy.
Odie just busted out laughing, his whole beard shaking. "Would you look at that! Dave here just invented the world's first air-conditioned sled!" He grabbed his trusty duct tape—the red, white, and blue kind—and slapped it on like a band-aid. "There. Now it's got personality. And freedom."
Meanwhile, Brenda's wrapping was precision work—every corner sharp, every bow flawless—until Odie tripped over a cord and sent oranges rolling like a damn fruit avalanche.
"Christ on a cracker, Odie!" Brenda yelped.
He just grinned, snatching one up near the stove. "Pre-heated! That's five-star service right there." Tossed it to Lily. "Merry damn Christmas, kid."
By sundown, they'd pulled it off—gifts wrapped, sled "fixed," boxes loaded. Last touch? Odie's hand-carved ornaments. This year's model: a no-bullshit angel with wings like a fighter jet.
They hit the road as the light faded, first stop Old Man Miller's place. Ninety-something Marine, lived alone with his dogs. Odie bounded up the steps, box in hand, hollering, "Miller! Special delivery—get your ass out here!"
The old man cracked half a smile when he saw the tinsel-bearded madman on his porch. Odie shoved the box at him. "Care package from Command. Socks, cookies, and an orange—field tested."
Inside, Miller turned the little angel over in his hands. "You whittle this?"
"Damn straight," Odie said, quieter now. "Same as that cross you carried up Iwo. Made by hand—that's how you know it counts."
A dozen houses later, Odie had left more than just presents—he'd left something like warmth in empty rooms, made sure nobody felt forgotten.
Back at the VFW, cocoa in hand, the crew was dead on their feet but grinning like idiots.
"You guys knocked it outta the park," Odie said, rare seriousness in his voice. "Christmas ain't the plastic crap they peddle on TV. It's this." He jabbed a finger at the crew. "It's making sure nobody's left out in the cold. Same love that built Bethlehem’s stable—same love that holds this town together. That’s the American part."
He stood, shrugging into his coat. "Now I gotta go stoke the stove and dust my Nativity set. Merry Christmas, you glorious bastards."
Outside, snow crunched under Odie's boots as he walked home under the stars, heart as warm as his forge, leaving Truckee just a little brighter than before.
Thanks Skip
Saturday, December 13, 2025
Friday, December 12, 2025
“Odie’s Odyssey" ~ Written by Skip
In the scenic town of Truckee, California, nestled between the majestic Sierra Nevada mountains, lived a long-time blogger named Odie Woodsterman. Known affectionately by his readers as the “Patriotic Prankster,” Odie was a character larger than life—a spirited Vietnam vet with a heart as big as his humor and a blog that had entertained, amused, and occasionally bewildered readers for over fifteen years.
Odie’s blog, “Odie’s Odyssey,” was a delightful mishmash of quirky design experiments, witty commentary, and a splash of irreverent humor. His posts were peppered with tales from his youth, flag-waving patriotism, and cheeky commentary that never failed to bring a smile. From posts about his adventures with DIY blog designs to hilarious rants about the latest tech trends, Odie’s unique voice was unmistakable.
The centerpiece of Odie’s blogging success was his unfailing ability to make his readers laugh. Whether he was playfully critiquing his own latest blog redesign, claiming that his font choices could cause a minor revolution, or sharing a “Top Ten” list of the quirkiest comments he’d received, Odie’s blog was a treasure trove of humor and warmth. His readers, a loyal and diverse bunch, eagerly awaited each new post, knowing it would be a delightful mix of wit, nostalgia, and a bit of irreverent charm.
One crisp autumn day, Odie decided it was time to shake things up with his latest blog experiment. He envisioned a new feature: “Odie’s Outrageous Challenges,” where readers could submit their most outlandish design requests or humorous tasks, and Odie would tackle them with his signature flair. He promised his readers that no challenge was too wild, and he would approach each one with the same enthusiasm and mischievous spirit that had characterized his entire blogging career.
The announcement was met with enthusiastic responses. Readers from across the country, and even a few from overseas, eagerly submitted their challenges. Some asked for blogs with designs inspired by everything from 80s action movies to retro diners. Others proposed playful dares, like creating a blog post entirely in pirate speak or designing a “confetti cannon” feature that would explode with virtual confetti every time someone left a comment.
Odie dived into the challenges with gusto. His blog became a whirlwind of colorful designs, playful animations, and the occasional “Oops!” moment that had his readers in stitches. One particularly memorable post featured a blog layout that resembled an old-timey saloon, complete with virtual spittoons and a playful saloon girl mascot that greeted visitors with a cheeky wink.
Throughout this creative spree, Odie reveled in the comments from his followers. He thrived on their feedback, laughing along with their jokes and taking their suggestions in stride. Each comment was a source of joy, fueling his next wild idea and reinforcing the sense of community he had built over the years.
The grand finale of the “Outrageous Challenges” came when Odie posted a blog entry that combined every challenge into one grand spectacle. It was a chaotic, colorful mashup of all the designs and dares—a carnival of creativity that left his readers in awe. The post was a triumph, not just because of its inventive design, but because it captured the spirit of Odie’s blog: a place where laughter, imagination, and a touch of mischief were always on tap.
As Odie sat back, watching the flurry of comments and seeing the joy his latest project had brought, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction. His blog wasn’t just a canvas for his experiments—it was a space where his personality shone through, where his readers felt like part of an ongoing, lively conversation.
In the heart of Truckee, amidst the towering pines and the crisp mountain air, Odie Woodsterman continued to weave his magic. He remained the same endearing, patriotic, and mischievous old vet he’d always been, forever causing delightful trouble and spreading laughter through the whimsical world of “Odie’s Odyssey.”
And so, with every new post, Odie’s blog carried on, a beacon of humor and creativity in the ever-expanding digital universe, where his readers knew they could always count on a hearty laugh and a fresh dose of Odie’s irrepressible charm.
**** To all of you, Skip sent me this over a year ago. I let it slip
through the cracks. Skip, I'm so sorry.
Thank You Skip!
Thursday, December 11, 2025
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